I’m sitting here, early morning on a cruise with friends, sneaking in a bit of work. As I connect to the internet, messages flood in from friends and acquaintances commenting on my recent stories—one in particular about swimming with dolphins (an AMAZING experience!).
Do you want to know what my first thought was? Was it joy that someone loved the picture? Nope. Was it a fond memory of that beautiful moment, being kissed by a dolphin? Not even close. It wasn’t a thought at all—it was a feeling. A feeling of shame. Because the photo she commented on was of me swimming with a dolphin at my heaviest.
Why, after 41 years of battling self-image, after countless hours of working with therapists, mindset coaches, friends, God, and my husband, do I still carry this inferior feeling that I am less-than because my body mass is more? Why can’t I see in myself what I love to speak over other women: You are BEAUTIFUL. You are DESIRABLE. You are GOOD, just as you are. And Jesus backs that up too!
So why, in this AMAZING moment of swimming with a dolphin, do I see a “fat girl” instead of the joy? Why do I shame myself instead of celebrate?
I don’t have all the answers. But I do know this: My story isn’t over.
I know so many truths:
- I have a God who LOVES me. He created this body to withstand SO much, and it has. He doesn’t just see my size, He sees ME, and He loves me enough to have died for me. How can I dismiss that by speaking harshly to myself?
- I have a husband who loves me and desires me.
- I have two amazing children who constantly snuggle up with me and tell me I’m “cozy”—so often that I’ve stopped hearing it half the time.
- I have friends who love me enough to chase after me when I slip into dark places. They grab my hands and pull me back into the light.
- And I have a passion—photography—that allows me to pour love into others. I couldn’t do this without my own struggles. It’s okay to wrestle and grow. It’s okay to feel deeply and ask hard questions. To stumble, fall, and stand up again. It’s okay to be on a messy, imperfect journey.
I KNOW my body doesn’t like certain foods and stresses. And when I’m on a trip, just because I struggle with that, it doesn’t mean I’m lazy, a failure, or lacking discipline (and trust me, I’ve called myself every insult in the book). I also know my body is still healing and we’re figuring things out again after illness and change. And that’s okay too.
These are truths. They’re real. And these are the things my body and mind try to rob me of. So what’s the point of these early morning musings? Swim with the dolphins anyway. Go on the trip. Jump into the ocean. Climb the mountain. Cuddle your kids. Romance your husband with the lights on. All those things shame, fear, and disgust try to prevent us from doing? Do them anyway. These are the lies that stop us from seeing the truth in our lives.
And while we battle through the minefields of our hearts and minds, we have to give ourselves permission to succeed. Deep down, we want to believe we can, but we lean into that unbelief more than we think. So it starts by saying it, over and over again: I can and will succeed. It’s pleading with God for strength, knowledge, perseverance, and patience. That alone is progress, and it’s worth celebrating, not berating.
So stand tall. Hold your head high. Look in the mirror and give yourself a compliment. She’s fighting harder than you give her credit for, and she deserves a little more love.
Also, as a photographer, HEAR me when I say, Take the picture. Your family, and your future self, will want those memories. Don’t hide. Stand tall. Live.
