What will I remember?

I am writing today as part of the Love Yourself Linkup--an ongoing series that will focus on topics such as self image and body image. Writers, bloggers, and women alike will talk about our thoughts on these subjects, tell stories of our personal experience, share what has inspired us, challenged us, and more. Learn more over at Ann the Adventurer. You can join the conversation by clicking "click to enter" below.

I remember always being the taller one. The one with knocked knees. The girl with oily skin and a temperamental complexion. The girl with a smaller bust and broader shoulders. I never wanted to be the girl who looked in the mirror and noticed these things. But I was, and I did notice.

When I look back at photos of myself, as a teenager and younger woman, I see beauty. The knocked knees, blemishes, and athletic body aren't what stand out-- I see a younger me, with big blue eyes, a swimmers physic, and the world in front of her. So why is it that my memory of myself during that time in my life, is far different from what I see in photographs?

Words said once, that tear a part with their sting, stick with us. Yet words sweet as honey, said over and over that build up, we often forget. I clinged to what others said about me. As an insecure younger girl, words made lasting impressions. But unfortunately, words that broke me down are what I remember most. Comments I heard about myself, often in the context of comparison and often unrealized by the person saying them, are what I began to internalize, and believe as truth in my heart. 

I can remember going to Macy's with a friend in high school. We went to one of the cosmetic counters and the sales woman wanted to try every type of lotion, powder, and rouge on my friend. "You have model skin!" she said. But what the saleswoman did not know, nor my friend, was that as I stood there, with a blemish concealed, nothing was said about my skin. Nothing was tried on my complexion. In my heart, I was not desired in that moment. And that stuck with me, mistaken as truth--that my skin was not pretty enough. (And yes, the fact that I still remember this IS crazy!)

When I look at photographs of myself from that time of growth as a young woman, when I was beginning to make sense of the world and who I am in it, I cannot help but ask myself: What comparison, lies, and words still hold me back from feeling beautiful today? Right now? When I think of being 15, 16, 17 years old, I remember feeling flat chested, face spotted, and not pretty to the standards of the world. But in reality, I was beautiful. How sad my heart feels for that younger me who was robbed of joy at times because of words and comparison.

And now, at 27, my skin is clearer but not perfect. I still have broad shoulders, but I am a darn fast swimmer. Yes I am small chested, but hey I like that about me. I am tall, but my husband is 6'3". And I will always have knock knees, but so did my grandmother, so I am reminded that she is a part of me. And yes I still have insecurities about all of this, but I know that how I felt about myself as a younger girl masks truth and spotlights lies--something that still continues to be broken down even now. So yes, it is a process.

Ten years from now, when I look at a photo of myself in my mid-twenties and I think about who I was  and what I believed to be true about myself--what will I remember? Will I remember feeling confident, creative, healthy, kind, and pretty when I look and see my big blue eyes looking back at me in a photograph? Will I remember feeling beautifully me, free of joy stealing comparisons and words that tear and break? The reality: probably not completely. Like I said, it is a process. But I make a vow to dwell on the words that build up. A vow to seek truth from Scripture and to strive to see myself as my God sees me. And to internalize truth, throwing lies to the wayside.

Photo taken in Evergreen, Colorado last summer on one of the hottest days ever.