The Dichotomy of Sexuality and Self-Esteem

Sexuality is a complicated subject for me. I grew up very sheltered and innocent, so sex has long been associated with shame and fear in my mind. When I began to come of age, I interpreted my yearnings and urges to be a longing for love. I associated sensuality and affection for acts of love and devotion. It’s probably why I feel perpetually heartbroken.

I’ve very rarely felt blatant sexual attraction to anyone, male or female or anything else, which is why I’ve felt very confused about my sexual identity ever since I came of age. When I do feel some type of physical urge, it’s usually more associated with an idea I have of a person, their cadence and demeanor, or their ambiguity and mysteriousness. But it is this sexual ambiguity that torments my self-esteem.

I don’t find myself attractive, at all. I have never found myself attractive. I don’t look sexually ambiguous, I look like a woman, and sometimes I hate that. I will hate the curves and the size of my breasts. I’ll hate the cellulite and stretch marks. I’ll hate the tightness of clothes. I’ll look at big women and envy them, because they can carry their big beautiful bodies with grace and voluptuousness, and I’ll only feel like an impostor, like a child in an inflated costume.

And I’ll hate when men look at me. I’ll hate their bulging eyes and turning heads. I’ll want to hide in my skin. I’ll wish I was a child, an invisible child.

I’ve always wanted to be small. Petite and boyish, pixie and feminine.

But I’m not.

And I find myself a domineering presence, especially sexually. I’m trying to discover myself, but It’s hard not to feel ashamed and ugly when I am myself. I feel neither masculine nor feminine, and so I constantly feel out of place.

Maybe through therapy I’ll finally find who I am. Maybe I’ll finally feel beautiful. Maybe I’ll finally feel love for myself. Maybe I’ll finally feel worthy of love.

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