Excuse me while I break

I'm an emotional wreck these days. Although you may see me as someone who's so happy with life, it doesn't always relate with how I truly feel inside.

When I was 21, I came upon a self-help book that aimed to help women who were nearing their 30s. In a heartbeat, I purchased the book and decided to give it to my sister-in-law who was turning 30 in a few days.

Before giving her the book, I read some pages. It told different short stories of women and their anxieties as they were nearing the big three-oh. Some of those anxieties included their career, family life, and being single.

Now that I have turned 30, I can't help but look back at this instance in my life. Like many of the women in the book, I have been going through some inner struggles that I can't seem to be at peace with.

Here are some of these random thoughts that I've been questioning for quite some time now:

  • "Am I ever going to feel like my old self again?" 
  • "When will life feel like it's supposed to?" 
  • "Am I still beautiful?"
  • "Where have my best friends gone?" 
  • "Is this what I'm meant to do?" 
  • "What have I been with my life?" 
  • "What are my accomplishments in life?" 
  • "Who am I, really?" 

Most days, I don't recognize the person staring back at me whenever I look in the mirror. I know that it's me, or at least I try to convince myself that it's me-- the girl with the wider hips and a fuller belly.

But I can't help but wonder when did I start looking like this, my nose has even gotten wider by the second. It's quite disappointing since I used to have a dream. I used to be so sure of what I wanted in life. But now, none of those things fit me.

I feel stuck 

Instead, I feel stuck; stuck in a job I'm so eager to move on from yet can't find something else that will be a better option. And if there's something else that comes along, I can't seem to fathom the idea of doing the same thing all over again.

But then again, I feel like I lost precious time. I'm no longer as proficient as I once was in my words. And I feel like everyone else has already gained so much recognition and success in the same field.

I feel inadequate

I've been blogging on and off since 2010. I've deleted far too many blogs than I can count on both hands. But given my experience, I still have not found success as a blogger. I have never been recognized for an award or anything of that sort.

More recently, I was talking with a bunch of other bloggers that said this other blogger was "genuinely recommended" for his food blog. I felt heartbroken upon reading this because I, too, have a food blog that I've been trying to boost since 2013. He only started his blog in 2015 yet he has been able to build quite a following since he posts regularly and is so active on social media.

I have to commend him actually, because of his sociable skills. He is very talented in speaking with other people, especially business owners. Meanwhile, I prefer to stay silent and be an invisible critic. He frequents blogging events and even has high demands for the giveaways he receives from each event he goes to. On my end, I try to attend these events and only pick the ones that are really in tune to my blog.

So why am I comparing our blogs? Because people say he is a very credible blogger, whereas I have not obtained any recognition or compliment for what I'm doing. I feel like it's a very biased point since they don't really know what goes on behind the blog.

I don't feel beautiful 

Ever since I turned 30 (and gained a few pounds), I have never heard someone give me a compliment. I've never heard someone say I looked pretty in the outfit I was wearing or that I was plainly beautiful.

This realization makes me question what had happened? Was it because I gained weight? Was it because I am now married? Do other women the same age as me still get these compliments? Is this something that other women feel when they turned 30?

These things make me wonder what I did wrong with my life. One minute I was being nominated on social media (Friendster days) as one of the hotties in our local city. The next, no one's even saying I'm beautiful.

Because of these things, I no longer feel beautiful. Whenever I look at myself in the mirror or see a photo of me, I always want to delete my face out. I can't recognize the girl staring back at me. I can't see myself in her. Have I been that way all along and was just disillusioned?

I feel invisible 

Another thing that's been bothering me for quite some time now is that people don't see me. It feels like I'm invisible to people, including my relatives and close friends. It's been a while but I've been observing how my relatives treat me.

On Viber, we have this group where everyone sends in random stuff. But I've noticed that whenever it's my turn to share something, no one responds. It's like I'm invisible and all alone in the room.

This has been going on ever since my dad died around four years ago. I've always wondered why my relatives (from his side of the family) shut me out. It's as if I'm no longer part of the family just because my dad's no longer around. For years, I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. But because it's been happening ever so often, the question has been bugging me already.

I feel alone 

My friends don't even bother to ask me how I am. It's like the only time they'll get in touch with me is if I started a conversation with them.

When did it start becoming like this? They have their own set of friends now and I feel like I'm an outsider looking into their lives, partly still wanting to be included. I miss them so much but I feel like I'm just a nobody to them.

Because of these things, I feel like I'm a glitch in the system. Like I'm not supposed to be here on earth at all. But I'm holding on to my faith. I'm holding on to God's promise. But if that disappears, I might as well too.

Am I invisible? Is my life not interesting enough anymore? Why don't I feel loved by the people who are supposed to be there? Do you care?

I have a voice and my own story to share. Are you listening?

Photo source: Pexels