In a room full of light, the only thing recognizable is the darkness. It calls to me like an old friend. With all my might I try to resist, but ultimately, I’m too weak and just like that we pick up right where we left off. We dance together, intertwining, becoming one. I finally give in.
With a ‘home’ full of constant chatter, nothing is heard. Inside I’m kicking, screaming, begging for a voice. Outside I smile, say hello, and go about my day.
In the silence, just before sleep takes hold, I hear it. Whispers ever so soft are my only companion; they do all the talking. You’re not good enough, they don’t like you. You don’t fit in. I don’t have the energy to fight back. I surrender, they win.
//
Browsing through my computer, I stumbled across this passage I wrote roughly six weeks ago. Reading it, the memories and the insecurities come flooding back like a bad breakup I never want to relive. It’s dark and it hurts, but it’s also honest and very true.
Growing up, comparison started early on. It was never intentional, but when you have a sister 13 months younger than you people look at you more like one entity rather than individuals. The sad part is, we couldn’t be more different.
Brea is gentle. She is quick to avoid confrontation, but she’s firm in what she believes. She is humble and tends to underestimate herself, but she accomplishes every goal she sets. She’s also gorgeous.
Me on the other hand, I’m outspoken in almost every situation. I don’t enjoy confrontation, but I’m not afraid to talk about the hard stuff. I tend to be more of a go with the flow kind of person, who may stumble into accomplishment, and because I don’t fit into the ‘skinny girl’ box, I was picked on for my appearance.
But I accepted the differences, or at least that’s what I let others believe.
I harbored a lot of bitterness. It wasn’t anything about Brea herself, but because I was so defiant and harsh, I developed an enemy in my own home who made sure to tell me Brea would always be better.
I started lashing out with anger, depression incased me in a box I just couldn’t escape, and, at such a vulnerable place, I began believing it all. These words slowly began eating away at me causing my tough exterior to turn into an even tougher interior.
I continued to cling to these words, and others, like they were my lifeline. I compared my appearance, my actions, my thoughts, my abilities, literally everything to anyone I came in contact with. I started doubting myself, questioning if I was worthy of becoming anything more than second best.
These thoughts continued well into adulthood. I looked for affirmation in all the wrong places and began hating myself for doing such a thing. It was an endless merry-go-round I just couldn’t get off. I exasperated all options I could think of to change myself: my thinking, clothing, makeup, the newest fad diet, and even seclusion, but nothing worked.
After allowing myself to become fully dependent on the affirmation of my current beau, and never being good enough to wholly earn his love, I hit the lowest low I had ever experienced and knew something had to change.
But how?
I didn’t have the answers, so I did what I do best: I stuffed my emotions and avoided it all. Until Month 2 on the race.
We were in Romania and it was all squad month, which meant all 38 of us were living in a 6 bedroom house. We ate together, did ministry together, worshiped together, we did everything together. There was nowhere to escape, nowhere to be alone. So, again, I put my big girl pants on, dove into the hustle and bustle, and went on with things as I should.
Because I never allowed myself to process through the fear which consumed me, I sank back into depression. I started avoiding conversation, secluding myself in my bed, becoming a recluse and hating where I was. Before long, we were in week two of our next month and I had blocked out the entire transition. I sat down many times, trying to blog, but nothing came to mind.
It took a lot of intentional prayer, time with the Lord, and a desire of wanting to be present where I am to slowly find my rhythm again, to slowly enjoy the small things in the day-to-day.
Comparison is still a daily struggle, it goes hand-in-hand with shedding the skin of my past and walking in my new identity. When I catch myself slipping, I find myself reciting Galatians 1:10 over and over, “Obviously, I’m not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant”,
I once heard that comparison kills, and I am a firm believer it will if you allow it. But I will not be one of its captors. I will defeat it. With Jesus, I will be victorious.
//
**On an unrelated note, I AM FULLY FUNDED!!!! With 2 hours to spare before my final deadline, I received the last donation. Any money you would still like to donate towards cultral experiences, my plane ticket home, or anything extra can be deposited into my PayPal account under the email [email protected], OR you can donate to my mom who will be joining me on the mission field in March!
