It was something suggested to me by my therapist – something I never in a million years thought I’d be able to finish.
It was a post written in the middle of as opposed to after the fact. I did not see myself as I wrote, but I prayed to find beauty in the body God gave me through every word.
It was soul-shattering.
My plea for acceptance echoed against the lies repeating inside :: don’t let anyone near, don’t let anyone touch, don’t let anyone love.
It was the proverbial ice-pick for the glacier of hurt I kept inside.
Perhaps it’s fitting these words were thrown on a page in faith a little over a year ago. I’ve grown a lot these past few months – understanding and accepting and fighting for the personality and skin and space my body possesses.
We spent some time at the coast this past summer.
Before we left for the beach, I surveyed the clothes in my suitcase. Cover-up? T-shirt and shorts? Both and? Nothing at all? I could feel the familiar fear creeping in, the words of warning and the disgust thrown my way. Closing my eyes, I breathed deep and grabbed the cover-up and flip flops. When I took off the piece of fabric leaving only my swimsuit, no one glanced my way. No one curled their lip. No one pointed and laughed. I walked into the waves, holding the hand of my husband and leaned in close for a salty kiss as he smiled.
“You look amazing, love. Alive.”
And I glanced at the sun and giggled at the wave coming our way because I felt alive. Every cell in my body was waking up and taking notice.
I have a page in my art journal titled self-love 2013.
There’s a list there – take naps and invest in haircuts and don’t be afraid to take those dance classes among a few of the reminders. I started the spread at the beginning of the year when I felt myself fold over into a new stage of RISK – acting out on dreams He’s birthed in me. I knew the risk would produce vulnerability. I knew vulnerability would clash against the fear.
I knew in everything I would need to hold my body and spirit close, whispering and reminding the little girl inside just how much I love her and how thankful I am for her resiliency in getting me this far.
So every day I stretch into yoga and listen for that whisper of a beginning in self-care. I remember the words that started it all, a love letter to this skin I’m in, a declaration of acceptance for the woman He’s made me to embrace.
Elora Nicole Ramirez seeks out the beauty in brokenness and aims to tell the Truth in all she does. She believes stories can change the world and every day prophets will help us get there. You can find her on Twitter,Facebook or read more on her blog.
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**ALSO: there will be NO Imperfect Prose on Thursdays this week, as Emily is on vacation.
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I am a broken wife, mother, author, and artist. I am a pastor's daughter and a former anorexic who speaks up for the voiceless. I am a world traveler who is slowly finding her way home. Welcome, friend.