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I'm Enough
by Deborah Ludwig
A life-threatening illness, major loss, or any tragedy for that matter, forces us to examine our own history. Leukemia forced me to examine mine. I have spent hours replaying scenes from my life and the choices I made in an effort to discover why leukemia chose me to be its bedfellow. I’ve devoured books explaining the “biology of biography”—how our past shapes and influences our tendency toward health or illness, how clinging to old hurts and grudges can cause sickness, cancer and even death, how poor health habits contribute to disease, and how de-valuing ourselves destroys our spirit and self-esteem. In essence, I’ve become an excavator partaking in a personal archeological dig that I hope will provide enlightenment.
Three childhood memories particularly stand out as contributing to my fractured ego: my best friend rejected me after she became a cheerleader, which translated into my no longer being popular or pretty enough to be her friend; a boy commented that my nose was big (I had no self-consciousness about my nose before this); and a friend’s grandmother gave me a backhanded compliment about how attractive I was at fifteen in spite of my “having been such a homely child” (I’d been homely?). These unkind actions and comments sparked an obsession with my appearance, which only intensified as I transitioned from grade school to high school. Reading fashion magazines and watching glamorous celebrities parading around on television made me achingly aware of my physical inadequacies. I longed to be one of the beautiful people and thus began a two-decade quest for the perfect makeover.
This quest included years of exercising, not out of the joy of moving my limbs and generating health, but rather to achieve a svelte, sculpted body. I failed at many diets because it was absurd for me to be on a diet in the first place.
In 1998, the obsession with my nose culminated in a rhinoplasty surgery that then led to a septoplasty surgery in 1999 to correct some asymmetry from the rhinoplasty. The irony is that thousands of dollars later, to this day, my nose remains crooked. At that time, I was also scrutinizing my crows-feet, under-eye bags, and cellulite. My youngest sister berated me for this behavior, saying that I was not looking at the whole package but instead picking myself apart, which proved not only destructive to my self-esteem but also to potential relationships.
In 1999, I found myself in a romantic fantasyland and completely lost all sense of myself. My first mistake was assuming that I knew the type of woman this man desired. My second mistake was trying to mold myself to fit that imagined woman. I gave him no opportunity to know the real me because I didn’t believe I was good enough for him. Instead, I tried to transform into a woman I imagined he’d find desirable, and the fact is I had no clue what that was. What a complete waste of both our time.
Once the fantasy ended, I went into therapy; it only took two counseling sessions, so I must have been relatively well adjusted, regardless of my lunatic behavior. Or more accurately, I longed to put that embarrassing episode behind me. A new century was beginning so a fresh perspective was in order; it was time for some changes. I made plans to get on with my life, beat a bad cop in court, wrote and performed some cabaret shows, recorded a demo CD, and moved to New York City for a new adventure.
Unfortunately, in New York, I still focused too much attention on my appearance. I found myself emotionally and physically drowning even further under the pressure of being an actor in that market. I worked, I struggled, I played—I took action to create the life I’d envisioned. Then leukemia annihilated the dream.
After being diagnosed with leukemia, I committed myself to uncovering some uncomfortable truths about my past. I started to understand the significance of my Body Dynamics teacher’s response when I revealed to her how I always felt I needed to stand up straight or be “pulled together.” She said, “Somewhere along the line, someone made you feel that you were not enough.” I initially resented her comment because my childhood was wonderful. However, her words continued to haunt me, and eventually the veracity of her statement began to resonate with me.
Blame cannot be attributed to one person, including myself. However, I did allow others’ comments and actions to chip away at my self-esteem for nearly thirty years. It took cancer to reveal the value of my life, body, mind, and talents. Now that the decoration of Deborah has been stripped away, I can see myself more clearly.
My long, auburn tresses have fallen out, my eyelashes have thinned, and I rarely wear make-up these days, but when I look in the mirror, I see pretty blue eyes shining back at me. My body, which is strong despite the toxins pumped into it, is carrying about ten pounds more than normal in preparation for weight loss during the remaining chemotherapy treatments and bone marrow transplant. My waist remains small, although it is thicker than normal, my legs are strong and muscled from years of running, and my breasts are full. (I must admit, I like my breasts.) Is this what the perfect woman looks like? No, and that’s okay.
The years I’ve wasted bemoaning my perceived physical deficiencies saddens me. I always felt I had to be better and prettier, but now, I know that I am enough. Cancer made me look deep inside and for that I’m thankful.
“I’m enough” is one of my new mantras. By honestly exploring my emotional and behavioral responses to past hurts, I hope to move beyond destructive thought and behavior patterns. This healing process will take time, but no matter how long it takes, I will continue to work on self-acceptance and self-love, knowing that I am enough—actually, more than enough.copyright © 2012 by Deborah Ludwig
Deborah Ludwig is a blogger and the author of Rebirth. She is the creator of the Writing For Your Life journaling workshops for cancer survivors and a volunteer for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Deborah is also an actor with credits in independent films, television, commercials, and theatre. For more information, please visit www.deborahludwig.com or www.deborahludwig.blogspot.com.
