When I was sixteen, I watched a video that a parent had made of our camp. In the video, I saw the back of someone who was about my height, but probably about twenty pounds lighter. I instantly felt jealousy and intense shame. This person was thin, maybe a little too thin, but seeing her was a reminder that I needed to lose weight (as if I needed more reminders of that fact!). I knew that if I could only be that thin, I’d be happy with myself. This all flew through my head in a fraction of a second, and then the person in the video turned a little more toward the camera. I was absolutely stunned to realize that this person I had been so jealous of was, in fact, me. I hadn’t recognized myself until I saw my face.
There was a huge moment of cognitive dissonance—how could this be? Could that really be me? Then, as I identified myself, I suddenly realized that the person on the video wasn’t that thin… in fact, once I knew it was me, I couldn’t see what I had seen when the body seemed to belong to a stranger. It was a real eye-opener for me, and it was probably the first time I admitted to myself that I might have a problem.
While going through some old pictures yesterday, I had a somewhat similar experience. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic, because I knew these were pictures of me, but I found myself alternating between identifying with the person in the picture (“I used to be somewhat thin, but it wasn’t excessive”) and seeing this as someone else (“This poor 12-year-old looks sick and too thin!”). It once again underscores the difference in how I treat myself and how I treat others.
Recognizing that I treat myself so differently feels like a good first step. Now I want to work on showing myself the same compassion that I try to show others… and that doesn’t seem easy.