My Body Doesn't Need Your Approval
Words by Beth Henson
I stood in front of my reflection and for the first time, looked straight in the mirror. For that morning I didn’t not want to look and at last, I felt like a winner. I had spent years ignoring my reflection, hiding all the mirrors in my home. Instead seeing and judging myself in the eyes of others, yet always feeling alone.
How did they see me, I wondered. How did they see me, did I look alright? These questions wouldn’t quiet down, they’d keep me awake at night. Did they like me, was I enough for them, did they like me just for me? With my too fluffy hair, my short stumpy legs, my crooked smile.
I was so convinced no one would love me that at eighteen I came up with a plan. It seemed easy enough and foolproof enough, so with this plan, I ran. I guessed that everyone was doing it, so maybe it was just the norm. Maybe this is just what we do, flowers instead of thorns.
As soon as I started earning money, I made myself brand new. I bought thick biscuit-colored war paint and I wore all the high heeled shoes. I paraded in clothes that made a statement, that said I was interesting and more. I bought lipstick after lipstick, to keep up the pretense I was cool.
I played down all of my emotions, I kept my feelings mute. I drank my feelings dry with friends and clung to men in suits. I hung on the arm of these good looking men who used me for my smile but when I looked for myself in their big brown eyes, I couldn’t see myself for miles.
I hid my heartache behind smoking, even though it made me ill. Because even though I was an adult now, I longed for approval still. I woke up with haphazard memories, of days and nights gone wild. I played up for others' attention, I became an overeager child.
Boys would play me and betray me, no matter how much I tried. They all said I could have been better and the twinkle went from their eyes. Hurtful words were thrown around like a tennis ball during a game, backwards, forwards, again and again, into my brain they came.
I wasn’t pretty enough, I wasn’t thin enough, I wasn’t daring enough, and more. I put them all on a pedestal but they discarded me onto the floor. I never got the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ talk, I was always the one to blame. And so I took on their opinion of me as truth, again and again and again.
I fell out and made up with boyfriends, with my peers and with my friends, no one could validate what I needed them to, would this need for validation ever end? I let others treat me like nothing, I started to fade away. I became a shadow of my actual self because of all the mistakes I had made.
And then I started to grow bored and tired, of always being let down, so I decided to fix myself once and for all, the only way I knew how. I stopped eating three square meals, my body as thin as a rake, I was falling into the darkest pit but hey, at least I looked great. I dyed my hair sunshine yellow, I plastered on a red smile, I threw up after dinner time, I added new clothes to the pile. I reintroduced the mirror, so I could see what others saw but all I found was a sad, ugly mess, disgust seeped from every pore.
I carried on in this fashion, of heartbreak, self loathing and more, until I met a kindhearted man and my heart fell on the floor. This man seemed lucky to have me, I liked myself in his eyes but as with all the others, he lied, he was lying, he lied. Yet not once did I blame others, I always blamed myself, if I’d just been this, or that, or this, then my life would surely work out.
Fast forward to marriage and children, where my heart was broken once more, my whole world was blown apart, I was heading for breakdown for sure. And so I did something I’d never done, I decided not to blame me. I decided to work on myself, through reflection and therapy.
I then threw away my old life, the masks, the make up, the lies. I longed to find the real me, I tried, I was trying, I tried. This merging of two worlds came together, of inner work and shedding who I wasn’t. It brought me to my knees, re-centered my dreams, I even emptied my closet. I then began to realize, I wasn’t responsible for other’s mistakes. I was never broken or damaged goods and I alone could change my fate.
Image by Beth Henson
Learning to love myself and work out who I was, took years of dedication and crying. But one day I realized I was finally there and I wasn’t going to die trying. I’d been a little girl who wanted to be loved but never felt like enough. But now as a woman nearing forty, I at last felt worthy of love. And not the love of others and no longer from the look in their eyes. Instead I stood before myself and the love I had was all mine.
I didn’t need others to complete me, I was already complete as I was. The real me, for all to see, no longer did I feel lost. I saw, honored, I loved her, this body that housed my heart. I no longer shied away from her but let her be my light in the dark.
I haven’t made myself sick in eighteen years, I haven’t dyed my hair for five and for the first time in nearly forty years, I have never felt more alive. I wear knitted jumpers and hiking boots, use chapstick and not a lot else. I am finally happy with who I am and I only need approval from myself.
About the Author:
Beth is a nearly forty-something minimalist mother of two, living simply and intentionally with her family by the sea.
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