The last week has been a tough one for me, both emotionally and spiritually, and despite coming across as calm on the surface, I've felt anything but. On top of some current and looming life changes which are both exciting and terrifying, I have found myself thinking more deeply on a few different topics, namely the idea of family and my own personal experiences with both my biological and spiritual families. And it has been challenging to wade through all of the newly-discovered yet unresolved feelings I've encountered. In the middle of all of this, I happened upon this post and just about lost it. The line that really hit me was:
Guys, it has been a long time coming, but after twenty-seven years of life I am finally choosing to love myself. Like really, truly, wholeheartedly love myself, especially in regard to my body. See, since I was ten or eleven, I have hated my body. I distinctly remember thinking as early as sixth grade that I was an ugly duckling, the one who hung out with the pretty girls but was never fully accepted as "one of them." As a result, in my mind I was never pretty enough, skinny enough, or desirable enough; I was cute, but not beautiful, and certainly not the ever-coveted "hot" (which, by the way, I freaking hate that word as an adult).
Fast forward sixteen years, and those feelings have only followed me, and for far too long I have loathed and criticized so many parts of my outward appearance: my crooked smile and teeth, my naturally muscular legs, the bags under my eyes, my v squishy tummy, and more. I have been my harshest critic, believing that everyone else saw these "flaws" just as I did. Acting alone, I have absolutely torn myself apart, and ultimately ripped my body to shreds with my negative words and thoughts.Read More