Academically smart and athletically capable, I was never the one who really stood out. It didn't matter how hard I tried, I was never "the best" at anything.
I'm not sure where that expectation came from, that I should be the best. My parents were very supportive and encouraged me in all my endeavors. It didn't come from them.
But for as long as I can remember, I heard the voice of "not enough." And I think it started when that man stole innocence from me. Out of the ashes of confusion, insecurity grew into a pressure to be more — then what I am.
I understand it's all lies now. But its vines are so entwined deep inside — endless pulling and pulling, trying to rip them out of the core of me. And the only thing left at the end of each tug is fear.
I am so afraid.
Not a phobia kind of fear, but a permeating sense that I am not acceptable. And it colors and filters my world with every step I take.
I've never been short on try. Obstacles challenge me in a way I appreciate. Try new things? Sure, I'll give it a whirl. I'm determined and persistent. Because the lie doesn't doubt what I can do, but how well I can do it. So often my successes take me by surprise.
It doesn't matter whether I'm singing or taking pictures or writing on my blog, there is always a part of me that feels like a fraud.
Maybe it's because I struggle to claim a title — I am a singer, photographer, writer — because even though I do each of these things, claiming them means people will expect something from me. What if I can't deliver?
I haven't slayed these dragons yet, but I am in process. Armed with what Truth looks like, I'm hopeful that what I understand to be true will turn into a heart belief that I can claim.
So this is me, struggling to be free from the vines, believing this honest offering can bring healing in those dark places. Because only when I see my story, myself honestly, do I humbly depend on the Breaker of Chains, instead of me.
Our stories matter. As we assess and learn from history, the stories of our lives generate an understanding of who we are and how we got here.
I believe intentional living includes acknowledging your story as a means to better understand yourself. Shared stories are like glimpses into our own humanity. A place of comfort where we don't have to feel so alone. Sharing removes the veil and story delivers relatable, vulnerable truth.
I have always felt sort of small. But that doesn't mean there isn't value in the story that's being written.
This is a post in a series called, 31 days of Intentional Living. You can find all the posts in this series here, updated each day in October. Category: Inspirational & Faith
This post was written on the prompt, ‘Story,’ for a link-up with the (in)Couraging Writers group.