"So Sally can wait..."
Oh my goodness, I love Pandora. I've been listening to it each evening on my laptop whilst I check Facebook, e-mail, and various whatnots. I put in the title of the song "Bad Day" (the Fuel version, not the Powter guy), and every song that comes on is full of nostalgia and emotion for me. Love it!
Originally I was going to title this blog something entirely different, and now I can't even remember what it was except that it was entirely negative, not because I'm feeling entirely negative, but because of the content I had in mind for tonight's blog.
Over the weekend, I tried on wedding dresses for the 2nd time, and even though it started as a total failure, fate had a hand in things. Just as we were getting ready to go to IKEA for surely some shopping success, a girl came in and tried on a dress that I've been eyeing via internet for some time now. Of course, my mom told me I must try it on, and I took the timing of it all to be my sign to actually give it a go, even though it was not more cost effective, despite my hoping. Perfect. The one. You just know and all that yadda yadda.
Many of my wonderful friends have taken the time lately to tell me how beautiful I am "inside and out." Isn't that code for "you're ugly but really nice"? Playing... But that is how I often take it, and that leads to the question.
Why do we (women, men, humans) have such a poor sense of self-worth?
Introspection can often be a strength of mine, which at times is an asset and other times just overwhelming. I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about my utter distaste for my appearance, and I've gone down many avenues and drawn many conclusions.
As a 10-year-old pre-adolescent, my strawberry blonde hair was all the way down to my behind. It was lighter than it is now, perhaps due to a combination of youth and sunshine? For some reason, I was always a ready target for the 'mean girls' at my school. No matter how hard I tried or how tirelessly my mom worked on finding me stylish-read: name brand-clothes by hunting garage sales and store sales, the girls still gave me hell about how I looked. My hair was an especially easy target. They called me "hippie" and "carrot-top." My snarky reply to the carrot-top comment is that the top of a carrot is actually green (think about a carrot fresh out of the ground). I was too short. I was too smart. I wasn't good enough by the standards set by the social hierarchy. When I was in 5th grade, the queen bee of the school basically had a group of her friends call me to threaten to beat me up for no reason. Because I was a goodie-goodie, I took it to heart when kids called me "Damn-ber." Associating my name with a cuss word was awful as a little girl around 6 or 7 years old.
I'll never forget when I decided to chop all my hair off over Christmas break the winter approaching my 11th birthday. I loved the change, but when I returned to school everyone asked why I would cut my hair. Don't get me wrong, I cut it for me, but all I could think is what happened to the tormenting comments over my hair length?
Middle school was of course full of hormones and confusion, and then came the whole ordeal of my injury which led to me having RSD. What a f-cked up mess that was.
Fast-forward to high school. I was either too skinny from being sick from the injections I had to give myself for pain control or I was too fat from my body's reaction to the many steroid infused nerve blocks I had to get in order to survive. Literally, I counted on those nerve blocks to give me enough solace to function long enough to keep my muscles from totally atrophying or enough relief from the pain to keep me from killing myself. Of course, amidst all of that, I was still trying to fit in. Luckily, I had a boyfriend that ended up being one of my best friends through high school, and he saw everything in me that no one else seemed to see. A beautiful, smart, awesome girl unfortunate in the circumstance of her illness. Having someone see you for you is an amazing gift and perhaps gave me more self worth than anything had in so many years.
When I moved to Florida, I was so depressed and overate myself from 115 lbs to 150. Through months of overexercising and under eating and not eating, I eventually lost the weight. Although the path there was unhealthy, I eventually adopted a
great lifestyle of eating well and exercising daily both aerobically and strength training.
Of course life happens and things, as well as habits, change. Throughout my early 20s, I met guys who liked me enough to have me around, but not enough to actually love me or value me.
So of course, why would anyone wonder why our self worth suffers? I know that my story is not unique-I know many wonderful people in my life who have suffered many of the same fates. The bullying, the rejection, the battle with eating, and so many more things...
That leads to the question of: how do we undo the years of negativity that have taken their toll on our image of ourselves?
I don't know. Even now, I struggle with the soft, squishy body left behind after baby. I don't find or make the time to put on my makeup, fix my hair (unless a ponytail counts), and I don't have clothes that fit to fashion a wardrobe worth looking at.
As the new year approaches, I am thinking about ways that I can change my life, from self worth and beyond.
Some ideas:
1. Put on makeup everyday, even if it is just a swipe of mascara or blush.
2. De-clutter my house (a totally different blog entry for another day...)
3. Continue using myfitnesspal and getting into a routine of working out both formally (exercise bike) and informally (walking the dogs).
4. ...
My heart breaks at the young people we've lost who couldn't take another day of their tormentors attacks. The lives lost over hateful, hurtful words and actions. I am grateful that I came out on the other side. It gets better. It really does. Once you come out the other side, you find people that love you and value you. And while you're in the thick of bullying or harassment, hold tight to the people that already do-your family.
Originally I was going to title this blog something entirely different, and now I can't even remember what it was except that it was entirely negative, not because I'm feeling entirely negative, but because of the content I had in mind for tonight's blog.
Over the weekend, I tried on wedding dresses for the 2nd time, and even though it started as a total failure, fate had a hand in things. Just as we were getting ready to go to IKEA for surely some shopping success, a girl came in and tried on a dress that I've been eyeing via internet for some time now. Of course, my mom told me I must try it on, and I took the timing of it all to be my sign to actually give it a go, even though it was not more cost effective, despite my hoping. Perfect. The one. You just know and all that yadda yadda.
Many of my wonderful friends have taken the time lately to tell me how beautiful I am "inside and out." Isn't that code for "you're ugly but really nice"? Playing... But that is how I often take it, and that leads to the question.
Why do we (women, men, humans) have such a poor sense of self-worth?
Introspection can often be a strength of mine, which at times is an asset and other times just overwhelming. I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about my utter distaste for my appearance, and I've gone down many avenues and drawn many conclusions.
As a 10-year-old pre-adolescent, my strawberry blonde hair was all the way down to my behind. It was lighter than it is now, perhaps due to a combination of youth and sunshine? For some reason, I was always a ready target for the 'mean girls' at my school. No matter how hard I tried or how tirelessly my mom worked on finding me stylish-read: name brand-clothes by hunting garage sales and store sales, the girls still gave me hell about how I looked. My hair was an especially easy target. They called me "hippie" and "carrot-top." My snarky reply to the carrot-top comment is that the top of a carrot is actually green (think about a carrot fresh out of the ground). I was too short. I was too smart. I wasn't good enough by the standards set by the social hierarchy. When I was in 5th grade, the queen bee of the school basically had a group of her friends call me to threaten to beat me up for no reason. Because I was a goodie-goodie, I took it to heart when kids called me "Damn-ber." Associating my name with a cuss word was awful as a little girl around 6 or 7 years old.
I'll never forget when I decided to chop all my hair off over Christmas break the winter approaching my 11th birthday. I loved the change, but when I returned to school everyone asked why I would cut my hair. Don't get me wrong, I cut it for me, but all I could think is what happened to the tormenting comments over my hair length?
Middle school was of course full of hormones and confusion, and then came the whole ordeal of my injury which led to me having RSD. What a f-cked up mess that was.
Fast-forward to high school. I was either too skinny from being sick from the injections I had to give myself for pain control or I was too fat from my body's reaction to the many steroid infused nerve blocks I had to get in order to survive. Literally, I counted on those nerve blocks to give me enough solace to function long enough to keep my muscles from totally atrophying or enough relief from the pain to keep me from killing myself. Of course, amidst all of that, I was still trying to fit in. Luckily, I had a boyfriend that ended up being one of my best friends through high school, and he saw everything in me that no one else seemed to see. A beautiful, smart, awesome girl unfortunate in the circumstance of her illness. Having someone see you for you is an amazing gift and perhaps gave me more self worth than anything had in so many years.
When I moved to Florida, I was so depressed and overate myself from 115 lbs to 150. Through months of overexercising and under eating and not eating, I eventually lost the weight. Although the path there was unhealthy, I eventually adopted a
great lifestyle of eating well and exercising daily both aerobically and strength training.
Of course life happens and things, as well as habits, change. Throughout my early 20s, I met guys who liked me enough to have me around, but not enough to actually love me or value me.
So of course, why would anyone wonder why our self worth suffers? I know that my story is not unique-I know many wonderful people in my life who have suffered many of the same fates. The bullying, the rejection, the battle with eating, and so many more things...
That leads to the question of: how do we undo the years of negativity that have taken their toll on our image of ourselves?
I don't know. Even now, I struggle with the soft, squishy body left behind after baby. I don't find or make the time to put on my makeup, fix my hair (unless a ponytail counts), and I don't have clothes that fit to fashion a wardrobe worth looking at.
As the new year approaches, I am thinking about ways that I can change my life, from self worth and beyond.
Some ideas:
1. Put on makeup everyday, even if it is just a swipe of mascara or blush.
2. De-clutter my house (a totally different blog entry for another day...)
3. Continue using myfitnesspal and getting into a routine of working out both formally (exercise bike) and informally (walking the dogs).
4. ...
My heart breaks at the young people we've lost who couldn't take another day of their tormentors attacks. The lives lost over hateful, hurtful words and actions. I am grateful that I came out on the other side. It gets better. It really does. Once you come out the other side, you find people that love you and value you. And while you're in the thick of bullying or harassment, hold tight to the people that already do-your family.
You're 5th grade = my 5th grade. Exactly. Well, not exactly, they said "look, there's a-MAN-da."
ReplyDeleteI love all of you. And as silly as it sounds, I feel like I'm getting closer to you through this blogging (and really mothering) experience.
Looking forward to seeing you. xoxox
omg. your not you're argh!
ReplyDelete