These are fresh and raw thoughts. I realize here that my only reader is probably my mother, but I still feel the need to throw in a disclaimer. I am not God and therefore have the capability and perhaps propensity to spew out untruths. This is not intended to be read as anything approaching absolute truth. That being said, I will not intentionally be careless with my words. These are just reflections. But I have faith in a God who often takes a sinner's thoughts to expose others' needs and catalyze beautiful reactions. (Excuse the nerd-burst.)
Tonight I started reading a book. So Long, Insecurity. by Beth Moore. This is the first thing of hers I have ever read (which is ironic considering I would love to be her successor). My aunt originally told me about this book this summer insisting I read it. So the title went on my proverbial list, and I continued life. Then this winter break, my mother and I were in a Christian bookstore when she remembered the title and ever so subtly purchased it with me by her side then wrapped it and put my name on the gift tag. lol.
I was thrilled though not surprised :) to open it. It went on the shelf. I had many books to read over break. Tonight Mom asked me when I was going to read it. So as the obedient child, I grabbed the book, looked at the page count, counted how many days I had until classes started, and calculated how many pages a day I needed to read in order to finish it before the semester came in full force. That whole scene says more about me than I care to admit.
Anyway, I start reading. I approach this book knowing that I am insecure. I recall telling a previous boyfriend "I think I have serious self-confidence issues." I'm not sure what response I wanted from him, but he agreed. Looking back there is something comforting about the conviction I felt hearing that response yet saddening that my issues are so obvious.
As I flip through pages I begin to think that Beth has cameras in my heart and soul, and now she is writing a book about me. Conviction, yes. But also horror. First, there are broad questions that resonate with me. "If no one ever gives us the affirmation we need, can we still be ok?" Then one sentence blows my cover. "Somehow I convince myself that if I could just develop a healthy enough psyche, life couldn't touch me." Boom.
I consider myself a person of extremes in some ways. I am not particularly gifted in finding middle ground. And this is true in my emotional being. I dash back and forth between a fairy-tale-like wonder of emotions and the mindset that I can build a fortress that will protect me from every hurt. I am learning that neither works. The fairytale is a beautifully painted lie with a crash of an ending. The fortress is lonely.
These thoughts start to expose my insecurity. I knew it was there, but seeing how it tangibly affects my life is a little discomforting. Then she includes an old-school definition of insecurity that includes phrases such as "self-doubt", "lack of confidence in ourselves", "anxiety about our relationships", and "deep uncertainty about whether his or her own feelings and desires are legitimate." That last one stings a little bit. I am ashamed of the times I have sat and wondered if what I'm feeling is even real. What about myself can I even trust?
Then more pointed observations to identify an already blaring problem:
"If someone gets angry at me, do I have a hard time not thinking about it?"
It would be all too humiliating to have my thoughts read aloud when someone I love is upset with me.
"Do I sometimes feel anxious for no apparent reason?"
Some sort of shouting choir should Amen here.
"A fissure in a relationship might sting one person but devastate the other."
Now I have had some strong times, but I do believe I belong on the devastated side of this population.
"She keeps confusing her insecurity with humility." OUCH! That is painful and humiliating to think that in my arms I have been coddling a demon wrapped in a blanket monogrammed with "humility." But I know its true. How easy it is to take my most deceptive enemy and disguise him as godliness so I have one less thing to fight. It is scary what we can convince ourselves of. I certainly am in need of God's piercing light now in my life to uncover the lies I have fed myself. These lies helped to numb my pain at the time, but now I'm confused. I don't remember what I lied about.
At this point, my insecurity is like a neon sign in otherwise darkness. I am pained. I am shocked. I am afraid. I am broken. I want to declare war on this monster. I want to beat it. But my own lies resurface and question that possibility. Security seems idealistic. Is this issue even real, or is this an emotionally-charged women's read? Insecurity again. Witness my cycle.
We tend to stereotype the insecure. Perhaps it would be easier to characterize who we think are the secure: thin, in love, receiving love, beautiful, smart, successful, and talented. Certainly no one has "it all". Some people just seem to have almost all of "it." So if having it all is unreal, then keeping it all must be something beyond unreal. The pressure is huge. Beth says "She wouldn't know the concept of carefree" if it hit her in the head, sometimes "believing to her dying breath that if she could just do this or control that, she could quell that ache inside of her."
I'm going to be very open now. I could substitute my name in those sentences without even a hint of dishonesty or exaggeration. I have struggled to this intensity with 2 main issues in my life: body image and grades.
I realize many of you identify with the first, and I may be quite lonely with the second.
Body image. I'm not sure when this started, but I can remember starving myself as young as 13. At that age, my starvation didn't last for very long. But as I grew in age and obsessive hatred for my body, I became more enduring. Hunger would go through stages of dull desire to pain to nothing. I honestly cannot remember what it felt like after the pain was gone, but I knew if I waited long enough, it would not hurt anymore. Then I was home-free. I really became quite good at this pattern. Then I did lose weight. I went from a size 7/8 to a 3/4 in about a year and a half. Maybe this does not seem so dramatic, but in my mind it was glorious progress. And yet so unsatisfying. I remember wearing the size 3 and thinking to myself "When is it going to be enough?" "When can I stop?" "When will I be happy?". The answer: never.
Now the seemingly more bizarre obsession: grades. I do not know when this started, but I know I have only recognized a problem in the past year. I have made straight A's in college so far. That is a praise to God, not me. That's all fine and good until the likelihood of a B on the horizon makes you have a nervous breakdown. Even without that possibility, I find it very easy to fill every second of my day with school work and studying. I realize the oddity in this. Oh well. Someone once said something to me that really hit the nail on the head: "Are you ever finished? Or do you just work until you have no time left?" *clears throat* umm... well... I must say I have never asked myself that question, but they were completely accurate. I am never finished. I have no idea where to draw the line.
"If our pursuit has moved from reasonable attention to a veritable obsession, however, we'd better search our souls for what's driving us."
Another bullet. Shot in love, of course. I remember having my eyes opened to this issue during church one Sunday. Singing a worship song that included the words "It's all for you, God." This Sunday was at the end of a semester surrounded by projects, tests, presentations, and that threatening B that robbed my sleep and peace. As soon as those lyrics left my lips, I heard God in my heart: "Is it really all for me?" Don't things get interesting when God interrupts our worship? Then I had to ask myself the same question. Who was I really working for? Wasn't this obsession for myself? Time for a reality check.
I have inhaled a couple of lies that brought me to these points.
A fit, thin figure will make me secure.
A successful and admirable academic career will make me secure.
These lies coupled with my imagination have handed me over to a multitude of fears. And statistically, most of what we fear never happens. Those who know me at all are laughing at me right now. So these lies of false security are leading me on a road filled with fears that often don't produce reality and leave me looking like a complete lunatic after I have reacted to my imagination.
I don't want that kind of relationship with anything.
So this is war.
I recognize that the woman who responds with graceful strength instead of hysteria during tragedy seems to be a stranger right now, but I will become that woman by God's grace.
Thanks to God and Beth for this formal introduction.
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