Giving up

Yes I'm depressed. I think honestly I have every right to be. And I know I'm more than likely Bi-Polar type II and I'm very far down in the low swing of that. To be fair, situational stimuli isn't exactly helping matters. Knowing that however, I've come to the conclusion that if I am to continue to exist and more specifically continue to try and make money on cam and support my husband and my family and keep trying to do whatever it is I do, I need to stop caring about my own feelings. Because ultimately, they don't matter at all.

I was so naive to think that people I meet on cam, baring the rare exception, actually meant anything nice they have ever said to me. I'm really just the fallback model. I've been told over and over that I'm the nicest model on Streamate. You know why? Because I don't kick out people who can't, or won't, pay me. I keep talking and flirting and trying to make them feel special. Because maybe, just maybe, they'll like me enough to take me private or exclusive and help me pay my bills. And maybe, just maybe, they won't call me a fat whore or dirty slut and I might be able to pretend for a few minutes that I'm appreciated.

Truth is, it is bullshit.

The beautiful models know that they will always get more customers, so they can kick out whoever they want. The young ones don't necessarily have outrageous mortgages or multi-thousand dollar debts looming on the horizon.

The cam factory models don't care because they can always go to another site and there's always another girl to take their place.

I don't honestly know why I ever thought I was worthy of being cared for. I am a deeply damaged person with mental illness and a history that would make most people sick. My husband has been lying to me for years, about everything. He can't help it. I can't help him. I can't even potty train my daughter. How could I help him?

I'm worthless. My artwork is juvenile and ridiculous. I look like the Bride of Frankenstein when I hoop. My tits and stomach sag. My skin is scared and flawed. My hair is awful. And I just get stupider and more pathetic by the day. Which makes it easy for people to bully me. I just scream "victim." I tried to be strong. I tried to have standards, to believe that I am worthy of being loved and cared for and treated with respect.

I was wrong.

I have to hide all these feelings from my daughter, because somehow I want her to break this cycle, to be better than me. To be strong and happy and not a magnet for abuse and humiliation. I don't know how to show her that. She asks me every day if she is "cute" or "pretty" and I die inside. I tell her "yes Baby, but more importantly you are strong and brave and smart and funny!" Last night she started laughing at me and said my hair was silly. I tried to explain to her that laughing at people isn't nice and she ended up crying under the covers in bed.

I give up. Call me whatever you want. Hate me. Sneer at me. Point out my flaws. If you miss one I'll fill in the blank for you. Use me. Abuse me. You can't hurt me worse than I've hurt myself.

Just pay me for it. I have to support my family. I have to make sure my daughter has good food and a roof over her head. I have to keep my husband out of jail. I have to take care of them.