Is that you?
I can’t see you through all of the sunburn on my face.
I hope you’ve had a splendid week and a weekend that contained one bad decision (not an unhealthy one but a more “I shouldn’t have paid x-amount of dollars to sleep on this sailboat” sort of decision), but it’s a decision you don’t necessarily wish you could go back and change.
Today’s post might suck because you may or may not be tired of hearing someone talk about the struggle of comparison because it’s talked about so much.
And trust me, I don’t like talking about it either because I’d rather this issue be over and done with instead of me finding myself in this state over and over.
But alas, let’s talk about it.
I feel vulnerable talking about this because I love being known as a strong and confident lady of color (the color is red if you’re wondering because the sun has submerged my flesh in its fiery tongues (okay, dramatic)), so I hate being seen as someone who struggles with comparison because I do the whole “I don’t care what you think about me” thing really well.
When I’m feeling confident and strong, that comparison crud doesn’t faze me at all. It’s when something negative happens, and for me that negative thing is usually rejection, that I start comparing who the winner of this rejection game is with myself.
I don’t go searching for guys like the Crocodile Hunter, but I do keep my peripherals open just in case a guy stumbles into my line of vision, but it stops there.
I don’t make moves, I don’t usually make eye-contact, and my words mix with other words to form blobs instead of sentences, so he would think I’m a foreigner from a hidden American commune that has been isolated from everyone since the beginning which is why English is not the first language of my commune tongue.
I just allow life to go on as if I had no feelings at all and just hope that things would fall into place without me having to lift a finger.
Sometimes, it has sort of worked. I say “worked” loosely because I’ve never actually dated anyone, but there have been young men who have made certain moves to make me believe that they were picking up what I was putting down in a future relationship sort of way. But then, because I still don’t know what to do with my hands when that happens, I can’t muster up the right words or dry hands to ask if they are acting the way they are because they’re uncomfortably nice or because they actually like me more than a “dude.”
And like clock-work, when I finally muster up said words and non-clammy hands, I find out or witness that I was wrong about the moves. I was wrong about the words. I was wrong about the elongated glances.
Because he’s feeling someone else.
This sort of indirect rejection is something I’ve dealt with for as long as I can remember struggling with dudes in this way, and I try to convince myself to not get upset because I should be used to this by now.
I should be used to the fact that I am so awesome that people don’t think I want to date anyone (I’ve been told this), and I should be used to being an honorary dude in almost all dude friend groups I am in. I should be used to being known as the funny one with the great heart but not great enough to walk through life with hand-in-hand.
I should be used to this.
Granted, some of what I’m saying are lies straight from the enemy because being awesome is awesome and being an honorary dude is such an honor and pleasure and being known as the funny one with a great heart is freaking amazing, but high school Karlye comes out in these feelings of rejection, and I just focus on what I’m not hearing.
I focus that I never hear that I’m pretty except from my mom. I’m not saying her thoughts don’t count, but man, wouldn’t it suck if my own mother thought I was not pretty?
I focus that I was never considered “hot” or the recipient of a “DAYUMMMMMMM” when walking out of my room all dressed up for an event.
Well, I’ve also never really dressed up for anything since high school prom, so that could be the reason.
I focus on what isn’t said instead of the great things that are said.
We always want what we don’t have, and even though God tells me I’m beautiful every day, there is still a little voice that says, “But why hasn’t He told others that I’m pretty. Spread the word, Abba Father!”
Now, this post is not a way for me to fish out all of your compliments about my looks as I possibly can. If looks aren’t the first thing you notice, don’t vocalize it. I’d rather and I need for you to point out what sticks out most, and if that’s the love I give or the laughs I cause, I would LOVE it if you talked about that. “Hotness” is only skin-deep, and this skin flakes off every summer so I am and should be more than fine with you loving parts of me that don’t float away with seasons.
This post is, however, a way for me to share as a believer that even though we are supposed to trust God that He knows we are beautiful, it is still hard to believe Him sometimes.
For those of you who just don’t get how God can create you as a beautiful child of His yet you don’t hear that confirmation through people, yeah, that junk is hard. We shouldn’t depend on people for that validation at all, but we are humans, so we are and we will depend on people for that validation at times.
I just want to show you that you’re not alone.
Now even though high school Karlye comes out in the previously-mentioned rejection. It still doesn’t fully produce the same high school insecurities. In high school, I thought I was too fat and too tall to be liked. Now, I know I’m hot and I love my style and I love my height and I love my size. The insecurities just come in because I won’t understand why others aren’t on the same train as me.
I’m saying DAYUMMMMMMMM but wondering why everyone else is so blind.
So ladies and gents, mirrors are hard to face. Comparison is hard to avoid. Rejection is hard to handle.
But together, we can face mirrors. We can be too confident in our God-given selves to compare. We can laugh at the face of rejection.
If you need a solid community to share your insecurities, email me! I have a Contact Ya Girl tab on the homepage, and it’s for you specifically.
This blog was made for us to bloom together even when we’ve had roots of insecurities.
We are never alone.
You are never alone.
Life is hard, but it can be handled.
You’re hot. I’m hot. Let’s stick with that through these future circumstances that are ready to attack that mindset.
We got this.
Love you guys,