Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Comfortable In My Own Skin

For most of my life I haven't ever really cared what others thought, I have always been like who cares I am who I am and therefore people will just have to deal with it. I don't know when that changed but more recent than not I found myself feeling down about who I was. I didn't want to like the things I liked, I wanted to fit in with the crowd, and I definitely was wishing I had the same styles as my sisters because theirs seemed so much more fitting for a woman than my t-shirts and shorts. The thoughts haunted me, and I honestly couldn't figure out why I would change..I just knew that I wanted to be what a boy would look at and think now that is a good looking woman.. Well  realized just how ridiculous those thoughts are, I am who I am and if people don't like it then they can not associate with me. People should love me for my personality, and the traits I have rather than what I dress like. I find that I judge people at first sight, and then once I get to know them I usually regret those thoughts. Your clothes do not define you, or maybe if you have tattoos and things. There is a story behind why a person looks the way they look and most of the time they aren't what they look like. Well, no worries I am back to wearing whatever I like..kind of I have to dress a little nicer because I am a tutor in an elementary school and I definitely want to look somewhat professional other than that no one can ever get me to leave my t-shirts behind. 

So while I was trying to figure out why these thoughts were haunting me I had the opportunity to go on a photo shoot with one of the coolest people I know. I was freaking out, to Amelia I was like I can't take good pictures, I am too goofy. For support I dragged Amelia along with me because there was no way I was going to let all of the attention to be on me. Somehow Keri managed to capture a side of me I wasn't sure existed. Once I saw the pictures, and even better we used my longboard in some of them and got to show who I really was. I really am a beautiful daughter of God and no one should ever let me think otherwise. I didn't know that I could actually look good in a photo, usually I see the blemishes and think about everything that could be better. This time I just stared at them in awe...and never wanted to stop what a good feeling I had while seeing myself look so happy and natural. 

This is my pal, don't know what I would do without her




Here is just a few of the shots, and I still have yet to see them all. I know that if we truly live our life in line with how Heavenly Father wants we will be so much more happy. While trying to figure out why I felt so lost I decided to really turn to our Father in Heaven, and man am I so glad I did. He helped me feel great about who I am, and now I know I must be doing alright in life because I am still here and get to feel His love all of  the time. I would be so lost if I couldn't go and ask him whatever I feel is confusing or troubling me. He wants us to be happy, and if we put in the effort happiness is there and it will never stop coming.

 I was also challenged by one of my managers to come into work smiling, and to leave smiling just so they would feel like I was going out into a better world. I didn't realized that I looked so unhappy, I knew I wasn't feeling happy but thought I had built up enough good feelings to mask the negative ones. Well his simple question proved to me that I needed to try and smile. I never really thought about smiling until he asked me to try. Just trying helped me want to be happy, I honestly couldn't be sad if I was trying to smile. Smiling really can help you out, it makes you find all of the positive things around you and to enjoy them while you have them. I know life isn't perfect and we will go through are trials but I know that if we are comfortable in our own skin we will be so much happier through tribulations. Smiling and being who you are is all it takes to really know that you are you for a reason and that it shouldn't be any other way.

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