I did alot of thinking this morning while I was in the shower. Not because my dove soap was particularly thought provoking, but because it is sometimes the only time all day I am alone.
Usually when I get undressed to shower, I avoid looking at myself. I avert my eyes until I am somewhat dressed again. I try not to look at myself, because what I see hurts me.
Just looking at me, you wouldn't know the lengths I go through to be healthy. The energy I put into trying to eat well. I exercise nearly everyday. I think about every bite of food I take. I think about my weight, my body, and how much I hate it many many times a day. Sometimes I feel trapped in my own skin.
I know there are many people reading this right now who understand what I am saying. We all have something, don't we? Our weight, our hair, our nose, our butt. We can all pick ourselves apart. We can all put ourselves down. It's human nature. Well, to be truthfull, it's female nature.
So this morning, while I was soaping up, I was chastising myself. From my big ankles to my saggy mom boobs, there was nothing I liked. Nothing about myself was beautiful to me.
And then I started to cry. I was a weeping mess for a few minutes before I asked God, like I often do, to help me change my body. For once, I felt like I got an answer.
"No."
It was gentle, but firm. Sadness stretched even farther into me, as I allowed myself to really wallow in self pity. I knew then that I would never been slim. I would never look the way I want to. Never. It's just not going to happen for me.
I started to think about worthiness. About loving myself. About how much energy I waste in hating my body, the house of my soul. And in time, I began to realize that I was hating...God's creation. He made me this way. Big hips, big belly, flabby arms and all. He made it. He fashioned it. He knit me together.
And He also knew, when He did so, that hatred of my body would be a bondage I would carry all of my life. That it would teach me something. So what can I learn?
I started to look at myself, really look. My body does not look like society would have it look. It is not sculpted. It is soft and heavy. It is round and large. But it is a house of miracles. It carried my babies. It fed my child for over a year and a half. It carries my sleeping child, holds my husband. My hands create clothing and meals and comfort. My mind creates stories and words. My legs and feet have traveled the world. My womb...well, it is a miracle itself isn't it?
How much time I have wasted. How many hours and tears and sadness. How much unenjoyed food have I put in my mouth? How much guilt have I felt with every morsel of sustenance?
So, in all of this, I cannot say that I won't hate my body anymore. It's a struggle I am going to have to persist in combating. But I made myself a promise this morning. In every moment I seek to drag myself down, to put myself down, to hurt myself with thoughts of my ugliness and weakness...I will instead praise God. I will turn it, on a dime, into praise for the One who cares nothing about the "packaging" I am in, and instead cares about ME. The real me. The soul. The person. His child. His creation. Me.
I can't say that I won't think anymore about how I wish I looked. About how good it would feel to be light on my feet, or to run. But I will use the time and energy I used to spend on pointless self injury spending time with God and trying to heal the brokeness I have created within myself.
