Beauty-Full Tuesday: Beth of Close to My Heart

Being an artist, and a highly visual person, seeing something I find beautiful deeply touches my soul and leaves an imprint on my mind.

And I like to think that I have a gift for finding uncommon beauty.  Seeing it where it is hidden or masked or dulled, seeing the potential for beauty or beauty outside the traditional definition. I like to think that I am pretty good at that … pretty good except when it comes to seeing it in myself.

For years and at a young age, I struggled with an eating disorder. Struggled so severely that at times I wanted my life to end. I loathed myself from the inside out. I saw nothing beautiful in my person and felt nothing of worth. At times I thought I would never feel whole again. Years ago I decided I had had enough. I was done living this way. I knew there was good to be had in life and I wanted some. I mustered up all the courage I could muster and paid to see a therapist who specialized in eating disorders. I learned to trust in the Lord. I read and studied and prayed from books of earthly and spiritual wisdom. I began to let go of things and feelings from my past. And I began to heal.

I remember that summer of healing. I remember it so clearly. I looked at myself in the mirror and for the first time in probably a decade, I saw myself and thought “I am beautiful.” Just a little bit beautiful, but beautiful nonetheless. I saw beauty in myself despite my imperfections. Those “flaws” were mine; they made me who I am. As the years have progressed I find this occurrence happening more frequently. I have grown fond of features I previously thought were ugly. I’ve learned to love my imperfect self.  Not perfectly, but I’ve journeyed a mighty emotional distance. 

I have 3 beautiful daughters and one beautiful son. It’s amazing that my body, a body I previously loathed, had the ability to create such perfection. Every day I look at them and I hope they know what they’re worth. I hope they fill their thoughts with how their simple service, innocence, mistakes, and persistence makes them beautiful.

The most beautiful things are imperfect, they have tarnish and wear, they have sacrificed much for someone or something they love. Beauty to me is not the perfect plastic mannequin but the soft, worn woman who tucks her children into bed at night with tenderness after an exhausting day.  Who trades high heels and accolades for dirty bare feet and the slobbery kisses of her children.

My heart aches for my old self, I want to soothe her and hold her, and tell her how wonderful she is. But I also know that she grew stronger from all of that and she will use that strength to help others.

I have my girls say this before they go to school in the morning:

“I am smart. I am kind. I am strong. I am beautiful.”

They are. So are you.

Feed me fashionably fresh