I feel so fugly.

I feel so fugly I don’t want to go out. And I haven’t during the whole day.

My skin is breaking out like crazy and of course I haven’t made it any better by constantly picking. I don’t remember when was the last time I felt so consistently ugly for so many weeks in a row. 2016 is a good year so far…except beauty-wise.

I feel so ugly it makes me anxious. I don’t want to go out unless I wear truckloads of makeup and even if I do I’m constantly self-conscious about people looking at me and thinking my face is too caked over.

Thoughts like “He’s probably thinking I’m a ‘butterface'” cross my mind constantly. And the worst part is: right now I wholeheartedly believe I’m a “butterface”.

I’m even afraid of the Russian thinking I look nasty or something, or that whenever he looks at me or kisses me he can see the amount of cake I have on.

My skin was moderately bad as a teenager, then I got some respite during medical school, and now I’m back to being a spotty fugly-ball. What the hell happened?

I just want it to be over already. For someone who was badly scarred by bullying there’s nothing worse than having the cause of your bullying turn on you a second time around. What did I do to deserve this?

Why can’t I just be pretty? Why can’t my face just be…normal?


It’s been quite a day. I’ve been locked up in the hotel room, heartbroken and feeling overwhelmed over having to move to the city that I adore in June.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to browse studio apartments and try to figure out a first month and moving budget in my current emotional state. But whatever, at least I did something productive in spite of the shit.

I feel overwhelmed now. I got so stressed I’m nauseous. I confess: I’ve never adulted in such a way. I don’t know how to adult. Really, no one probably knows how to. But I literally have no clue. I mean, I just barely get by and pretend to know what I’m doing, then freak out when I realize I don’t. Is that adulting?

How am I supposed to figure out a budget when I’ve never lived alone or earned a respectable amount of money (aka: more than zero dollars)? How am I supposed to apartment hunt when I live so far away from the city that I adore and will probably have to choose blindly? How am I supposed to relocate and pay off so much shit, including student loans, if half of my salary will end up going into rent expenses? How am I supposed to do anything when everything costs money and I really don’t have much of that?

Is there anyone out there I can ask these stupid and embarrassing questions? Nobody taught me this shit. Is there like some Adulting Advisor out there who won’t snort and laugh when I say I haven’t ever paid taxes and I’m in my late 20’s? If so, let me know.

Either way, I tried to figure stuff out. It seems I have just enough to travel a wee bit before I become a slave doctor, make the big move, and live in the city that I adore for a month while I get my first check before I max out my savings account. I could also take out a small loan for relocation and my parents are willing to help during that first month, but really I’d like to avoid that. I already have some debt from student loans and I really don’t want to continue living off my parents. Makes me feel like a leech. And to think, I actually have it easy in that department.

I don’t know. I just feel a bit miserable because the excitement has suddenly died out. The last time I saw a patient was back in October and I feel stupid and useless. I forgot why I wanted to be a doctor, let alone a psychiatrist. Rationally, I know big changes are around the bend, but my heart is still sitting on its comfy ass at home.

And on top of that I’m heartbroken now. I hate everything today. And I feel so crappy I’m even regretting having decided to travel now and in May. I should have saved up my money for future rent and adult crap like that.

But then, they always say it can’t be all work and no play. Why do I feel so guilty for treating myself?

Oh wait, because treating myself totally backfired and now I’m heartbroken and completely alone in a place far away from home. I could be one of those badass women who says another one bites the dust, fuck it then, I’ll just enjoy the city on my own.

But no. I’m pathetic and I isolate in a hotel room instead.

I kinda want to die right now. Or sleep and not have to deal with the world. To my twisted mind, those are both the same thing. And yes, I’m throwing the phrase “I want to die” around loosely. Deal with it.

I’m still away from home. I scheduled a trip with a close friend to the city where Pizza Guy lives. It was convenient, surprisingly cheap, and since the opportunity to travel young and responsibility-less won’t come around again in life I said “why not?”. Plus, it happens to be the same city where my most recent dating interest lives.

And yet, it was a bit of a mistake and I can’t wait to get back home. I’ve barely spent time with my friend because she’s busy doing adult things and basically I’ve been locked up in the hotel and mostly sleeping by choice. And why locked up? Because my anxiety is very high right now. And why is my anxiety very high? Because I got my heart broken on only my second day here.

The most recent dating interest is no more and I am pretty devastated. Another one bites the dust. I’m glad I didn’t give him a name on the blog and I’m glad my sole traveling purpose wasn’t him. But still. We were sort-of-almost-dating and just going with the flow. But on Friday he confessed via text that after a full 3 months he’s finally accepted that we’re not a good match.

And you know what’s the funny thing? I rejected him after our first date. I told him I thought there were girls who were more compatible with him than me. He said “ok, but I believe in second chances”. We continued texting daily. He grew on me. We went out quite a couple of times when we coincided geographically. I started liking him. And then finally I was really into him.

But I guess it was the other way around for him. He thought we were a good match at first…but then he got to know me better. Granted, at least he wasn’t a douche like The Russian and actually told me what he felt. But still…

Can’t help but feel men only like me for my physical attributes and sex (yes, low-self-esteem-me is actually feeling that). However, once they get to know me they discover I have no personality and am something to run away from. They all say how beautiful I am  at first and as time goes by they just drift away slowly, hoping I don’t notice.

But Dana, there’s other fish in the sea.

But Dana, that’s not true! You’re a great person! You’ve got an awesome personality in addition to being beautiful!

But I wanted that fucking fish. And I wanted it (him) now.

There’s a backstory to him. He’s been my platonic crush for all of 9 years now. I couldn’t believe I was semi-dating him. I felt so lucky to be semi-dating such an amazing guy. But no. After 3 months I get my heart broken by no less than my platonic crush. You’ve gotta be kidding me…

I’m fucking sad. Very much so. He wants to stay friends. I told him me too, but that he has to give me time to recover. But right now I don’t want to recover, I just want to see him and be with him. And knowing that I’m in the same city as him and we haven’t spoken since Friday is killing me.

Then yesterday I saw Pizza Guy. Nothing remotely sexual, I just wanted some good friendly company and to get out of the hotel. It was good to see him. It allowed me to solidify our current relationship status as friends. I told him about my heartbreak. And again…

There are more fish in the sea.

Dating fucking sucks.

Some new person will come around when you least expect it.

And that’s fine, sure, if I had the fucking certainty that I will actually meet someone or a few people who will be Mr. Right at the right time. But guess what? Some people actually live alone in this life. And that could well be me. What if my fear of ending up alone and without a significant other becomes a reality? Anything’s possible.

Meanwhile, my close friend met up with someone last night and is meeting up with him again today. I love her to bits but I can’t help but feel like an utter piece of shit next to her. I’ve always felt like the ugly best friend when I’m with her and I’m just so jealous of her meeting up with this guy. In summary: here I am, feeling ugly, personality-less, lonely, and heartbroken, while she’s out there meeting awesome guy after awesome guy after awesome guy…in an awesome city.

Why couldn’t I have this one awesome fish with me? What didn’t he like about me? What made him think we’re not a good match?

There’s only one common factor to all the guys I’ve dated or been interested in: me. So, it follows that I’m the problem, right?

I’m always the fucking problem. Maybe I should just fucking drown in a vat of coconut oil.

In a few hours I’ll receive that email that states whether I matched or not.

And I feel like shit.

Thing is, it’s not exactly because of the Match that I feel this way. I guess it’s just been an all-over shitty day and it knocked the wind out of me. I’m actually kind of oblivious to the Match right now…I’m surprisingly confident (and a little bit arrogant) and whether I matched or not is the least of my worries. I’m pretty sure I matched.

I feel like shit because I let my parents’ feelings get to me.

My mom said to me yesterday: “You’re leaving and I’ll be left here, alone.” When I asked her if she was trying to guilt-trip me she actually answered yes.

Then yesterday I told my dad I’ll be traveling with a friend for a week, just to enjoy my time off, you know? He didn’t like it. His response was an incredulous: “So you’re going to (incredibly famous city) and then what?!” Later in the night he said: “You don’t love me anymore.” Apparently because I don’t accept his affection….but I know it was because I won’t be spending that week here at home.

I’m also traveling in May with another friend. So that doesn’t help either.

Why am I made to feel like shit when all I want is to enjoy my life, grow up, and make a respectable career for myself? Sure, sure, “the empty nest” and whatnot…but really, is this normal? Do other people’s parents make them feel like the worst offspring ever when they go through this?

I mean, really…I’m even afraid of telling my parents tomorrow whether I matched or not because that means I’m leaving far away from home. All the places I ranked are far away, so if I matched it means I’ll be gone come June/July.

Then on top of that my issues with relationships/men. I’m feeling pathetic right now. I feel no man will ever love me, because I’m simply not the type of woman men fall in love with. Plus, I feel ugly and horribly fat. I purged twice today. Honestly, will anyone ever give me a fucking chance??

Everything blows.

Ups and downs. Now is an up moment!

Yes. They mostly have to do with men. One in particular. The one I posted about recently. However, I don’t want to sound like I’m blaming men as a collective for my shitty mood. It’s one thing to say “I hate men” in the heat of the moment, it’s another to actually believe it. There have been idiots in my life, like the Russian, and full-blown pieces of feces like the Ex (I’m sorry, feces), but this one seems more of a decent nature and my ups and downs are merely due to my longstanding difficulty with romantic relationships.

That’s the borderline bit that I still can’t seem to shake off…Any little thing means abandonment or failure to me. Not that guys ever get to know, though, it’s a mess entirely contained in my head. Entirely MY business.

In addition to men there’s this itty bitty detail that takes place next week…

The Match is next week.

Wait, what?


Holy crap.

So, next week I get to find out where I’m living for the next 4 years. Which, granted, no matter where it is it will be a shock to me and a huge change because I’ve never lived outside of my home city for more than 2 months.

Mega holy crap.

….But it’s scary and exhilarating all at the same time. More scary now, though.

I can’t believe next week is my turn. To me the Match was a mystery when I began med school. Ah, ignorance is bliss.

How does one go about this? Well, on Monday 14th I get an email that says whether or not I matched at a residency spot, yay or nay. Not more or less information than that. Then Match Day is Friday 18th and that’s when I get my hands on this crazy-ass letter that says where I’ve matched for residency. That’s 4 days of torture, yes.

And that’s counting on me matching. Which I’m pretty confident about, surprisingly.

Oh god….

I’d rather distract myself with this new love interest, honestly.



It’s incredible how butt-fucking ugly I feel today.

“I woke up like this.” Indeed.

I feel so ugly I don’t even want to go out. I keep looking at myself in the mirror…the acne that doesn’t seem to go the fuck away, the spots from past zits, the scars, the dark circles from not sleeping very well, the unsightly hairs that my genes gave me…

My face just keeps getting worse. I’d never been prey to stress-induced acne, but since I started figuring out my Rank Order List it’s kind of been a problem. Plus, anxiety has me picking at my face almost daily, which is obviously the #1 contributor to having all these spots and zits.

Why does feeling ugly get me down so fast? Because it takes me back to the worst times in my life: my pre-teen to teenage years.

Plus, it doesn’t help I’ve said no to going out with my mom two days in a row. She suggested we go shopping. I said no. Today she said she was going to the movies and asked if I wanted to go. Again, I said no. On both occasions it was just too early in the day for my taste, plus I’ve had terrible mornings these past days. It also just so happens that both the mall and the specific cinema she was going to give me terrible anxiety. I’ve never tried to explain this to her because she never understands my anxiety. She’ll just brush it off, roll her eyes, and say “Oh, please…” then proceed to think that I just don’t want to go out with her (which ins’t true 99% of the times).

But, going back to feeling ugly. I’m isolating because I feel ugly and I’ve got lots of anxiety. I know it. I don’t even want to go out with friends, and if I do, I only want to go out at night because the anxiety is less. Starting to feel it all bringing me down.

I can’t live here anymore. I think of The Ex. He might be anywhere. He might see me. His wife might see me. He’ll think he did nothing wrong to me. Worse, he might actually be proud of himself for “taking away my ‘virginity’ and being the ‘first one'” (he stated this back in the day…I shudder thinking about this). Meanwhile, she’ll think I’m a w***e, maybe even text me for just being in the same place as them.

How does this all make me feel? Ugly. And the acne. The fucking acne.

Makes me think kids in middle and high school were right: I was a “butt-fucking ugly” piece of shit “bitch”. I feel pathetic thinking about those people from the past while in my twenties.

Why was I so weak? Why couldn’t I just brush the bullying off like other people seem to be able to do? Why was I so fucking sensitive?

And The Ex….The fucking Ex….who still has such a strong hold on my life so many years later…I want him gone. Away. I want him to disappear….into a black hole so that every little bit of mass encompassing him becomes nothing…

I want my life back.




Ah, I think I’m depressed again. Though I don’t want to call it that. I’m feeling shitty. Yeah, that feels just about right.

It just so happens that I’ve been kind of crappy with my Prozac since I left home to visit the Russian in October. And I haven’t had therapy in who knows how  the fuck long. G and R? I don’t know who they are anymore. I also haven’t been writing as much and today and yesterday I tried to sketch but I couldn’t even doodle. Sigh.

And I know what triggered it all. In addition to the obvious (the Russian, interview season, thinking about my goddamn future on a daily basis…) I’ve been back home for a few days now. It was like turning on a switch.

I’m back in the noise and with my parents, but most of all back to this tired old place where I’m from and which I’m so sick and tired of. It doesn’t change. It literally does not change. If you visited this place 50 years from now you’d find the same people, the same conversations, the same problems. I’ve always been an outcast here, and having the joy of pretending I was a nomad across the different states for a month now made me forget just how much I don’t fit in here.

Also, not helping my depression is the fact that I need a fucking car to get anywhere interesting here. Sounds stupid, but it’s much easier for me to balance my emotions when I know I can just pick up my two legs and go somewhere within 5 minutes without having to turn on a car and think about gas, traffic, or road rage. So, I lock myself in my room because it’s just fucking easier and it’s my comfort zone…hence the isolation and falling into depression again.

And then there’s my parents. The same old tired crap that drags me down again and again. I love them to bits but my god, I cannot live with them anymore. Anything they do or say sends me spinning into bitch-mode.

I’ll be leaving for another interview in a few days. Then I’ll be a tourist somewhere else for a few more days. Then I have to come back and study for Step 2 CS. Oh the excitement…

And the Russian. Nothing there, obviously. Texted him today because he has a pair of earrings that I adore and left in his apartment. I refuse to leave them there. I suggested he ship them or we meet up quick when I’m back in the city that I adore in January for an interview. I was crossing my fingers he’d say meet-up, but was expecting having to text him my address. No answer. No nothing. Texted him again, nicely, asking him if he had any preference. Again, nothing.

I’m so fucking heartbroken you guys. I want to be angry at him and I know it’s what I should be, because he’s the one avoiding me and not showing face. But I can’t help but think that I was just wrong in sending him that angry text (which wasn’t even insulting, by the way, it was firm and angry but not indecent). I keep thinking about the small things we shared before it all went downhill…the conversations, the uncanny coincidences in things we liked and just the things we talked about, the movies we liked and joked about, the conversations about medicine and philosophical stuff, him saying “I love listening to you ramble”, the kisses, the intimacy, the jokes we shared, the places we went together, that cute smile of his, and that fucking geeky laugh he has that makes me weak in the knees because it makes his tough exterior melt away for just the teeniest second…..

I miss him you guys. And there’s no getting him back. There’s no fucking getting him back (ah, hello tears…they’re starting to well up). I fucking ruined it.

And of course that sends me on a tailspin of thinking: Oh I don’t want to be a doctor anymore, fuck I don’t want to be a psychiatrist, why am I even interviewing for residency?, I’m a good for nothing idiot, I’m fat and pathetic, can’t even hold onto a great guy who was interested, I just want to crawl in a fucking hole and wither away and die in my own fucking shit.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. I can’t sleep anymore. The noise in this house and this fucking neighborhood just don’t let me sleep. The noise in my head, thinking about interviews and the teeniest details about what I answered, what I did wrong here and there, how I would rank the programs, where I would be willing to compromise where I not to match in my #1 program (which is very possible)….it’s all keeping me awake at night.

And then come the thoughts of wanting to die, the suicidal thoughts that never come to fruition because fuck, if I’ve made it this far I’m not just going to kill myself on a whim (in my case, I know it’s “on a whim”…I know myself well enough to know that the thoughts will wither away after a while, doesn’t mean it’s “on a whim” for others though).

And then, by fucking g-d….I wake up in this fucking good-for-nothing place that offers me, you guessed it: NOTHING. This place offers me zero opportunities, zero life, zero happiness. The only things I find here are my parents and siblings, my friends, and my dogs. Nothing else.

So I wake up. Go back to sleep. Wake up. Go back to sleep. Dream about the Russian never coming back home from work. Wake up. Go back to sleep. Dream about the Russian avoiding me during an interview day where we coincided. Wake up. Can’t go back to sleep. Hate myself. Sit on the bed. Get up. Open the blinds….and fuck, I’m still in this shitty place they call my hometown. I’m here again. Stuck again.

I go through the day. I eat dinner. Hate myself for it. Purge a bit. Feel the high. Alone.

No Russian. No new interview invites. No new adventures. No place to grow. It all withers away the moment I start to get comfortable. Hurting so much.

(And yes, I’m crying.)



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