To love yourself right now, just as you are, is to give yourself heaven. – Alan Cohen

I have a theory that we always carry a little of who we were in high school into our adult lives. The jocks might have traded in their cleats for beer and watching games on Sundays, but their dreams are never far from that last minute touchdown. The shy kids are still content observing in the background. The social butterflies are still flapping their wings.

I was the friend in high school. Like every teenage girl, I had a few crushes, but guys always came to me for advice about the girl they really liked. I was never asked out on a date or to a dance. I felt awkward on the inside which, when paired with my unruly, curly hair, caterpillar eyebrows, and questionable fashion sense, created the belief that I wasn’t pretty. I was constantly trying to fit in, find my place, and figure out who I really was.

And of course, this played into my future relationships. I chose men who found me attractive first and foremost, but didn’t appreciate the entirety of who I was. I swallowed up attention from a place of extreme thirst. I attracted exactly what I thought I deserved, which wasn’t much in most cases.

The crazy thing is that 25+ years later, those same insecurities still rear their ugly heads now and then. I sometimes feel like the girl who isn’t attractive enough to keep the guy. I feel a pang of jealousy when I hear stories about hot ex’s. I am suspicious of new, pretty female friends. And this is all in the context of a relationship where I am constantly complimented for my heart, brain, and looks!

The good news is that almost-45-year old Rachel can recognize the dark and dreary genesis of those thoughts. I am able to turn around my inner talk track more quickly because I am more at home with myself than I’ve ever been. More confident about the beauty of my kindness shining through to my outer self. More sure that that voice telling me I’m not good enough is a big, fat, ugly liar.

Now I can thank high school Rachel for learning how to be a good friend. I cry with her compassionately for the lies she believed. And I find gratitude for that season where I was forced to lead with a personality.

I know “the work” is working. And I also know I am still a work in progress.

[Photo: My high school senior picture.]