When I have to look at myself in the mirror, like before stepping into a shower after a long day of kids and work, I do not want to see myself.
I do not like the body I am in. The weight, the scars, the uneven tones and shapes. I do not like the pores, the dimples, the wrinkles.
As I step into the shower and the warm water runs down my back, I want to exhale a thousand pounds of weight off my shoulders.
"I am human. It is ok." That is what my inner voice says.
What garbage. I am ok? I am human?
That is not a positive mantra. It is not self love.
It is just the less negative bullshit I feed myself.
Growing up, when I got bullied for my skin or my looks I was hurt by it (as most would be).
My mother always thought everything was my fault or doing. And the advice strangers gave was "do not listen to them" or "just ignore it".
Do you know what that taught me?
It taught me to say things to my adult self like "you are human" and "it is just a number on a scale".
While I am not trying to knock anyone else's attempt to beat negative self image or body issues, I have to speak for myself as a woman with PTSD and anxiety.
It is not just a number when I realize I am overweight. It is self defeat. It is one more notch on the depression belt.
Ignoring my own excuses or soft blows to my emotions won't help anything.
Ignoring my inner voice or not listening to my own insults is near impossible, because my mind just comes up with more passive aggressive bullshit with each hour that passes.
Who am I to have bad self esteem?
I always painted a picture that I was brave. That I loved myself. That I embraced who I was, all details included.
But what I did was accept the idea that I could love me broken.
Now I think to myself, why do I even have to consider myself broken?
Why do scars and hair loss, stretch marks and large pores have to equal broken?
I am not on America's Next Top Model (which now tries to be more inclusive anyways).
But I am human. And I am pretty sure every girl on my news feed has pores, uneven boobs, and extra meat or lack of meat in places they hate.
Why do we even rate ourselves?
Why do I have to step into different areas of my life saying bullshit like "some day".
Why can't I just like me now?
In a world where we have been conditioned to compete, measure, compensate, and convert ----> I just want to not spend another day bathing in self loathing.
Published by Jean Soto JS Jaded Savior blog: firstname.lastname@example.org
Jean Soto, mother of 3 and wife, is a writer + artist in the Hudson Valley, NY community.
Content mention of Rape, Abuse, Neglect, Addictions, Mental Illness, Kidnap, Molestation, Child abuse, Teen Pregnancy, Abortion, birth, body image, gender/identity dysphoria, sexuality, personal trauma, domestic violence and other extremely personal stories. Please practice caution. I am not a licensed physician or mental health professional. No medical prescribing is provided on this site, Only personal insights, experience stories, and advice; All stories published have had prior authorization. Questions? Contact Jean at: email@example.com
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