Welcome to the third issue of Lies We Tell Ourselves. This week our community more than tripled in size, and I couldn’t be happier to welcome you all here. I’d love nothing more than to hear from some of you in the comments section: what lies have you told yourself that you’re ready to get rid of?
This week I was out to dinner with my husband (we found a restaurant that had an outdoor tent situation that was appropriately heated and ventilated, so I felt safe). In between the grilled zucchini goat cheese appetizer and the delicate salad we shared, the subject of my nose came up.
For most of my life, every time I’d look in the mirror, I’d see nothing but my nose. It was huge, took up half my face, and made me unloveable. At least that’s what I thought of it.
Now, though, my nose doesn’t strike me as particularly huge. In fact, I hardly think about it at all (unless my four-year-old whips her head back into it because that shit hurts).
How did I get from a point where my nose offended me so much I’d avoid mirrors to a place where I feel like it just suits my face?
A nose job.
No, I’m kidding. No cosmetic work for this woman - I spend enough time in pain thanks to autoimmune issues that I won’t sign up for voluntary pain. Not my idea of fun.
The way I unraveled that lie about my nose is through conscious, deliberate action. Once my daughter was born, I realized that if I heard her talking about her perfectly formed, made-by-me body the way I spoke about my own, I’d feel like a failure. If I didn’t want her to grow up to hate her nose, eyes, or thighs (which all match mine), I needed to flip the way I talked about those pieces of myself.
So, every time I looked in the mirror, I forced myself to say something positive about my nose. At first, I felt like I was lying to myself (instead of finally telling the truth), but I kept at it. Just like these lies we’ve been telling ourselves, if you speak the truth often enough, you’ll eventually believe it.
Once I could look in the mirror without feeling shame about my nose, I moved onto other parts of me that needed some love.
New from me:
I Failed a Child Who Needed Me
“I sat there and said nothing.
Sure, I could say that I was afraid of undermining my principal and getting slapped with an insubordination note in my personnel file. The district I taught in liked to keep teachers quiet. The ones who didn’t rock the boat were praised and those with too much backbone were insubordinate. Sure, I was protecting my career. That’s true enough, but, we all know that’s bullshit. I did nothing because I didn’t want to get uncomfortable.”
Your Need For Attention Doesn’t Make You Weak
“[…] if you search wide enough and get picky enough, you’re going to find someone who matches you. Someone is out there who wants to hold hands as much as you do, who needs kisses, hugs, and naked Sunday snuggles just as much as you.
Hold out for that person because the amount of affection you need doesn’t make you broken. It just makes you human. If you find someone whose needs match your own it just makes being married to them easier.”
My Trauma Made Me Rage-Clean
“That day in the car, a full twenty years later, I finally admitted to myself that losing my home had been traumatic, and, more importantly, I hadn’t dealt with that trauma.
For twenty years, my brain would see messes and equate them with the removal of love. My amygdala didn’t care that I was in the living room where my hard-working husband was taking a twenty-minute power-nap before rallying for an evening with the kids.
As far as my brain was concerned, I was in danger of losing my home and family again because of dolls and pillows on the carpet: cue fight, flight, or freeze mode (I’ve always been more of a fighter).”
Writers and resources I love right now:
Stepparent community
When I was a new stepmom, I needed help in a major way. Luckily, I had Gramma Karen, who served as an example of how a stepmom can love children who aren’t entirely hers while staying true to herself. I mean, the woman built a yurt on 40+ acres in northern Michigan; for christ's sake, she was a powerhouse.
Anyway, a friend recently introduced me to Jamie Scrimgeour, who runs a website, blog, podcast, and community forum that is a safe space for stepmoms who want solid advice and a safe place to complain away from the prying eyes of social media. I wish I could have used this resource to help me avoid the shame I felt when I (inevitably) felt the stress of step-parenting.
The Intimacy Doctor
Dr. Faith G. Harper is the author of Unfuck Your Brain and numerous other titles that have been instrumental in my journey healing from trauma and unraveling the lies I’ve told myself for decades. The worksheets provided on her website are outstanding resources if you’re also trying to disentangle yourself from the stories your brain tells you.
Dr. Harper is also funny as shit, which helps. Laughing while we undo our shame, trauma, triggers and lies make the whole process much more fun.
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