Do you see me? I’m the one with my hair in a ponytail rooting for my son dribbling in for a lay up. Love my four children with everything in me (even in those gritted teeth moments). Married to a fabulous guy for fifteen years (and still going strong).
Had it together on the outside. But for years life was crumbling on the inside. Control issues. Anger issues. Perfectionism.
Did I mention perfectionism?
I lived in a performance driven world—primarily in my mind. If I could just do “it” right enough I would be worthy. Worthy of friendships, worthy of love, worthy of those beautiful rays of God’s approval.
But the anxiety level remained high because that degree of performance and perfection was impossible to sustain indefinitely.
Felt ugly, shameful thoughts about myself. Tried so hard to be healthy, to please to God.
I rated my parenting continuously: Okay, did that right. Maybe my children won’t need counseling after all . . . as long as I can maintain. Or, the gut wrenching internal blame and shame from a failure that eroded my esteem, tearing me down from the inside.
And if you have an obsessive-compulsive personality type (like moi!) you beat yourself up over and over. You look like you’ve come from a prize-winning bout of boxing on the losing end. All after a few rounds with yourself.
Hope. I needed it. I needed healing from the lies that lacerated my value and worth on a daily basis. God’s a kind counselor. He sent some people, some books and I spent a lot of time with him—journaling, reflecting, pouring my heart out in tears.
Time. Truth. Grace. It took all three to start my walk in wholeness.
Healing . . . we all need it. And He carries the patent on it. Redeemable. That’s us. Free of charge to his precious kids.
I hope that whatever untruths you might believe about yourself will soon be exposed. He cares about how you feel about yourself. Nothing is too big for his eternal arms to hold.
. . . to open eyes that are blind, to free captives from prison and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness.