I hate myself, I deeply deeply hate myself.
And it’s not because deep down I’m some mean a****** that treats people or animals badly. I always help everyone around me as much as I can, it’s the little things, the little gratitudes that give little sparks of happyness in my life.
But I was born with defects, a combination of which, has made my life a hell many times over. My memory is borderline useless. From birth, I forget and I forget, it has plagued my whole life, lost me so many friend who, despite knowing, at some point just can’t deal with the fact that I’m a terrible friend, because good or bad, I can just forget about significant things. And I get that, I get that it’s a constant frustration to talk me up like some kind of Momento dude who forgets everything.
But I can’t help it..
And then onward to my second problem, one I still don’t know the name of, one that has recently, a few years ago has technically been fixed. But I’ll get into that in a bit.
I was born with some kind of issue that made any contact to my g******* not just a little painful, but the kind of pain you get when you put your finger against a hot pan, frying, hot fire. I had an operation as a child, but that did not fix the issues, so all the doctors came to a conclusion.
“You will grow out of it, just force it, you’re sensitive, and by basically working IT often, it’ll get better”
But it didn’t, the pain never lessened, and with every, even minor encounter, where girls touched me, it hurt so bad, I curled up and cried, obviously, parts of me shriveled like a scared turtle.
All my relationships started with understanding, with a spoken or hidden desire to help, be there. I was a great guy, caring, kind, loving. I learned all kinds of ways to provide pleasure by sure practice, by just forcing it in, to provide it where I lacked, from massaging to all kinds of forms, fit, firm, ignoring my dingaling.
But it was never enough, After a few years, the mixture of me forgetting important dates, things, everything, and the fact I couldn’t quite please them, despite loving my enthusiasm, it wasn’t me, it was just their like, interests that didn’t align.
I tried to push it, force it, will myself, but it just became a desperation where the moment the pain hit, I couldn’t deal with it, no matter how I tried to condition myself.
But then, one doctor suggested I undergo a treatment, it might scar me a little, and it had a 50/50 chance of fixing the issue. The other 50 percent being the possibility of me being in even more pain, constantly, instead of just with someone else.
At this point, I’m 31 with a life of failure behind me, both in the work place as in relationships, the lowest point being a fiancee selling her ring to fly over to a big dicked boyfriend who was also one of my best friends. That one really made me lose my s*** for a long long time.
So I risk it, and it works. The pain is gone, there’s a little bit of sensitivity and in fact, my d*** looks great, some close friends said it looked like quite the tasty sausage.
I am scared, because despite all the skills I do have, I’m pretty much a virgin at the actual s** thing, but I go out there, I date, I drink, I party a little, and I do meet people.
But many many years of trying to focus the pain away have just… Become an automatic reflex. Despite there being no pain, after just a few moments, I go soft, escaping from just the possibility of pain and I don’t know what to do.
I’ve talked to psychologists who basically go “Just try until you figure it out”, friends are clueless, the few I’ve let in on this ‘little’ secret.
And I’m not like, sizually impaired, I’m thick, firm the few moments I am, pretty long, a good size, I like my dingaling… But it doesn’t work, and the disappointment it generates.. The last year was me trying to convince myself, trying to tell myself that it’s just me needing to find the right person.
But I’m getting older every year… And though I have an okay job now, where I earn more than I ever have, and yet not enough to have my own place, where forgetting isn’t as important, because I can figure things out quick, where the few small talents I have sync up correctly.
I’m just wasting my days away, my months and maybe at some point, my years, taking a drink, smoking, having those small happy moments as I don’t like, hermit myself up, I play games, I do social things, little sparks of fun.
I don’t believe in suicide, and for anyone reading this, it is never a consideration for me, even now, suicide is an extreme that goes beyond way more interesting extremes, like say, moving away entirely, leaving this current life behind. Who knows right?
But yeah, that’s why I hate myself, despite all my best efforts, despite barely managing to get a bachelors degree in Biomolecular science because I am actually very very intuitively smart, I get s*** quickly…
I am an absolute failure. I am terrified of getting close to someone because of the ramifications many years down the line. I am s******* inept. Sadly, brain training is not a real thing, and scoring with one of the worst memories ever tested in the country, it has made every higher, more salary earning job impossible. Because I forget things worth thousands of monies.
I should feel lucky though, because the job I found, has great people, a great boss… It is one of few saving graces in this life that I’ve found recently.
But for the rest, for love and the future… It’s a black hole, I don’t have any aspirations, because I’m scared it’s going to break like many times before. I have not told about the many relationships that got smashed and the many friendships ruined in detail.
And I am not saying that various of those instances aren’t my fault, this whole story makes it seem like I’m some kind of heroic, good hearted victim. But I’ve made mistakes, I’ve done stupid things, mean things. I have been a bad friend, a bad boyfriend, a bad everything at times. But I’ve always tried to improve from those mistakes as well.
For a long time, my goal was to just get better, when someone pointed out things, I’d work on getting better, when I said something mean, I’d work on not going in that direction with my thoughts… I’ve tried so hard and it really did nothing for me.
So there, there is no friend in the world that knows all there is to me. Because with all the friendships broken, I’m terrified of risking it. My memory problem is a joke now, on purpose, because making people laugh about it is the best course, despite the immense shame I feel.
I hate myself, and I really, really don’t know what to do, despite all my intelligence, despite being able to dissect machinery and their workings just by looking at it… I can’t figure out how to be happy.
There is more, but, this has been a first for me, being able to just, blurt it all out, even with this I’m scared, I can’t remember all I wrote here without scrolling up… But I can’t chicken out of everything.
Have a good one.
