But always tell you how great and amazing they are as they brag and bully their way through life, thinking only of themselves and expecting everyone to love them for it, flying into a rage and tweeting a barrage of hurtful abusive insults over the slightest perceived disrespect, like...

Well I can't think of any examples; But it sure ain't you!
People here love you because you're lovable and good.

There's a passage in my Star Trek Deep Space Nine story where a young person with gender dysphoria is talking to a priest of the planet she lives on (Bajor), and says very much the same thing as your blog here about her problems being "petty" compared to so many people with "real problems". What the Vedic says in response just popped into my head as I wrote it, and it really doesn't sound like me or how I usually think, so I think I was either divinely inspired by the Bajoran Prophets or my unconscious is a lot wiser than I am. But I've used it at times to get myself out of a shame/feeling-like-a-horrible-person spiral, and I've pasted it below,
~Big hugs, Veronica
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One of the monks was standing next to my bench. I must have been deep in thought to not notice him approaching me. He had a nice smile. The sort of eyes you want in a man of faith, “You seem troubled.”

“I don't know,” I shrugged.

He sat down beside me, “I think you do know. I'm a professional at this, I can spot a troubled soul at five hundred meters, and I'd say you're hurting pretty bad.”

“Yeah but ........ I've sort of been thinking here. And I can't really say my problems are that terrible. There's so many people who have been through so much. The farmers who can't work their fields because they're full of mines. Or because the Cardassian poisoned their well as they were leaving here, no reason for it, just being Spoonheads.”

“That seemed pretty low even for them,” he nodded. “You've been testing and purifying your water, I hope.”

“Of course. And my father and my brother, they just got back from spending nine years in a labor camp-”

He whistled in astonishment. “Nine years...”

“They came home, looking like skin and bones---and this was after a month in the hospital, one of those recovery wards they have for the camp survivors---with scars all over them that I don't even want to ask about. When I think about someone going through something like that my own problems just seem so STUPID!”

The blunt, no-nonsense way he spoke, this monk didn't sound like he'd been born into the priestly caste. Maybe a farmer, or a tradesman like my pap. He said, “There's always someone who's got it worse than you. And it's useful to remember that, to help put your troubles in perspective and remember that there's things to be grateful for. But to use it to make yourself guilty and undeserving on top of whatever's hurting you, that's not productive. Unless you just like feeling miserable.”

“I don't. Or I don't think I'm like that.”

“And besides, we always think material problems are more 'real' somehow, because everyone can see them happening; so the empathy comes almost automatically. But they're not. A problem of the spirit can kill you just as dead as a Cardie disruptor. And without peace of mind, all the comfort and luxury you ever wanted will taste like ashes in your mouth. So trying to put our own spiritual or emotional problems on a scale with someone else's physical hardships, it's like comparing apples to oranges.”

“What to what?”