Content warning: This article discusses body image and mental health.
I’ll never forget the first time someone shamed my body. Contrary to who you may have suspected (me), it was actually my first long term boyfriend when I was 18 years old. My story seemed unique, lonesome, personal and life altering as I navigated my twenties carrying the heaviness of his words. The people surrounding me seemed to be living a normal life, free from the shackles of daily torment. In my world? The self-worth was low, complex, controlling and minimising. My teen self was making a comeback with the “no one understands me” narrative I was viciously believing.
But then I spoke.
Through conversations with friends who created a safe space, I learned it wasn’t just my ex who played a deep rooted role in how I perceived my body. He was just the first domino to fall. I began noticing the standard and expectations of how our bodies should look in work conversations, at the gym, family gatherings, nosily eavesdropping at a local cafe, mainstream media, billboards, television ads. Inescapable and borderline obsessive. We also have social media as a core platform with a “how to: compare yourself with the entire world” as the centrepiece. But tapping into the opposite end of this swirling chaos was the answer. Unaware of whose ears and eyes were peeping at my posts, I used the power of ‘voice’ to speak on these real lived experiences that were imperfect and rubbed against the grain of every filtered, perfected grid post. My early-mid twenties self had restored some confidence (despite the lingering voice of doubt) and my goal was to empower women to never feel shame about their bodies. You could almost consider it desperate – I needed women to love themselves.
I would show my body online, proudly. Championing every curve, stretch mark and fold. I would wear vivid colours to prove you don’t need to be bound to black clothing, I’d action what society tells us to dismantle. These visuals instilled this sense of belonging I knew was needed, but the overflowing self-love and confidence was throned. This new feeling and mission to transform how women feel about themselves was self-leveraged onto a pedestal and I felt there wasn’t room for any real-time feelings. Cos I was cured of body dissatisfaction and loved me, right?
Cue the thirties era. What was working? Sharing experiences online and how I overcome them, building community of people who felt seen and empowered by this representation. Talking and voicing the complexities of hardship works. What wasn’t working? Upholding the thought that body dissatisfaction was a curable phase and my inner Beyonce would be the face of every social media interaction. I didn’t plan it, I didn’t welcome it, I certainly didn’t desire it but irrespective of consent, the body image dissatisfaction spiral entered invitation-less.
My usual coping skills had deflated, the solution to these woes were non-existent and I felt trapped in my own reality of body-related demonising thoughts.
This inner dialogue aimed to shrink, dishevel and rule. I’d feel myself relating to and fighting thoughts I left behind and was terribly confused. I had celebrated this feeling of perpetual, unchangeable confidence, how could I be having thoughts from a decade ago? But this time, I wasn’t 20 years old. I was in my 30’s and now I bounce back with more elasticity. This round, I knew communication and letting the right people in was key.
Speaking my unfiltered, vulnerable thoughts to people who create a safe listening space was transformational in healing from this spiral. I often internalise and hope for this beast to wither away, but facing the eye of the storm with people to guide me to the exit is what needed to be done. I spoke with best friends and my husband. I cried, laughed and let them know exactly where my head was at and at the end of each conversation, slowly, a weight was lifted. The words exchanged encouraged speaking and connecting on other parts of life that perhaps were left sheltered. It sunk in, that initiating and normalising conversations on menstruation, mental health, fertility and body image could rid the stigma that halo around each topic.
Society tends to identify “just do this” solutions, when there are deeper points to unpack first. A tangible solution to initiating conversation? I believe consistent, core, educational focuses on navigating body image or taboo topics in primary/high school and mainstream media, pushing a meaty focus on what supporting those hardships can look like, would be powerful. Particularly, body image and the longterm impact of language and conversation. I often imagine if I had learned to unglue the awkwardness/discomfort of speaking and had more relatable learning tools on this, maybe the struggles could have been more manageable.
I am proud to be part of “The Changing Room” campaign with the Butterfly Foundation for this reason. They are painting a picture of such a simple concept of talking, depicting how this action alone can feel reparative, safe and connecting. Nurturing support exists, it’s available and it’s in this moment I re-learned how vital it is to lean onto it. Please, lean into it.
If you or anyone you know requires support, contact the Butterfly Foundation at 1800 33 4673 or Lifeline on 13 11 14.
Top photo: Supplied/Butterfly Foundation
