Driving 150 Mph in the Wrong Direction

The older I get, the harder on myself I become. I am never good enough because I know there's always better. I am never thin enough because I know there's always someone thinner and prettier. I am never smart enough because I know there's always something I don't understand. I crave acceptance from others because I can't seem to accept myself. It is easier to try to make someone else happy simply because it's almost impossible to bring happiness to myself.

I am 23 years old. I make twice as much money as the majority of people my age. I drive a brand new car, I have a college degree and I'm still left feeling like I'm falling behind somewhere. I constantly feel like I'll never be good enough for anyone; I'll never live up to anothers' expectations and requirements.

There are very few people who truly know who I am. Even people I've dated in my past, I doubt they could even skim the surface of my likes dislikes, interests, goals, aspirations... I've spent entire relationships trying to be the perfect trophy girlfriend. Just a pretty face to look at. I sit there, smile, laugh at their jokes, and speak only when spoken to. Is this who I am... No, but it is who I think they all want me to be.

In my college graphic design class I was assigned to do a timeline of the things that have influenced me thoughout my life and things I think will influence me into the future. I sat down with a blank piece of paper and pencil and began to draw up pictures, simple things which have shaped my life. When I neared the age of thirty the assignment became more difficult. Who knew that a simple assignment would lead me to a great amount of self-realization. I realized that all this time that I have spent doing for others, trying to make everyone else happy I had forgotten all the goals that were on my own personal bucket list. I want to take gourmet cooking classes, I want to learn how to play a round of golf, I want to taste exquisite foods and visit castles across Europe. Did any of you who are reading this know that? Do any of my friends and ex-boyfriends know that I do have artistic abilities, that I was once nearly fluent in french and desire to continue studying the language...that I know how to play instruments and sing? Do any of the guys I meet care to ask? No, they were more concerned about what my favorite drink is and what I like to do in bed. Next time they ask I'm going to say grape soda and Battleship...

We all want a story to tell. Sadly most people think a good story is one about the night she guzzled a bottle of Grey Goose and danced on a table (...not saying I'm speaking from personal experience...) But what about the story about me spending two weeks on the east coast. How I didn't even enjoy that trip because I was worried about a boy liking me. And what about the story about how I got to eat steak and lobster with a group of people that truly care about me? That story turned into one of me crying a large portion of the night because I was hurt and let down by yet another boy. All of these wonderful stories destroyed because I was concerned about someone else rather than my own happiness.

I'm letting my life slip away because I spend more energy focused on trying to get people to like me. It's almost like driving against the traffic in the wrong lane during rush hour.

Enduring a struggle just to end up further away from where you started...