Welcome To The Club: A farewell to shame

On a recent trip to the Northwest one of my teenage cousins announced to my sister Sarah and I “Guy’s, I’ve finally made into the “Fat Club’! “  As she recounted the experience where she had been told by a grandparent she should probably be more careful with her weight, work out a bit more, pay more attention - my sister and I shared a common look of sadness and fury.   

It was a thread of a storyline I knew all too intimately. My sweet cousin had given a resilient response to the comment made to her, handling it as best you can when given criticism about your body. But, I know the labeling made towards me long ago - imprinted on me in ways I have just begun to understand. That brief conversation we exchanged about her recent experience started a rapid fire internal dialogue of all the ways I have battled and am still wrestling with body image. Also, how angry I felt that she too was experiencing it.  

A piece of my identity has been rooted in shame - for as long as I can remember. As people we all struggle with aspects of our identity, but women I believe , we walk through the world with an acute different standard and often deep hidden pain. I’ve learned in this past decade of life that it’s when we expose things either caused by or perpetrated in the dark to the light -  we are set free. 

As I near the anticipated 3-0 this Fall, new walls have begun to surface as I examine who I am, where I am and matching that to who and where I want to be. Hearing my cousin, on the threshold of adulthood state she had been “welcomed to the fat club”, tore at my heart. 

The women of my family are stunningly beautiful. The beauty that both stills and draws people to them - a kind of rare magic - filled with adventure and a powerful energy. They are all a sort of vibrant color on amazing display.  But our legacy had been passed down with storylines of abuse, assault, rejection, abandonment, and my greatest one - shame. Each of our in our way has step by step exposed the darkness around and in us to heal and to clear the way for the generations behind us. As beautiful as my family is, and many times I graciously have been complimented for similar beauty - the truth is I have never accounted myself equally lovely among them. 

My beautiful sisters this past January in Portland! 

I was 14 before my first memory of being told that I was beautiful.  It was artist Toby Mac- who after a show at a local roller rink in Ft. Myers, FL.  I met him in a receiving line where he kindly looked at me and said “ God wants you to know that you are very beautiful”. I walked out of that building with my heart exploding with all sorts of joy. Beautiful! Me? Wow! Now, I think back after a lot of healing and wonder why I was 14 before my first memory of being told I was lovely or beautiful can be recounted. 

But that truth of myself didn’t last very long. The greater narrative was that I was a victim of sexual abuse, a youth in lots of transition, with an absent father, and younger siblings who were incredibly lovely. Princesses they were called ( and goodness they are), yet growing up I was referred to as “Pumkin”.  

I don’t know the exact moment I lost a sense my identity of worth or equality, but go missing it did. 

Ingrained in the expectation of perfection, stemming from both sides of my family - thin equates beauty, not health. Numbers on a scale were of the highest importance, beginning intro to most “hellos”.  It’s the type of narrative and way of thinking that leads many to eating disorders and self harm for not “measuring up”. I also grew up learning that our outward appearance if tended to well would draw in the attention of men - something to strive for - that feeling of being seen and adored something to pursue. 

Growing up I was always fuller figured, and hit puberty early - early on feeling the unwanted attention of young and older men, immediately becoming uncomfortable with my body. 

Those feelings of body shame were perpetuated deeply by own abuse, and later learning of nearly a decade of abuse inflicted on my older sister by our father, and hearing more and more tales of the ways other women close to me had been violated, abused and their power taken away (momentarily). Matched with the thoughtful concern of others as to my weight and opinions on what I should or should not be doing - my worthiness and feelings of shame eroded any truthfulness of my own value or beauty. 

As I saw how our beauty could both cause great celebration and harm, I unconsciously took an alternate route than most with those same emotions. Instead of working hard to meet the cultural and familia standard - I unconsciously chose to shut down the possibility of being harmed, or at least try like hell to protect myself. In my late teens, decidedly decreasing my physical activity and not paying as much attention to what I ate. At the same time, I began to feel rather sickly, ignoring it, assuming I was being punished for how little effort I put into my physical self. The scale rose and my self worth continued to fracture. 

I found myself early in my twenties stagnant, with little to no physical activity, and more comments being made about my weight - no one ever asking if something was wrong, if I was depressed, or even ok. I don’t blame them, we’re conditioned to think that weight is a result of apathy, or laziness - not digging for what the potential pain below the surface might be.  In defiance to the judgement, I’d drink the coca cola or added the coffee to my sugar ( sugar to my coffee), subconsciously furthering my deteriorating health. Every time, which was often, my weight was talked about or suggestions were made to “fix the problem”,  a part of me died. But on some broken level I think in hindsight it was the only thing I felt in control of. Shame throws low blows, and it’s onslaught of internal warring was constant. 

Shame said to me nearly everyday:

See, you’re not beautiful enough as your are. 

They don’t mean it when they tell you that you’re beautiful - nod your head - but it’s not true. 

That person is only attracted to you because of your personality

No one is ever going to want you this way, but at least they can’t hurt you. 

You’re not in shape enough to take that adventure, or do that hike, or to keep dancing. 

If they aren’t attracted to you, Suzanna, they won’t hurt you.

You’ll never be what they expect, why try? 

Does your heart hurt reading those lines, oh lovely, mine does too. Because those lies trapped me for so very long. 

To not be hurt, I warred by not taking care of myself, and let the resulting feeling of failure become king. 

But, I found that if I loved people well, poured myself out in service or kindness, smiled brightly, applied the makeup expertly - that I was accepted regardless. So, early on I took that new knowledge and worked myself into an exhausted sick mess. But by mid-twenties I barely recognized myself : overweight, puffy face/eyes, fatigued, and depressed.  It took until it was so bad that I could barely get out of bed for a few months to drag my very sick body to the doctor. Quickly learning that for probably close to 5+ years I’d been struggling with Hypothyroidism and had critically low levels on all fronts combined with other intense damage that had to be addressed. 

Years earlier I knew something was wrong, and instead of caring for myself, my brokenness took it and perpetuated a lack of care and worth. Within a few months of steady medication post diagnosis- I began to come back to life. It’s been nearly three years since that diagnosis and a long road of self evaluation and healing.

I’ve lived most of my life hiding from the potential that I actually was a beautiful woman, and that I could be wanted. Because the lie whispered to me early on was that if I was wanted, or desired, that opened me up for a high chance of pain. 

Looking back it’s really astounding in the all of years of side look stares, comments, and judgements no one ever asked why. They seemed to assume it was because I didn’t care about how I looked, or that something was wrong with me for not trying harder, but the truth was I cared so much that I wouldn’t fight for it. Because at the root I felt rejected and unsafe and there was no way I was going to perpetuate that. The hardest truth of it all is that I did perpetuate it - but in a quite opposite sort of way. 

I can’t even tell you how many times over the years I’ve walked into a room and looked for the best way to make sure I appeared to “fit in”. The best angle of a chair, or path of least resistance to a crowd, not sitting in between very slim people or obsessively checking my clothes to make sure I was “put together”.  I remember how when I would catch someone’s judgmental stare I’d smile sweetly back - challenging them to judge me. It wasn’t until they’d turn their head that my eyes would lower and I’d let the pain flood my heart.

We all have something or many things that prevent us from living in freedom, and in our truest self. This was just a lie I listened to, believed deeply and wrapped myself in. It’s one I have refused to believe or listen to any longer. 

A few years ago I started to ask myself - why.  Why didn’t I seek medical help when I felt so poorly for so long? Why did I let myself be controlled by others standard of beauty? How could I have not loved myself so much? 

But, thank goodness, for the amazing people surrounding me in these past few years.  Who have spoken my worth, beauty and strength over me. Lifting me with their words to greater places of wholeness than they could ever know. 

This road may take awhile, the important ones usually do. As you find the courage to start facing the giants and slay them with the truth of who you really are, you encounter new ones, but also a strength you didn’t know was there. 

The past five years have been a journey of emotional and spiritual healing, and now it’s time to reclaim the physical part of me. To find strength and health beyond what I’ve ever experienced. I am not putting pressure on myself through this season, but challenging myself to be braver, to be authentic and honest. 

Because, the truth is it’s never been about indulgence but rather believing a lie that said I lost the fight for my worth a long time ago. 

This past December the ladies of At Her Table ( a Nashville based online publication), styled and prepped me for a photoshoot as one of their first features.  Always being behind the camera (very comfortably), I was in new territory and very insecure going into the shoot. 

But, Ellie, Ashton and Lindley proved in an unexpected way how we can free each other. They spoke words of kindness and worth over me through the entire process, complimenting things about my body I had always been scared to expose. I had never experienced anything like that day as the team did hair, makeup, and styled me. At the end of the night I saw a few shotsfrom the camera, and my breath caught. I looked beautiful. It looked like my truest self, somehow I let myself be fully there in front of the camera and Ashton had captured it through her lens. 

I left pretty quiet that night, and woke the next morning with tears falling down my cheeks. The tears came as the realization settled - there had never been a day where I had felt so beautiful. 

We all have our battles, this has been one of mine. One of my greatest. 

My giant that comes in the form of shame has been holding me back from my fullnessfor far, far too long - it’s time is over. It must have felt it’s lifespan was ending, because even this week as I processed the words I am writing a well intentioned email carried shame triggering feelings. It was something simple as a response to a photo of me in my professional portfolio saying “you need a more flattering photo for your resume, people don’t always see the spirit. You are beautiful and once they meet you, will love you! But don’t want them to stop at the front door”. 

It’s the type of comment that a few years ago would have had me jumping head first into my self protective fortress and waiting till I could breathe again. As I said this journey is ever continuing - and I hope will always be one I am present with. 

Which for me looks like beginning. 

Beginning to love myself truly as I am, putting effort into my health more than ever, getting stronger, and rejecting the lies that have been a regular companion for most of my life and replacing them with kinder, more thoughtful words , the kind I would say to someone I loved. 

It’s beginning to not accept judgement as fair or deserved treatment, or take words, even well intended ones, as truth if they cause harm. It’s going to look like a lot of self compassion and hard work. 

If I’ve learned anything these last years as I’ve worked through a mountain of heart pain and depression is that having people and God in your court are game changing. 

So, to my darling cousin who sparked this entire entry:  keep being true, be mindful of how you feel, be gracious to yourself, work hard at your wholeness, treat yourself as you would your best friend, know that you are beautiful. 

And, I am going to be saying the same things to myself. Now, that is a club I want to be a part of with you.

Photography:

Makeup Artist: Vanessa Helene