I never thought much of myself. I never thought I was pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough, etc. I spent all of my time comparing myself to everyone else. .
it was sad really, almost heartbreaking. I convinced myself that I was disgusting because I wasn’t as thin as this person or as pretty as another. I hated not being like everyone else, it made me angry. So, I took it out on myself. I hurt myself, figuratively and literally.
It didn’t matter what my closest friends told me, I didn’t want to hear it. I always thought they were telling me what they thought I wanted to hear or what they thought they were supposed to say. I never stopped to think that maybe they truly meant it. I didn’t realize it then but my friends, as few as they may be, were genuine in their belief that I was enough. And that’s because in their eyes, I was. It was my own eyes and the eyes of my bullies that didn’t agree.
I was too busy comparing myself to the popular girl, the girl who got the guy, or the perfect girl on the cover of a magazine. She was beautiful, she had the perfect body, and she was probably smart, too. Beauty and brains, wasn’t that the dream?
I harmed myself and put my own self down because I believed my bullies and because I believed that the images staring me back in the face every time I opened a magazine were real. Although that may have been true, I failed to realize how real I was too. I failed to realize that my body, my features, my personality, were all parts of me, that they were all parts that my friends and family loved. I just didn’t love them too.
When I was old enough to realize this, I was afraid that I was too late. But I wasn’t. Because it’s never too late. It’s never too late to love yourself and to realize that what sets you apart from someone else is also what makes you perfect. By acknowledging your differences, you’re acknowledging that you’re original. Isn’t originality better than a falsified, copied persona? I certainly think so. Once I admitted this to myself, loving myself became easier.
I’m still working on that self love and I’m still struggling to accept that my imperfections are okay. It’s a daily process of waking up, looking in the mirror, and not looking away in disgust at the person staring back at me because that person is real, that person is me. I am enough. I am. It’s a daily effort, one that’s extremely difficult at times, but I know the truth. Even when I’m at my darkest, there’s a small light telling me that I am enough.
Find your light. Be your own light. Know that you are enough. It’s so simple to make comparisons and to fabricate a result, but most of the time that result is bogus. If you’re happy and comfortable in your own skin then what else really matters? Nothing. Life is too short. If you’re happy, be happy. It’s your body, your mind, your everything, and no one else has a say in it.
You are enough. I promise you that. And I am enough, I promise myself that, too.