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Everyone carries a fundamental belief about themselves, a personal mantra that often lies just beneath the surface, shaping their experiences in life. For some, it might be “I’m terrible at relationships,” while others might think, “Everyone I trust eventually leaves.” My own belief, which could easily serve as my Six-Word Memoir, is, “I’ve always battled with my weight.”
Through therapy and the passage of time, I’ve come to understand that this narrative has been inherited through both genetics and family dynamics. At just 10 years old, my mother took me to Weight Watchers. In 8th grade, my parents enrolled me in a nutrition and fitness program, hoping I’d gain confidence in my appearance before high school. My grandmother, in her mid-80s, fainted because she refused to eat before her weekly weigh-in with her weight loss group. It’s clear that this struggle runs deep in my family.
It’s easy to see how these experiences and the messages I’ve received—both explicit and implicit—have led to a complex, often confusing relationship with food, exercise, and self-acceptance that has lasted over three decades. This has been my reality for as long as I can remember, and I sometimes doubt if there’s any alternative.
A few years ago, during a professional development program, we were invited to share significant childhood memories. I began recounting my well-practiced story, one that has become so routine in its narration. Yet, I suddenly paused, tears streaming down my face. I realized I no longer wanted those words to define me. I craved a narrative that reflected my true self, one with greater depth and authenticity.
Recognizing that my past didn’t have to dictate my future felt liberating. It was as if I was shedding a second skin—something that once served a purpose but had become confining and stifling. For so long, I clung to this familiar layer, but now it was simply holding me back from revealing my true self.
One of my favorite authors, Jamie Collins, discusses the idea of women whose minds and spirits are intact, yet they have somehow disconnected from their bodies. Society has ingrained in us the belief that our bodies are meant to please others, rather than being our own.
This notion struck a chord with me. It often felt like my body existed as a separate entity, an unwelcome presence. In the book The Body is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love, author Mia Johnson shares how she felt disconnected from her body until a pivotal moment in her life prompted her to embrace the fact that “I own my body; it doesn’t own me.”
Recently, while enjoying a beach vacation, I began to observe the bodies around me—not with envy or judgment, but with appreciation. I took note of the diverse shapes, sizes, and textures, marveling at the uniqueness of each individual.
I became curious about what thoughts might be running through their minds: “Too much here, not enough there, too bumpy, too flat.” I recognized how society pressures us to fit into a narrow standard of beauty, often leading to feelings of inadequacy.
As I observed body language, it seemed that most people were walking around in a fog of self-consciousness, acutely aware of their place in the hierarchy of appearances. The only exception appeared to be those aged 75 and older, who seemed to have shed the weight of such concerns.
Among those who seemed to align with societal ideals, I noticed a desperate need for validation, often seeking it through social media. Yet, something within me shifted—an overwhelming feeling of empathy emerged.
I felt compassion for the societal conditioning that breeds shame and insecurity, and I empathized with those who struggle to meet unrealistic standards rooted in toxic ideologies. Most importantly, I felt empathy for myself, reflecting on the years of damage caused by internalizing these beliefs.
Lately, I’ve been contemplating the concept of “incorporate,” rooted in “core” or “corporal.” Instead of focusing solely on weight loss or exercise, my goal is to feel more embodied. This transformation doesn’t occur overnight, but I’m committed to redefining my relationship with my body and spirit. As I let go of the shame and judgment, I am beginning to feel more whole, connected, and truly present in my own skin.
This article was originally published on July 23, 2021.
For more insights, check out our other blog post here. For authoritative information on at-home insemination kits, visit Make a Mom. For resources on fertility and pregnancy, Hopkins Medicine provides excellent information.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, the author shares a transformative experience during a recent vacation, where they confronted longstanding beliefs about their body and self-worth. Through observation and introspection, they realized the importance of empathy towards themselves and others, shedding the constraints of societal standards. This journey towards self-acceptance involves embracing one’s body and redefining the narrative that has shaped their identity for decades.