The War in the Mirror: Reshaping Belief, Not My Body

As I stood in front of the mirror, getting dressed, I looked at my body with disdain and whispered, “Help me be at peace with my body, God. I’ve been at war with it since I was about eleven.” But in a flash, I realized—it wasn’t just my body. I’ve been at war with myself for much longer.

That moment revealed something I hadn’t fully named: how deeply everything God has spoken over me had been twisted in my belief system.

The self-loathing and hatred trace back to childhood, to a COCSA I experienced when I was just five. I remember feeling uneasy about going with my foster brother, but also chosen—special—that he picked me, and only me, to play “house.” Afterwards, who could I tell? I had gone willingly, hadn’t I? That thought silenced me.

For years, uneasiness around boys shadowed my interactions. I didn’t know how to relate without fearing I was being too flirty. I hated myself for that.

Then came the discomfort of a growing body, already familiar with what unwanted attention felt like. Comments about my breasts—sometimes from extended family, sometimes even from close family—deepened the loathing. Shopping for clothes became dangerous ground. I’d hear things like: “That looks too good,” “too eye-catching,” “too womanly.” My mom was trying to shield me from attention, but what I absorbed was this: “My body is too much. I am too much. I’m not good. I can’t be comfortable as me. I can’t be comfortable in me.”

So the pendulum swung. I leaned into sexuality, using my body as a tool for approval, a vehicle to get what I wanted. As an adult, I found new freedoms in how I presented myself, but the comparisons and the loathing stayed.

Even my choices about surgery reveal how much self-hatred still lingered. In 2020, I got lipo: “Being big is fine, but being lumpy is not.” In 2022, I had a breast reduction: “These breasts weren’t useful for breastfeeding anyway. They’re in my way. I’ve hated them forever.” Even after losing weight recently, I’ve caught myself thinking about more surgery to “fix” my loose skin.

The same thought keeps circling: I’ll never be good enough. If I just did xyz, or looked xyz, then I’d finally be fine. Then I’d finally get the approval I crave.

So I pray: “Help me be who You want me to be.” But I’m learning to add another prayer:“Help me to see me the way You see me. Help me walk in what You say about me. Help me subscribe to Your truth about my value, not the world’s.”

Scripture reminds me:

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. – Proverbs 31:30

And God has declared over me:

• I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

• I am redeemed.

• I am known.

• I am cared for.

• I am chosen.

• I am beloved.

• I have a purpose.

• I am called.

  
  

The war is not won by reshaping my body. The war is won by reshaping my belief.