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My Journey to Self-Love
My Journey to Self-Love
by Aashi Grover
In a society constructed to prey upon your deepest insecurities, capitalize on your flaws, and thrive when you feel your absolute lowest, it becomes apparent that we all do not fit this 'one size fits all' model that is constantly pushed onto us. In moments of weakness we find our strength, but when the world has been fabricated to feed you lies and foster false positivity, how do you differentiate the truth? How do you differentiate your truth? As I begin to unpack this question, I am going to tell you a story about a young girl and her battle with self-love.
Looking in the mirror each day, I would see a girl staring back at me. She would resemble me, however she was not me. Rather, she was everything I hated about myself. From her chubby thighs and crooked smile, to the way she spoke, shyly and insecure, unable to speak her truth for the world to hear. I only ever saw that ugly, weak and timid young girl and that reflected in the way I carried myself. Hunched back to remain invisible, nose always in a book to escape from reality, and swollen eyes from hours spent standing in front of a mirror crying. I did not realize it then, but I was slowly manifesting everything I loathed about myself, creating a new me, somebody I so desperately did not want to be.
The more I hated myself, the stronger this alter ego of mine became. She fed on my insecurities, crippling me, and it was not long before she consumed me. My life lost its colour, becoming shades of black, white and grey, and all I could even see were the flaws in myself and now, in others. I began to detest my life, my family, my friends, even my books. So what happened? I had fallen straight into the trap laid out by society. The images of models constantly shoved in my face, the weight loss pills and fad diets, the unrealistic, ubiquitous message on happiness. "Buy this, wear that, marry him, and your life will be filled with buckets of everlasting happiness". It was all a facade to make money, blindsiding vulnerable young boys and girls just like me, and I fell for it. How could I have not?
Coming from a world where faking happiness was the key to reaching it, I tended to suppress everything until I inevitably exploded. I remember that day like it was yesterday. The sun was shining, and my mom had offered to take me along on her weekly errand run. We were going grocery shopping, my personal favourite. But that day, we never made it into the store for I could not hold onto my pain any longer. I began sobbing, asking her if she loved me, to which I yelled, "Liar! You can't love me; I'm a monster." We sat in the parking lot for hours, talking as the sun set around us. That day, I learned a little something about the fickle nature of humankind.
As the years flew by, I slowly began to appreciate the young girl staring back at me in the mirror. The way her eyes glistened when she smiled, how the tips of her ears always turned red when she was nervous, and the manner in which she spoke, soft, yet sure of herself, as if she had just won a battle she had fought for a lifetime. That day, I finally began to understand the true value of loving who I was, flaws, insecurities, vulnerabilities, and all. After all, why would company upon company spend so much money to prevent this from happening? My life began to regain colour. At first it was dull but warm, almost as if the universe was giving me a hug. I started to read again, picked up the guitar, reconnected with old friends, and began cultivating the life I actually wanted to lead. All those years ago, all she ever told me was, "Honey, when writing the story of your life, don't let anybody else hold the damn pen."
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