We all have days we don’t feel the greatest about our appearance. Everyone has bad hair days and morning breath and acne. But I think there are some of us that wrestle with a much deeper feeling of not being beautiful and not being ENOUGH. When I wrestle with these feelings I write honest about it. So girl, if you’re feeling the same, just know that you aren’t the only one. You’re not alone.
* * *
Driving home in the dusk, I drive silently with this twinge in my heart.
A pull and a pounding of pain. And you’d think I’d call it jealousy, this ache in my chest.
But this has nothing to do with him.
or her.
No, this goes so much deeper than that. And what’s disguised as jealousy is really just my insecurity. And it burns, like that feeling in your throat after puking.
And the truth is I hurt myself more than he ever could.
And I am not really sad that she’s prettier. I am not mad that he thinks so. Because I know she doesn’t mean anything to him.
I am just so afraid.
So afraid that I’m not enough.
And that I’ll never be enough because I’ll never be like her and she, she is everything guys seem to want.
She is delicate and sweet. Stilettos and perfect pink toes. Short skirts and tight shirts. She is giggles and glitter. Soft lips and enough mascara to pave my grandmas driveway. She is trim and graceful, can dance and sing gorgeous. She walks confident in her magical mystery. She is hilarious and flirty and men’s eyes follow her and she is just
So.
Dang.
Pretty.
Me?
I’m strong and gracious, thoughtful and quiet. A flowery dress with adventure boots. I’m Baseball caps and Converse. A ponytail with rosy cheeks and clear chapstick. I’m awkward and honest, an open book. I’m lame puns and obnoxious singing, sarcasm and silly dreams. I can’t flirt to save my life and I love blasting country music . I hate the taste of coffee but love the smell of rain. I can’t swing my hips sexy but I like dancing crazy anyway. I am just stumbling through life living on laughter and prayer one day at a time. and I’m just
Such a
Dang.
Mess.
Most people would say he is being rude or mean, but he didn’t do THIS. He has only ripped off the flimsy bandages I’ve been using to hide this seething wound already decades deep.
This wound that’s always been too tender to touch.
And I sit here hurting and hating myself and I just don’t know how to let it heal.
But You.
You say you need me and that You want this wreck of a girl. And maybe that’s all that matters right now. To collapse into You and just let go. And all I can do is let it breathe, that’s all I can give right now.
To Breathe and Believe that things will get better and that this pain is the cleansing before the healing.
The mending before the beauty.
* * *
These past two weeks have been hard. It’s been the quiet kind of hard, the kind you don’t like to make a big deal about because it seems so silly. But I have been sitting here with feelings I haven’t felt in a long time: worthlessness, shame, insecurity, hatred…all towards my body. I know it sounds harsh but that’s where I have been. In moments like this I WRITE, I write truthfully about what hurts and what I know. I have decided though, to begin taking some serious steps towards changing this in my life. I am going to be doing some crazy things in the month of May to jump start my journey and I hope you’ll join me! Meet me back here on Monday to hear all about it. I love you guys! Thanks for taking the time to stop by and read.
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