But heck.
Sometimes after even six minutes of blogs or Facebook, you end up feeling like you are simply un-creative, un-traveled, un-educated, un-interesting, an awful cook, and a horrible mother to boot. You know this is not true. Sort of.
I've talked to many a friend who's life has turned out not at all how they had hoped, and for them these smiling faces, chubby babies, and hundreds of engagement pictures are nothing more than reminders of all the things they don't have.
Here's the thing: I generally feel pretty good about myself, and very happy with life. I am painfully aware of how blessed I am. In general, my saddest times are contemplating the pain and hurt and injustice so many others face every day. Feeling how small I am against changing that. I would hope such feelings of inadequacy and lack about my own life would never find their way into my thoughts. I know better.
But let's be honest. We all have things we dislike very much about ourselves or our life. And I think it's okay to talk honestly (not whinningly) about those as well.
I'd like to share a little moment from a camping trip two friends and I took to Southern Utah. We were 17, about to graduate from high school. Laying side by side in a two man tent one night, we were talking about things we hoped for ourselves in life and things we would change if we could. I mentioned something about wishing I had a different body.
"You? You wish you had a different body? You have the perfect body." She seemed entirely shocked. As was I.
"Yeah, it's healthy and strong, and I am really grateful for it. But there's definitely things I wish I could change"
I had never thought of anyone thinking of me as having a perfect body. Ever. In seventh grade I grew 7 inches in a school year, while remaining impossibly skinny, therefore entering my infamous (within my family at least) "awkward-in-between stage". I sort of grew out of it, in that size 00 pants no longer fit, but kind of felt awkward and in between for a good deal longer.
See, the thing is, I have no boobs. There, I said it.
No revelation to any who know me, I've just never really said that before, out loud.
When I was little I remember very specific moments where I looked at women with flat chests and thought "I really really hope that's not what I'll look like." Even as a kid, I felt it looked unbalanced, somehow less beautiful, womanly. Serves me right.
Through junior high, and then high school, I kept waiting, praying, hoping. Nothing.
By college I resigned to the fact that this was me. My inner feminist tried to be proud of it, or at least not care about it. Convince myself that it was really a great way of meeting deeper men, that our society's obsession with big breasted women wasn't going to make me feel like crap.
Most the time, I'm okay with it. Sometimes, I'm not. See, I hate attention. Really really hate it. I feel like the size they are draws attention. It's not normal. If I could only be a nice, small, average size I'd be thrilled. If only{fill in the blank}.
This is a part of who I am. Just one unwanted, not-going to post on face book, tiny (couldn't help it) part.
I want to add this less than ideal bit to the story of me. I so get it is nothing, really. And I have many bigger, real issues and struggles I'm dealing with, as is everyone. This is life.
I pick this little part to highlight the fact that most everyone feels bad about themselves for some reason. Silly or not. You're not alone. Everyone has something, many things, they really wish were different (i.e. loneliness, addiction, flat chests). We don't talk about these. We don't post pictures of these. And so the stories we see of other peoples lives are incomplete and misleading.
Stop comparing yourself to them. There is so much you don't know.
lesson learned:
Live your own life. Accept there's hard, unwanted things. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Create and enjoy good things. Be nice.
Also, someone somewhere probably thinks you're perfect. If they only knew :)
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