It was the beginning of July in Happy Jack, Arizona, the summer before my sophomore year in high school. I was sitting on a large, rough rock in the forest a little way from my grandma’s cabin. My family often came here to vacation, and I had numerous childhood memories of playing in these woods with my cousins. I had always loved this place, but never before had I appreciated its beauty quite as much as I did at that moment.

It was sprinkling, and the sweet smell of wet dirt and pine trees filled my nostrils each time I inhaled. The slight, cool breeze swirled around me, tousling my hair and gently bending back the blades of grass. Every now and then I heard the infamous call of the raven and the tree limbs creaking as they swayed in the wind. Small bugs crawled around in the grass, and a few squirrels sporadically darted across the forest floor. I loved this place. I loved the incredible beauty of the forest. I loved the wooden cabin and the old-fashioned fireplace in it that kept me warm during the nights. I loved all of my family members who were laughing and chatting away inside the cabin.

I felt so lucky to have this place and my family. I cherished all of the moments we spent there together, and I thanked God immensely for blessing me with all of those memories and with the beautiful world He made. He said it was good after He had created it, and as I looked out at the forest, I had to agree. It was good. It was magnificent. However, what I failed to realize for the longest time was that He had also created me to be special and beautiful in my own natural way, just like the forest.

When I was in my early to mid teens, I struggled to have a positive self-image. I became obsessed with trying to look perfect during the fifth grade. Before this, I had never really noticed my appearance or cared much about trying to impress anybody. This behavior started when a couple of boys in my fifth grade class began teasing me about my glasses, my braces, my unruly hair, and my acne. After that, I constantly felt the sharp sting of embarrassment when anyone looked at me because I was sure that they, too, saw an ugly girl. Most of the time, we are told not to listen to the mean words people say to us, but let’s face it: words hurt, and people cannot simply forget about being told they are unattractive. After a while of hearing negative statements about myself, I began to believe them.

And so began my days of waking up two hours before school to stand in front of my bathroom mirror and attempt to figure out how to “fix” my appearance. Every morning, I noticed something else that was wrong with me. I either had more acne than I did the day before, or my hair was especially frizzy, or I needed to pluck my eyebrows more. The list went on and on, and makeup quickly became my ever-present shadow. I spent a small fortune on foundation, eye shadow, mascara, and other makeup and skin care products from top brands. However, nothing seemed to completely fix the issue I found with my image.

After putting on my “mask”, I would step back and desperately try to convince myself, “I look pretty now.” But no matter what I did, I was never able to measure up to how all the women in magazines looked. Beautiful, flowing hair, blemish-free skin, perfectly proportioned bodies- that is what those models had that I did not. “They’re so perfect,” I thought. “God must have run out of whatever it was that made them gorgeous when it came time for Him to make me.” At first, my problem was not that bad. No one could really tell that I was struggling. But as time progressed, my issue with my self-image became more prevalent. I was not eating as much because I believed that I had to be skinny. I would not go anywhere in public without putting on tons of makeup to cover my perceived imperfections. I was constantly at war with the person I saw in the mirror every day.

Eventually, my parents started worrying about me. They could tell that I was unhappy and wanted to know what was wrong. I told them I was fine and tried harder to put on a happy face around them. But my chasm of depression was deep, and I vainly searched for a way back to the surface. I was exhausted. I felt as if I had been chained down for a long time, held captive by a dark, invisible force, and I was desperate to break free. I tried my best to start listening when people told me I was pretty, but I could not shake the voice in my head telling me I was not.

By 8th grade, my mom became fed up with my preoccupation over my appearance. She asked me why I saw such a distorted version of myself when my friends and family saw a pretty young girl. I told her there was no way I could be beautiful because I looked nothing like any models. “That’s what real beauty looks like,” I would say. She tried her hardest to convince me that I was beautiful and that God had specially designed me, but it took me some time before I realized that being a flawless woman was not only impossible but unimportant. I began observing how my friends and family were not truly perfect, yet they were content with themselves. Many people did not wear tons of makeup: they enjoyed the way they naturally looked. I was sick of being haunted by my self-image. I did not want my impossible mission to continue robbing me of my joy.

Of course one should try to look his or her best, but it is unhealthy when people begin to put too much emphasis on their physical appearances. When this happened to me, I was so concerned over my own image that I began to have less and less time to spend with my friends and family. It also drained my happiness and strained me emotionally. That is why it was so important for me to accept myself for the way that I was.

Sitting there out on that rock in the forest, mulling over my past troubles with my self-image, I began to fully understand how intricately God had made everything. I knew then that I, too, was a part of that special creation and that I was beautiful in His eyes. I possessed natural beauty and intrinsic value just like the forest and the rest of creation. I exhaled a long breath and felt the toxic thoughts about my image disintegrate into the cool, mountain air. I gazed up into the cloudy sky and felt the rain falling down, beginning to wash my pain away.