Pretend it’s just you and me: two friends at a quiet table in a local coffee shop. Except today, there’s a topic weighing heavy on my heart and the urge to discuss it is almost unbearable. Who do you turn to for conversations like this? Your best girl friends, of course. So today, you and I are discussing a hidden battle that so many women find themselves going head to head with. The story I wish to share with you today is one that encourages all to cease fire and accept defeat, because, until then, the mental war will never fully end.
I grew up around organic food, woke up to my dad’s seven-mile run on the treadmill, and have had my mother’s words–“a strong body is a healthy body”–engraved into my mind for God knows how long. Now, at almost 20 years old, I’m in the best shape of my life. I workout almost everyday, meal prep is part of my weekly routine, and I find myself disturbingly excited when there are callouses on my hands from lifting. So, you’re thinking: what kind of mental war could this chick be talking about? Well, that’s why I’ve invited you here with me today. Do you remember that phrase your mom always told you when you found yourself envying someone else’s situation? “You never know what’s going on behind close doors.” Right now, in one of the most vulnerable states, I’m handing you the key to unlock the door that I have bolted shut for years.
When I was in fifth grade, I remember pinching the skin on my arms and stomach zoning in on the fact that the boy next to me was smaller than I was. When seventh grade rolled around, I distinctly recall a moment in time when I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “You’d be a lot prettier if you lost five pounds.” Ninth grade was the first time I discovered diet pills and tenth grade was when I convinced myself that I could eat anything I wanted if I was willing to make myself throw up. After I had exhausted all my options, I went into deprivation mode. No sweets, no carbs, no unhealthy fats. Not only was I miserable, but I was tired of lying. Who believes someone when she says she doesn’t like ice cream? No one in their right mind, that’s who. I simply could not take denying my body of the foods it craved any longer, and therefore, my favorite day of the week was born: Fat Girl Friday, my cheat day. Balance was all I hoped to achieve from allowing myself that one day to indulge in whatever my Reese’s-Cup-shaped heart desired.
In the beginning, it was great. It wasn’t until a few weeks into my Friday routine that I found myself cycling into a pattern of bingeing to the point that I couldn’t move comfortably and spent the rest of the weekend absolutely hating myself for what I’d done. I had gotten myself into a new bad habit and for years, I felt like a prisoner to food. Anxiety would overcome me anytime I was in a position where I’d be surrounded by unhealthy meals. I could feel my entire demeanor change and would either have to talk myself out of panic mode or entirely remove myself from the situation. More times than once, I found myself face-to-face in the mirror of some restaurant having the same conversation: “You are okay. You are okay. You. Are. Okay.” But was I? In that moment, I’m embarrassed to tell you that I really believed so; but as I read through my words with my current mindset, I can’t help but think how ridiculous it all sounds. Food is meant to be our fuel; it’s meant to be enjoyed and shared with others. But at that time in my life, that wasn’t the case for me and it isn’t for so many other women in our world today.
My generation is now one who relies on filters and editing apps to make us look presentable and feel beautiful. We are not comfortable enough in our skin yet take comfort in revealing the body we are so shameful of to first guy that will make us feel like we belong. We are continually faced with an overwhelming pressure to look, feel, and act in a certain way, and it has begun to overshadow our ability to be the people we are destined to become. We seek safety and comfort in others, yet we don’t take the time to mend and heal our wounds before creating up a new cut. We are all broken in some way by some person or event, and until we take the time to share our stories, it’s impossible for us to find the healing that our hearts are so desperately calling out for.
Today, I encourage you to share your story and view your physical or mental scars as a sign of strength and beauty. Everything in your past has made you the wonderful human being you are today. Celebrate how far you have come, and know how far you will go.
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