Category Archives: self-esteem

An Eternity of Struggles

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” – Eleanor Roosevelt (1937)

I’ve long struggled with the concept of self esteem. It’s such a cliched thing to admit to nowadays. It seems like everybody and their cousin has “self esteem issues.” Pick a new issue, I want to say. But then I realize I would be telling myself that as well.

When I was growing up, I didn’t have siblings to play with. I grew up essentially an only child from the age of about six onward thanks to an older brother who decided he no longer wanted to be apart of our family around then. He is ten years older than me and at that time, everybody was focused on him and his problems. Nobody seemed to notice the scared, quiet, emotional little girl. I know my parents tried their best to shield me and give me the attention I needed to grow up into an emotionally healthy adult, but I’m not sure it was always what I needed.

Teenage years were just that – teenage years. Any young girl will tell you that she’s not confident with herself, but my issues went beyond what most girls probably had. I was painfully shy, almost to the point of not being able to converse with people. I spent three years of high school not even going into the lunch room, choosing instead to hide in the newspaper office which I considered my refuge from people. I worked for the basketball team my junior and senior years of high school and was terrified to even walk out on the court during games because people might see me. I didn’t go to any dances, didn’t ask anybody on dates, didn’t get asked out on any myself and sure as hell didn’t consider myself on par with “the popular girls.”

College turned out to be no different. I was a tomboy in every sense of the word, preferring my basketball clothes to most any girly thing. I had makeup and pretty clothes, but I didn’t know how to use them and most of the time they sat in my closet, ready for the day when I would become more comfortable with myself.

It’s only been recently that I’ve felt more comfortable in my own skin, perhaps in the last two to three years. I guess I’m what you call a “late bloomer.” I’ve realized how to use the hoards of makeup I had amassed, but never bothered to use. I figured out high heels make my butt look good and that clothing should be tighter, rather than looser if I wanted to show off any type of feminine shape. As the saying goes, “Tight enough to show you’re a woman; loose enough to show you’re a lady.”

The self esteem issues are still there, no doubt. I struggle with the concept of self worth most, I think. That I’m worth someone’s time, someone’s energy, someone’s love and someone’s attention. I shouldn’t have to beg for any of those things and I sure as shit shouldn’t be wasting my own time with someone who won’t return those things. For about three to four years now, I’ve had a whiteboard that I’ve scrawled “You are worth someone’s time” posted on somewhere prominent in my apartment, only because sometimes I forget that concept if I’m not reminded of it. I’m still learning that – that I’m worth it. That I deserve better. That I deserve the best.

When I was much younger and still to some extent, I was a self-harmer. It was always little things. Showers that ran just a little too hot just to feel something. Tweezers that dug just a little too deep. Not eating for days at a time in the hopes of feeling that hungry feeling. There’s probably more little things that I don’t even realize are and were forms of self harm, quite frankly. Chasing after the wrong people knowing it was going to end in heartache. That’s probably a big one right there. That may just be a case of not learning from my mistakes.

In a lot of ways I worry that my interest in BDSM is just another version of self harm. If the whips, chains, floggers, paddles, clamps, and toys are just new ways to inflict harm upon myself. I’ve never managed to find myself in the elusive “subspace” everybody talks about, but a really good beating is very cathartic for me. It’s a watershed moment, often inducing major bouts of tears and leaving me feeling cleansed and fresh. The need for that release builds in my system, poisoning me and making me feel ill to the point of physical aches.

I’ve often been told that if you seek external sources of happiness you’ll never be happy inside. That the external validation can in no way compare to the internal validation I should be receiving from myself. I don’t disagree with this statement at all, but the problem is that I have yet to work out a sufficient way to provide that internal validation for myself. In my mind, I’m never quite good enough. Never quite pretty enough. Never quite smart enough. Never quite … anything enough. It’s a constant battle I have with myself trying to balance the “I’m better than you” feelings that come from an inflated ego and the “I’ll never be good enough” feelings from having low self esteem and low feelings of self worth.

It’s something I’m working on constantly. Seeking new paths. Seeking that inner peace and inner strength that I’ve so long been looking for. I hate making resolutions; they usually just end up failing. I think this year though I’ve made a new resolution that I will try my best to keep. My 2012 resolution? I will stop letting people make me feel like I’m worth anything except the best.

Hair Loss Diaries

Those who follow me on Twitter will remember my almost daily mentions of my hair and my hair loss. It’s something I’ve struggled with for about four years now, but only lately has really started affecting me emotionally as well as physically.

Let’s start from the beginning. I have always had very fine, extremely sparse hair. From a very young age, I figured out that my hair was very different than most people’s hair. We’re talking newborn baby style hair. I was always told that it would thicken up eventually, mostly by my mother who has nice, thick hair. “It’ll happen. Just give it time and stop dying it every two months.” Okay fine. So I stopped dying it for the longest time. Stopped doing pretty much everything to it except getting regular hair cuts. That’s a whole other issue. Do you know how few hair stylists truly know how to cut baby fine hair on adults? Let’s just say I’ve only met a handful and I’ve talked to a lot of them. Razor cutting the ends of baby find hair is definitely not what you want to do. It will only make it fray and look frizzy or dried out.

Pretty much every hair cut I’ve ever had in my life has been the same one with a few variations. My hair would only grow so long, perhaps shoulder length tops before it just started looking sad and fly away. Putting it up in pony tails would only get me chastised by hair stylists because doing that would break my hair. We’re talking a pony tail no thicker than the average pinky finger. I kid you not. My hair was that thin. I couldn’t use clips or barrettes in it because they simply wouldn’t stay. Not even bobby pins. To make my hair look as thick as possible I kept short, maybe an inch or two longer than my ears.

I thought it would always be that thin, but I was really wrong. It was going to get a lot worse.

Perhaps around the end of undergraduate college and graduate school is when I started noticing problems. Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was the life change and maybe it was none of those things all together. My already high forehead was getting higher. My temples were receding and the crown of my head was getting much more sparse. My grandmother commented to my mother after not having seen me for awhile, “What is going on with her hair? It’s really looking thin and something is going on.” My grandmother used to be a hairdresser about 20-30 years ago, so she notices these things. Nobody had any answers for me. At that point it really wasn’t affecting me that much mentally. Or at least I wasn’t letting it affect me. I wasn’t yet “bloomed” in terms of my sexuality so I didn’t think much of my hair as playing into it.

As law school progressed, it became more and more noticeable. Almost shocking. I started trying all the standard things I could think of. Treatments. Rogaine for Women. Topix stuff you sprinkle on your hair to “fill in” the sparse spots. Absolutely nothing was working and I was just getting more and more disheartened. Finally I began wearing wigs in an attempt to both cover up the sparse spots and give myself full, nice, long hair. After all, that’s been my dream since I was a very little girl. I’ve always wanted very long hair, maybe to the middle of my back.

It was only recently that I went to my dermatologist and asked him what was going on. He looked at my scalp and did some basic tests. He looked me in the eye and said, “You have progressive female pattern hair loss. It cannot be cured and is only going to get worse. Don’t bother with treatments to regrow your hair because they won’t work. Maybe if you’d started them when you were 10 you could have slowed the loss, but it’s going to happen with or without those treatments.” To say I was devastated is an understatement. There I was, a 24 year old woman losing my hair in a similar fashion to an old man.

Since then I’ve looked into the alternatives. I’ve considered hair transplant surgery, but the problem with that is I don’t have hair in other areas to transplant to my balding areas. It’s just sparse all over. So I’ve been wearing wigs every day for awhile and that’s all well and good, but that only goes so far. At some point those come off and you’re left with the same head of hair. Plus as good as wigs are, they’re still wigs. They’re bulky and most of the time it feels like I’m wearing a thick, scratchy hat. Good quality ones are simply out of my budget right now. I have one nice human hair wig, but it’s a short bob. My dream is to have long hair. I literally covet people’s nice long hair now. I would even go as far as saying it’s one of the reasons I’m  in to women as well as men. I lust after their hair.

At this point, I need some kind of miracle. Or a benefactor. I’ve seen hair extensions that can be bonded to bare skin, but they’re absurdly expensive. I simply can’t afford $5000 for chin length hair that needs touching up every 6-8 weeks. I’m jealous of people who can afford it (or even people who put that on credit without a care in the world.)

If anybody has any ideas of what I can do or where I can go to work on my hair, please let me know. I spend so much time stressing over my hair that I think it’s making it worse. If someone would like to donate to me, please please contact me. I’m not above begging for long hair. As women, a lot of our sense of self is tied to our hair, whether we recognize it or not. I’m a sensual person who loves kink and advocates self esteem and loving yourself. But right now? My self esteem is taking a major hit thanks to this very unsettling problem.


I struggle with the concept of self worth. It’s hard for me to belief that I’m worth the time and energy someone should put into me for them to be worthy of my time. It’s just part of my personality that I constantly have to remind myself that I am something special and something precious.

As most of my emotional difficulties do, I suspect it stems from my childhood. Abandoned by those who love me and made to belief my worth came from being useful. That if I wasn’t making someone happy, I wasn’t worth anything to them. I wasn’t worth anything to me.

In a lot of ways I still very much need to grow up and this is certainly one of those ways. It’s not just a matter of setting my mind to the belief that I am precious. It’s about changing my whole outlook.

For me to understand why someone would find me precious, I must first find myself to be precious. I can’t value myself based on how others value me. I really don’t know how to express what I’m thinking right now but it’s in there, floating around in my brain and probably contributing to the headache I’m feeling right now.

I’m not useful for just one purpose. I’m not just a sexual object for some man’s (or woman’s I guess) use. I am worth more than the sum of my parts and someone who sees me for purely that purpose is not worth my time. Sure, I objectify myself doing some of the things I do and probably the reaction I get from those things partly my own fault, but I can’t lay all the blame on my own shoulders.

The right person for me will see me for everything I am. The sweet girl inside just looking for a safe place to seek shelter from life’s storms and the kinky slut who wants to be used.

At the same time, It’s something I need to remember too. Maintaining that balance among all of the sides of me. Each side being just as important as the next.

I am worth something. I am valuable. I am precious in every regard.

It’s the world that needs to remember that.