Most of us racers come out with a confession blog sooner or later, and it’s high time I gave you mine.
I have an addiction. An unquenchable thirst. And it’s so strong that, if I’m being honest, I put it over God’s love for me….
I am addicted to affirmation.
I idolize others’ opinions of me.
I really, REALLY care what other people think.
I spend countless hours scrutizing everything I do down to the tone of voice I used and the facial expression I made.
“How did that come off?”
“They probably took it this way.”
“Crap, now they think this about me.”
“How do I fix the damage I’ve just done?”
These are the voices constantly running through my head. They tell me I’m a screw up. That I make myself unlovable. This is why no one wants you, they say, and this is why no one ever will. If they see something they don’t like once, it’s permanent. They will never forget.
When I confide in others about the battle raging in my mind, they encourage me with words like “just be yourself” or “be who God made you to be.”
Well… honesty time. I have absolutely NO CLUE who that is.
I am a people pleaser by nature. So I have spent my entire life making myself into who I think other people want. As far back as I can remember, all the way back into my childhood, all I can remember doing is deciding to be things that would make other people want me. Especially boys.
If I like sports, if I know about cars, if I make it look like I don’t care, if I’m serious with the serious people and goofy with the goofy people. If I pretend like I’m never uncomfortable. If I decide to be bad at math too. If I wear their clothes, like their music, pretend to know about what they like….
The list never ends.
So that brings me to the ripe age of 24. And if someone was to say to me, “Tell me who you are,” I wouldn’t know what to say to them.
I made a mold comprised of the expectations and preferences of others and I’ve been trying to shove myself in it ever since. And it has left me feeling lonely, desolate, and invisible my whole life. It has left me thinking of myself as pathetic, weak, unlovable, selfish, and a coward. Believing that maybe good things just aren’t meant for me.
But now the mold is breaking…
And I can finally see the golden calf before me that I have been worshipping for all of these years. I can see Jesus on the other side of a hand-dug chasm and the shovel is in my hand.
So what do I do now?
I ask Jesus the same question He asked Peter, “who do you say that I am?” And then I choose.
I have to CHOOSE His opinion of me over the opinion of others. I have to CHOOSE to love Him more. To listen for His voice. To seek Him and allow Him to seek me.
After facing another rejection for trying to be myself, I was pouring over what I should have changed, if being myself really was just wrong. But my very wise, gypsy of a friend, Kiki, said to me, “Then we’re left with a choice. We can either be unloved for who we are, or loved for who we are not.”
And it is absolutely terrifying.
It’s terrifying choosing to be yourself when you know some people won’t want it. But in the same vein it’s a very hollow feeling to walk around with everyone talking about how much they love your costume but never you. So, again, I choose.
I’m scared of what He’ll say. I’m scared of what and who I’ll lose. I’m scared of who I will or won’t be. The only thing scarier than being right about myself, is being wrong. Knowing good things about myself and LIVING in them.
But, my friends, that’s called Freedom.
The kind of freedom (and terror) you feel when jumping off a bridge even though you know there’s a harness attached to your back. And I managed to do that so I have no excuse to walk away from this.
By His grace and mercy, I’m fighting every day for the freedom of self.
Because free people free people.
