Great Expectations

So this post has been something on my mind for a long time.  Something I have wanted to write about.....but not sure how to.  I have posted before on our family blog about my issues with the way I look and how hard I am on myself, but I thought this time I would just tell my story, get it out there and hopefully some of you can relate. (This post is not  intended to be a pity party post or to seek attention...it is just me getting personal...that's all.)

 This is me today.  What your seeing here is an anomaly. This is me posting a picture of......me. I am in frumpy sweats and no makeup, my room is not perfectly clean and as I am writing this I am feeling guilty for not going downstairs and cleaning my basement or the bathrooms.....and I am not exactly positive where my kids are.  My life is not perfect and it is easier to cover that up or put on a show and pretend. What I am trying to say is...."Hi my name is Amie and I struggle with.....life."

A lot of my issues come from basing my self worth on being perfect.  From the way I mother to the way my body looks, but most of it stems from my self image. I hate posting pictures of myself because all I can see are my imperfections and how my body is not the way I want it to be.  I want to be thin and toned and I don't want my bubble but, chubby arms, round face and love handles.  That is why I prefer to be behind the camera. If a stranger was to look through our family pictures they might wonder if my children had a mother because I do not allow pictures of me! Yes that sounds crazy and you are probably thinking I need to see a therapist right away (been there done that) but that is the truth people.

I have based my self worth on the way I look since I was a kid.  There were times when hating the way I looked was more then just a thought.  I remember getting so frustrated I would scratch and pick at my arms or pinch the fat on my stomach and arms till I made bruises or bled.  I hated my love handles and even tried wrapping duct tape around my waist to see if it would make me look skinnier.  I only did that once because taking off the tape also took off a lot of skin.  I even tried not eating for awhile but in my warped way of thinking I couldn't even pull that off.  The pinching and bruising and emotional depression stayed with me for many years.  It wasn't until the last few years that I finally stopped  these behaviors, thanks to some awesome supporters and my patient husband.

The illusive backside...I have not seen what I look like from behind in months

My dislike for my body came in physical and emotional abuse.  I hated mirrors and preferred to use the ones that only showed me from my shoulders up.  I never would look at the back of me because I hated the way my backside looked.  I would even avoid looking at my shadow and often my own reflection.  I have overcome my distaste for mirrors but I still finding myself at times standing in front of a mirror pinching the fat roles I wish would go away.

From an early age I pretended to be like everyone else.  I pretended not to care and to be the easy going girl, but inside I was hurting.  I compared myself to every girl I ever knew.  Why couldn't I be skinny like my sisters?  Why couldn't I be smaller like my friends?

 This is my older sister who I love and adore.  But at times I put myself in her shadow and made her accomplishments my standards of success.  In high school she was a honor student, valedictorian, and in every club you could think of.  She was a  medalist in state cross country and track.  She was also the homecoming queen.  She always seemed so put together, poised, beautiful, skinny and could do no wrong.  She was driven and worked hard.  I think I had a "Marsha" complex when it came to her. "It was always Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" I wanted to have her success but I was not her.  I was not (am not) a runner, I was average in school and at times lazy.  I did not save my Halloween candy till the Easter (it was gone in one night and then I hunted her room to eat some of hers). I was goofy and sometimes let my emotions get the best of me.  I tried lots of things but was never excellent in any one area.  So I got down on my self for these "failures."  I had set unattainable standards for myself and when I did not reach them I put myself down. (Just so you know I love my sister to death I just thought I needed to be exactly like her....if you know her you would know why....my siblings are pretty amazing)

 Although my looks and style was never what the popular kids looked like, by my Junior year I became more comfortable with myself.  I was just "Amie" back in my little high school.  I tried to make up for my insecurities by being the funny nice girl.  When my mom sent my to an EFY at Ricks College my horrible insecurities came flooding back.  I was with a whole new breed of girls.  These girls wore makeup and had name brand clothes and actually had cute hairstyles.  Instantly I realized my thrift store polo's and baggy boy pants made me different and not in a good way. The boys flocked to these girls.  I felt like an alien from another planet watching this newly discovered species. These girls knew how to flirt...unlike my me, who thought flirting was trying to wrestle or show how tough I was.  It took me till my Junior year of college to master the art of flirting.  I knew I was lacking in this skill after putting a potential date in a headlock. After that failed attempt I realized I needed a new strategy. Don't worry by the time Matt came around I figured it out.

Dating was not easy for me.  I felt bigger than most of the boys and anyone who wanted to date me was smaller then me.  I had no desire to go to dances and putting on a dress and makeup made me feel more like a circus clown.  I tried out the high school dances my Junior year.  This was Prom and my sweet date was shorter then me and 50 pounds lighter.  I looked everywhere to find cute shoes without a heel so our pictures would not look like a scene from David and Goliath. The ones I found that actually fit my size 12 feet were tacky white ones that looked like they were from the 80's.  Needless to say Prom was not the most memorable night of my life.  It did not help that my dance moves had not developed since middle school.  Why wouldn't they play YMCA or the Macarena? At least I knew the moves to those songs!  So my Senior year I attended 0 dances and planned on keeping it that way.

I was always bigger, taller then most girls and boys my age.  The nicer way of saying it was "big boned."  When I would vent about being "fat" ( I would love to be able to be the size I was in high school by the way....what was I thinking!) friends and family would assure me that I was not, I was just "big boned."  This never settled with me.  In my warped mind big boned meant I looked like the giant from Princess Bride. "Anybody want a peanut?"

 Luckily for me I loved sports. As a kid I tried it all, softball, volleyball and even football.  I tried cross country and track.  I loved swimming and even did dance my Senior year but basketball was my passion.

   

I loved dancing but was so insecure about being on a stage with girls who were half my size.  I always felt like the ballerina hippo from Fantasia.  

I loved swimming and my broad shoulders, long legs and big feet were actually useful in this sport.  What I did not like was walking around in a swimsuit in front of a crowd. 

 Basketball was the one place that my body size was a good thing.When I was on the court I didn't care about my size but my need to be perfect transferred into my performance.  Again my unattainable standards and need to be perfect surfaced.  I was never happy with the way I played and always thought I could do better.  I wanted to win every game and I wanted to play my very best.  Missing a shot was not acceptable and it would eat at me after every game.  I wanted to be the best.  My team never made it to state and I never became the collegiate player I had dreamt about.  Besides, who would want damaged goods.  I was a girl with a broken back and had a tendency to crumble under pressure and never thought I was good enough. 

 My love for the game did not end with my high school career it has stuck with me.  I went on to coach high school girls basketball for 5 years and loved it, although I still struggled with the need to be perfect.  I would come home and process a game for hours.  I would watch film until late in the night.  My poor husband had to deal with my emotional rantings and tried his best to reassure me....but in the end I just wasn't good enough.  I held my coaching to ridiculous standards.

Since then I have learned to lower my standards a bit...or at  least make them realistic.  But when it comes to my body.....I still struggle with those "realistic expectations."

                                            

I look back on this part of my life and the hell I put myself through.  It was self inflicted and still is to this day.  I look at the innocent girl I was and how I chose to treat myself and it breaks my heart.

So why do I write this story?  Well because even though I am 32 years old I am still that same girl.  I have grown and experienced more, but at heart I am still this girl.  Thanks to my husband and my desire to become a better mom I have had help and have learned how to change many of my ways, but through everything I have been through I still find myself trying to obtain "perfection," especially when it comes to my body.

So now I go to the gym and try to eat clean.  My unrealistic expectations kick in and I beat myself up for not loosing weight as fast as I would like.  After a year I am still not where I want to be and that can be very frustrating. 

 I still struggle with looking at pictures of myself.  This picture was taken at a golf tournament where I won an award for the longest drive.  This could be a big deal since it was the second time I have tried to golf since my back surgery.....but instead all I see is a a girl that needs to loose weight.

 I remember days where I thought I looked cute and then I see pictures of myself from that day and realize I how I thought I looked and how I actually looked were not the same.

 So in group pictures I try and hide in the back....thinking it is some optical illusions that will make me look smaller....like the idea that wearing black makes you look thinner.

 Letting my husband cover half of me and remembering to hold my chin up so my double chin does not show.  Also making sure my arms are at my sides to cover up my love handles.

 Getting pictures with other girls is the hardest.  We had a great time shooting at the gun range but instead of fun memories I see my giant self and wishing I would have stood differently in hopes that it would have not made me look like the Jolly Green Giant by the tiny villagers.

I find myself more comfortable taking pictures when I have something or someone to cover most of me up.  Like these weird Zombies for example.

I know it sounds like I am really trashing myself but I am just trying to be honest in the thoughts and feelings that I have.  For some stupid reason my brain is wired like this and it is my life long quest to change it.  I know from the way I have talked that it probably doesn't seem like I have changed much but amazingly enough I have made some big leaps from where I was. So don't go calling Dr. Phill just yet.  

THE POINT OF THIS LONG DRAWN OUT STORY

I thought you could only love yourself if you were perfect.  If you met a standard that was socially acceptable to the world.  Now I know you can love yourself at any stage in your life.  I know that perfection does not exist.  There has only been one perfect person in this world and he loves me more than I will ever know.  I know that tomorrow is a new day and a chance to start over and be better.  I know that we all have our own struggles and we have been given them for specific reasons. I also know we do not have to go through them alone.  Even in the darkest of times there is still hope. I know my struggles will be a life long journey there is no quick fix.  I know there are more important things in this life then the shape of my body, how much I weigh or how much muscle I have.  

I see myself differently then others see me.  There are times when I wish I could see what my husbands sees when he looks at me.  The other day I got a compliment from a friend on the way I looked at church and I went back to my old habits and brushed her off and found a way to make fun of myself.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and we must learn to love ourselves from the inside out. 

 I don't want to feel embarrassed about my cellulite and my larger build.  I just want to love myself for who I am and what good I am making in this world.  Mother Teresa was not famous for her good looks but for the good she did in the world.  I don't want to waste my life trying to obtain a silly standard of beauty.  Instead I really want to raise my girls to be confident and strong women.  I want to help those around me and to be a good friend, wife, neighbor, aunt, daughter, and sister.  

So while I know I will have days that I will get down on myself, I know it does not have to be permanent.  I also know that those thoughts and feelings hold me back from being who I want to be and I am pretty sure God does not put those thoughts in my head. I know I need to get over seeing pictures of myself and just be glad I am alive to be in those pictures.  I know I still need a lot of work....but that is what this life is about; working and progressing. So I push forward.....baby steps.