Tag Archives: Self Image

CATFISHING AND INSANITY

Maybe I need a tougher looking profile picture. Maybe I shouldn’t be so honest about my mental health and addiction or the rest of my life. Maybe I shouldn’t make comments when I think something or someone is generous or kind. I keep setting myself up for these awful situations. Somehow I’m the one that always ends up feeling bad about it.

I don’t remember how many years ago it was but I had just opened a Twitter account and I was following Nikki Sixx. It was a verified account. I made a couple of observations that he or maybe someone who works for him “liked”. Not long after I get a Direct Message from Nikki Sixx. At first I thought “Huh, that’s weird. But I have met a lot of musicians and know people who know him so who knows?”. Nope. It wasn’t him and I felt like an ass. It was so bad I closed my account and went off Twitter for over a year. It kind of sucked because I had a lot of followers including the lead singer for Blue October but I wasn’t in a good place.

The second incident involved Dave Navarro. I was back on Twitter and he was involved in a campaign against domestic violence. Knowing his story and having much respect for him I commented on his verified account. Someone then started using his name to try to talk to me about domestic violence. I didn’t answer. They then came on my blog and made nasty comments about my own past history with men and violence. I was furious. I did everything I could to trace the person. For months I went back and forth between crying and periods of rage. I also kept thinking I wasn’t good enough, I was a horrible person, and I deserved to be treated like garbage. It took a long time to recover from that one.

Now Steven Tyler keeps calling me on “Hangouts” something I didn’t even know I had. I commented on his Kia commercial on his verified account and he “liked” it. Then the Direct Messages started. He said he just broke up with his girlfriend, she cheated on him and he just wanted someone normal to talk to. I knew it wasn’t him. Did I want it to be him? Of course I did. I was mad that it wasn’t him. When the nonstop calling started I did the one thing you’re not supposed to do. I engaged.

I kept asking questions. The answers were evasive and the wording was strange. Whenever “let’s” was supposed to be used it wasn’t and there were a lot of mistakes in the grammar. It’s a pet peeve of mine. I asked about it and he said he had the flu. He must’ve come on here because he knew about my kidney situation and said he would do anything to help as long as he could “make me smile”. There were way too many “babes” and he kept saying he was looking for “true love”. Sorry, but you decide on a Bipolar woman who has been sober over 9 years and has issues with trust and men?

I said I wouldn’t talk to him unless it was from a verified account. He made an excuse that his Twitter had been hacked so he couldn’t from there. I said “What about Instagram?” He said “OK” but never did it. At the same time I see that the real Steven Tyler is on plane so I asked the fake what he was doing. He said he had just had some visitors. I said “Did they ski dive over?” “Were they snakes?” He replied “You are funny” I said “I know I am because I’m looking at a picture of the real Steven Tyler sitting on a plane right now you idiot”. I haven’t heard from him since. The snakes were in reference to “Snakes on a Plane” I was amusing myself at that point.

It still pisses me off and makes me sad at the same time. I love Steven Tyler. I don’t want my memories of him to be tarnished by some asshole. I admit I’ve always wanted to be around people in the music industry. People who write lyrics that I love and identify with. So many of them have experienced the same things I have as far as mental health and addiction and having it centered around the music scene. But I’m not delusional, well maybe a little. Maybe I just miss the days of going to concerts and meeting bands, hanging out backstage. I wonder what it would’ve been like if I looked like I do now instead of the large girl who was like one of the guys.

I’m too old to think like this and maybe I do it to protect myself from actually being in the real world.1a8558e0c844a70f89c943a1be855a8e

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A DIFFERENT TAKE ON BEAUTY (From Ugly Duckling To Confused Swan)

I was born in 1973, born five minutes after me was my fraternal twin sister. There is a picture of us only a few weeks old where it appears she is trying to punch me in the face. That should’ve been a good indicator of things to come.

Although we were not identical, Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins still were confused about who was who. When we were born we weighed a little under 5 pounds each and stayed in the hospital until we gained enough weight to leave. Except one of us never stopped gaining. Starting at an early age that’s how relatives would tell us apart. They didn’t care if I heard them or not. “D is the fat one and Deb is the skinny one” is what I constantly had to listen to. As I became older I would scream in my head “Are you f*cking stupid? One of us is blond and the other is a red head! If you don’t know the difference after 15 years than don’t bother!”. There were honestly times I wanted to physically hurt one of them. I would be playing with cousins and one would get hurt. I would automatically get blamed because I was “big” and must have “squished” one of them.

I tried to be invisible. It was easier that way. If I drew attention to myself that would be asking for punishment, humiliation, or ridicule. I wore baggy clothes and hid my face behind my hair for many years.

I always had a love for make up, hair products, perfume, clothes, but I was limited in what I could do. There was little clothing available at that time for 16 year old girls who were a size 18. Most clothing was marketed for much older women or what little I thought was nice was extremely expensive.

By the time I was a Senior in High School my Bipolar Episodes (Not Diagnosed Yet) were in full swing. I would have feelings of wanting to belong so badly I thought the world would end. I wanted a guy to actually see me for once. I wanted to be wanted. Smoke and Mirrors became my best friends.

Not many are born knowing how to apply make up correctly or blow dry hair just right. I had to learn in order to wear my “mask” of confidence that was boosted with alcohol. When I was all made up and had a new outfit on I actually felt a little good about myself. Add the alcohol in and I was hot. That can only last so long. 20 years to be exact.

When I was diagnosed as Bipolar and stopped drinking I also stopped socializing. I did start to lose some weight. The Doctor told me I would at first because of the medication and because I have Celiac Disease. A year went by and I was down almost 130 pounds. My family was worried. Well most of them. I now weighed less than my twin sister and she wasn’t taking it well.

I wasn’t doing well either. I had this new body in the mirror, a completely different face, I had changed my hair color as well. I wasn’t sure how to dress for this body. My sister refused to go clothes shopping with me. I would sit in a dressing room quietly crying because I was confused about whether I was wearing a shirt or a dress. Did I have a camel toe or was it suppose to fit that way? Some of the clothing should’ve come with directions. I finally had to ask women in the dressing rooms to help me. I was embarrassed. I was angry that after all the years of bullying and pain my sister would hold this against me.

When I received a compliment I didn’t know what to do with it. When someone found out I had lost a lot of weight I felt like I had to tell them it wasn’t through diet and exercise because it would be wrong to let them think that.

When I started to notice dents in my temples and indentations in my cheeks I became concerned. My Hematologist told me I had “Muscle Wasting Disease” which happens with Autoimmune Disorders. What we didn’t know was that my Kidneys had been Failing. I wouldn’t find out until it was almost too late.

Bipolar Disorder, Alcoholism, Obesity, and even being too thin all carry Stigma. The things I’ve hadthonf73axv said and done to me because of one or the other I still can’t forget. I used “Beauty Tools” to try to hide the real me even when I lost weight. I never leave the house without a mask. But sometimes they serve a purpose.

While in Cosmetology School and working in Salons I would do hair for women who couldn’t afford it. Women who hadn’t had their hair done in years or ever. I can’t tell you how many had tears rolling down their faces when I was finished. As they stood up their posture would be different than when they first came in. Their eyes brighter and their smiles confident. I know it’s only hair but sometimes it’s the human interaction and having a chance to relax and feel good about yourself that can make a difference. It’s those times I enjoyed the most.

 


EXCRUCIATING! Watching Q & A’s On Social Media and Feeling Invisible.

From time to time I will watch a Live Question and Answer session on a Social Media platform. I don’t do it often because I find myself become irritated, sad, and then feeling more isolated than I already do.

When the person answering the questions has answered the SAME EXACT QUESTIONS AT LEAST 5 TIMES PREVIOUSLY and literally asks that no one else ask the same questions again, it’s more than annoying.

BUT not as frustrating as when I finally work up courage to write something and it’s always ignored or sent back to me. I don’t know if that’s just how it works because I try not to do it often. Why? Because I then start to do the infamous snowballing.

Questions start swirling in my overactive brain. Has everyone blocked me and I just don’t know about it? Do they think I am a security threat because it links to blog about Bipolar Disorder? Oh, wait! Everyone they follow has dark hair and I’m a red head, maybe they don’t like red heads? Everyone they follow that’s female is pretty. Maybe I’m not considered pretty enough to follow like a velvet rope system but for Social Media. Did I offend the person and not realize it? Should I apologize? Maybe I should consider breast implants or some Botox.

Then I think “I really miss drinking when I didn’t give a shit what anyone thought no matter who they were.” When I even told a famous singer to go F*ck himself because he grabbed me on his tour bus and wouldn’t let me go. I could see the track marks on his arm and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in months. Back then the alcohol made me not overthink everything. Granted it also helped my erratic behavior, impulsiveness, and sometimes I wasn’t rational enough to know when a situation had gone too far.

This spineless, doubting, invisibility, is killing me. I just want to know I exist sometimes. My entire life I blamed so much on my weight. Now that the weight is gone I actually hide more than I ever did. Now that I can actually dress up and feel like I fit in I do nothing.

The only thing stopping me is me. Fear that it will be the same. Rejection. I can’t go through everything I’ve already been through again. So what now?am-i-invisible-1024x683


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