Defined by My Reflection

And I said to my body, softly,
“I want to be your friend.”
It took a long breath and replied,
“I have been waiting
my whole life for this.”
-Nayyirah Waheed

For most of my adolescent and adult life I have looked at myself and only saw the worst things about me.  My stomach is too flabby, my love handles are more than a little extra to hold on to.  I have streatchmarks on my streatchmarks.  And there is such a thing as thighs that are too big.  And then there were the mark and scares from me cutting myself.  This really made my self-esteem and self-image plumit.  I hated myself and the only thing that made sense to me was to cut more, cut deeper.  I saw myself as an ugly person anyway, so it’s not like I was doing any harm.

The way I looked was all that mattered to me; I let it define me.  And what I saw sunk me into such a horrible depression.

When I had my son right after I graduated high school, I was so desperate to lose the weight I had gained.  So I did a crash diet.  I basically survived off of lemon water and cigarettes.  This was really easy for me to do because I was already experiencing such a depression from placing my son for adoption and I didn’t really have much of an appetite anyway.  I ended up losing all the baby weight plus an additional 15 pounds, but I still wasn’t happy.  It was the first time in years that I had been in a size 7-8 in bottoms and a medium in shirts.  The number on the scale was at the lowest it had been since middle school, but that didn’t matter.  I still looked in the mirror and saw this girl with so many imperfections.

Over the next few years the image that I saw when I looked in the mirror only seemed to get worse.  I had gotten pregnant with my second child and had gained a ton of weight.  I spent my pregnancy covering up my severe depression over how I looked, even though I knew that I was growing another little human inside me which is why I had gained the weight.  After I had Payton I had lost all motivation.  My mind so desperately wanted to lose the weight but I just couldn’t get the rest of me on board so that I could actually make that happen.  I began to hate myself more.  I knew I needed to change.  I constantly felt like my friends and my husband would find someone else better looking to bring into their lives and push me to the side.  Maybe that seems crazy to you, but it was a true fear for me.

The year I got married I was determined to lose weight before my wedding.  I didn’t want to be that “fat” uncomfortable bride.  I didn’t want my husband to regret marrying me because of the way that I looked.  So, another crash diet.  I was a little “smarter” this time.  I made sure I had more nutrients in my body so that I would have the strength to be a momma to our sweet little girl.  I took on a full liquid diet.  Smoothies, Slim Fast, fruit infused water; that was my diet.  I knew it wasn’t the healthiest option, but I also knew it was better than lemon water and cigarettes (although I did think a few times that I should just go that route instead).

On my wedding day I actually felt kind of pretty.  Kind of worthy to be marrying the man who I was.  I was getting excited to see him once I was all dolled up in my dress with my hair and makeup done to perfection.  When I got to the altar, he said nothing.  After the ceremony, he said nothing.  During our reception, he said nothing.  He never once told me that I looked pretty.  In fact, the only man that day that did tell me I looked pretty was my father-in-law.  I did appreciate what he said, but it just wasn’t the same.  It didn’t come from my husband.  I instantly felt ugly.  How could I be pretty?  My husband didn’t even tell me I was, so how could I honestly look any better than I had before my crash diet?

That ugly girl in the mirror was still looking back at me.  She was never going to go away.  At least that is what I had convinced myself of.  So when I was started on a mood stabilizer just a month after getting married and started to gain even more weight I decided it was time to fight back.  I tried eating healthy, working out, drinking more water, cutting out pop.  None of that was working.  The number on the scale kept increasing.  My stomach rolls got bigger.  My underarm flab got more flabby.  I noticed my double chin getting bigger too.  How was anyone going to love me if I looked like this?  How was I ever going to love myself being this ugly fat girl?

I hated being naked.  I hated my husband seeing me naked.  I avoided my swimsuit.  I wore baggy clothes.  I did anything I could do to not be able to see myself.  Or feel what I felt towards myself.

Pregnancy changes a womans body.  And by the time I had my third pregnancy, my body and my self-esteem had diminished.  I hated every single thing that I saw when I looked in the mirror.  I felt so worthless because of my image.  Losing weight wasn’t working no matter what I had tried.  I was going to be fat forever.  Until I had an idea.  An idea to go see a doctor and see if there was maybe some underlining reason to why I wasn’t able to ever lose weight.  There wasn’t.  But thankfully to ease my mind, my doctor agreed to put me on a weight loss medication.  I started taking it and I started losing weight.  I was addicted.  This feeling, noticing my clothes fitting differently, seeing the number on the scale dropping, it was a high.  A high that I never had before in my life.  I became a little more active.  Not necessarily working out.  I made a point to wear sweatshirts and sweatpants when cleaning the house so that I would sweat more than normal.  I increased my water intake too.  The number kept dropping on the scale and my clothes got baggier every day.

I looked in the mirror one morning, expecting to finally see someone beautiful looking back at me.  But I didn’t.  Fat.  Ugly.  Huge.  Worthless.  Unattractive.  I didn’t understand.  I was finally making progress.  I was finally starting to become that thin beautiful girl I had always dreamed of being.  So why wasn’t I seeing her when I looked in the mirror?  Disappointed by what I was seeing, I sat on my bed and decided to distract myself by going through my Pinterest account.  And that is when I saw it.  A quote that caught my attention.

“I am obsessed with becoming a woman comfortable in her own skin.”

Obsessed.  I was obsessed.  I was obsessed with becoming someone who I wasn’t.  I have never been this tiny little thing.  I’ve had curves for as long as I can remember.  I had been so certain that what I was, what I am, wasn’t good enough.  That it would never been good enough.  I’d never look good enough.  I got back up and went to the mirror.  With my eyes closed I counted to three. 1.. 2.. 3..  I opened my eyes and looked at the person staring back at me.

There she was.  There I was.  Happy.  Smiling.  I didn’t see the negativity.  I saw a woman with a beautiful smile.  I saw someone who was lucky enough to have her hair cooperate that day.  And someone who wasn’t going to let her reflection in the mirror define who she was anymore.  I saw someone who was starting to love herself again.

I still struggle.  I don’t always see the good images of myself when I look in the mirror.  But more often than not, I am able to see at least one good thing about myself.  And every new day, I try to build on what I saw the day before.

I try not to let my reflection define me anymore. I’m no longer trying to be thin. I want to be comfortable in my own skin. I want to love myself. Every single part of myself. When I look in the mirror I see more than my body. I see someone who has a big heart. Someone who is strong and loving. I see someone who refuses to give up on herself. My weight, my “imperfections”, the mirror, they are not in control of my worthiness anymore. They are not in control of who I am as a person.

I honestly think that I will always struggle with my self-image.  But I also think that my struggle will continue to get smaller.  At least I hope so anyway.

So for any of you reading this… If you have ever struggled with your self-esteem and self-image, please know that you are not alone.  This struggle is real.  Very real.  It is hard.  It is painful.  And it can certainly feel like it is consuming you.  So if you ever need someone to talk to, I am here.  I am here because I’ve been there, I am still there.  I am here because I care.