You may have read my recent blog entry referencing my jiggly ass. As it was about fear and faith and not my boo-tay, I was surprised to receive a concerned response from my boyfriend about the whole “jiggly” thing. Painfully familiar with my lifelong struggle with body image, he just wanted to “check in” and make sure that I was doing OK. I didn’t really get it because I believe that having the courage to actually talk about my body with a sense of humor was a huge step in the right direction. I have spent my entire life living in shame about it, so to me, this was really positive.
Growing up I had often heard that I had a “good body.” I believe that this was primarily because I sprouted breasts in 4th grade and they pretty much grew at an insanely rapid rate from then on. I still remember so vividly the day my mom looked down at my chest in that little forest green turtleneck and said, “I think it’s time we get you a bra.” I was mortified.
Guys began talking about my body. Older guys. Guys my own age. Some even younger. It seemed to be the most special thing about me—so it became the most important thing to me. Guys liked me because I had a good body, so I better have a good body. I got attention for my good body, so I better have a good body. I will surely be a nobody, if I don’t have a good body. BUT I HATED MY BODY. Yet the irony being that my body is where I got all my self-esteem. And therein…the dilemma. But life goes on.
Junior high. High school. College. Career. Nothing changed. I hated not feeling comfortable without a bra. I hated that I couldn’t wear anything backless. I hated that I had massive cleavage in literally everything. I hated that people thought they were fake. I hated when my bra straps dug into my shoulders. I hated bathing suits. I hated sagging. I hated sports bras. Hate. Hate. Hate. Body. Body. Body. (Again with that icky “H” word, but there is no other way to explain it.) I can’t even tell you how many amazing experiences I missed out on because I didn’t feel that I looked good enough to participate.
Without getting into too much detail, that was just the beginning of about 20 years of some combination of diet pills, eating disorders, compulsive over-exercising, yoyo dieting and unhealthy cleansing just to get a “good-er” body. Then I will feel better. And all that combined with the most horrific negative self-talk imaginable, I am surprised it didn’t kill me. Well, it did…but thankfully only on the inside. So this was my life—me and my “good body.”
Three years ago I quit drinking. That was my first big step (and another story for another day), but only just the beginning. And almost a year ago now, I met a woman and embarked on a spiritual adventure that has changed my life in ways I will never ever be able to put into words. She taught me how to love myself. How to truly love myself—unconditionally. And it has been a journey from the inside out. She never asked me to change my destructive behavior; she knew I would stop on my own once I found my way back “home.”
I learned to see my body as my ally, a sacred vessel that without it, I could do literally nothing. Every emotion I have ever felt. Everything I have ever seen, heard, smelled, touched, experienced, accomplished. Every breath I have ever been given the Grace to taste. Every single precious moment in this lifetime has been made possible because of MY BODY. My poor, abused, always-there-for-me-no-matter-what body that has given my soul a real, earth-walking life.
I wrote a letter to my body, reliving each year of my life, expressing gratitude for all that she has done for me, and heartbreaking apologies for how I have mistreated her. I wrote a vow to my body to accept, nourish and be kind to her, treating her only with gratitude and love. I wept. And I wept. I can’t even begin to describe this day—this moment—that my heart broke for her. And from that day forward, I have worked to love her every single day.
I say “work” because it is, for me, often just that—really hard work. Some days I wake up feeling amazing and like I could run the world, and other days I want to stay in my PJs and avoid mirrors at all costs. So if I let my head run my life, I would be in big, big trouble. Speaking of mirrors.
At the beginning of this journey to self-love, I was encouraged to stand in front of the mirror every day and thank my naked body for what she has done for me. Touch her. Love her. Thank her. Yes, I said naked. At first this was absolutely TERRIFYING. And it was hard. But I did it. And I just kept doing it. And guess what? It worked. And I still do it. And it’s still terrifying sometimes. And it’s still hard sometimes. But I do it. And I just keep doing it. And it still works. And it gets easier. And sometimes it’s even kinda fun. Gratitude is everything.
Once at an AA meeting I heard someone say, “If you walk 50 miles into the woods, you have to walk 50 miles out of the woods.” It made me laugh and it also made so much sense. So even if it does take me 20 years to walk back out of my body image “woods,” I know with 100% certainty that I am in it with my whole heart. Because my life depends on it.
And now I ask…what about you? Do you have your own journey "into the woods?” If you do, it’s never too late to stop, turn around, and start walking back out. And just so you know, I’m in there, too…so you’ll never have to go it alone.
