It’s funny you know…how things change as you grow older. Your experiences turn into memories like drops of rain upon still waters. People call me by my first name, Cathy, but they really don’t know me…the real me. When I was 12 years old, my aunt, whom I had adored, told me I had an ugly smile. I was young. I didn’t realizing she was speaking out of animosity against my mother for winning the heart of her boyfriend during their teenage years. She never forgave my mother. They have been at odds since then. They didn’t realize the anger and the hurt they had exchanged were affecting their children like a blood transfusion gone wrong. My aunt’s two daughters and I were the ones suffering emotionally. Whenever I laughed, I would use my hand like a handkerchief to cover up my smile, rehearsing her hurtful comments as an actor recalling the lines to a play. “Cathy, you are beautiful,” was what I had heard from others for most of teenage years into adult hood. That comment I had imagined, was made, perhaps to an imaginary friend who went with me everywhere I went. I didn’t feel beautiful on the inside. This event along with other hurtful experiences feasted upon my self-esteem like cancer. I was a beautiful woman with a broken heart.

So to admit that I am beautiful today, to me, is more than making a statement of confidence…it’s the culmination of a journey.

Cathy is my name…but “Overcomer” should be my last name. From a painful past filled with hurtful insults to verbally abusive relationships, I survived it all. I’ve realized now...the beauty that lives inside of me. I am proud now to look in the mirror at my shapely hips, my hair flowing like liquorish strands of wool and my lips, full and voluptuous, sweet like honeydew. I’ve chosen to hold nothing against anyone, forgive everyone…but most of all love me, to celebrate my successes and learn from my failures.

People call me by my first name…but only I know the true value of the “Cathy” living inside of me.

By Savaslas Lofton