Everyone has a fundamental belief about themselves, a phrase that lies just beneath the surface and seemingly explains their entire experience in life. For some, it’s “I’m terrible at relationships.” For others, it might be, “everyone I trust eventually leaves.” For me, my personal mantra could easily be summed up as, “I have always battled with my weight.”
Through therapy and the passage of time, I’ve come to understand that this identity and narrative have been inherited across generations, both genetically and energetically. At the tender age of 10, my mother brought me to Weight Watchers. In eighth grade, my parents enrolled me in a nutrition and fitness program aimed at boosting my confidence before high school. A few years back, my grandmother, then in her mid-80s, fainted from not wanting to eat before stepping on the scale for her weekly weight loss group. It’s safe to say this complex relationship with food and self-image runs deep.
These experiences have contributed to a complicated, often confusing relationship with food, exercise, and self-acceptance that has lasted over three decades. It’s the only reality I’ve ever known, and I sometimes wonder if there’s another way to exist.
During a professional development program a few years ago, my classmates and I were invited to share something significant about our childhoods. I started to recount my rehearsed story, a narrative that had become second nature to me. But then, unexpectedly, I found myself crying. I realized I no longer wanted to be defined by that narrative. I wanted more for myself—more depth, more authenticity.
It was an empowering moment to recognize that while this had been my story, it didn’t have to define me forever. It felt like shedding an old skin, something that once served a purpose but had become a limitation. That layer, while familiar, was now merely a burden.
Glennon Doyle, one of my favorite authors, discusses the idea of women disconnecting from their bodies, as if voting them off the island. Society often sends the message that our bodies are not truly ours but rather objects meant to please others. This thought resonated deeply with me. At times, my body felt like a stranger, an unwelcome guest in my own life.
I recently took a beach vacation and made a conscious effort to observe the bodies around me. Instead of comparing myself or feeling envious, I simply appreciated the diverse array of shapes, sizes, and features. I began to wonder about the thoughts racing through others’ minds: “Am I too big here? Not enough there?” I saw how we all strive to fit into an unrealistic mold.
While observing body language, I noticed that many individuals seemed trapped in a haze of self-consciousness, acutely aware of their place in the body hierarchy—except for those over 75, who I assumed had stopped caring.
Interestingly, the few who seemed to meet society’s beauty standards were often clamoring for validation through selfies and posturing, even if that feeling was fleeting. This sparked a wave of empathy within me. I felt for everyone who had been conditioned to feel less than for not meeting narrow beauty ideals rooted in societal norms.
Lately, I’ve been contemplating the word “incorporate,” which has roots in “core” or “corporal.” Instead of focusing on weight loss or exercise, my new goal is to feel more embodied. This is a gradual process; I’m striving to redefine and reconnect my mind, body, and spirit. As I let go of shame and judgment that have consumed so much of my energy, I am beginning to feel more integrated and whole.
For those interested in understanding the psychological impacts of body image and self-acceptance, check out this insightful post on our blog. Additionally, if you’re curious about fertility boosters, visit this resource for more information.
In summary, my vacation served as a catalyst for self-reflection and transformation, allowing me to release long-held beliefs about my body and embrace a more integrated sense of self.
Leave a Reply