It used to be that I believed all the negative things people told me about myself. For instance, in eighth grade, I was walking down the hall with a boy. It must have been during study hall or something because I don’t remember the hallway being loud and crowded—it was just me and Brandon….and a few steps behind us was Paula. While I walked with Brandon, Paula shouted at him from behind “Why are you walking with her? She’s fat! Look at the fat rolls on her back! Look at how fat her legs are!”
Then there was what I was told without words, through exclusion. One year, I applied to be in honor’s art. This was the art class for all the best artists. I didn’t make it, but all my friends did. Since then, I have attempted art maybe once. Then there were the countless times in high school when I stood alone while “the group” gathered in front of me like pigs at a trough. I was never one of those kids that people HAD to have around in order to have a good time. So, by the time I graduated from high school I was a fat, unartistic, outsider, and loser that no one would know was not around. At least this is what I thought. Forget the fact that I kept a B average without lifting a finger, I played three instruments well, and I was a loyal friend to the friends I had. None of that mattered to me. What mattered to me then is what everyone said mattered: popularity.
When I think about it now, it seems so ridiculous, so juvenile. But, is it really just the theme of a bad movie about high school? No. Not really. In college, I wanted to be the Valedictorian, the best guitarist, the party animal. I wanted to be the best and have the best of everything. Why? So I would be noticed! So I would be popular. Alas, when I graduated from college I was still the same fat, stupid, untalented, loser I was when I graduated from high school.
The hoopla didn’t even end after college. In my professional life, there was a time when I did anything to get attention. I became a workaholic, a flirt, a party girl. I bought a house to show off the fruits of my labor and to prove to everyone that I was somebody. Finally, in the eyes of some, I was somebody! However, it didn’t take long for me to realize that the measure you have to take in order to become something is the same measure you have to keep in order to sustain what you’ve become. In other words, I couldn’t keep up the front for long and still be happy.
At 27, apart from work, apart from friendships, apart from love interests, I’ve finally begun to accept who God has made me to be. My need for acceptance from others has finally been replaced by the deep knowledge that I’m accepted by God. This is me, the one He loves: I am not the smartest, but I love to think; I am not the prettiest, but God gave me a beauty of my own; I am not the best guitarist, but I have a gift; I am selfish, but I’m not the only one; I’d rather have time than money; having a few close friends is more fulfilling to me than having a lot of surface friendships; I am an underachiever; I lose interest quickly, but I have passion; I have anxiety, but I can manage it; if one person doesn’t like me, that doesn’t mean that no one likes me; I am messy and unorganized, but I still know where everything is; I’m a nut; sometimes I make jokes that don’t get any laughs but my own, but I’m committed to the joke nonetheless; I’m uncomfortable around guys I like; I’m kind of dorky; some people hate me, but so many more love me; I am a child of God and he is my Father, He loves me and thinks I’m beautiful; God loves it when I spend time with him; I don’t have to be afraid; my security rests in Him. That last one is the most important to me. It’s what I set my sights on 2 ½ months ago, and now I have it…and so much in addition.
It used to be that I believed all the negative things people told me about myself, but when my security lies in God, how could I still believe what “they” say? The negative stuff now affects my life only as much as a mosquito buzzing by my ear does. Finally, by God’s grace, I believe the good things people say about me!
2 comments:
I never do get this, for guys we take compliments like candy. But some woman seem not to take compliments. I tell a women thier beautiful, I hear back "no I am not" or "not as beautiful as _____" its almost crazy. Like my judgment is bad or I just lied, I could never understand that but I digress. and laughing at your own jokes is an art only few of us expert dorks achieve ;)
Yesssssss...finally, I'm at expert at something!
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