The good, the bad, and the (I feel) ugly.

I waited all my life to be pretty. It’s a sad reality, but one that consumed my youth. Just when I thought I was getting closer. I looked in the mirror and realized it was farther away than it seemed. I had braces for two years. Two years and a mouth surgery later, when the metal left my mouth, I still had a gap between my teeth. When I went on birth control for my acne at the age of 14, I thought this was going to be great. I would go up a few cup sizes and lose the acne. In reality, it just made me feel depressed. (So now I had acne, no boobs, and a crippling loss of my sense of self). For years, I was covered in acne, not only on my face, but down my neck, back, and chest. It was inescapable. I tried so hard to love myself, but I was always waiting for something to change. My skin to clear up. My teeth to straighten out. To finally grow into the body I was in. Something to change in my appearance.  To finally hit that high school glow-up.

And then it hit.

I finally felt pretty. 

Summer going into the first year of college. I was finally pretty. I got my teeth bonded a few months before, closing the gap. Accutane for 6 months cleared up my skin, and the extra grease my hair used to produce. I had spent months working out and felt good about the way my body looked.  I learned the art of self tanner. My hair was the lightest and longest it's been, and I got my eyelashes tinted and lifted. I had no reason to fill ugly and I didn’t. I was hot. 

When I looked in the mirror, for once I didn’t look ugly, 

I looked sad. 

My teeth looked great, but my smile was fake. My eyelashes were perfect, but the look behind my eyes was tragic (this sounds so dramatic but it was).

The years of hating myself had manifested into a girl who was unsure of herself and let people treat her badly. (More specifically let a boy treat her VERY BADLY.) A girl who got exhausted over getting ready because she felt uncomfortable in her own body. 

I never truly felt beautiful until I looked and found that my life was beautiful and worth living. I felt pretty because the world around me felt pretty. The vessel for my life no longer mattered. How my teeth looked or my stomach. It didn’t matter because every day I got to wake up and feed my stomach with food I love and smile so hard my teeth could look, however. I loved life, and therefore I didn’t hold muchweight in the way I looked.

But yet again, there are good days and bad days. That’s the simplicity of life itself. So here are the reminders I give to myself on those bad days.

Go for a walk.
During the worst time of my life, I could not get out of bed. Still, when I feel myself at my worst, it’s so hard to move. In my senior year of high school, at the peak of my abusive relationship, I would get into these huge arguments with my mom over getting out of the house and getting some exercise. (I guess this goes back to my first post where I said do as I say not as I do). But in therapy, I was able to understand why this scientifically helps you with your anxiety. Your amygdala is an almond shape part of your brain that makes your most rational and irrational emotions, and exercise regulates this. (It’s a lot more scientifically complex than this but for myself, I just think of it this way). Listen to your favorite podcast, go for a stroll, or run. Start tricking that almond-shaped brain matter to stop caring about the layer of fat above your jeans. 

Sit in nature.
Find beauty in the world around you. Sit by a water source and listen to the waves. Go to a field and look at the bugs and flowers and weeds. Look at the dogs that pass you by on the sidewalk. Watch the sunset and sunrise. The universe felt that you deserved a place among these beauties. We live in a huge world of beautiful things, you are one of them.

Look at photos of yourself when you were six.
My therapist told me whenever I talk badly to myself think of you saying it to your 6-year-old self. And whenever someone else talks to me badly, I know I have a job to protect that 6-year-old self. Have a photo of your six-year-old self and when you tell yourself you are ugly, pretend you are saying it to that little girl or boy. I had a recent conversation with a friend who is a camp counselor and watches young children all day. The simplicity of their days is something we desire to bring back into our lives daily. They do embarrassing things and have forgotten about them by the end of the day. They see beauty in everything. They think that finger painting is stellar, and they don’t care what their body looks like as long as they run fastest in tag or hide-n-go-seek. Six-year-old you thinks you are so beautiful. You owe it to them to think the same.

Think of your 80-year-old self.
Think of your 80-year-old self. Grey hair, saggy skin, and wrinkles around your eyes. She misses her young self, learning how to live and love. She’s looking back at this version of you with such love, gratitude, and compassion. She’s looking back on these days with such nostalgia. She doesn’t want you to waste your youth hating yourself. You owe it to her to spend the best days of your life happy.

What you look like is the least interesting thing about you.
Make a list of things you like about yourself. Here’s mine: my eyebrows, my ability to do embarrassing things in public without caring, the empathy I hold for others, the vulnerability I have with the people I love, my laugh, my hair color, the love I have for my friends and family, the passion I have for storytelling, the desire I have to make the world a better place, my Instagram feed, my smile, my ass, and the fact that there’s no one else out there like me. Some days my list is longer than others. Some days it is more physical things and some more emotional. Self-love is a practice. Practice reminding yourself about all the lovely things about you.

Don’t believe everything you think.
Let these thoughts come and go. Saying or thinking something doesn’t mean it’s true. You feel ugly today doesn’t mean you are.