When I begin writing a blog post I have a habit of referring to google for a definition of the subject I am going to be closely discussing throughout, and this post I have done just the same.
Strangely in reflection, this is ironic since I search for the definition to ensure I am correct and I do not make a fool of myself.
I google because I have a lack of faith in myself, and I am rather insecure in my own abilities. I suppose we are all insecure about something, is anyone truly unwavering in their own sense of self. I’m going to be optimistic and truly hope people like this exist, as it is where I am striving to be.
They say that nerves are good, that some anxiety is healthy, that it makes us better. I do not disagree, however, I think the modern world/current society has bred a generation of people who have the belief that insecurities and self-loathing is normal.
It is not.
Throughout my childhood, I can only recall a few things I have ever felt obviously and consciously insecure about.
My first recollection is a love-hate relationship I have had with my self over my life. My Height.
I was always the shortest person in school, and it never bothered me hugely. Although, like everything it had its Pro’s and Con’s, and also like anything, people would comment on it. A vivid memory is one where I was excluded from playing Netball in Year 6 as I was ‘too short’, a choice made by the Head Teacher at my Primary School, a choice I have never forgotten. I love being short now, I adore my tiny build, and I enjoy feeling consumed by my boyfriend’s arms. But, it never left me.
I was excluded because of my height, the idea that I wasn’t good enough because of it. It is people who verify our insecurities, and in my case, at a young age, the idea that ‘short was a disadvantage’ was verified.
Absurd, I know.
I had a collection of insecurities that came when I was in Secondary school, where as a result of my tiny build, everything came later. The boobs, the period, the things that girls pride themselves in having. The things that somehow at 14 make you ‘enough’. These faded with time, as obviously, with time, the boobs came, and so did the period. They were temporary and would have always been temporary. Simply fuelled by the school environment and the expectations of girls, heightened by the natural desire I had to ‘fit in’.
However, I have always had one other physical insecurity about myself, one that was rarely mentioned but I always believed was thought. Something I was called out on when I was 17 years old and left me feeling shy, and very, self-conscious. I have a beauty spot on the top of my lip, my mum has one in the same place. It is a mousey brown colour, and it has always, naturally had a few hairs in. It was an insecurity oppressed until someone called me ‘Moley’, this was an insult during the typical school drama.
I felt the same indignity when I was 6 years younger and excluded from playing netball. I was self-conscious and unable to do anything to make the Mole disappear.
The beauty spot my Mum always shared with me, was now an ugly mole.
*Fast Forward to now*
On the other side of recovery, my body is my amour as I said in my last post, click here to read.
My height, it is me, and it is quite frankly, rather useful.
My smaller boobs, younger face… get over it.
My mole. A beauty spot, A beauty spot I darken when doing my makeup, something I highlight, embrace and adore.
I am 18 years old now, and it is easy to reflect and realise how silly I was. The truth is though, I do not think that anyone would have changed my mind when I was younger, nobody could have taught me that what made me stick out was what made me beautiful and what made me, me.
I was called out on my mole just over a year ago, I was holding myself together by a thread and I was already falling out of love with all I was as a person, and my faith in myself was dwindling.
Now, I am stronger, and I am insecure about parts of myself, there are things I try to hide. I think there always will be, but not because I am ashamed, because it is a habit to hide what those might point out.
Because, hell, looking in the mirror, completely naked, there is nothing I hate, only someone I am proud of, and someone who has infinite beauty.
As I said above, habit teaches me to hide, I am training myself not to do this, as I am not ashamed of any part of me. From my beauty spot to the protruding bunions on my feet.
I am going to be one of those people with an unwavering sense of self. And when I have children, if I have children, I will embrace all of them, as I embrace all of me. I know they may not believe me, I know I didn’t believe my mum either. But just maybe something will stick.
I guess what I am trying to say is that all of my insecurities, all of the things I question the worth of. ALL of those things are outweighed by the love I have for myself, and the strength and beauty I have inside of me.
Next time you go to hide, don’t instead highlight your imperfections and your fears and feel the relief.
‘ Keep the company of people who do not point out your insecurities, but instead your lack of. ‘
Today Tomorrow Forever,