Mirror, Mirror Pt. 1 - Sticks and Stones

Every girl has the innate desire to feel pretty. Some girls are blessed enough to look in the mirror and walk away feeling confident. Other girls (like me) have a difficult time looking at ourselves in the mirror without becoming overly critical and eventually, you end up becoming your own worst enemy. Dealing with self-image issues has been an almost lifelong struggle for me. It’s been easy to hide behind a smile (Which, by the way, I got braces as an adult to “fix” because in my head I thought it wasn’t good enough), but I feel like I don’t have to hide behind it anymore.  I have found solid ground to stand on, thanks be to God. This is my chance to be candid about a problem that has plagued me for most of my life. My hope is that someone out there that has gone through this will know that they aren’t alone in their struggle and that there is hope for a better tomorrow.

Junior High is such an awkward time for a kid. They start to notice differences in other kids that they hadn’t in years past. Everyone starts to take notes on how others are dressing and want to have the latest and greatest in fashion. In my time, Girbaud jeans, brushed leather jackets and K-Swiss were all the rage, and like the little robots we were, we all complied with the standards set so that we could fit in and be “cool”. Problem is, at least for me, following the crowd didn’t do anything for me. There were some really mean girls whom I was certain got up in the morning with the sole intent of making me miserable. Words can be incredibly powerful and at times so very hurtful. It hurt to be told that you’re ugly or that you aren’t cool enough. I had my circle of friends, and even their innocent teasing that wasn’t meant to cause any harm did in fact hurt my feelings all because I was so damaged by that one group of mean girls. I never did let anyone see me cry. I did enough of that by myself at home. This is when I began to heavily scrutinize everything about myself which turned into an obsessive behavior.

I hated how skinny I was, hated being flat-chested, hated my hair and hated my teeth. Most of all, I hated that I didn’t feel pretty and had zero confidence in myself. I don’t think I ever felt pretty or confident (even a little bit) until high school. I must have had something going for me because guys were interested in me, but that was never enough to make me feel better about myself. Somehow, I managed to keep all of this very private. I didn’t even confide in my parents about it. How in the world do you tell them “I think I’m ugly and I hate myself”? Then again, I didn’t realize what I was going through was a problem until I was much older, so how would I have known to go to my parents in the first place? I think my mom may have known because she would always tell me, “Those girls pick on you about your clothes or how you cut your hair, but I always see them doing the same things as you.” I never saw it, but I appreciated her trying to make me feel better. I don’t think she realized though just how hard I was on myself.

High school was, thankfully, a great experience. I was active in school activities and made life-long friendships, but the self-loathing continued behind closed doors. By the time 9^th grade rolled around, I still had a hard time accepting myself as I was. I couldn’t possibly see anything good about myself on the outside or on the inside. I always had faith in God, but it really took off in high school, especially my Jr. and Sr. year. I was still obsessing over everything that I thought was wrong with myself, but I wasn’t doing it as much. I slowly started to see the good things about myself thanks to some amazing friends and teachers and my mom, too. She always gave me encouragement when I needed it.  I felt like I was finally beginning to move past that chapter of my life.

Fast-forward to adulthood, and you have a young woman that has fallen right back into her old ways. Her body has gone through some changes as a result of pregnancy. She stares in the mirror hating herself, yet again, and every little thing she thinks is wrong with her is recited over and over in her thoughts. Thighs are too big, pesky cellulite starts to show up regardless of exercise, tummy isn’t as tight as it used to be, and skin around the eyes is losing elasticity. Then begins a ritual of getting on the scale multiple times a day, and even though the scale says 109, it just as soon say 190. (I have gotten control over all of the obsessing, but I still do battle with the scale. How I don’t have an eating disorder is purely by the grace of God, although I am very conscientious about what I eat and how much I eat. It’s funny how the girl who hated how skinny she was now isn’t skinny enough). And even though her husband looks at her with a passionate love and desire, she still doesn’t feel pretty.

A few months after I had our youngest, Bella, I went shopping at the mall for some new clothes, and I had all three kids in tow. I remember passing by a lady in one of the stores and she asked, “Are they all your children?” I beamed and proudly claimed them to be mine! The next thing she said made me stop right in my tracks, and though it was meant as a compliment that any other woman would’ve taken with grace, I had a hard time accepting it. She told me, “Wow, you could be a fashion model! Really, you look fantastic!” I smiled and said, “Thank you”, but I felt so uncomfortable inside. I’ve never been good at taking compliments (I’m much better at it now, especially when they come from my husband). I never felt like I deserved to be complimented, particularly about my looks. Part of that is because of my own self- damning thought process and partly because I have always been afraid of vanity and pride. Verses like Proverbs 31:30, “Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised” and Proverbs 16:5, “Everyone who is arrogant in heart is an abomination to the Lord; be assured, he will not go unpunished” had me scared to death to feel good about myself. I know what those verses really mean now, but even still, I don’t like to get too big of a head about anything because I don’t want to offend God.

Satan has whispered so many lies to me over the years and I actually believed him. He had me so transfixed with the negatives that I wasn’t even attempting to embrace the positives that others have been so kind to point out to me. So what does a broken girl do when she is sick and tired of the vicious cycle and can’t seem to get out of the rut she put herself in? She turns to the only true source of comfort and peace she’d ever known. She turns to God.

“Fear not, for I am with you, be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand”-Isaiah 41:10