Struggling with Self-Love: Finding Connection

Wanting Love When I Struggle to Love Myself

This post talks about body image, dating, rejection, self-esteem, and mental health.

I think one of the biggest things holding me back from finding someone is the way I look.

Mostly, it is my size.

I mean, how can I expect someone else to like the way I look when I do not even like it myself?

I know people will probably say that looks are not everything, and I understand that. But when you have spent years feeling uncomfortable with yourself, those words do not suddenly change how you feel when you look in a mirror or when someone looks in your direction.

Where It Started

I first became self-conscious about my appearance in middle school. I started gaining weight, and then acne came along, which did not exactly help.

There is one moment from around that time that has stayed with me.

Someone brought up the subject of dating and asked another person to imagine dating me. Their first reaction was, “Eww, no!”

I do not know whether that person even remembers saying it. It may have been nothing to them, just a quick response they forgot about five minutes later. I remembered it, though.

When you already feel uncomfortable with your body and someone reacts to the idea of dating you with disgust, that gets stuck in your head. At least, it got stuck in mine.

It became one of those memories that shows up when I think about meeting someone. It reminds me that somebody once looked at me that way, so my brain assumes everyone else will too.

I Never Really Gave Dating a Chance

I have been single for a long time. My last relationship was in middle school, so I do not really have adult dating experience.

It is not because I would never give someone a chance. I would.

The problem is that I feel like people take one look at me and walk away before there is even a chance for anything to happen.

My mind tells me they see how big I am, decide I am fat and ugly, and that is all they need to know.

To be fair, I cannot actually read someone’s mind. I do not know what every person is thinking when they look at me. But fear does not care about being fair or logical.

I have not really tried to meet anyone as an adult because that fear grabs me so hard that sometimes it feels difficult to breathe.

The thought of a first meeting is awkward enough. Then I start thinking about them seeing my body, noticing everything I dislike about myself, learning about my mental health, hearing about my past, and deciding they do not want to deal with any of it.

Basically, my brain skips over the possibility that it could go well and goes directly to every way it could go wrong.

Being Alone Felt Easier for a While

For a while, I believed being alone helped.

If I stayed alone, nobody could reject me. Nobody could look at me with disgust. Nobody could learn about my past and decide I was too much.

That may protect me from some things, but it also means I am alone.

I am forty now, and I do want someone in my life.

I want a partner who cares about me. Someone who asks how my day was and actually wants to hear the answer. Someone who understands that I have mental-health struggles and does not immediately run because of them.

My past is dark, and I have gone through a lot. That includes things connected to being Deaf and hard of hearing, along with other experiences that still affect me today.

I would like to be able to talk about those things with someone without feeling judged.

I think that is how a relationship grows. You talk. You listen. You learn about each other. You slowly become comfortable enough to share the parts you usually hide.

I do not expect someone to fix me. I just want to be able to talk without feeling like everything I say is another reason for them to leave.

What I Picture When I Think About a Partner

When I imagine being in a relationship, I am not really imagining expensive dates or giant romantic gestures.

I picture coming home after having a hard day.

My partner sees me and knows something is wrong. Maybe it is written all over my face. They give me a hug and hold me for a little while so I can feel their warmth and know they care.

Then we go into the kitchen and start cooking something together. They ask me what happened, and I talk about it.

They do not immediately start giving me suggestions or telling me how to fix everything. They just listen.

Maybe they act silly or say something ridiculous because they know it might make me laugh. I would probably try not to laugh at first, but eventually they would get me.

I also imagine sitting or lying together, their fingers intertwined with mine, their hand resting on my chest, and their arms around me.

I want someone to tell me that I am worth it and that I matter.

My brain may still try to twist those words into something negative. It is very talented at doing that.

But I think hearing those words from someone who has stayed beside me would feel different. Their actions would give the words more meaning.

What I Would Bring Into a Relationship

I know I have spent a lot of time talking about what I am afraid of, but I also had to ask myself what I could bring into a relationship.

The first answer is my heart.

I care a lot. Sometimes I care too much, which can be both a good thing and a difficult thing.

My niece calls me Krssybear because I am big, cuddly, warm, and too sweet. Someone also assumed the name came from the Care Bears, which used to be one of my favorite shows when I was a kid, so honestly, that works too.

I find it interesting that the size I see as one of my biggest problems is part of why she sees me as a big, warm teddy bear.

I would bring honesty into a relationship. I would want us to talk about things instead of pretending nothing was wrong.

I would listen when my partner needed to talk. I would not always have the right answer, but sometimes a person does not need an answer. Sometimes they need someone beside them while they let everything out.

I would rather have a good cry together than act like we are too tough to feel anything.

I also consider myself a big kid. Who really wants to become a boring adult?

I like to laugh, be silly, and make other people laugh. People have told me that my smile is contagious, so I would probably use that as one of my ways to cheer my partner up.

I would try to make them feel cared for in the same small ways I want someone to care for me.

Trying to Love Myself

People make loving yourself sound simple.

They say things like, “You have to love yourself before someone else can love you.”

Maybe there is some truth in that, but it is hard to love yourself when you have become used to feeling self-conscious every day and beating yourself down.

I envy people who seem comfortable with themselves.

I envy people who can take a picture without studying everything they hate about it. I envy people who can walk into a room without worrying that everyone is judging their body. I envy people who seem to believe they deserve love without having to argue with themselves first.

I am not there yet.

I am continuously striving to improve myself and grow as an individual. This journey is not always easy, as I encounter various challenges along the way. Every day presents a new opportunity for learning and self-discovery. I understand that progress takes time and patience, and I am committed to putting in the effort required to reach my goals.

Whether it involves developing new skills, enhancing my emotional intelligence, or embracing healthier habits, I recognize the importance of making small, sustained changes. These incremental steps, though sometimes difficult, are essential in guiding me toward the person I aspire to be.

The process itself, while often filled with obstacles, is as valuable as the end goal. I am grateful for the lessons learned and the experiences gained during this transformative phase of my life. So, while I may not be where I want to be just yet, I am determined to keep pushing forward and to remain dedicated to my personal growth.

I am trying to work on my physical health and my mental health. I am trying to become healthier and take better care of myself.

As I work on those things, I think I am slowly learning to love myself.

And I really mean slowly.

There are days when I feel like I am making progress, and then one comment, one memory, one photograph, or one bad thought brings everything back. It’s as if the progress I’ve made dissipates in an instant, leaving me grasping at the remnants of my self-esteem. Those moments can feel overwhelming, as if I’m caught in a cycle of self-doubt and insecurity.

That “eww, no” is still somewhere in my head. So are all the other things that made me believe I was not someone people would want. Just when I think I’ve laid those negative thoughts to rest, they resurface, whispering their disheartening messages again. It’s a challenge to fight against that inner critic, one that seems to know my vulnerabilities all too well.

I wish I could say those thoughts do not affect me anymore, but they do. It takes immense energy to push against the tide of negativity that sometimes threatens to pull me under. On good days, I can counter those feelings with affirmations and reminders of my worth, yet on tougher days, the shadow of doubt looms larger, and I find myself questioning everything once again.

It is hard. Acknowledging this struggle is a part of the journey toward self-acceptance, but it doesn’t make the process any easier. I often remind myself that healing is not linear, and it’s okay to have setbacks. Each day is a new opportunity to embrace who I am, to learn more about myself, and to navigate this intricate dance of self-love and acceptance. With patience and compassion, I hope to transform those negative voices into a chorus of encouragement, slowly but surely.

I Still Want to Be Seen

Even with all that fear, I still want someone.

I want somebody who can see my size without acting like that is the only thing there is to see. I want them to understand that I am so much more than what meets the eye – that there are layers to my personality and depth to my character waiting to be explored.

I want them to see that I care deeply. That I can listen. That I am warm, affectionate, emotional, playful, and maybe a little ridiculous sometimes. I want to share laughter that comes from the heart and those quiet moments that feel like home. Moments where we can simply exist together, free from judgment or pretense.

I want them to see the person my niece sees when she calls me Krssybear. She sees joy and safety; she sees love and acceptance. I hope that this new person can see that same spark that shines through when I interact with her—my genuine self, stripped of all the worries and fears I carry.

I know a relationship will not magically cure my mental health or make every insecurity disappear. That would be too much responsibility to place on another person anyway. They are not my therapist or my savior; they are, perhaps, the companion who walks alongside me as I navigate my journey. I acknowledge that I need to do the work on myself, but I would like to build a partnership where we can support each other as we grow and learn together.

But I would like the chance to build something with someone. To create memories, to share adventures, and to discover life’s simple pleasures together. I would like to come home and have somebody happy that I am there. The thought of someone greeting me with a smile, someone who looks forward to my presence, is a warmth I long for deeply.

I would like to ask them about their day and tell them about mine, exchanging stories that weave our lives together. I would like to cook together, feeling the rhythm of our movements as we chop vegetables and stir pots, filling the air with delicious aromas and laughter. I want to share those moments of vulnerability—crying together when we need to, providing comfort and understanding, building a fortress of trust between us, and feeling safe enough to be honest.

I am still scared of that first meeting. I am scared someone will see me and immediately decide no. The fear of rejection looms large, whispering doubts that maybe I’m not worth the effort. It is a formidable barrier that holds me back from stepping into the light, longing to connect.

But I am also starting to realize that hiding forever means nobody gets the chance to say yes. By staying in the shadows, I deny myself the possibility of affection and companionship. It’s a hard truth to face, yet it is essential for growth.

I do not fully love myself yet. I am not going to pretend I do just to give this post a perfect ending. This journey to self-love is ongoing, filled with ups and downs, triumphs, and setbacks. I am learning to embrace my flaws and celebrate my strengths, acknowledging that both are part of the beautiful tapestry of who I am.

I am trying. Maybe right now, trying is the most honest thing I can say. Every attempt to reach out, every small step towards connection, is a testament to my resilience and hope. With each effort, I inch closer to the love I seek, not only from others but from within myself. And perhaps that is where true transformation begins.

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