“You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” A phrase that pretty much sums up every boy’s reason for breaking up with me.
I was more trouble than I was worth when his friends didn’t like me, and when I demanded his attention.
I was more trouble than I was worth when I struggled with Depression and Anxiety and second-guessed every move either of us ever made.
I was more trouble than I was worth when I wouldn’t have sex within the first month of us meeting.
And now, I’m more trouble than I’m worth because although I manage my Anxiety relatively well, it’s still there, and that’s too much. I’m more trouble than I’m worth because I need emotional support, and I need to talk about my feelings.
But most of all, I’m more trouble than I’m worth because I can’t have sex in the traditional sense.
I know, whoa, that took a turn, right?
Yes, you see, I finally found someone who I would quite like to have sex with and also actually wants to have sex with me, and in this process I have discovered that I have something “wrong” with me.
Now I have to explain, although it won’t really make much difference because I don’t know a lot myself yet. Any kind of penetration is incredibly painful, making sex a non-option. I finally got that checked out and it turns out that I have a slight physical deformity. It can be fixed with a simple surgery, but it will be a while before I’m able to get an appointment to do that. And that’s assuming that that’s all it is. They still don’t know and neither do I. I’ll see a specialist but again, who knows how long that will take?
In the meantime, the clock is ticking. This is a problem. How long until he runs out of patience?
Recently I said to him, “I’m probably going to lose you over something I can’t even control. And I should be able to control it, and it’s not fair.”
It really isn’t. Every woman should have control over her own body and be able to choose whether they want to have sex or not. I don’t have that choice, at least not so far.
But choices get made for me. Other people get to choose whether or not I’m worth their time. And now, he gets to choose whether or not I’m worth waiting for. Right now, he’s not sure.
I guesstimated about a year until I’m “fixed”. I’ve waited 22 years (23 by that point), but one might be too much for him.
I should have just lied and said that it could be any day now, but I’m too honest for my own good.
I can’t control these things, and so I wonder – will I ever be enough to justify them? Will I ever be worth the trouble?
Could you sympathize with my needs?
I know you think I need a lot
I started out clean but I’m jaded
Just phoning it in
Oh, just breaking the skin
Can you help me I’m bent
I’m so scared that I’ll never
Get put back together
Keep breaking me in
And this is how we will end
With you and me bent
Sorry for the TMI – but you know, I’ve spent a long time knowing there was something “off” about me although I didn’t know what and feeling ashamed, and lately I’ve been questioning why that is. I’ll talk about literally anything else, from falling in love to feeling suicidal, so why not this?
Anyway, if on the off chance you’re reading this and think you know something about what I’m going through, please send me a message because it would be nice to feel less alone.
And I don’t really know how to tag this so if you think I should tag it with a specific thing let me know.