Arielle's Word of the Day #2: INVISIBLE

With a bit of a pit in my stomach, I'm going to talk about this. It's so odd! It's been a long, long, long time since I've been a wee bit nervous about writing something! When I was younger, when I was struggling with an eating disorder, I wanted to be invisible. Amazing, isn't it? But I really did. I hated that the focus was always put on my appearance. I hated that my accomplishments or intellect were second best to what people saw when they looked at my face or body. I hated that my talents were seen as "extra," as though I was somehow already set for life because of the way I looked.

At the risk of sounding obnoxious, I write about this today. I feel safe assuming that all my regular readers know the kind of woman I am well enough to recognize that I'm not a conceited, self-absorbed person. I really don't talk about this appearance stuff, because it's very easy for people who don't know me to take it the wrong way - to somehow think I am full of myself. For an instant, I even get nervous, because I am reminded of being bullied in middle school by other girls, for no other reason than my appearance. I also worry that I can hear the thoughts of a few out there who can't believe I would even write about this, when some people "would kill to have the problem of being beautiful" (someone else's words, not mine). Over the years, I have actually received messages and comments from viewers on YouTube who wrote that they couldn't possibly listen to what I say in my videos because it's ridiculous given that I am pretty, and that someone who looks like me couldn't possibly have had problems like they have.

Now, of course, the absolute plethora of positive comments and messages outweigh all those, and I like to think that what I say is important and my true self shows through in what I do. Still... I hope no one thinks that I'm saying being cursed with beauty is the same as being abused or anything equally as atrocious.

All I can say is that, believable or not, beauty was an issue for me. And I write about it because I'm not ashamed. And I hate that girls often feel they have to berate themselves, simply because if they didn't argue with people who called them pretty and great and awesome, other people would call them conceited. Growing up, it irked me that I would be "shown" to people for the purpose of hearing them remark upon my appearance. I wanted to scream, "But I just wrote a story!" or "I got straight As!"

I want to be known for being kind, not pretty. I want to be thought of as smart, not sexy. And if you're calling me beautiful, I want it to be because my essence within is shining out of me and you're seeing the whole package. Beauty is great - who doesn't like to be told they look beautiful? - but I wanted to be MORE than JUST that. And I felt like no one could see it, because few cared to look past the surface.

Part of my eating disorder was about becoming invisible, uglier, less. So people would have to see the me that was inside. So if they wanted to know me, it wasn't because of how I looked, but because of how I WAS. I also wanted to be liked instead of talked about with malice, before people even got to know me and find that I was a studious little bookworm with a love for helping others. Instead of embracing my whole self, I tried to break myself down because I was afraid. It took me a while to realize that the perceptions and words of others were not the final say. I had the final say. And I was more than just a pretty face.

And I figured out that people will always have something to say. They'll want to tell me I'm too much. Or tell me I'm not enough. They'll want to hate me. Or they'll want to be-friend me. And maybe they'll think I'm just a pretty face... but I can make the decision to open my mouth and use my voice. And if they want to listen, that is THEIR decision and is out of my control. What I needed to do was just find a way to be confident in the woman I wanted to be. Be confident that the vast majority of people would see my heart, not just my face. And they have.

In college,  in 2005, I wrote a poem I called "So Damn Beautiful Rant." I not only typed it, but I also spoke it into a recorder and played it back for myself when I took long walks. I listened to the sound of my own voice... my own voice saying my own words...letting it all seep in.

So Damn Beautiful Rant

I’m so damn beautiful

That I think I’m ugly.

That said, the spirit of me

Is hard to contain.

Girl, you’ll be a woman soon.

Woman, you’ll be a girl again.

Remember to reinforce me,

Jealousy is natural,

I have done nothing wrong.

I declare my sentiments:

I’m so damn beautiful

That I think I’m wrong.

Multigenerational packs of women

Stare at me because I’m me.

They don’t know I’m beautiful.

They don’t know I’m ugly.

They ratify against me,

Volunteer to fix me,

Wish they were like me.

I lament the prevalence of me,

Wish I was smaller,

Less less less,

Hidden away from everyone.

I’m so damn beautiful

That I think I’m crazy.

I lament the lack of me,

Wish I was bolder,

More more more,

Ubiquitous and flashy.

I’m so damn beautiful

That I think I’m ugly.

I buy right into the eyes

That search me out

And strive to dissipate

My sense of humor.

The tip of the iceberg:

I’m so damn beautiful

That I think I’m not me.

 © ALB 2005

Beauty is such a weird thing. We make it this powerful concept that stresses us all out. From a young age, I was STRESSED OUT. My solution: be invisible. 

Invisible? Me? No way. Not anymore.