Confession is good for the soul…

Something is ugly and broken in me. When I stand in front of the mirror and I can't stand the sight of my own reflection. When my daughter tells me that I'm beautiful and I tell her I'm not. This is the same daughter who I've told a thousand times that she looks just like me.
You're beautiful, baby girl. Inside and out. Something's just ugly and broken in me. Something that causes me to hate the reflection staring back at me.
I thought that losing the weight would leave me feeling better about myself. And, truthfully, with my clothes on I feel okay about my body. What I didn't consider was what happens to all that extra skin. Now, when I stand in front of the mirror, naked and exposed, my eyes are instantly drawn to that sagging sack of empty skin that now hangs from my stomach. The stretch marks cause it to look like it wrinkles and folds into itself. Their shiny silver color ensures they reflect every particle of light, and the eye is instantly, horrifyingly drawn to it.
I stare at myself in disgust, wondering how I ever had the confidence to get naked in front of anyone. I try to always keep my abdomen covered from even my husband's view. My once large, perky breasts have also suffered from the weight loss. They now hang, empty and flattened. I find some small solace in the fact that my nipples still somehow manage to point forward.
I hate my body. Then, I can't find anything to like about my face. The self doubt spreads until I'm questioning everything I think, everything I feel, everything I do. It all somehow feels wrong when I'm ugly. I hate my insecurities. I'm embarrassed by my own self loathing. Even as I write this I have to repeatedly stop myself from deleting it all.
My husband has so much self confidence. He can walk into a room full of strangers and walk out with a collection of new friends. Put me in that same room, and I'm in a corner, scanning the room for all possible escape routes, and praying to every god or goddess that might still exist that no one will attempt to talk to me.
I work so hard to raise my children to be confident in who they are and never let anyone tell them that they are doing it wrong. It's their life after all and no one else is gonna live it for them.
They seem to be doing alright. My son is hopelessly aloof. He gives absolutely no damns. He never had to come out to us because there was never any reason to hide who he was. He'll be twenty this year. It's hard to believe that so much time has passed. That's two whole decades that I've been called Mom. 😳 He's doing alright. Working his forty a week while thinking and planning for the future.
My daughter is crazy weird. She is into things that nobody else even thinks about. She crochets herself innovative items like a pouch that ties around her waist and can hold her baby dragon and a few smaller items in separate compartments. She wears it proudly. She, like her father, can befriend anybody she so chooses. When she was younger, we'd constantly have to explain why you don't hug strangers. She, of course, understands the dangers, now, and is trained in the art of karate for self defense. That little girl has so much confidence, I swear it oozes out of her pores. Not only does she not give any damns, but she has no understanding of why any should be given. It's truly awe inspiring.
So, how is it that I can raise two kids to be so confident in just being themselves and truly believing that they shouldn't give a damn what anyone else thinks about it (even when my husband tries to tell them society won't like ___) yet I can't even face my own reflection with anything that resembles confidence?
My husband tells me I'm beautiful all the time. No, that's a lie. My husband calls me gorgeous all the time. I'm sure there is some sort of discernible difference. I doubt his honesty and sincerity. I question his eyesight and his intentions. My self doubt creeps out and I doubt others.
There's something ugly and broken in me. I know that it's wrong. I know that it doesn't matter what anyone else sees, I should see nothing but beauty reflecting at me. It's my face. It's my body. It is with me every day. I need to fix whatever it is that stops me from seeing my beauty.
I'm not a judgy person. I don't look at others and think these terrible thoughts. Instead, I reserve all my judgment for every glimpse at my own reflection in every mirror I'm forced to face. There's something ugly and broken in me and I long to repair it.
This is the truth on where I've been. My confidence is down and my self doubt and loathing are in full swing. I'm avoiding showing myself. I'm dodging my reflection. I'm quietly hiding inside myself, admonishing myself for behaving this way and somehow I've felt powerless to stop it all. I'm hoping this heartfelt confession will help bring me out of this terrible funk.


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