A Stranger Stopped My Spiraling Self-Criticism Without Saying A Word
She changed my life simply by living unfettered.
On a rare foggy August afternoon, my partner and I tip-toed through a web of tidepools on a nearly deserted shore. Two women swam in the waves and a dog sniffed around on a distant patch of beach, but otherwise, we were alone with the ocean and the life within. As I gazed downward at a particularly calm pool, my inner turmoil grew tumultuous.
Just an hour before, I had asked my boyfriend to take my portrait. I didn’t have many photos of myself from recent years, but something about the soft filmy white lighting filling our beach-side hotel room called to me. It gave the room a dream-like quality and having taken extra time on my appearance that day, I had the rare desire to capture myself in that moment. I sat for a few photos with pride, although a bit unpracticed at the art of posing.
The resulting photos gutted me. As I looked down at my phone, my eyes didn’t know where to look first. All I could see was the texture on my face, the funky gaps in my teeth, the newly exaggerated curve of my shoulders, and the still-healing bright red melanoma scar cascading across my chest.
Before looking at the photos, I was in the moment. After looking at the photos, I was spiraling.
Sometimes I’m able to let anxious thoughts drift through me, but this time, helped along by PMS, they festered. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t untangle and release my obsessive thoughts. Instead, they twisted and writhed inside of me picking up speed.
My breaths became shallow, my bathing suit suddenly felt too tight, and my beach-frizzed hair wouldn’t stop tickling my neck.
I was barreling toward an anxiety attack while listening to the ocean whisper over the stones and watching the sea anemones slowly sway in the tide.
I grew quiet and snappy. My partner knows that in moments like these, I prefer space, so I faced the storm raging inside of me alone.
Then, she appeared through the fog. Her bare feet stepping silently amongst the tidepools, she joined us with her wide-eyed daughter and smiling dog in tow. She dawned a sexy bathing suit, rolls of fat, cellulite, and an aura of confidence. I waved at her but otherwise, we said nothing as we all wandered amongst the pools, squinting our eyes to see the sea creatures through the reflection of the fog.
She was entirely in the moment with her teenage daughter who was enamored by the pools. Together, they submerged in the biggest of the tidal ponds, using snorkel masks to gaze at the most cautious of creatures beneath the surface. As they uttered their awe for the natural life beneath the surface, I watched on in my own awe, my volatile inner dialogue gone silent.
Here was a woman, who shared the same imperfections as myself, aglow with motherhood, shared wonder, and self-assurance. When I looked at her, my mind did not register any of her makeup as flaws. Instead, I saw a woman who wears her skin proudly and a mother who chooses to participate instead of calling cautions from the sideline.
When we left the beach that day, my mind rippled with thoughts, and at the center, was this stranger’s freedom of self. My fixation had shifted away from my flaws and toward this mystery woman and the effect she had on me.
What was it about her self-assurance that put me at ease?
How was she able to slice through my anxiety without ever saying a word?
As the sun set, awareness washed over me; Self-criticism is about more than yourself.
By listening to that critical inner voice when it tells me to never post a photo where you can see my skin’s real texture or my scar, I am announcing to my future daughter, my best friend, and everyone around else, that imperfections should remain hidden.
By living in a way that makes it clear we embrace our flaws, we are casting a message across a sea of others that we embrace theirs too.
Next time I’m struggling to choose between a bikini and a one-piece I’m going to choose the bikini and hope that I’m someone’s stranger on the beach.
