We all have demons, they curse us in different ways. Some make us feel not good enough, others make us feel too much and some make us afraid of things we don’t understand.
Mine make me feel ugly.
I don’t like how I look.
I haven’t for a long time.
One step at a time, one day at a time, right??? That’s the advice everyone gives but do they know each and every day those demons take those steps with us? Overwhelming the voices on the outside. Please save your well-timed secondary compliments, you know the “you look good too”, the “you’re not bad yourself” and the “how could you ever feel ugly”. I don’t see myself the way you do, I was only ever taught how to trust in my perspective and my perspective of society has repeatedly told me that I’m not handsome and that beautiful and I don’t belong in the same sentence.
It’s something about genes and features, males and females each have their own struggles. From eyes to lips, hips and skin tone. There are those that belong on the cover of magazines and those who buy the magazines, those who flood Instagram timelines and those who like their pictures.
I envy those without insecurities, not those who hide them well but those who genuinely find nothing wrong with themselves. It’s not self-hate; I could never love anyone more than I love myself. It is more of a realization, a sort of coming to terms. It’s not as bad as it used to be though, there was a point where I felt there was no hope and thus no effort was necessary. So early on in life, I picked my favourite feature and ran with it. Hazel eyes. God gifted me with hazel eyes and everything else was either too big or not big enough. Most of the discomfort was with my face, it was unattractive. All of this caused by a longing, I saw how they looked and were treated by others, I wanted that.
Someone made them feel special and I wanted that, and slowly it moved from my face, to my everything. The infection spread and all of a sudden I wasn’t smart enough, I wasn’t funny enough and eventually I wasn’t worth loving. The voices made me forced me to find ways to cope that made the pain go away in temporary intervals, not long enough for me to be okay but just enough to let me convince myself maybe I will wake up and not be myself someday.
I guess I could say society really did a number on me. I wanted to be enough for one person but allowed society to dictate what “enough” meant. I wanted that so bad, that when I found that someone I put her through the ringer before she could have the love I knew I had to give before I was broken. She surprised me, she was willing to wait for me to be ready to put the pieces together, she saw my flaws as defining characteristics and not imperfections.
Even though she helped, it was all on me. I had to believe in myself again. I had to learn to calm down the voices. I am smart. I am talented. I am gifted. I still struggle with how I look but I’ve learnt to make room for positive voices. Some internally and some externally. You are only as good as you feel, right?
Jade Novelist ©️ 2018