When Saying It Just Isn't Enough

Words can convey all aspects of human emotion, but I often find words to be hollow. The spoken word brushes up against your skin like a gentle breeze, grazing the surface but never sinking beneath. Words are easy. It’s easy for me to tell you that I think you’re amazing but ignore your messages just as easily. It’s easy for me to tell you I think you’re beautiful and just as easy for me not to believe it. Here lies my problem with words, they’re too easy. And more often than not, just saying it, whatever it is, isn’t enough.

For example, I love photography, but a common theme you’ll find in my pictures is that I am conveniently [intentionally] absent from almost all of them. If you take a scroll through my Instagram, you’ll definitely find parts of my body but not all. My face is usually obscured by another object or another person. Before posting, I spend an insane amount of time looking for minuscule “imperfections” or “flaws” eventually finding a reason to doubt myself in choosing that particular image to post. 

My mother, my aunt, and my best friend all have one thing in common, they all think I’m beautiful, but I don’t. Though their words are sincere, I know they mean it, just hearing it doesn’t convince me because I don’t believe it. As you might’ve guessed, I have a pretty complicated relationship with my self-image. Complicated like trying to teach your grandma how to use SnapFace. Even more complicated, like trying to convince your grandma, it’s actually called SnapChat. 

In a time, where the majority of the population consumes pop culture through the media (social or otherwise) we’ve created our own unrealistic expectation for what an “average” person should look like. The media reinforces and idolizes this ideal image of both men and women, making us feel lesser than when our own image falls outside of this characterization. Through the means of pop culture advertising we, the public, continue to reinforce this “ideal image” in several ways, shaming the image breakers or praising the image followers. I, for one, am certainly guilty of reinforcing the ideal image, mostly within myself. 

There are moments when I catch myself staring into a mirror, and I begin to pick out all of the negative aspects of my appearance that day:

• I have a pimple on my forehead.

• There are bags under my eyes.

• My clothes aren’t trendy, and they look baggy on me.

• I look fatter than I usually do.

You could see my double-chin.

The sad part is, is that I generally fall into this cycle on days that I try to look good; following the feelings of the phrase “look good, feel good.” Most days, you’ll find me decked out in athletic clothing: leggings, workout shirt, and running shoes. These are the clothes I wear to feel “safe” because no ones expected to look good when they’re going to the gym, or in my case pretending that I’m going to the gym. On a side note, did you know that a whole new category of clothing was created for the people pretending to go to the gym like me? It’s called athleisure clothing and is by far the funniest thing I have ever heard of. Athleisure is just a fancy word for being lazy, and I absolutely love it.

Jumping off of the tangent train, and back on track (don’t ask how I’m getting off a train but still getting on to a track; I confuse even myself sometimes). The media has definitely affected the way I view myself and the way I think other people see me, and I want to change that. I no longer want to look back on pictures and memories of myself having a good time and dissect my appearance, tainting the memory with my own self-doubt. It’s not a healthy or productive use of my time, and neither is this phrase, but this is my “suck it up, buttercup” moment. 

If you haven’t noticed already, throughout this post, I have scattered about pictures that didn’t make the cut. Pictures that I found a “flaw” in that inhibited me from posting it. In the caption, you will read why I decided not to post it. When I thought of adding these pictures, I was very much against it for obvious reasons, and it’s still challenging to grapple with. By plastering these images on a post where I openly admit that I have self-image issues makes me feel insanely vulnerable, which is always a delicate place to be in. 

Vulnerability is defined as being “susceptible to emotional attack or harm.” I’m sure with this definition, a lot of people would argue that being vulnerable is just opening yourself up for attack, and completely unnecessary, but I would argue that. No one wants to put themselves in a place where there is potential harm involved; avoiding pain at all costs is ideal. So we [I] run from everything that could potentially cause us pain, and if something terrible happens, we [I] can look back and go “see, I told you so!”

My face was fatter than usual.

Yes, being vulnerable can suck, especially when someone betrays that vulnerability or does not reciprocate. Any time you open up to someone, you are making yourself vulnerable to the possibility of betrayal, whatever that may look like. But if you never make yourself vulnerable, how can you ever make honest connections with other human beings. The people that I rely on most in my life are in that position because I have made myself vulnerable with them. I made that connection by opening up and being honest about the person that’s stuck inside my brain. These connections are the most rewarding I have ever made.

I spent most of my childhood keeping to myself, and even when I was being social, I was very superficial; I never allowed anybody access to the person I considered to be my true self. By the time I had turned fourteen, I have already moved close to sixteen times. At that point, I had given up on forming meaningful connections with people, because even if I did there was no chance I was going to stick around long enough to foster a relationship. That is until I ventured into a TV production classroom during my sophomore year of high school. 

Odd transition, I know, but even stranger was the teacher of my TV production class, who also happened to be my club advisor. The impact this person had and still has, on my life is so profound that I couldn’t even begin to summarize it in only one paragraph, so I’m gonna try for one sentence. This teacher was able to not only help me open my eyes to the possibility of meaningful friendships but gave me space where I could safely explore opening up and becoming vulnerable with other students, who over time I began to trust. Over the two years I spent in that classroom, my personality changed dramatically; I became more open and friendly and, quite frankly, a better version of myself. From that time till now, I’ve gone through many more changes, but I don’t think I ever would’ve made it this far without the help of that person. 

I didn’t like how my eyes looked closed.

So, here’s the conclusion I’ve come to: being vulnerable sucks but It’s totally worth it in the long run (pretty much a duh statement), and the images I’ve sprinkled throughout this post are my attempt at being more vulnerable with you. Yes, you. The one sitting on your bed munching on snacks, trying to guess if I really am referring to you in particular, and yes, yes I am. At the beginning of this post, I professed my disdain for the ease in which one can say something using words, here’s my way to tie that all in. I dislike how easy it is to say something, and so, I am choosing action in this scenario. I am opening up and relinquishing control by posting these pictures and making myself vulnerable to all who read it. I’m not sure what I’m hoping will come of this—I never really am—and so I guess I’ll just press “post” and hope for the best.