Trying against my every inclination to not be too descriptive I plan to spill my guts (or at least reveal to you what’s on my mind).
There are these overwhelmingly tremendous desires within me, pleading their case to every fiber of my being but I cast them aside as too unrealistic. I am a realist after all, the glass being neither half empty nor half full but simply a glass containing liquid.
Desire numero uno: Something within me screams for health. After my parents parted and reduced our family to a skeleton of its former self I acquired an excessive amount of weight in a VERY short period of time. 20 years later I’ve concrete proof of the transformation permanently etched within the skin covering my entire body. Now as I reflect upon the tragedy I tell myself that it was possibly a defense mechanism, a way to keep people away, to keep myself safe from relational hardship, to comfort myself when so much agony was occurring beneath my stretching skin, oh the list goes on. However the disembodiment of my family, of my reality, along with the destruction of myself created a monster (completely unrelated to the monster at present). The beast told me upon every waking moment that I was hideous, worthless, less than worthless even, offensive to others. I was trash. I could hardly pass reflective surfaces without an agonizing sensation of repulsion crawling beneath my skin. I covered myself in clothing 3 sizes to big in an attempt to disappear, not be seen, become invisible. A camera was an evil devise aimed at revealing a gruesome sight I was desperately trying to escape. Every eye happening to face in my direction was an insult. I knew the awful thoughts creeping behind them all. Literally every waking hour my mind was plagued by this reality, the reality that I was an ogre, a wretch, a living assault against beauty. My every impulse was one of escape, a need to hide, to disappear, like a spy or a criminal. This was life, or shall I call it the tortuous struggle I fought for about 8 years.
About 5 years into it I began to pray every single night to my God. I sent out a beseeching prayer just before falling to sleep that He would miraculously transform me overnight. When I awoke I believed with all of my heart that I would be beautiful. Each morning filled with renewed faith and desperate hope I would awake and look to see if my stomach was flat or if my calves were smaller. For two years each morning my heart would break at the revelation of no alteration. Perhaps I was losing my mind. What a foolish prayer. But I was desperate from release of that lifestyle of shame, humiliation and the constant need to escape. I look back now and I’m fully aware that all I wanted was to be beautiful. I wanted for people to look at me and see something fantastic. I wanted to be seen and to be unashamed, prideful even. I wanted to buy all the beautiful clothing, adorn myself in the fabulous wardrobe and receive praise. I wanted to cast off the hideous beast I was and for something beautiful that once existed, that was buried deep inside to crawl out and proclaim to the world, “I am here, look at me!”
One night I was lying in bed crying, heartbroken and void of the energy to continue that lifestyle of misery. I didn't ask God to change me. I didn’t ask him to make me beautiful I just cried. I was empty. Suddenly like an asteroid crashing to the earth I was hit by a revelation that changed me and altered my life forever. God told me that I was beautiful, that I was perfect, that He created me exactly who I was exactly how I was with zero intent at any alteration, that He adored me and then He asked me a question I’ll never forget. This question burned an imprint within my mind to exist for eternity. “Do you think I made a mistake?” I suddenly felt this joy, a feeling I’m certain I had never experienced before. A light overtook me. The beast was vanquished, it was gone. I was no longer hideous. I was beautiful. I was perfect. I, without a shadow of a doubt believed every word I’d just heard. God loved me. I needed nothing more.
So now about 12 years later I like me. I have ever since. I don’t need fabulous clothes or amazing jewelry, make up, or any physical alteration; I am a daughter of the Most High God and he thinks I’m perfect. This however brings me back to that thing within me which screams for health. I no longer desire to acquire and own a priceless beauty, to be seen by the world, to live my life on parade receiving adoration and confirmation of my physical supremacy. God loves me. But I want to live the life He’s given me to the fullest. I want my feet to be able to carry me long distances at fast speeds. I want my muscles to be strong and endurant. I want to be able to climb mountains and swim across lakes. I want my lungs to enjoy working hard to breath in all the air possible during the time I have left. I want to be healthy. This is something altogether completely separate from the thing of beauty. I am thankful that God has blessed me with health, that I’ve fully functioning limbs and organs, that the body He’s given me is in good working order. I couldn’t be more thankful for these facts BUT I have a responsibility to this body to take care of it, to increase the health of it, to work towards the goals recently described above and in that arena I face a completely different monster than the beast from my youth (the one I’ve been discussing as of late). This is the first desire, that of health. But I’m drawn towards destruction, towards momentary self satisfaction. It’s as if I’m only able to be “happy” at present, right now if I’m working against the fulfillment of my desire for health. It’s sort of driving me crazy. And I’ll stop there.
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