I used to suffer from chronic pain.
The pain sucked the life, the joy, and the energy from me. Every event and activity in my life was just a countdown, when can I go to bed, when can I sleep, when can I escape this. The pain peaked my junior year of high school. I quit so many things simply because I couldn’t anymore. I couldn’t stand upright any longer. I couldn’t keep lying that I was okay. I couldn’t muster enough courage or energy to keep going.
I believed a lie about my pain. I believed it wasn’t real. I believed it wasn’t really hurting anyone. I believed life was just supposed to be this hard.
The lies came from well intention conversations. My youth group and church camp leaders always pulled us girls aside to give us a dress code and tell us about modesty. Girls were given specific instruction, “cover your bodies, it makes boys feel something.” We would talk about how boys can’t help it, they look. The talks made two things very clear: the things that make you female bring sin and you must hide them. I began to feel shame about my body. Modesty, purity, and holiness were all neatly wrapped in the same package. And somehow my modesty affected his purity? The modesty conversations planted seeds of shame. Eventually growing into deep ashamedness for the body God created. When my body became intertwined with shame how could I not choose hiding? How could I not hide in shame when I was repeatedly told my body, just by appearing, caused sin.
My pain stemmed from my chest being too large for my frame. So , I silently suffered for months. I let my life, my joy, my energy slip through my fingers like sand. Meanwhile real, permanent damage was being done to my body, stuff I will have to live with for the rest of my life. But shame spoke louder than truth. shame shouted it wasn’t real, it wasn’t worth dealing with, and it would be too awkward to admit.
March 8th, 2017 (coincidentally international women’s day) truth was the loudest voice in my ears. I finally heard the pain is real and that there is a solution. I finally heard someone is hurting and that someone is me. After receiving a breast reduction I had moments of feeling weak. Self doubt crept in, had I just taken the easy road? The doubt was a lie. It was not easy. I was exhausted for almost two months, threw up the entire first day, and needed help to put on deodorant. Surgery was not my way out, it was my way through. Through pain and eventually through shame.
Brothers and sisters I want to call us higher. Let’s stop using modesty talks to let girls feel their bodies come with shame and sin. Let’s start realizing our pain matters to God. Let’s stop allowing our brothers to just get away with ogling us. Let’s start realizing Let’s stop letting shame win and instead allow truth to remain victorious.
with love,
Soph
