grew up in a very difficult household. My mother was often abusive and called me names, but there is one specific moment from when I was 14 that I can’t seem to move past.
My sister, who had recently married and moved away, was visiting our home. My mother, my aunt, and several of my mother's friends were all gathered in the living room. At the time, a new barbershop had opened up nearby. It was a bit "fancier" than my usual spot, and all my friends were going there. I really wanted to try it out.
I asked my mother for the money—it wasn't even that much more expensive than the old place—and explained that everyone was going there.
She didn't just say no. She looked at my sister and her friends, looked back at me, and shouted: "And who do you think you are?"
Then, she and her friends started laughing at me.
That moment broke what little self-esteem I had left. Now, nine years later, I am 23. I’m in medical school and I work at the same time. On paper, I’m doing great. But that voice hasn’t left me. Whenever I go to the gym and feel good about my progress, or whenever I buy new clothes, I stop myself. I immediately feel ugly. I tell myself, "Who are you, anyway?"
It has ruined my relationships with women, too. Every relationship ends the same way because I can’t stop talking negatively about myself. I just can't see the person my partners see; I only see the boy being laughed at in that living room.
I was just crying about this and needed to get it out. I’m tired of carrying a 14-year-old’s shame in a grown man’s body.