BEAUTY

Its not supposed to be important, but we all think about how we look. At times,  I obsess over how I look – Do these shoes match my outfit?  Do I look fat in this skirt?  Can anyone see that little pimple coming up on my chin?  A little self-care is good.  Sometimes tight pants are a reminder to skip the cookies while watching TV.  But other days, my tight pants affect my mood and my concentration.  When those thoughts swirl round and round my head, and make me scowl in the mirror they are probably not healthy.

A couple of years ago, I had a running buddy who was struggling with her self-image.  She was always asking if she looked fat.  And she wanted an answer.  Everybody’s version of fat is different – obesity can be quantified by the doctor, but every woman I know has a number on the scale, or an roll, or bulge that they see, and decide that they are fat. 

 I told her that when I looked at her I didn’t see her.  It was the truth.  When I first met her, yes, I sized her up – her cute Lululemon outfit, her neon running shoes, stylish haircut and figured out if I could keep up with this gal 10 years younger than me  ( I couldn’t, but she pushed me).  But months later, after sharing some long walks and talks about our lives, when I looked at her, I didn’t see her.  I didn’t see the five pounds she gained or the five pounds she lost.  I saw my beautiful friend, the one who asked me hard questions and sat next to me when I cried, the one who prayed for my ridiculous requests and cheered with me when I told her that we were moving back to Maryland (even though it meant we wouldn’t be running pals anymore).  I didn’t see her as pretty, or beautiful, skinny or fit, I saw her as my true friend. 

So when I’m looking in the mirror these days, and my zipper is straining, I want to be a friend to myself as well.  I’m going to try to clear that scowl off my face, ignore the negative thoughts in my head, and just put on something that feels comfortable and looks good whatever shape I’m in. I have faith that when I’m kind and happy within, I can share those kind words and actions with others who will not notice my lack of waistline, they will see the beauty within.

Sharing and Oversharing

I don’t want to be known as the lady on antidepressants, just like you don’t want to be known as the woman who had an affair, or the woman who watched her mom die.

When I first shared with a friend that I needed to take a happy pill, I had heart palpitations.  I just didn’t want her to see me as broken and judge me as “depressed girl” every time I stressed out.  It’s taken years, but I’ve now shared my struggle with depression with friends, co-workers, two of my kids, and the internet (Uh-oh) because most times its been honestly appropriate and I want to release that stigma that people with mental illness are failing at life.  Some of my friends have not been surprised, but some have been shocked that “happy, party planner, social butterfly Rej” struggles with depression regularly.  Yes, the day that was bad enough for me to seek help changed my life profoundly, but I am more than my worst day.

I got through that worst day (or worst season, since that day affected my week, month, year and life, if I think about it) – and now I have to balance hiding that dark spot in my lives with sharing it so other people can see that it's not the end of their world.  

There is a time and place for both - Sharing our hurts stop the cycle of “My life is awesome” that pervades not just social media, but many tangible places, including church.   There have been many times, I’ve sat in my car and thought, “Look at that family- they have it all, money, a big, clean house, the latest minivan, two beautiful honor roll kids – why am I always struggling? “ There have also been moments in my life, when I have the money, a clean house, the latest minivan, and kids on the honor roll.  Sometimes in those moments, I think, “Yes- I have it all” and other times, I still haven’t been happy.  I’ve lived long enough to know there is always some dark cloud lurking in the corner, some wave that threatens to bring life and all its trouble crashing down.  It’s life – its brutiful  for everyone. 

 We are all struggling.  Sometimes I over share my struggles.  Sometimes I hold back, not because I’m trying to hide, but sometimes I just want your opinion on the dress I’m planning on wearing to the event on Sunday.  It’s a fine line that I’m constantly balancing and sometimes falling.  But I’m working on it.