I Thought I Wasn't Lovable

Using the example of my own battle with Abusive Brain Chatter: I had a core belief that I wasn’t lovable as a version of the me who showed up in my family. This came mostly from messages I received from my parents and siblings. They were not meant to be abusive—my family loved me dearly—but I still interpreted their behavior toward me to mean that I wasn’t good enough (Abusive Brain Chatter just loves the I’m not good enough belief. Nothing fires it more than that one).

Here´s how it worked for me:

In my book I write about how at 16 years old, I had a painful moment during a school dance recital. My mother, who had never been able to attend any of my previous school events due to work or her ongoing battle with depression, surprised me by showing up to watch my performance. This was a significant occasion because my friend Candy and I had devoted a lot of time and effort to perfecting our modern dance routine, and being a teenager, I just couldn't wait to show off. But more importantly, I wanted my mother to see me and understand who I was.

As we stood there in our black tights and leotards, taking our bows, I couldn't help but keep my eyes fixed on my mother, who was smiling and applauding in a chair to the side of the gymnasium. Dancing and singing had always been passions of mine, and I had dreams of becoming a cheerleader with no success. Performing that day filled me with so much joy, and having my mother witness my moment of glory was the sweetest cherry on top of the cake.

After the performance, I rushed over to my mother, seeking her approval and the obligatory congratulations. She warmly praised my performance, but then, with a slightly perplexed tone, she remarked, "You know, you have a cute figure if you just didn't have such big thighs. I wonder if there is something we can do about them?”

Time stopped. I stood there in silence, uncertain whether this comment— implying either that I had half a good figure or that my less-than-ideal figure was solely due to my thighs—was meant as a compliment or a criticism.

A month later, I found myself seated in an uncomfortable chair in the office of my mother’s plastic surgeon. She was there to see about getting some work done and figured while she was there, she would ask him if there was any way he could cut off my thighs (this was pre-liposuction, which would not have worked anyway).

A GASP erupted, not from me, but from him. He lowered his head and peered at me through his glasses incredulously as if it were my idea, which it wasn’t, and said, “NO! This is your body. Go home and learn to live with it.” God bless him and other plastic surgeons bold enough to say the truth and empower insecure women. This, no doubt, is the reason I choose not to get plastic surgery as I age. It triggers the thought that “I am not as okay as I am,” a belief I fought so hard to change, much of my life.

That look on the doctor’s face was priceless, and I still remember it to this day, because, thankfully, he validated what I was thinking: “Why did she bring me here?” But, after this incident, I still asked myself if there was something wrong with my body. “Is having a perfect body so crucial in life that I should mutilate my own body to achieve it? Well, if my own mother does not approve of my body, I am imperfect, defective, not good enough.” There is that core belief: not good enough.

My dear, well-meaning mother worked hard to fix me when I was young. Apparently, she had no other hobbies. She took me to diet centers and women’s exercise studios that used rollers designed to remove thigh fat. She once sent me to a prestigious charm school to learn how to walk properly, sit with my legs crossed (despite having short little legs that didn’t cross comfortably), and behave like a “lady."

Here are the core beliefs I received:

Core belief: I don’t walk right, I don’t sit right, I am fat, and I am not a lady.

Core belief: I’m not lovable the way I am; I’m not good enough.

Core belief: I don’t want to upset Mom, or she will leave me or stop caring for me, and I am not strong enough to withstand that.

Core belief: Getting a man is the most important thing in my life, and in order to do that, I need to be physically attractive to men. What is inside me doesn’t matter.

Core belief: I am broken and need fixing.

I started to rebel when I was 18, and I would purposefully do things that were unladylike just to offend my mother—and, in retrospect, to challenge these harmful beliefs that had me feeling so down about myself. But deep down, the low self-esteem was gaining traction and waiting to pounce the moment I started dating.

It took me 26 years to learn how to challenge these core beliefs and quiet my Abusive Brain Chatter. Today, my thighs are neither good nor bad. They are part of what I call my Earthsuit.

If you can relate to this, don’t give another person power over your self-esteem. Remember, what they think of you is about them and none of your business.

Mom’s, if you are doing this to your daughters, STOP NOW. They will find their way better with healthy self-esteem than with a skinny body.

Share this with someone who may need to hear this. And feel free to share your own personal stories here.

My book, The Silent Bully:A Journey from Abusive Brain Chatter to Self-Love launches in November. I will send a link to pre-order.