It is true. I got up, looked in the mirror and thought, “gosh I am ugly.”  I have a horrible rash on my face (don’t even get me started). My nose is big. I have this vertical line between my eyes that I don’t even know what to do with. I noticed new wrinkles on my face.  I KNOW didn’t have those before. And why can’t I lose a few pounds? How is it even possible to gain weight there?!? Sigh. I could go on and on and on.

This isn’t me and I don’t like this person. I didn’t used to be like this, to this degree. Of course, I had things that I wanted to change or wished was different. I would joke about getting a nose job (okay, maybe I wasn’t 100% joking). Either way, I did not wake up in the morning, look in the mirror and hate the way I look. What an awful way to start the day.

Struggling with body image is so very common with women (and men), unfortunately. I have always, like many women wished “this or that” was different. However, it is at a whole new level now. I am off the charts. In major red zone.

So back to the mirrors… I have heard people say before, “I hate the mirror,” like there is a relationship, like the mirror is a person. I never really got that. Oh, I get it now.  I am not sure what is up with the mirrors in my house. Since Tylor died, I feel like something has happened to all of them.

Let’s just say my “morning routine” is a little (or A LOT) jacked up.

I wake up, head to the bathroom, rub my eyes, look in the mirror, try and focus. When I can finally see straightly, I see myself in the mirror staring back at me. Instead of being normal and not thinking anything (how about just giving myself the chance to wake up), oh no…I see myself, I am not filled with joy or confidence, or a, “I look pretty darn good” feeling. No, I catch a glimpse and I flinch. I flinch AT MYSELF, people. And sometimes, there is “ugh” noise that comes deep from my throat…the noise that says, I am disgusted, disappointed in how I look. Everything that I don’t love about myself is amplified in those mirrors. It is like I am standing in a spotlight every morning.

You see, Tylor loved me no matter how I looked. I could lose my hair, put on 50 lbs, dress in a potato sack,, have a swollen face from steroids. It didn’t matter. He loved me. He thought I was gorgeous. He said I was the “package.” He affirmed me, honored me, made me feel beautiful, everyday, all of the time…no matter what.

Although I am risking that this whole post makes me come across vain, I am just being honest. I miss that affirmation that he so willingly gave me. I think it is common to just about anyone going through a major life season where stability is fractured or shattered.  I know widows are not the only people who go through these insecure times. Having a child, going through a divorce/season in a marriage, experiencing symptoms/side effects from a disease, gaining weight, losing weight, aging could be just a few reasons why others may feel the same as me.

Really (and maybe more common), everything can be “normal” and major insecurities about one’s physical appearance can still surface their ugly heads. Sadly, I think the battle I am describing, for so many, is daily. It is heart-wrenching, real, and just exhausting. I know because I am living it right now.

Maybe it is because I am not getting my love tank filled in the affirmation area from the person in my life that matters most. Maybe it is because I am “technically” single now (there was a flinch there, full disclaimer).. Maybe I am just giving myself a hard time. Maybe I am desperate for control.

What I think, at this moment, is that my identity, self worth and confidence is sorely misplaced and I need to refocus my energy, capture those horrible and shaming thoughts and learn to love myself again; in a manner that depends on no one, including Tylor. Maybe I need to remember I am fearfully and wonderfully made. We all are.