Hello, welcome back to another week at humbly courageous. I’m glad you are here.
You know those people you meet, or perhaps know in your life, whose beauty that lies within them overflows into their outward appearance? Their smile, their eyes, or the way they carry themselves, their ability to make those around them feel instantly comfortable. Their beauty isn’t just something you see, but something you feel too. I am always so in awe of those people. It’s not something that can be faked, it’s just natural. It’s not the makeup they wear or their clothing, it’s just…them. Perhaps they aren’t the most beautiful person on the outside according to society’s beauty standards, but there is just no denying their beautiful presence. I’m guessing we’ve all known someone like that in our lives.
As a child, people would tell me I was cute. They liked my brown eyes and my olive skin that got especially tanned in the summers, as I spent most of my waking hours outside. As far back as I can remember, I told myself they were just saying that because they felt sorry for me because of my physical disability. They were trying to make me feel good about myself is what I thought.
As time went on, people would tell me I was beautiful. Again, I thought, they are trying to build me up because they assumed I had low self-esteem, which was most definitely true. Sometimes, I would look in the mirror and like what I saw staring back at me. But, that wouldn’t last long before I would begin relentlessly picking myself apart piece by piece, never really satisfied. Always striving to be prettier or skinnier. Maybe then others wouldn’t notice my disability so much, I thought to myself. I felt so ashamed of who I was. I felt like my disability made me ugly. That’s hard to even type out, but it’s the truth. I’m glad those feelings have changed.
As I’m approaching 50 in just a couple short months, it seems like everyday I stare at myself in the mirror and notice a new line or a new spot on my face. Youth is certainly wasted on the young. We don’t appreciate our smooth skin or more agile bodies in the moment. When we are younger we think it will last forever. Again, I’m reminded of those whose beauty comes from within. That’s what we really should be working on. Many of us, myself included, slap all kinds of creams, serums, lotions and potions all over trying to slow the speeding freight train that is aging. Usually, it seems like a losing battle.
Our bodies change along with our faces. It’s harder to keep weight off, and it seems that even if I eat like a tiny field mouse, I still gain weight. Its seems like my body is a different shape than it used to be, and I often feel like I’m looking at a stranger in the mirror. I think, “who is this?”and then realize, “oh, it’s me!”
It’s one of those things where you hear about it all your life, but until you are living it, you just don’t get it. I’m starting to get it now.
Again, my disability is playing a large part. It’s like it fast tracks the aging process. Physically, I feel like I have more in common with those in their 80’s and 90’s. Once again, I feel like I don’t fit where I am. I’m used to it, and it no longer comes as a surprise to me. The things people my age are complaining about physically, are just not where I’m at. It’s isolating.
Working on our inner beauty is where the real happiness lies. Not what’s on the outside. I’ll always strive to look nice, I think?? Nothing wrong with presenting our best self. Working on our inner self is certainly more rewarding than disguising a wrinkle or two though. It’s lasting and it makes a difference in other’s lives when we are beautiful inside. We have more kindness to share more peace to exude. Lit from within is what I would like to aim for in this second period of my life as I see it.
I want to humbly courageously smile with my eyes and mean it. I want to exemplify God’s beauty and grace. Lord knows, I’ll never be perfect at it. I’ll undoubtedly still struggle with trying not to inwardly groan each time I see a new wrinkle or spot or whatever it may be. Grieving youth. It’s real. I’m feeling it. But just as I’ve grown to love my scars and the stories they tell, maybe I should learn to love the wrinkles and the stories they tell too. I’m going to try to make the best of it. Continuing to try and love myself as much as I love others. I hope you do too. I’m still here, which means my duty on this earth isn’t finished. 💚
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