Taking Back My Identity

I'm a pretty girl.

Yeah, I said it.

I have nice hair, big, dark eyes, nicely shaped eyebrows, full lips, freckles, a great smile, cute dimples, and a body shape that isn't fat or skinny, just a normal size. To top it all off, I don't wear make-up because I don't need it. I am pretty.

I'm not sure when I first realized I was pretty, it might have been when complete strangers starting saying it to me, or it might have been all the adults who have gone through my church that said it to me and my parents. It's strange, as a child I was bullied the most about the way that I looked, was called ugly on more than one occasion and used to believe it about myself, but now I can look in the mirror and honestly say that I'm pretty.

Process of freedom? Not quite. I learned how to be pretty by wearing different clothes, getting a new haircut and blow-drying instead of letting my hair air-dry. Basically, I made myself pretty, and that's the worse kind of pretty there is. You see, when you make yourself pretty, you start to believe you have to because you aren't pretty. In the last few years, the new trend is being beautiful  "on the inside" and you'll somehow become beautiful on the outside too. How do you think I took this message? By me having to make myself pretty, I felt as if there was nothing beautiful within me to radiate, to draw out and make apparent to others. I saw myself as ugly on the inside, but I could at least cover up the outside so that no one would ever notice.

The message of "beauty on the inside = beauty on the outside" is such a great one, but what about the girls that feel the same way I do? I, like so many other women, have made many mistakes and bad choices with men and bear the shame of it. Every time I meet someone new, I'm afraid of letting them see my past and the effect that it's had on my life to this very day.

I feel stupid

I feel weak

I feel pathetic

But most of all,

I feel ugly.

Stupid. When I think of my decisions that were ruled by my insecurities. Weak. When I think of the power I've given my emotions over my life. Pathetic. When I think of the fact that I'm still working through the shards of a heart that was broken nearly 7 years ago. Ugly. When I think of my heart and the filth that I dragged it through.

Satan has whispered this into my heart for most of my life, and it's something I believed all too quickly. I remember when I was little, probably in Grade 2, my family was on vacation at the beach and we were staying in a motel at the time. There was this one moment when I was sitting on the ground with my parents while my sisters were on the other side of the room. I'm not sure what we were talking about, but it was in that moment where I began sobbing and screaming "I'm ugly!".  There was another time in Grade 8 when I liked a boy in my class and I had one of my friends tell him. My friend came back to tell me that the boy was angry and said "That's disgusting".

Every time that someone has ever told me I was pretty, or that I was beautiful, those are the two moments that burst into my memory. "I'M UGLY" "THAT'S DISGUSTING" "I'M UGLY" "THAT'S DISGUSTING" "I'M UGLY" "THAT'S DISGUSTING"

I'm not blind, I know that I look pretty, but everything within me says that my exterior is as thin as an eggshell. If I let anyone see past that, if I let them see the real broken person that I am, then they'll all know that I really am just an ugly girl.

So what do I do?

Here's what I know:

God says I'm beautiful.

I think that's the best thing about God: He's always right. No matter if I'm convinced of something else, what He says is the truth. I could argue with Him for hours on end (which, I admit, I've done more than once) and make an argument that could convince the most stubborn of people, but I'll still be wrong. God wins, every time.

This post is a little different in that I'm not writing down a conclusion, but rather, a resolution. I resolve to be free of this lie that says I'm ugly. However, this isn't something that'll be over in just a long conversation with the Lord, this will be an ongoing battle, night and day, for me to uproot the lie and internalize the truth. This will be a journey, a long, hard, labourious journey, but I'm finally ready to embark on it.

The Lord has already given me my victory over this lie, now I'm moving forward so I can claim this victory.

The next few posts will be updates on this journey: what I learn and unlearn, the lies I discover and the truths that are revealed, and the few steps of freedom that I find myself walking into. Then finally, my declaration of ultimate  freedom.

The sun will rise and the Lord will bless me.

My name is Israel.

The Idol and My Sacrifice

I wrapped up my heart in my finest bandages, careful to cover every corner and loose end. I tucked it away in the box I had set aside for this day.

I hugged the box to my chest. "Don't worry," I whispered. "She promised us."

I covered my head and face as I headed out the door. Outside, the world was alive and bustling as everyone went about their day. I took a deep breath and ventured out. I weaved and bobbed my way through the crowded streets, every so often being asked to stop for whatever reason.  I won't stop, I thought to myself. This is too important, I have to keep going.

On and on I went, until I finally made it to the temple. I squeezed the box one last time, then went inside.

There she was, sitting on her throne in all her splendor.  Long, silky hair, a perfectly formed body, skin like marble, and a face with straight lines in all the right places. She was beautiful, and would make all of my dreams come true.

"Lisette," she said as I walked into the room.

"Yafah," I replied with a low bow to the ground.

"What can I do for you?"

"You know what I want."

"And you know the price."

I had to hold back a few tears as I presented the box to her. She took it from me, as if it were some common item rather than my heart. She opened up the box and looked on with a blank stare. As she took out my heart from the box, I felt a little tear in my being.

It's okay, I reminded myself. She promised.

"These are disgusting rags," she commented as she unwrapped the bandages. Then she cracked open my heart and looked inside. Her face changed, as if there were a foul smell in the air. "Oh my," she said. "What have you done?"

She looked through the items in my heart, clearly disgusted by what she saw. Finally, she placed my heart back in the box and laid it aside. She looked at me.

"What you gave me isn't enough for what you want."

My eyes widened. "But you promised."

"You didn't tell me you were a whore."

It felt as if I had been slapped in the face. "I don't know-"

"Don't look so surprised. I saw the things you did and the men you did them with. I saw your thoughts and your desires, and they're all disgusting. You're broken, and for that you're weak and pathetic. You want to be beautiful, but how could you think you could be with the filth you brought me?"

I fell to my knees and sobbed. I thought back to all the times I should have stopped myself and the times I should have said no. The weight of my shame bore down on me as if I were Atlas with the world on my shoulders. I had made mistakes, and I didn't do what I was supposed to do, but I didn't know I was so far gone that there couldn't be any hope for me.

"I thought you could fix it," I said in between hiccups. "I knew that it would be hard, but I figured that if anyone could do it, it was you."

She pulled me up by my hair. "Listen to me," she said, with her piercing eyes staring into mine. "You will never be beautiful, and ugly people don't make it out there. No one ever wants them, no one loves them, they just get rejected and tossed to the side of the road. Why do you think everyone loves me? Why do you think they worship me and bring me gifts? Because I'm beautiful. My beauty brings me love, your ugly can only bring you hate."

She let go of me and strode back to her throne. "There is, however, another option…"

I waited as she looked back at me and sat down. "You'll never be beautiful," she said. "But you can look it."

She motioned for me to come closer until I sat down and waited at her feet. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean, I can give you hair that is soft and voluminous, full lips and a perfectly formed face, your skin will be a shade as if it had been kissed by the sun. You will look beautiful on the outside, but my dear, you will never be beautiful because of what's on the inside. That's the best I can do."

"What's the cost?"

"Your identity," she answered. "No one can ever know who you truly are. They can admire the beautiful exterior that I give you, but because I can't change the ugliness of your heart, they can never see that part of you. Do you understand me, Lisette? You can never give anyone the chance to see you or love you, because they won't take that chance and they'll only hate you. This way, everyone will love and adore who they think you are."

I considered what she said for a moment. More than anything I had wanted to be beautiful, but Yafah had said it herself; there was no way, and this was the best alternative that I had. Is this truly what I wanted?

"If anyone saw my heart," I said. "And if they saw who I am, you're sure that they could never love me?"

"I'd bet my own beauty on it."

That was enough for me. "I'll do it. "

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