Dear inner critic,
I want to start first by saying I’m not sure when you entered my life exactly, but it feels like an eternity.
You would go away and resurface as events happened throughout my life. You came in elementary school when I struggled to make friends because a quest for knowledge and a zest for getting lost in a good book was considered, by my peers, to be abnormal. You came again in middle school when I first became aware of society’s idea of a perfect body, looked at myself, and realized I didn’t have one. You came yet again in high school when it seemed like the world was against me and even those I trusted with my heart hurt me. You again resurfaced in college, when people made tons of friends easily, never went to the gym but somehow kept a Victoria’s Secret model bodies, and didn’t ever seem to have any bad days.
Day to day you would pop in, telling me that other people were already successful at 18, that they knew what they wanted to do with their lives and who they wanted to become. People had perfect bodies with clear faces and it was a disgrace that I didn’t. Girls were on dates with boyfriends who were sweet and adoring while I sat at home and watched five straight seasons of "Gossip Girl" on Netflix, alone, with the sting of rejection sitting coolly on my tongue and the memory of being a casualty of a long sought after dream resurfacing with every breath. You would continually tell me that I was not good enough, in any capacity of the phrase. The sad thing is for a period of time, I began to believe it. I began to think of what you were saying as truth, not as lies rooted in unrealistic expectations.
You tried to take away my identity as an individual. You wanted me to conform to the way I should be. You wanted me to laugh at jokes that men made even if they weren’t funny, because then maybe they would like me. You tempted me to skip meals to look like the women I adored that graced TV appearances and magazines covers. although you never could succeed. You told me to keep my opinions to myself because no one likes a person who appears to know all of the answers. You continually instilled in me that my talents were weird and something to be ashamed of because they weren’t something that other kids participated in. For as long as I can remember you have been telling me to become someone I’m not by making me embarrassed of things that make me, well, me.
As a part of my effort to live a more authentic life in 2016, I’ve decided to stop listening to you. I’ve realized I don’t have to have the perfect Instagram aesthetic to be happy. Furthermore, I don’t need a perfect life to be happy. Part of life is the ups and downs. One can compare it to a roller coaster; it’s not good if it’s just a plateau through the theme park and the ride ends uneventfully; it’s more thrilling if you trudge up mountains and sail down valleys and get flipped upside down every once in a while. My life won’t be perfect because I’m not perfect. But just because I’m not perfect doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to be happy.
I may not be the most popular person in the room. I may not be the smartest, or the prettiest, or most courageous, or the most strong. But, I can promise you that I am going to stay true to myself regardless. I’m not the most religious person on the block, but there’s this quote from Christian scripture that really speaks to me. It goes something along the lines of, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” I think that’s important to remember. We are all wonderfully made as individuals, with specific strengths and weaknesses. Everyone has their own story, and everyone is fighting their own battle. I refuse to continue to compare my battles and my story with anyone else’s.
In 2016 I’m making a conscious commitment to live more authentically as the fearfully and wonderfully created person I was destined to be. I will no longer sit on the sidelines, plagued by insecurities while others dance in the rain. I regret to inform you, the critic inside my head, that your services are no longer required.
Sincerely,
A proud work in progress
