This year, my theme for the year is worth. And while I didn't expect to gain a whole lot of insight from the first three months of focusing on redefining my worth in my own eyes, I have.
I'm always amazed that every time I set out on a journey, God provides me with all the essential tools I'll need.
The tools to mold me.
The tools to shape me.
The tools to make me see myself the way my Creator does.
The past 90 days have been marked--not by defining my own worth--but by realizing that a lot of women deal with incredible amounts of shame when it comes to their bodies. And, as I asked myself if I feel any shame about mine, I'm sad to admit that I felt the slightest bit of shame.
But that shame does not come out of a lack of commitment to eating--and being--healthy.
My shame came in the form of realizing that I truly need to be kinder to myself. To stop picking apart the pieces of myself that don't match up with our society's view of the perfect woman and her physique.
My body--as imperfect as it is--carries the same shape and form that my mother's does, and my grandmother's before her. This body takes care of a household, holds little children on Sunday mornings in church, and irons the clothes my husband wears every day. This body gardens, mows, cleans, cooks and walks many miles while attempting to teach Niko not to pull (I've clearly lost this battle, but I won't lose the war!). And this body has seen me through my roughest moments. BUT I'm not ashamed of it. I don't look in the mirror and echo these words, "You need to change."
Here's the thing: I don't look at myself enough and say these words even though I should, "You are amazing. You are here for a purpose. You are more than what others say about you."
Because if I'm being really honest, it's the world that tells me there is something constantly wrong with me.
"Is that really how you did your hair today?"
"Oh, that's an interesting skirt."
"I would let you try on this jacket, but you might stretch it out."
And if I'm going to be brutally honest, it began when I was eight years old and my father told me I didn't need a second helping of whatever my mother had made for dinner that one dark night.
In the years that followed, I can't remember a time when my father told me, "Jessi, you are beautiful. You are perfect just the way you are." That's not to say he didn't, it's just that any words of encouragement were drowned out by these words instead:
"Stop cutting your hair. Beautiful women have long hair."
"You've gained weight. You need to exercise more and eat less calories."
"Why don't you wear a skirt or a dress? Stop wearing jeans all the time. Be more girly."
Listen, I am in no way, shape or form trying to place all the blame for my less-than-stellar view of myself on my father. Because my father's passion is exercise and healthy eating and I know now that a majority of the things he said came from a place of wanting me to love his passions as much as he did. But I oftentimes wonder who I would be today if he had made every concious effort to tell me that I was beautiful when I grew into my hips before all the other girls in my sixth grade class did. I wish he would have provided me with healthy snack options instead of telling me I couldn't have snacks at all. I wish he would have invested some confidence into me in the form of self-love.
But parents only do the best they can. And we can't undo the past or try to change it. We can just take it and accept it for what it is.
My father--unknowingly--taught me that people can be more cruel to us about our bodies than we are to ourselves. Because the things people say to me are far worse than the things I say to myself. That's why I've really prayed about loving myself even when the world doesn't. And it's been a strange ride thus far. Friends, lots of other women are struggling with this same thing.
How in the world am I supposed to love myself when the world keeps telling me I'm not worth loving?
Here are the three key moments that have stuck out thus far:
The First
I laughed. I cried. I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "Jessi, be kinder to yourself. You're worth it." And for that, I can only thank Whitney for opening herself up and sharing her story. The story that you can be happy regardless of what the world says about you. AND you can love yourself even when you others don't. She's a beautiful example of someone who doesn't let anything stop her from pursing her passions.
She made me--somehow--fall in love with the parts of me that are flawed. Because flaws will never keep me from doing what I love--writing, teaching, and helping people.
The Second
I was scanning through my Instagram account and noticed that an old friend had posted a picture of a chubby woman in short-shorts and made a comment about having to "see this" while she was stopped somewhere.
It really disappointed me. Because we should never use social media to bully, shame, or wound anyone. Regardless of whether or not we know them. Regardless of whether or not we agree with their modesty, lifestyle, outfit choice, etc.
It was during that week that I discovered women who love themselves, love other women. And they don't resort to fat-shaming or bullying behind their screen. They don't judge by looks. They don't look others up and down in comparison. They openly give, cultivate, encourage and build-up others.
That's when I began to understand that my love for others is a direct reflection of how I feel about myself. I'm not always kind to myself, but I'm always working on it. I'm always working on loving all parts of me. And, in turn, it has helped me love other women just where they are. Regardless of their choices. Regardless of how much I agree with them.
I judge a woman by how she treats others--especially those who can do nothing for her. That is--and will always be--the gauge by which I judge someone. Not by their size. Not by their flaws. But by their hearts.
The Third
I was sent an article about a plus-size woman who wore a low-rise bikini to the beach. I won't post the link here, simply for modesty reasons. I am not a huge fan of exposing all parts of your body. But that's another post for another day...
What I gained from this article is that we should all strive to be unique. We should all strive to put ourselves out there to affect positive change. Because in the wise words of Dr. Seuss, "Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."
Wherever I go, I will be met with critics. But so will everyone else. It's just a part of life.
In summation, the last three months have taught me one giant truth: Be kinder to yourself. Because the world won't ever stop being mean. And we are worth all the kindness we can bestow on ourselves. It should always begin internally, then fan outward to others.
Remember this: the moment you stumble across a woman who feels comfortable enough to attack another woman's body, you can only conclude one thing: she clearly suffers from insecurity issues about her own body. Like I said, women who love themselves, love other women regardless of how they look.
And discovering this truth has made it much easier to really love myself and focus on tuning out what others say about me.
We are, after all, simply human. And we all suffer from insecurity issues about our body and worth. However, our worth should never come from our bodies. They should come from what we contribute to those around us.
--Jessi
No comments:
Post a Comment