
PART 1 ARTICLE 5 AUDIO FILE IN FOOTER ♫
This AI-generated image shows a version of me with smooth skin, no wrinkles, no double chin, and free from dark circles. Playing with AI was fun at first — merging my face onto different bodies, young and old. But this particular image struck a chord.
Would I truly want to erase the wrinkles that tell my life’s story — the good, the bad, the ugly? Not when I think about it. As for the extra chin? Well, that might take more consideration. And those dark circles? They’re marks of the people and moments I’ve cared deeply about, enough to lose sleep. Erasing them would feel like erasing parts of my journey. Those fine lines by my eyes? They reflect the laughter and smiles I’ve shared. I wouldn’t trade them for anything, though I do use a few serums to soften them.

But this version does resemble me – that cannot be denied. She is quite beautiful, surprisingly so! Physical beauty was never something I thought I had. And yet, there it is, gazing back at me. I can’t help but wonder how many qualities, skills, or talents I might have overlooked out of insecurity, self-doubt, or thoughtless comments. Qualities that, had I owned them, might have transformed my life and allowed me to better help others.
As a little girl, I watched Miss America with my dad, dreaming of being on that stage. “Not a chance that will ever happen,” he said. I doubt he meant it with any malicious intent; he was simply expressing his view of reality without realizing the lasting impact it might have on me. How wonderful it would have been if, just once, he’d told me I was the most beautiful little princess that ever lived! Reality would come soon enough, but at four years old, his words felt like the end of my dream.
We grow up with diverse family dynamics. Some families are loving and supportive and some are not, but most fall somewhere in between. Careless comments happen, often without awareness of their effect. Family shapes how a child feels about herself long before society weighs in.
Many of us grow up feeling inadequate — never thin enough, smart enough, attractive enough, or simply “good enough.” It’s heartbreaking. Studying this AI facsimile, I named her Ella. Days later, I discovered the name means “Beautiful Goddess.” Sure, why not?
In Ella, I see beauty, strength, self-confidence, competence, intelligence, self-actualization, peace, kindness, unconditional love, humility, and courage — a woman unafraid to speak her truth, knowing she can only become fully actualized by doing so.
I keep Ella’s image on my phone, glancing at it as I drive or relax. Absorbing her qualities into my own identity has taken every bit of my 72 years, but I’m getting closer.
When I entered medical school, I was convinced they’d accepted me by mistake. As a former social worker, I felt out of place among my science-focused classmates. At 29, I feared I wasn’t good or smart enough for such a demanding field. This insecurity clouded my mind and could have become a self-fulfilling prophecy had it not been for friends who refused to let me believe that. I made it through, shocked at graduation when I received award after award.
Could I accept it? No.
Working in the ER as the only woman, part-time while raising my children, I approached “the guys” with a self-doubting grin and stance that projected my own inferiority. I endured bullying, which would have been far less intense had I not given it power with my insecurities.

Years later, I left that ER role, still feeling inadequate. But over the years I have been able to see myself and my doctor skills more objectively and realize how very wrong I was! Now in retirement, I imagine myself striding in like a “kick-ass Granny Clampett” in scrubs, conveying confidence and capability without a word. Bullying would no longer be an issue. I marvel that I never fully embraced my medical skills — an unfortunate loss for me and my patients.
Speaking one’s truth may be the hardest challenge of all. Many avoid it, fearing rejection. I’ve been writing about intense, difficult topics for fifty years, hesitating to share, out of fear of rejection from society, the medical community, friends, and, most importantly, my family. I didn’t want my intensity to hurt or embarrass them, which kept me silent.
But I now realize that sharing my work and embracing possible rejection is essential to fulfilling my purpose. I want my writing to make a difference, which can only happen if I write authentically, with my whole heart.
So, here’s what I want to say:
Find your own “Ella.” Project everything you want to be and already are onto your ideal self. You probably possess these qualities but haven’t fully recognized them. Don’t waste time doubting yourself; your life, your unique gifts, and talents are invaluable.

Don’t wait until your later years to live with confidence and love. The world needs your unique spirit now.
Refuse to deny any part of who you are. Embrace it, own it, and share it — without apology, false humility or fear of rejection.
Discovering and sharing who we truly are may be the most important purpose of our lives.