self acceptance – By Autumn Rain

Over the weekend, the kids and I watched K-Pop Demon Hunters at grandma’s house. All of the sudden at the end of the movie, this song began (massive spoiler alert, btw):

“My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like.”

For years I was a liar.

Before y’all gasp and clutch at your hearts with betrayal, I told the most lies to myself. Lies like, “This is normal”, “I don’t need more”, and “I’m fine”.

I repeated the lies that he told me, even when they didn’t feel right. Lies that protected his image, even when they cost me my happiness.

But the truth is …

I was always terrified of how he’d punish me if I outshined him. He knew how to criticize and nitpick. He knew how to start arguments when I needed to be at my top game. He knew how to casually drop, “You do have a big nose,” in the moments when I was feeling vulnerable. And I knew it. It didn’t matter that he’d say that he didn’t feel threatened by my success, because underneath the words in the spaces where real life clashed against dreams, I felt sabotaged. Not supported.

Deep inside I knew that he’d find a way to make me miserable if I was successful, which is why I never tried to push beyond my tiny bubble. I didn’t want to see what was behind that door.

I felt it when The Scion Suit was mildly popular on Reddit — a story that I began entirely on my own while he had been at work, and it gained recognition without his stamp of approval. Behind the scenes, he grew pushier about where he wanted the story to go, to the point where he wrote the ending himself. I edited it as heavily as I dared to, but I always hated it. I thought it was nauseatingly pretentious and not remotely on-brand for me. I even slipped in how much I hated the scene when I added the sentence, “She hated it when people gave roundabout answers to direct questions”. Yup, that was me commenting on the entire scene through the character, hur hur.

I broke into a million pieces, and I can’t go back
But now I’m seeing all the beauty in the broken glass
The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like

K-Pop Demon Hunters: Come for the music, laughs, and popcorn, stay for the life changing affirmations.

Apparently.

I’ve always felt a light inside of me, and I’ve always wanted to share it with others. So, this is me, giving it my all. No more lies. No more fear. No more holding back. I want the Truth in me to reach the Truth in you, and we’ll both find our voices.

I’m also going to include this song, because it’s just plain fun to dance to:

When I was a teenager, my mom took me to her hairstylist for a complete makeover. She braided up my hair, chopped off a full foot, then proceeded to push me into one of the most awkward stages of my teenagehood.

I’ve always been a “wash ‘n go” sort of girl. Never really could get into the habit of using blow dryers, let alone curling irons. Yet I gave that new hairstyle an honest shot, because all of the adult women around me kept going on about how “mature” it made me look, and I was scared of standing up against people back then.

I hated that hair cut. Loathed it. There isn’t a single picture of me smiling with that stupid style. I eventually drifted back to “wash ‘n go,” because that’s my fundamental personality type.

We’re talking about two decades ago here, so I can’t remember the specifics, but I do recall feeling bombarded with criticism from the hairstylist. She went on and on about split ends and breakage, then proceeded to donate my hair to Locks of Love … *eyeroll* The stylist was bad enough I remember asking my mom about it afterwards, and she told me that it was best to ignore the criticism.

But it still bothered me. It bothered me badly enough that I switched over to going to the local college for haircuts, then eventually started doing it myself. When I turned 30, I vowed to never cut my hair again, and I’ve been much happier with my appearance ever since.

I’ve been married for over a decade now. My husband likes to help brush and braid my hair when we get ready for bed, and he always praises how silky and shiny my hair is. Sometimes he even recites poetry. He doesn’t see the split ends or the wispy bits that stick out awkwardly, even though he’s perfectly aware of the horrible things that happen to my hair in the cause of motherhood. He sees the beauty, not the flaws.

That matters far more than the nitpicking opinions of near strangers.

Tag: self acceptance

Empowerment through Honesty: Lessons from K-Pop Demon Hunters

On Beauty

Thank you for sharing my work!

Thank you for sharing my work!