Strength, Sunsets & Razorblades
/***Trigger warning: I mention self-harm, eating disorders, sex work and child abuse***
Last week a woman took a few pictures of me for their company’s social media and she told me she would show me every picture before posting to get my approval.
She said:
“We’ll never post something where you don’t feel beautiful!”
And it made me think about a story I heard once. Two friends were walking along the beach, talking about life and moving slow. One friend looked to the other and then up at the sky and said:
“Can you believe the beauty of this sunset?”
The other friend turned to look at the sky as well.
“It’s stunning, I’ve never seen colors like that, blending from the surface of the water up through the sky.”
The two friends paused in their walk, captivated by the majesty before them.
And then, as is the nature of our times, one took out their phone and snapped a picture.
When they returned home, they showed the picture to their partner, lamenting on the beauty and serenity of that moment. Mother nature had pulled them from the reverie of today and all that’s going on in our world to be there, simply existing.
“I can’t even describe it. It was even more beautiful than this!”
Their partner replied:
“Of course! What camera can ever capture the intricate beauty of real life?”
So why is it that we are so critical of ourselves in photos?
It’s a SNAPSHOT in time, of a canvas that’s constantly changing, in an outfit you may never wear again exactly the same.
How you’ve done your hair, maybe what color it is, if you’re wearing makeup, what you’re feeling that day, how you hold your smile, where the crinkles in your skin show up, the lighting that makes your freckles pop—
Every photo is an illusion, even without filters.
A lot of people have trouble with how they look on video or in pictures with their friends.
But that can only happen if you are looking at yourself as an OBJECT in life, rather than being the SUBJECT of your life.
A younger version of me—with less love and compassion for myself and my experience on this planet—would have asked to see the photos.
She would’ve taken her phone and zoomed in to see which one showed less of the skin under my chin.
Which one showed more of the dimples my face sometimes hint at.
Which one highlights my high cheekbones, hides the curves of my waist, makes me look “better” or “more appealing.”
But that day when she was done, with sunsets in mind, I told her:
“You don’t need to show me the pictures. What’s that expression? About sunsets? You can take a picture of a sunset, but you’ll never fully capture the beauty.“
And here’s the thing, my friend – we know that life is not just sunsets.
It’s sunrises too. It’s thunderstorms, and hail storms, and blizzards, and earthquakes, and every natural disaster known to man.
It’s rainbows & fog as the dust settles.
If you were trapped in a storm with 100 people, every single one of them would experience it differently.
So how can we expect a single camera, a single photo, a single electronic device to capture even a teardrop of all that makes us magical?
So today’s devotional letter goes out to 13-year old me.
Hello my brilliant, angsty angel.
Wow. You’ve been on a roller coaster ride this last decade, huh?
The most important thing for you to hear from me is that what’s happening to you is not your fault.
There is nothing you have done or said or sang about or questioned that caused the people in your life to hurt you.
This is when you:
Learn to self harm.
Start to realize that the only way you can feel some level of control in your life is to control what you eat, what you don’t, and how quickly you get rid of it.
Learn what self hate looks & feels & tastes like.
Stop wearing shorts because you worry that people will be offended by the sight of fat on your legs. (We’ll thank the bullies for that character development later in life.)
Switch to long sleeves because scabs take time to heal and control right now comes in the form of laxatives & razorblades.
This year is when you’ll sleep on your first park bench. Meet your pimp. Live in a shelter and start to wonder if life is all it’s cracked up to be.
It’s also the year when you’ll discover your sense of humor.
Even though you grow up this year, and learn to worry where your next meal will come from, and then whether you deserve to eat at all— you also learn a lesson that many grown-ups don’t learn throughout their entire lives.
We only have today.
We only have this moment. We only have the next minute to be here now.
This is when you:
Carve words into your body to process all the hatred you hold for yourself.
Learn how to make other people laugh, and start to think there’s value in bringing a smile to other people’s faces, even when your own heart feels dark & shrouded in grief.
Find out you have another parent, that you were adopted.
Lose your first human—another 13-year old—to death & disease.
This year is a lot.
You’re already so strong, and I won’t pretend that the next 20 years are any easier.
But I’ll tell you one thing. It won’t feel like it:
When your possessions are bagged up in black trash bags on the front porch when you get home from school, and the house is locked, and your baby brother is crying for you inside because you’re all the safety he’s ever known.
As you’re learning to work for your lunch money on the dime of old men who like little girls.
When you’re waking up at three in the morning so you can take a shower and catch a 4 AM bus from the shelter, taking another bus and walking a mile only to arrive late to school every single day.
But baby, GOD DAMN you’re strong.
One day you’ll start to speak up. And people will listen. One day, people will help you. One day, people will believe you.
One day, you will use your voice to tell your story and in the process, help millions to use their voices too.
Hold on. You’re stronger than you know.