How Do I Tell My Therapist That I'm a Loser?
By Lilith Stuart
November 4, 2026
Graphic by Ryan Olivas
I feel it especially when I see old pictures of myself — blunt brown bangs pushed back by an obnoxious hair accessory. I owned many different hair barrettes, in multiple colors and patterns, that I would pick each morning to coordinate with my outfit. It hardly ever matched, but I loved my brightly colored leggings with my bedazzled shirts.
There is a photo of me Christmas morning with my HUGE dollhouse that I got for Christmas. It had four floors and was just as tall as I was. I loved playing with my Barbie dolls, taking them through the house with its wooden doors that opened, and up the elevator using a knob to pull them to their grand master bedroom. As I created their stories, I believed that I had found who I wanted to be when I grew up — Barbie. She had every career in the world, and a full life of beautiful plentifulness.
Now at the age of 20, I stand in the Barbie aisle of Target looking at all of the dolls in their bright pink boxes. I smile and laugh, knowing that they sold me a complete and utter lie — I would have to choose a path. It was impossible to be everything I had wanted at once. There were the obvious disqualifications of the fantastical creatures, fairies and mermaids alike, but there were also some disappointments that seeped into regret, like the astronaut and the singer. I reminisce of the times I thought I could be every doll on this wall, but now I look for the box with the question mark on its face — one punctuation that would take me in with all of my uncertainty.
It is looking upon these dolls with their fixed smiles and destinies that I realize I have no idea who I am, or even a glimpse of who I want to be.
HOW DO I GET OUT OF MY OWN HEAD
Dear Dazed and Confused,
I regret every word that comes out of my mouth because it always comes out so wrong! I feel like I have good ideas, but I cannot vocalize them well. I second guess everything that I do and that I say, and I am EXHAUSTED. I wish it was easy for me to just be carefree and speak, whether it be in class or talking to others. How do I allow myself to be me?
- Word Vomit
Before I left for college, I had an image of who I was going to be — a childhood habit of mine that you may have picked up on. While I was quiet, shy, and therefore “nice” in high school, I decided that I was going to be unapologetically myself in college.
“It’s a fresh start,” my mom would tell me. “You don’t have to be who you were anymore, you can be who you are and who you want to be.”
I pictured the ideal Lillith. She was funny, intellectual, approachable, charismatic and confident. She complimented people on their outfits while walking down the sidewalk. She brought up good points that everyone in the class would write down with excited pen strokes. People would want to be her friend and study with her in cute coffeeshops around Austin. I could imagine it all happening. It had been what I wanted for years.
However, when it came time to execute that invented persona, my mind stopped altogether.
What if they don’t like me?
You’re a complete fraud. You are not really like this.
What if you give the wrong answer? How will you ever recover?
So instead of reaching out to that cool person beside me or answering the question, I sat — completely frozen in who I was.
What if this is who I am? What if I cannot change, no matter how hard I try?
Graphic by Ryan Olivas
COMPARISON IS THE THIEF OF JOY,
so why do I keep opening the door for it?
Dear Lazy and Unsuccessful,
Everyone’s lives seem to be picking up, and mine remains in the same space. I feel like I have been running in place for the past few years. I think I am making progress, but then I am reminded that I am nowhere near where I am supposed to be when one of my old classmates posts their super duper great life on Instagram to rub my face in. I know I shouldn’t wallow, but I can’t help it.
- Debbie Downer
Comparison came knocking at my door while I was having a dinner party. I was dining with all of my accomplishments over the past semester, when a knock in the form of an Instagram post came to announce that it made a salad with craisins and wanted to join.
One of my classmates had gotten engaged. While she was studying abroad.
Fantastic.
I still feel great about myself! Look at all I had accomplished. I gesture behind me to find everything gone, except that post, with its damn craisins, chomping in my ear. I sat with it for a long time.
I mean, what was I really doing with my life? I did not spend my days walking through the streets of beautiful European cities. I spent them playing Stardew Valley, romancing the town wizard — so I guess that means it also contains the extent of my romantic experience.
Every article I had written suddenly disappeared into insignificance. All of my academic achievements meant nothing. My friends could not have liked me as much as they claimed they did because why would they? What good qualities did I bring to the table? I was not as interesting as I could be, so why would they want to be associated with wasted potential?
i don’t know who i am anymore…
…
- ____
I’m having a midlife crisis in my twenties, about thirty years too early.
I used to think I wished for death, but I think I just wanted a chance to start over. I could not think about one thing I liked about myself, or at least nothing I could say with absolute certainty. When people ask me about myself, I freeze.
How do I know if I am being who I really am? Is this all a performance?
Negative emotions come and stay longer than I want them to. I cannot seem to stop feeling sorry for myself, brewing in my pity and fear for so long that I grow completely paralyzed.
I do not take risks. What if I get embarrassed? What if I get rejected?
But staying safe means staying the same, and I do not like who I am now.
How can I dislike myself so much for someone who does not know who they are at all?
What happened to those big dreams? What happened to the girl in the bedazzled shirts?
I have let her down, and that brings tears to my eyes.
—
“You understand your love for yourself should not be conditional, right?”
My therapist’s voice rings through my computer after my long monologues that swing between nostalgia, insecurity, self deprecating humor and immense hopelessness.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“It’s easier said than done, but you should not wait to love yourself until you achieve something or ‘become’ someone. It will never be enough, the goal post will keep moving. You will always find something you are doing ‘wrong.’ It is okay to love who you are now.”
It is okay to love who you are now.
I find myself thinking of the large dollhouse, the rooms full of stories inside. The Barbie that I wanted to be was a woman of my own creation. I wanted abundance. I wanted a life that was full of love, laughter and joy. If I could create such a wonderful life in my head, what stops me from envisioning that life for myself now?
The simple answer is fear. Fear of embarrassment and rejection and failure. But we do not exist in vacuums of happiness and success. Life is about taking everything in, being in a constant state of transformativity that is not always comfortable. Not knowing who I am can be a detriment, but it can also be a freedom to create a life that I am proud of.
I will continue to be awkward in public, play my games, read my books, and stay in on a Friday night. I’ll keep making friends through weird conversations, sing at the top of my lungs and write my self-involved stories. Because at this point in my life, that is who I am — and perhaps it’s time I decide to love her for it, for the sake of that girl with her mismatched barrettes, and whoever I become. ■
Other Stories in Life
© 2025 SPARK. All Rights Reserved.