Judgement pollutes perfect waters.
As a photographer, I have a front-row seat to people’s self-perceptions. Too often, it breaks my heart to witness how much people (including myself) reject ourselves—all comparison, no compassion.
Here is one brave woman’s journey towards actively rewriting the inner critic BS.
__
Concept and Words by
Alessandra Mauri
I was having a hard time accepting myself.
Everything in the mirror was a painful reminder of change.
Ageing, fatigue, and lack of self-care.
Understanding the healing potential of creativity, and the benefits of confronting my edges, the idea was to create a raw image of my reflection. Wherein I would outline all my “imperfections” with lipstick on the mirror.
It was harder than I thought.
After unsuccessfully drawing and redrawing lines that didn't quite align with the flaws of my face, frustration welled up.
So did the tears.
The simple act of staring at my own face—all the imperfections—was challenging, painful even.
My inner critic really went to work.
“Look at the bags under my eyes.”
“Is that another cold sore?”
“More pimples… my skin is breaking out again”
“I look so f@#*ing tired!”
WTF!
The whole thing saddened me.
When did I become so judgmental towards myself?
But the truth is, there's a seemingly constant chorus of bitchy voices inside my head. Each reporting rudely on every imperfection.
In that moment, they were just louder—extra loud.
More tears.
Pete helped—a lot.
He invited me to simply “stay with her.”
It was very confronting.
Being witnessed in such vulnerability.
Yet, still alone with my inner voices.
Deep breaths of discomfort followed.
Until waves of compassion started to mix with the sadness. Thinking of all the times I exclusively focused on the flaws, I began to actually see her. The one I always missed.
More deep breaths.
Choosing to stay in the process and be with the judgements—not run from them—I noticed something. To my surprise, the negative voices stopped. It’s not like I couldn’t see all the things I was feeling insecure about. I just wasn’t picking on them.
A loving smile even appeared for a fleeting moment. Gentle respite from the noise within.
Another deep breath.
Then another.
Finally, deep in the process, a different voice emerged. One that whispered curiously and changed everything. One that offered refuge by providing a new option…
What if you were to Love it all?
