The Person In The Mirror
Most of us have chapter in our lives--a relationship, a love-- that leaves its mark in such a way that it casts long shadows upon all future seasons and chapters of our lives. We try to wash away the imprint, but the traces remain. We try to unhear the words that left scars running deep through the very fiber of our soul, years after the person who uttered them has completely disappeared from our lives. And, when it has come from a lover (especially a lover), somehow the impact runs deeper than any other.
Perhaps it's because of all the hopes, dreams, and plans for the future that suddenly lie in ruins by the wayside. A love that so saturated us, that the absence of it leaves our hearts a dry, barren wasteland. But perhaps even more, it is because to allow someone into our hearts at such an intimate level is to allow that individual to become our mirror. In the beginning, what they tell us they see about us is beautiful, wonderful, worthy, and desirable. But by the time they have left, all that is reflected back to us is the complete opposite. And so it's not just the love lost that creates such a scarring impact. It's the message left behind that haunts us, echoing into the hidden places of our souls... A message that says that we are no longer worthy or desirable, and certainly not beautiful or wonderful anymore.
By the time I was nearly 32, I had experienced a long string of heartbreaks--the pain always different and unique to the relationship itself. But still pain, nonetheless. And then, like a sudden burst of sunlight through blackened, overcast skies, he came in. Scott was devastatingly handsome--tall, athletic, with thick dark curly hair and the most shockingly beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. He was light-hearted and jovial, and always had a ready smile and laugh. He was pursuing a career as a paramedic, but also had dreams of being a fire-fighter. And this wildly exciting, dashing and daring man wanted to pursue my heart... Me! Never before had I ever been so utterly in-love! I was star-struck, hardly able to believe my own luck to have landed such a catch. We both loved the LORD, went to Church, and wanted our lives to be used for the glory of Christ. He was PERFECT. Life with him was an adventure, and every day of it was fun, exciting, and new. I couldn't believe that such an incredibly handsome and wonderful man wanted me. Life was like a dream, and my greatest fear was that one day I would wake up to find that it wasn't real.
Our relationship was getting very serious, and we were discussing marriage and the next steps forward, as he prepared to move closer to me and my 7 year old daughter. But no matter how blissfully happy I told myself I was, there was something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I was told that I was too impatient and insecure, and so accepted the uncomfortable feeling as being "my problem", and something that I needed to work on.
I was visiting him and his family in Southern California, just weeks before his planned move to my home state of Oregon. Suddenly and without explanation, he broke off and ended our relationship. I was utterly bewildered and mystified as to the reason, until he began to share a dark secret--a fantasy life he indulged, one which involved other women. He was ravenous in his appetite to capture the desires and bodies of these other women. But it didn't end there. Methodically, he had mentally broken down every part of these various women, comparing each part to that of another woman--voices, hair, skin, facial structure, body parts. In his twisted thinking, he seemed to believe that somehow if he kept hunting, he would eventually find the perfect woman who encompassed every last flawless attribute which he found so alluring--the Ultimate Perfect Woman. If only he could obtain this fantasy, then (he had convinced himself) he would finally achieve true happiness and never be tempted to stray.
He blurted out his dark obsession to me while we sat on a busy street-front facing the beach. I thought I would vomit. My head was spinning. Everything I had known (or thought I had known) about our relationship was now exposed as nothing but a lie... None of it had been real. I really had been dreaming... only now I had awoken to find that I was living a nightmare.
Irritably Scott lashed out, as though somehow I was to blame and was responsible for both my own lack of physical perfection and my own heartbreak. I should have paid attention to the warning signs, the indications he had displayed for me. Somehow I had been expected to pick up on his hints, despite all the times he had told me that we were perfect together and that he felt God had brought us together. The bottom line was that, while he had greatly enjoyed the benefits and fun of our romance (coupled with my adoring affections), he simply had not been able to cease from his constant mental comparison of me to other women. And, by his standard of female perfection, he had deemed that I just was not worth making a life-long commitment to. Any physical, sensual charms I might have possessed he had long since tired of. He was bored with my looks, and (in his book) I just wasn't pretty enough to keep. So he was tossing me back so that he could continuing searching for bigger fish in an endless sea of exotic female specimens.
For days, weeks, and months afterwards I was left reeling. My thoughts spun relentlessly in a thousand different directions, spiraling out of control and dangling me over the edge. I sobbed and cried around the clock, curled up in the fetal position. My psyche felt ready to crack, as I tried to wrap my mind around what had happened and to make sense of it all. The hours stretched long, and all I wanted was to sleep so that I could forget that all my dearly cherished dreams that had dissolved into a living hell. At times I would find myself panting for breath. It felt as though my very heart had died inside my chest... I wanted to die... I begged God to let me die... And yet, ironically, my body kept on living, just as the sun continued rising and setting. The Heavens seemed silent to all my prayers, weeping, and groaning. And God felt distant and unconnected my pain and suffering. Worse, there seemed to be no purpose to it. And I found myself fearing that there would never be a purpose--for any of it.
And during those months that followed, I found myself in another struggle. Because it wasn't just the heartache that he had gone and taken his love with him. Almost for as far back as I could recall, I had struggled with self-image. The girl in the mirror never measured up, no matter how hard I tried. I could never seem to acquire all the necessary female curves, while still remaining taut and thin in other places. Dreams of a perfectly creamy, mocha complexion had long since given way to the reality of pastiness and freckles, with skin that was incessantly troubled, irritated, and acne prone. Even on my best days, there was no denying my wide-set facial structure and large teeth--nothing at all like the very desirable narrow, smaller features most often typified as "feminine". And the one dismally disappointing feature I disliked most of all--my nose. Unlike the models gracing the covers of magazines, I did not and would not ever possess a nose with a long, thin bridge over a graceful, elongated tip. I had a round nose--the kind sometimes referred to as a pug... In short, I was far from being "perfect". And, from the messages I had received, that meant that I would never be truly loved.
I found myself dreaming of the day when I might become independently wealthy enough to afford cosmetic surgery, and send all of my unlovable imperfections (as many as possible) straight into oblivion. I despised what I saw staring back at me in the mirror, pouring out self-hatred upon myself as though performing some sort of penance for my woeful lack. I felt trapped behind a face and inside a physical body that I loathed and despised, blaming my imperfections for my loss and heartbreak. Bitterness and resentment poisoned my thoughts, seeping into my soul, as I began comparing myself to every other woman I saw. Without quite realizing it, Scott's mental disease had become my own. And it was destroying me. Desperately I found myself wondering: Would I ever become Free from the need for Perfection?
The answer to that would come to me gradually... They say that Acceptance is the final stage of Grief. And yet it is the hardest part of Grief to get to. Many never find it, and remain ever cycling through the other stages of pain, anger, and denial, like a tired-out song playing on repeat. In a similar way, the inability to accept one's own self perpetuates pain, anger, and frustration. I found myself wondering if I would ever be happy again. And even more--would I ever be able to look in a mirror again, and actually accept (or even like) what I saw, without focusing on and despising my flaws?
I will never forget the day that I was crying out to God in my pain, disillusionment, and anger.
"Why did You make me this way? Why did You knowingly not make me into what I needed to be to obtain and keep his love?"
The response I got surprised me. Because in God's voice, I sensed His Own anger and pain for me in my situation:
"Everything that I have ever made, I sealed with the stamp of My Own approval and called it GOOD. And it was no less when I fashioned and made you--I called you GOOD. This man's corrupted and sinful perspective is neither a reflection of reality, nor is it how I see you. If you continue down this path, then your thoughts will produce nothing but bitterness and despair. You will stop living, and instead will become something twisted. Your words will not be life-giving--either to yourself, or to others--but instead will become poisonous to all who hear you... Choose instead to let ME be your mirror. You must choose to see yourself through what I have to say about you through My spoken Word, The Scriptures. Let My Words be your truth. Let My Words comfort, heal, restore, and guide you. And choose to forgive this man who is himself bound captive to the misery of sin. I made you to be you, not someone else. Just as I did not make you to live someone else's life. Give up this unhealthy need for comparison, and accept what is. Accept who you are. Accept who and what I have made you to be. Find Peace in that, and be FREE!"
It has been nearly a decade since that excruciatingly painful chapter of my life. But, by God's Grace, rather than letting it define me, I have been able to choose to let it free me. And layer upon layer, God's healing has been able to work its way through me. Today, at age 40, I am able to embrace who and what I am, including my imperfections. I am able to look into a mirror and like what I see, because I know that my Heavenly Father likes what He sees--and even better, because He made me that way, on purpose. What I cannot change or improve, I accept as part of His purposeful design. Even more importantly, I am able to accept, love, and embrace other women, and celebrate their individual uniqueness, without any painful comparisons. Just as I have chosen to allow God to be my Mirror, He helps me to mirror to other individuals the beauty, value, and worthiness that He Himself sees in each one of these precious lives which He created.
When I look back on that awful chapter of my life, I recognize that God used the horrifying words of that man (scarring, as they were) to help me finally deal with my own personal insecurities--to at last lay them to rest, and be truly FREE. Free to be ALL that He has called me to be, and to enjoy the life and gifts He has bestowed upon me. Free to help others do the same. I LOVE seeing all the women whom God has placed around me, and find myself celebrating each one of them and their uniqueness--from the differences in ethnicities, body shapes and sizes; to hair texture and color, facial features, skin and eye color--they are ALL so incredibly beautiful, exactly the way that God made them! And it is a gift and privilege to get to celebrate each one of them, and to encourage each one to be exactly who God made her to be. Not somebody else. Not another woman. Not another personality. Just her, as she is, being who God designed her to be, and doing what God has called her to do.
Today, I am a Women's Speaker and critically-acclaimed author. I launched my own jewelry business, and have undertaken dreams I never before dared to reach for. Today, I am loving the life that God has given me, and am living it to the fullest! The scars from the Past might still ache, but they no longer hold any power over me. They do not shape me, nor dictate my identity, worth, or value. They hold no sway over my Present or my Future--and from where I'm standing, the sky is the limit!
Several years after the trauma of my heartbreak with Scott, I met and married a different kind of man. The kind of man who loves my pale skin and finds freckles adorable. The kind of man who loved my soul over my body and looks, and who absolutely adores me, whether I'm thin or fleshy. The kind of man who flashes a broad smile and a flirty, "Hey, Gorgeous!" when I don't have a trace of makeup on, my hair is messy, my skin is broken out, and I haven't showered. God blessed me with a husband who is a man of vision and purpose, (rather than being given over to trivial, frivolous pursuits), and who does everything he can to spur me on in my own God-given purpose. Neither of us are "perfect", but by God's Grace we are imperfectly perfect for each other.
My husband isn't my mirror. And, thankfully, I no longer need a man to be my mirror. But God was faithful to bring along the kind of man who would properly reflect back to me what my Heavenly Father sees. And my prayer for other women--my sisters in Christ--is that they too would see themselves through their Father's eyes.
Perhaps it's because of all the hopes, dreams, and plans for the future that suddenly lie in ruins by the wayside. A love that so saturated us, that the absence of it leaves our hearts a dry, barren wasteland. But perhaps even more, it is because to allow someone into our hearts at such an intimate level is to allow that individual to become our mirror. In the beginning, what they tell us they see about us is beautiful, wonderful, worthy, and desirable. But by the time they have left, all that is reflected back to us is the complete opposite. And so it's not just the love lost that creates such a scarring impact. It's the message left behind that haunts us, echoing into the hidden places of our souls... A message that says that we are no longer worthy or desirable, and certainly not beautiful or wonderful anymore.
By the time I was nearly 32, I had experienced a long string of heartbreaks--the pain always different and unique to the relationship itself. But still pain, nonetheless. And then, like a sudden burst of sunlight through blackened, overcast skies, he came in. Scott was devastatingly handsome--tall, athletic, with thick dark curly hair and the most shockingly beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. He was light-hearted and jovial, and always had a ready smile and laugh. He was pursuing a career as a paramedic, but also had dreams of being a fire-fighter. And this wildly exciting, dashing and daring man wanted to pursue my heart... Me! Never before had I ever been so utterly in-love! I was star-struck, hardly able to believe my own luck to have landed such a catch. We both loved the LORD, went to Church, and wanted our lives to be used for the glory of Christ. He was PERFECT. Life with him was an adventure, and every day of it was fun, exciting, and new. I couldn't believe that such an incredibly handsome and wonderful man wanted me. Life was like a dream, and my greatest fear was that one day I would wake up to find that it wasn't real.
Our relationship was getting very serious, and we were discussing marriage and the next steps forward, as he prepared to move closer to me and my 7 year old daughter. But no matter how blissfully happy I told myself I was, there was something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I was told that I was too impatient and insecure, and so accepted the uncomfortable feeling as being "my problem", and something that I needed to work on.
I was visiting him and his family in Southern California, just weeks before his planned move to my home state of Oregon. Suddenly and without explanation, he broke off and ended our relationship. I was utterly bewildered and mystified as to the reason, until he began to share a dark secret--a fantasy life he indulged, one which involved other women. He was ravenous in his appetite to capture the desires and bodies of these other women. But it didn't end there. Methodically, he had mentally broken down every part of these various women, comparing each part to that of another woman--voices, hair, skin, facial structure, body parts. In his twisted thinking, he seemed to believe that somehow if he kept hunting, he would eventually find the perfect woman who encompassed every last flawless attribute which he found so alluring--the Ultimate Perfect Woman. If only he could obtain this fantasy, then (he had convinced himself) he would finally achieve true happiness and never be tempted to stray.
He blurted out his dark obsession to me while we sat on a busy street-front facing the beach. I thought I would vomit. My head was spinning. Everything I had known (or thought I had known) about our relationship was now exposed as nothing but a lie... None of it had been real. I really had been dreaming... only now I had awoken to find that I was living a nightmare.
Irritably Scott lashed out, as though somehow I was to blame and was responsible for both my own lack of physical perfection and my own heartbreak. I should have paid attention to the warning signs, the indications he had displayed for me. Somehow I had been expected to pick up on his hints, despite all the times he had told me that we were perfect together and that he felt God had brought us together. The bottom line was that, while he had greatly enjoyed the benefits and fun of our romance (coupled with my adoring affections), he simply had not been able to cease from his constant mental comparison of me to other women. And, by his standard of female perfection, he had deemed that I just was not worth making a life-long commitment to. Any physical, sensual charms I might have possessed he had long since tired of. He was bored with my looks, and (in his book) I just wasn't pretty enough to keep. So he was tossing me back so that he could continuing searching for bigger fish in an endless sea of exotic female specimens.
For days, weeks, and months afterwards I was left reeling. My thoughts spun relentlessly in a thousand different directions, spiraling out of control and dangling me over the edge. I sobbed and cried around the clock, curled up in the fetal position. My psyche felt ready to crack, as I tried to wrap my mind around what had happened and to make sense of it all. The hours stretched long, and all I wanted was to sleep so that I could forget that all my dearly cherished dreams that had dissolved into a living hell. At times I would find myself panting for breath. It felt as though my very heart had died inside my chest... I wanted to die... I begged God to let me die... And yet, ironically, my body kept on living, just as the sun continued rising and setting. The Heavens seemed silent to all my prayers, weeping, and groaning. And God felt distant and unconnected my pain and suffering. Worse, there seemed to be no purpose to it. And I found myself fearing that there would never be a purpose--for any of it.
And during those months that followed, I found myself in another struggle. Because it wasn't just the heartache that he had gone and taken his love with him. Almost for as far back as I could recall, I had struggled with self-image. The girl in the mirror never measured up, no matter how hard I tried. I could never seem to acquire all the necessary female curves, while still remaining taut and thin in other places. Dreams of a perfectly creamy, mocha complexion had long since given way to the reality of pastiness and freckles, with skin that was incessantly troubled, irritated, and acne prone. Even on my best days, there was no denying my wide-set facial structure and large teeth--nothing at all like the very desirable narrow, smaller features most often typified as "feminine". And the one dismally disappointing feature I disliked most of all--my nose. Unlike the models gracing the covers of magazines, I did not and would not ever possess a nose with a long, thin bridge over a graceful, elongated tip. I had a round nose--the kind sometimes referred to as a pug... In short, I was far from being "perfect". And, from the messages I had received, that meant that I would never be truly loved.
I found myself dreaming of the day when I might become independently wealthy enough to afford cosmetic surgery, and send all of my unlovable imperfections (as many as possible) straight into oblivion. I despised what I saw staring back at me in the mirror, pouring out self-hatred upon myself as though performing some sort of penance for my woeful lack. I felt trapped behind a face and inside a physical body that I loathed and despised, blaming my imperfections for my loss and heartbreak. Bitterness and resentment poisoned my thoughts, seeping into my soul, as I began comparing myself to every other woman I saw. Without quite realizing it, Scott's mental disease had become my own. And it was destroying me. Desperately I found myself wondering: Would I ever become Free from the need for Perfection?
The answer to that would come to me gradually... They say that Acceptance is the final stage of Grief. And yet it is the hardest part of Grief to get to. Many never find it, and remain ever cycling through the other stages of pain, anger, and denial, like a tired-out song playing on repeat. In a similar way, the inability to accept one's own self perpetuates pain, anger, and frustration. I found myself wondering if I would ever be happy again. And even more--would I ever be able to look in a mirror again, and actually accept (or even like) what I saw, without focusing on and despising my flaws?
I will never forget the day that I was crying out to God in my pain, disillusionment, and anger.
"Why did You make me this way? Why did You knowingly not make me into what I needed to be to obtain and keep his love?"
The response I got surprised me. Because in God's voice, I sensed His Own anger and pain for me in my situation:
"Everything that I have ever made, I sealed with the stamp of My Own approval and called it GOOD. And it was no less when I fashioned and made you--I called you GOOD. This man's corrupted and sinful perspective is neither a reflection of reality, nor is it how I see you. If you continue down this path, then your thoughts will produce nothing but bitterness and despair. You will stop living, and instead will become something twisted. Your words will not be life-giving--either to yourself, or to others--but instead will become poisonous to all who hear you... Choose instead to let ME be your mirror. You must choose to see yourself through what I have to say about you through My spoken Word, The Scriptures. Let My Words be your truth. Let My Words comfort, heal, restore, and guide you. And choose to forgive this man who is himself bound captive to the misery of sin. I made you to be you, not someone else. Just as I did not make you to live someone else's life. Give up this unhealthy need for comparison, and accept what is. Accept who you are. Accept who and what I have made you to be. Find Peace in that, and be FREE!"
It has been nearly a decade since that excruciatingly painful chapter of my life. But, by God's Grace, rather than letting it define me, I have been able to choose to let it free me. And layer upon layer, God's healing has been able to work its way through me. Today, at age 40, I am able to embrace who and what I am, including my imperfections. I am able to look into a mirror and like what I see, because I know that my Heavenly Father likes what He sees--and even better, because He made me that way, on purpose. What I cannot change or improve, I accept as part of His purposeful design. Even more importantly, I am able to accept, love, and embrace other women, and celebrate their individual uniqueness, without any painful comparisons. Just as I have chosen to allow God to be my Mirror, He helps me to mirror to other individuals the beauty, value, and worthiness that He Himself sees in each one of these precious lives which He created.
When I look back on that awful chapter of my life, I recognize that God used the horrifying words of that man (scarring, as they were) to help me finally deal with my own personal insecurities--to at last lay them to rest, and be truly FREE. Free to be ALL that He has called me to be, and to enjoy the life and gifts He has bestowed upon me. Free to help others do the same. I LOVE seeing all the women whom God has placed around me, and find myself celebrating each one of them and their uniqueness--from the differences in ethnicities, body shapes and sizes; to hair texture and color, facial features, skin and eye color--they are ALL so incredibly beautiful, exactly the way that God made them! And it is a gift and privilege to get to celebrate each one of them, and to encourage each one to be exactly who God made her to be. Not somebody else. Not another woman. Not another personality. Just her, as she is, being who God designed her to be, and doing what God has called her to do.
Today, I am a Women's Speaker and critically-acclaimed author. I launched my own jewelry business, and have undertaken dreams I never before dared to reach for. Today, I am loving the life that God has given me, and am living it to the fullest! The scars from the Past might still ache, but they no longer hold any power over me. They do not shape me, nor dictate my identity, worth, or value. They hold no sway over my Present or my Future--and from where I'm standing, the sky is the limit!
Several years after the trauma of my heartbreak with Scott, I met and married a different kind of man. The kind of man who loves my pale skin and finds freckles adorable. The kind of man who loved my soul over my body and looks, and who absolutely adores me, whether I'm thin or fleshy. The kind of man who flashes a broad smile and a flirty, "Hey, Gorgeous!" when I don't have a trace of makeup on, my hair is messy, my skin is broken out, and I haven't showered. God blessed me with a husband who is a man of vision and purpose, (rather than being given over to trivial, frivolous pursuits), and who does everything he can to spur me on in my own God-given purpose. Neither of us are "perfect", but by God's Grace we are imperfectly perfect for each other.
My husband isn't my mirror. And, thankfully, I no longer need a man to be my mirror. But God was faithful to bring along the kind of man who would properly reflect back to me what my Heavenly Father sees. And my prayer for other women--my sisters in Christ--is that they too would see themselves through their Father's eyes.
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