I stand in the mirror, trying on my biggest smile, as hopeless tears fall down my face and dripping kinks barely pass my chin. The overflow of polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) scatters across my frame; chin hairs, hyperpigmentation, and hormonal imbalances scream at me through the foggy reflection. There is no way to love this body—it wouldn’t reciprocate. The banging on the bathroom door brings me back to reality. “Five more minutes!” I yell back at my sister as I towel off, moisturize, and get dressed.
I occupy a lot of mental real estate pondering all the things that make me tick. I think about my yesterdays and my todays—I think about my tomorrows far too much. I ponder the way my body looks and am acutely aware of the way I walk and speak. I think about my hair, the way my earrings set in my ears. I think about my angles, my profile, the back of my head… I am constantly reflecting on the ways I take up space in the world and what I leave behind, is it a stench or is it a fragrance?
I tend to talk a lot. I was that girl in school, the one who was raising her hand as soon as the teacher finished the question. The target of all my classmates’ “Ugh!” and “She always got somethin’ to say!” I tried really hard to hold back and not answer the questions, but I also probably learned at some point that eloquence was a primary way to get respect. On those days I would walk home in deep regret. Nothing was ever enough. Everything was too much.
In the early 2000s I was 15 and looked nothing like the girls from any of Ludacris’ music videos. My natural hair wasn’t trending, and European beauty standards weren’t being challenged. To be frank, I hated myself. I couldn’t stomach looking at myself in the mirror longer than two seconds, and I felt like I was being sucked into a vortex of helplessness: my sunken place.
I existed in multiple circles, and they all had different rules. At home, as a young African Christian, I was expected to be a straight A-student and engage in every church event. As a Black girl, I wrestled with beauty, friendships, romance, and what it meant to be myself. As a student, I tossed between learning and performing for acceptance. As a creative, I longed to seek out what I was made for in the art space. Navigating all of me felt like trying to ace a standardized test on the first go—and I was constantly failing.
It wasn’t until ten years later that a light turned on in my inner world, and I could see what I’d been missing. I could see where self-hatred was setting me up for a disappointing cycle of disengaging with the woman I was becoming. So, at 25 years-old, instead of rejecting the woman I saw in the mirror—flaws and all—I became a student of my own “becoming.” I chose to fall in love with who I was seeing. I stopped seeking to convince anyone else of my freedom. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but it was a combination of facing my worst fears and leaning into God.
Sacred hypervigilance set in. I began to care for the inner 15-year-old me the way she deserved to be cared for. I sought out mentors and friends that loved the parts of me I had spent so long hating. Suddenly, anything was possible. I listened to compliments and faced feedback. Instead of building a case against myself and my weaknesses, I paid attention to people I admired. I observed the ways they managed their finances, spoke in conversation, spent time with their families, exuded confidence in decision-making, brought clarity to complex situations, showed up on time, and how they chose to nourish their bodies. Instead of thinking that I didn’t measure up, I chose to take small steps toward the woman I wanted to be.
I went from days of mental Crossfit—lying in bed, unable to sleep for hours, reflecting on my perceived inadequacies—to remembering who I am. I am befriending and embracing this process of becoming, and I’m boxing self-hatred square in the jaw by facing myself in the mirror and telling 15-year-old me that she is beautiful, flaws and all.
How are you embracing your season of becoming?
Marie Sutton says
Inspiring and beautifully said!
Cynthia Heard says
Good for you! I hope you continue to practice selfcare. It us the one thing we can give ourselves to cancel self hate. That is a demonic spirit that must be banished from your life. Stay well.
Destiny says
So happy for your new beginnings. I felt this on so many levels. Thank you for sharing your story and vulnerability with us. Give yourself a big hug.
Elanders Arrington says
I choose, after many years, to accept who God made me; flaws and all. I reject the negatives in my head and move to the reality of who I say I am in Christ. I realized, finally, it’s only what God says that I am that really matters. God has made all the difference. I found His promises and wisdom are fulfilling and peaceful. I can’t serve two masters so, I have chosen the best which serves me well; the Lord Jesus Christ. I am happier, peaceful, and beautiful. Realizing my life is already scripted; testing the script and who He says I am has proven to be true, has given me a new lease on life, and more confidence to trust Him … just Him. The truth be told, (I realized) what I’d been disgruntled about for so long is what others wanted and blasted me for being blessed with it: confidence, poise, gratitude, humility, and love for all mankind. At 76, I’ve finally realized my life is a picture of God’s favor on me to live the God-given purpose for which he created me. “Thank you Father for your unconditional love toward me. I am happy in Jesus and the songs and Psalms preparing me for eternal life is music, sweet music, to my ears. To God be the glory!”
Marsha says
I’m learning to embrace my becoming by showing myself grace; distancing myself from negativity, insults, and distorted views from people I thought understood and saw me. I have since set boundaries for myself and others in order to gain clarity about the direction of my existence. It’s difficult because I am still figuring out who I am and what I’m meant to be/do. I’m not just a mother, home-school teacher, home cook and baker, I’m a 54 year old black woman living with cancer, with more learning to do. And in tiny increments, God is allowing me time to embrace who He created me to be and accomplish what He predestined me to do as I move graciously through life.
Edee Hayes says
So authentic. It’s my story that I’m dealing with as a 59 year old woman. It’s also giving me vibes of some things my 23 year old daughter may be facing. I appreciate the realness, flaws and all.
Patricia B says
Thanks so very much for these words. As I am struggling with embracing the 64yr old lady in the mirror. She has come a long way in just liking herself; let alone loving herself! But this beautiful reading has helped me to understand I’m going in the right direction.
Thanks