Originally published Thursday, 21 June 2018.
It is time for me to admit I have no answers. To admit that I am not yet free. Confession: I hurt people around me. And I do this by idolizing myself. And success. And being right.
When the self is an idol, the whole world, the way I perceive it, is warped. Even now I struggle to trust my own words, my feelings, my voice–a deep-seeded wound I thought was uprooted years ago. I don’t know if I can trust myself.
I know I can’t. Not yet.
So, you clearly shouldn’t trust me. But know this: it is truth I attempt to write here.
Here, I seek transparency, authenticity. I want to be free from pretending, hiding. I want to not fake that things are okay when they’re not.
Yeah, read at your own risk. But know this: by sharing my heart here, rather than desperate private words scribbled into journals, I will be committed to pursuing a heart stripped of everything else but God.
I do not write for the hope of self-medication or therapy or cathartic release. Yet, I believe that my writing here is a step toward healing. It is an act of standing in the room, hands empty, arms at my side, saying I don’t know what to do but my Father does. My Jesus does.
I don’t know what to do, but I step forward now, saying, with you here, that I am broken, and I am tired of hurting people. I am tired of condemning myself and–out of that self-condemnation and personal insecurity–wounding the people I should be loving the most.
I am tired of taking words people say to me–people who, while not flawless, are pursuing God and can be trusted–and assuming it is a personal attack on my heart. I am tired of feeling trapped, insecure about my worth–believing lies that my doing is more valuable than my being.
Here is what I know: I don’t want my belief about who I am to continue to hurt the people around me. I need to believe the definition that is true: I am beloved, chosen, an adored daughter of God.
So, in these posts for a while, I will be attempting to document my steps toward shedding the false self that clings to me, suffocating me, paralyzing me. For too long I have kept it on me, draped like a slimy, tentacled cloak. For too long it has gripped my heart. I hate it, despise it. And for too long I have let it trick me to despise myself rather than it. For too long I have condemned the self God loves. For too long I have believed I have needed to protect myself from the people who want to love me.
There is more to say. But I won’t hurry the words.
I am still trying to trust them.
- This is the first post in a series where I talk about my wrestling with self-condemnation. Please subscribe to join me. I could use the company, for sure.
This post appeared originally at jenniferjcamp.com