I'm looking at the (wo)man in the mirror....

I think that this is a very private thing. It's hard for me to open myself up to such a large audience and tell them what I think about myself. Maybe a few close friends know. Even a few less close friends might know a few bits and pieces of the true Cat, deep on the inside.

Depending on the day, the hour, the minute, the second, I can be several different people. During junior high I joked about this saying I had seven voices in my head and that they were named M.O.N.K.I.E.S. Now, just to give you a disclaimer, no, I don't have multiple personalities. I'm bipolar. I have PTSD. I've been told dysthymia, clinical depression, and a few other random things, but the winners are bipolar and PTSD. YAY for them! No.

So when I look in the mirror, I don't look. Blake said that she goes through the motions of putting in the contacts, makeup, teeth, whatever without really looking. I can say the same thing. Although I think that the mirror is more of a metaphor, I am going to use it literally and figuratively.

Literally, on a good day, I see my pretty eyes, nice mouth, alright teeth, shiny hair, fabulous eyebrows.

On a bad day, I see my acne that I can't seem to shake, even though I'm 27. I see my chins, my stupid hair that probably makes me look fatter, ugh. Everything.

Figuratively, on a good day I know that I am loving, kind, nurturing, funny, well, hillarious really :-) , creative, strong, good, spiritual, doing the best I can, secure, almost happy.

On a bad day, I am beat up, torn down, ugly, fat, stupid, dumb, unworthy, unloved, deserving of what I get, forgotten, alone, distubed, annoying, horribly insecure, panicky, stressed beyond belief, scared of every noise or sudden movement, paranoid, have a twitch in my right shoulder, and want to give up. My friends don't like me, my family doesn't love me, God doesn't forgive me.

I am who I am. I don't put on pretenses. I've never said online something that's not true. I think. At least about my age, looks, stuff like that. If I'm having a good day, I'm terribly witty. If I'm having a bad day, I take all comments personally, and literally, as if people are being mean.

I take things to heart, wear my feelings on my sleeve. I'm emotional, sensitive, way too pensive for my own good, melancholy,trepidacious and apprehensive. And yes, I really do use words like those. I didn't have to use a thesaurus.

I explain and overexplain myself all the time. I don't have a back bone, I don't stand up for myself.

I've always been tall, big, fat, etc, etc. I remember when I was in 4th grade and I wore women's shoes. I had a training bra in 3rd grade. Got my period in 6th grade. Had Cs by 7th grade. I was 6' by the time I was 15. Looking back at pictures of my high school years, I wasn't as fat as I let everyone else make me believe. Sure, I wasn't as thin as the other girls, but a 12 isn't that bad. Either is a 14, or 16. I'd even be happy to be an 18 right now. *sigh*

I like to sing. In Junior & Senior High I had solos, contests, etc, etc and did quite well. I was even offered a part in a community musical, but turned it down as I would miss my religious meetings, and don't want to do that. I feel good about singing. That's how I met my husband. In a Yahoo karaoke chat room. I was singing "But I Do Love You" by Leann Rimes from the Coyote Ugly soundtrack. He loved my voice, thought I was spunky, the rest is history.

I don't think I have a different writing persona. I write how I'm feeling right now. And what goes with the story. But maybe that's also just the way it sounds in my head. What the M.O.N.K.I.E.S. hear. :-P

My fear is that people will take what I say and throw it back in my face. It's happened before to me, several times, throughout my life. People that I confided in, let my feelings show, trusted, in a heat of anger or bitterness or whatever, would bring up information, or chide me, using my own words as ammunition.

I am naive and gullible. But I don't think gullibility is necessarily a bad thing. It just means that I trust people. I either trust too much, or not enough. It seems like the last person always screws it up for the next person. And the naivete is simply per instance. I am quite intelligent, but at the same time, can't know everything.

Due to my fear of being mocked, ridiculed, and laughed at, I hate asking for help, or asking questions. It is very difficult for me to do so. I usually leave that up to the people that I trust implicitly. I firmly believe that there is no stupid question, but apparently, not everyone feels that way.

I am a victim, if you can say that, of physical, mental, verbal and emotional abuse. That's where the PTSD stems from. And trust issues I would assume. I am uncomfortable talking about it, and feel guilty even "whining" about it when I do because I know others who have had it worse. I know I could've had it worse. It's the hardest when I have nightmares. In school kids would make fun of me for flinching so much. Well...now you know.

I don't know how to end this. I'll end it with another picture. Funny that I just took these Sunday morning before meeting, cause I thought I looked nice that day. Then this blog challenge came along. Weird.