If you were to ask someone to describe me in three words, they would probably say something along the lines of sarcastic, happy, energetic or hilarious (just kidding, I know my jokes aren't funny). Personally, I don't think I'd use any of those words; mine would probably be adverse in comparison, but that's just the way I see myself. And I know that feeling is the same for a lot of people; we don't say "you're your own worst critic" for no reason.
I will admit, I care what others think of me and I'm incredibly hard on myself, but most haven't seen that side of me. From a young age I've struggled with a lack of self-esteem and self-confidence. In elementary school I had the nickname "weigh-a-ton," and sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I see that chubby third grade girl I once was, and a lot of times I still feel like her.
(That's not a boy on the far left, that's me)
My childhood was spent putting on a show; I was playing the role of the person I wanted people to see. As desperate as I was to be that girl, I wasn't... And I never would be. Still, I wanted to be perfect and was willing to do whatever necessary to get what I wanted. Over time, I became obsessed with trying to attain the impossible, but of course, no matter what I did was ever enough. Slowly, but surely, my descent into a downward spiral had begun.
Fourth grade was the first time I skipped meals and by the seventh grade I was sneaking diet pills and lying about what I ate. No one could tell how unhappy I was. No one saw the pain through my forced laughter. No one noticed the empty look in my eyes as meaningless words spilled out of my mouth. But how could they? On the outside, my beaming smile never left my face. As happy as I tried to look, it wasn't an act I could keep up forever.
Eventually my family intervened, and I eased back into eating regularly. My body was getting healthier, but my mind wasn't. The third grade girl I wanted to leave behind so badly was always at my heels, no matter how fast I tried to run. I resented myself, who I was and who I had become. Eating was still a struggle, but I was too exhausted to care about anything anymore. There were times I found myself in an especially dark spot and would draw circles on the spots on my body I didn't think were good enough. But over time I understood something: I would never be good enough until I decided I was good enough.
No person in my life would make me good enough. No amount of weight loss would make me good enough. Nothing would make me good enough because I already was good enough.
It took a long time (almost a lifetime) to figure out that, in the grand scheme of things, appearance really doesn't matter. Compassion, intellect, generosity and an infinite number of other qualities possess an incredible amount of importance that are often overlooked. As cliche as it sounds, beauty is more about what's in your heart than anything else. We are all works in progress, but don't forget you are a work of art: a masterpiece in the making.
There are still days when I see that little third grade girl in the shadows, and I wish I could go back and tell her what I know now: you might never be perfect, but you will always be enough.
