Autoethnographic Explorations of Intrapersonal Communications (FINAL PAPER)
There and Back Again:
A Young Girl’s Tale by Sarah Grundy
PROLOGUE: Once upon a time…there was a young girl. She loved her parents, brothers, friends, and though she started out shy she loved nearly everyone she came in contact with. From the moment that pieces of her identity began to form when she met her little brother to the day that her value and self-worth were shaken into place, this is her story. I invite you into a few of the moments that created her basic identities, fears, hopes, and dreams. I hope that you are able to relate to pieces of her story, find hope, and know that whatever you are facing today you are not alone.
EPISODE 1: The Little Blue Bunny (1993)
I was almost 2 years old, a little blonde girl who loved Barney, football and wild flowers. I adored my parents and they adored me. One day, my aunt and uncle took me to the hospital to meet my new little brother. I remember carrying a little blue bunny to give to the baby. I understood generally what a brother was, but I thought it would be like getting another baby doll.
I remember standing on my tippy toes, gripping the little blue bunny, and peeking into a clear box that held this small human. People say that a parent’s whole world changes when they are overwhelmed with love for this new little life. I felt something similar to that for the little blue bundle that was my brother. I don’t remember what I thought (I probably didn’t have the language skills to put words to it), but I fully remember the emotions I felt as an almost 2-year-old. My heart swelled with what I can now put words to as unconditional love and protectiveness for that little blue bundle.
Growing older we would fight like cats and dogs, but the second that anyone was mean to him, he was hurt, and even when my parents tried to discipline him I would step in and fight for him. One blog describes the role of the older sibling as the “defender and mentor for the younger child.” (Mrs. Sleepysparrow, 2016 https://sleepysparrow.com/whats-the-role-of-the-older-sibling/) Somehow I grasped that role at a very young age. This is the earliest memory I have. It was the moment where I first understood something about purpose. In this instant, meaning was made. Meaning of my identity, my understanding of self and other grew, and assigning importance to that little blue bundle. (“Meaning Making” Week 2 Slide 8) I know those are big words and thoughts for such a small girl, but somehow I understood I was no longer just “Sarah”, but from here on out I was big sister, vice mom, and Sissy.
Little did I know that he would only be the first of 3 little blue bundles to capture my heart. The identity of “Big Sister” created that day in the hospital shaped me throughout my life in a way that only a few other things have. When I asked my second brother Stephen what my identity as “Big Sister” has looked like this is what he said, “You have managed to develop a unique balance of compassion, openness, along with sage experience-based wisdom, and bad ass “mom” that can still keep people in line.” (Moldenhaueer, 2018) My adaptation of self, self-concept, personality, and personal values started to be shaped in this early years and grew into the description by brother described (though I think he left out all the crazy, not so great, sister moments in his answer). It all started with the impact those 3 little boys had as they captured my heart. To this day every time I look at that little blue bunny I am filled with the same love and protectiveness that I felt that day in the hospital when I met my first little brother.
EPISODE 2: The Doll House (1998)
When I was a little girl, about 7 years old, I desperately wanted a doll house. My friend Joanna had a big beautiful wooden doll house that I tried not to be jealous of every time I went to her house. My family couldn’t afford even a small simple doll house, so I was saving up my birthday money. I cherished every penny as it got me closer to a beautiful doll house like Joanna’s. One day sitting in church dressed up and desperately trying to sit still and pretend to understand what the pastor was talking about, something caught my attention. The pastor was telling a story. A story of someone in need and he asked for an offering so that we could help them. I don’t remember exactly what it was for, but I know it was to help someone who needed it more than I did. My little heart started to beat faster, my palms began to sweat, and I knew that this is where I should put my money. Nothing else mattered as much as helping people that needed it, not even my doll house. I took out all the money I had in my little pink purse and put it in the gold and red-velvet offering plate as it went past. That afternoon driving home from church I watched all the houses flash past and knew I did the right thing. I understood that the doll house I wanted was even further out of reach and that made me sad, but I also knew I would give up a million doll houses if it meant I could help someone who needed it. I was content. Tiger Woods said, “They [his parents] taught me to give of myself, my time, talent, and most of all my love.” “This shows that you can have super involved parents who still foster the child’s own growth…” (Dweck p.194) This moment of contentment in a young girl was a reflection of the heart God gave her but also the desire to help others that was a result of intentional parenting by my Mom and Dad. Sitting there in church, they didn’t force me to give away all my money, but all of the small lessons they had taught lead up to me making that choice for myself. As simple as it may seem, this was a big step toward developing a growth-mindset. I was able to deviate from my fixed plan in order to love someone else when they needed it.
That night as my brothers and I were playing outside I saw something AMAZING. It happened to be the week of the big trash pick-up day that happens a couple times a year, and in one of the piles at the top of our cul-de-sac was a pink and white treasure waiting for me: A beautiful doll house. I ran inside heart racing once again, and my dad helped me carry it to our house and give it a good scrub in the shower.
The moment I saw that doll house sitting there waiting for me on the same day that I listened to the voice inside of me that told me to help others regardless of my own wants, I felt like it was God saying, “Trust me, I will always take care of you.” Little did I know that that image of the white and pink doll house poking out of the trash pile would represent such a deeply needed promise from God. This image would carry me through eviction notices on our door growing up, bankruptcy for our family when I was in high school, and the struggle after David and I got married causing us to move 8 times in 4 years before finding a place we could call home. In moments of feeling worthless, less than, and undeserving, I don’t always know if I believed the words of that promise. Even in the moments of doubt, God always gently reminded me that He will always take care of me. I can trust Him. Whether it’s something as simple as a doll house, or as big as signing the papers buying our first home, He cares.
EPISODE 3 Cutting, Disorders, and Suicide (2005-2009)
As I ventured into my high school years I found myself part of many different worlds. I was a competitive gymnast for a local high school, a drama kid who kept the show running but never landed the lead role, I competed in the national homeschool speech and debate league, and found myself a part of the “popular crowd” though I tended to navigate towards those outside of our group. I was the nerd at gymnastics, the jock at speech competitions, and all around the good kid who enjoyed pushing the boundaries. The one thing that connected all of these worlds for me seemed to be that I was the one who people could turn to when life was falling apart.
As teenagers everything can feel like it’s the end of the world: that boy doesn’t like me, I got a bad grade, I don’t have cool clothes, etc. That being said, there are also things that many teenagers walk through that can deeply wound, confuse, and disconnect. I walked alongside friends going through many different things: Parents going through a divorce, parents with unrealistic expectations, sexual abuse, coming out as gay, bankruptcy, losing loved ones, and the list goes on and on. As we all walked through our own struggles, we each found coping mechanisms. Self-harm was at the top of the list for the majority of my friends. As I walked through the long nights and bouts of self-hatred I found myself spinning out of control and falling into an eating disorder as I tried to hold it all together. Any given night I would be up texting with 2-5 people about what they were thinking, feeling, and what they wanted to do (cutting, burning, pulling out hair, punching themselves, suicide). I would sit for hours in fear of what would happen if I didn’t respond. I would have constant Imagined Interactions of this friend falling apart and accidentally cutting a little too deep, or that friend saying, “fuck it” and driving off a cliff. More than once I called the cops to go pick up a friend before they attempted suicide. These images and scenarios I carried with me kept me motivated to the point of emotional and physical exhaustion. During Imagined Interactions the emotion can be almost as real, if not as real as it would be in real life. (Week 4, Slide 8). So, in essence I was reliving these horrific and traumatic things that I felt responsible for.
I was already a people pleaser and giver with the desire for everyone around me to feel loved. However, in this season I took it another step and put the outcome of every situation with on my own shoulders. I lived in fear that something would happen, and I would know I had not done EVERYTHING I could to love that person enough to keep them from hurting themselves. Talk about pressure and unrealistic expectations, and yet this is the state of mind I lived in most of my teenage years. I know now that much of what I did created a co-dependency and was as enabling as it was helpful. But what started with wanting to love with the best of intentions quickly began to say as much about me and my need to be needed as it did about my friends struggles.
My self-worth soon became wrapped up in how many people trusted me to solve their problems, who needed my advice, and how deep they would let me into their lives. If I wasn’t helping someone else I was depressed. I felt worthless and alone. I would tell myself that everyone else was hurting too much with their own stuff to worry about mine. And in some ways I still think I was right, but I also know that often my pride never gave them a chance to step into MY brokenness. In my pain and pride I built up walls to keep out loneliness. I put on a mask of strength so as not to burden anyone else and created a story in my head that “I am only worth something if I am doing something for others”. This type of self-talk created dysfunction and a distorted view of myself and the reality I lived in. It seemed to me (reality or not I still don’t know) that every time I turned around someone I had supported on a deeply personal level would move on and disappear. This would leave me alone, friendless, and looking for the next “project” to fill the void. At one point I held tight to the idea that God gave me to each guy I dated in their hardest season of life so that I could love and support them through it (talk about pride!), but once they were in a better place and no longer needed me they would move on. I have been fighting the idea that I am only valuable if I’m useful ever since.
EPISODE 4: The Earthquake (2017)
Growing up as the oldest of four kids, in a co-dependent homeschool community, and in a low income family, I quickly learned how to help people. I was the Vice Mom, Go To Person if someone needed support, and Provider in many ways. There are so many beautiful things about loving people well, knowing how to help them and actually make a difference. However, the older I got the more unhealthy this became. I would give and give until one day I felt my worth was all wrapped up in what I could do for other people. The line between myself and others was burred so deep that I lost sight of where I ended, and others begin. I slowly realized that this was a problem, but it wasn’t until I was 22 and married that I decided to do something about it. I began going to counseling, attended a weekend designed to peel back the layers to reveal who you were created to be, and I joined a group of women healing from the pain of life and running after Jesus. Little by little I began to pull back the layers of people pleasing and finding my value in what I could do for others. I began to rearrange unhealthy relationships that kept me stuck in destructive patterns. I would repeat over and over things like, “I am enough just as I am. I am loved for just being me. I am worthy of being fully known,” trying to use positive self-talk to move these new truths from my head to my heart. But something still wasn’t sticking. My husband is amazing and loves me well, but somehow in the depths of my heart I believed that if I wasn’t able to do enough for him, he wouldn’t stick around. If I worked hard and kept him happy he would stick around because it was convenient, but nothing more. My head knew this wasn’t true, but my heart still couldn’t quite believe that he loved ME.
Last fall, we went on a humanitarian work trip to Mexico. We were helping with construction for a retreat center. David and I were working on a project together and having a great time, but the 3rd night I got REALLY sick. I was up all night unable to keep any liquids down. Finally, early the next afternoon I was able to keep some water and Dramamine down, but I was far too weak to do anything except sleep. I remember the guilt I felt lying in bed listening to the sounds of construction right outside my window. I felt completely useless. I dozed in and out of sleep until I awoke to what I thought was David shaking the bed to wake me up. It took me only a few more seconds to realize that more than just the bed was shaking. It was an earthquake. I remembered from a conversation the night before that the thing to do was to get out of the house. I stumbled out of bed with the floor waving under me. I was so dizzy, nauseous, and drowsy that I could hardly stand and fell into the door frame. I had to make it down a flight of winding stairs before I could make it outside to safety. I remember running down the stairs, unable to see straight watching the stairs moving and praying that God would make my feet and the stairs match just for a moment. I stumbled to the bottom of the stairs into the arms of our host and my husband. They came back for me. We all made it outside and I just sat shaking in David’s arms as the ground moved, trees bent, and the house rocked back and forth. As things began to still, the realization dawned. When I was at my absolute worst… smelly, sick, and unable to help anyone else… my husband ran back into a potentially crumbling building for me. Hundreds of lives were lost that day, and he risked his coming back in the house; not because I had earned it or was useful in that moment, but because he saw my value even at my worst.
I can’t say that I don’t still tie my worth and usefulness together. I think this will be a life long journey, but something shifted in me that day so now I can trust that my husband will be there no matter what, even when I am completely useless. This new level of trust has brought peace and understanding as I apply the same concept to how my family sees me, my boss, but most importantly… how God sees me. He chose to create me, and He loves his creation. He has chosen me to do some amazing things for Him, but His love and my worth are not based on how well I do things; His love is unconditional. Living out of this place of trust changes my everyday life and allows me to live out of a place of joy. It just took years of counseling and the epiphany of a 7.1 earthquake to show me that.
I know that this was a moment where my worldview shifted, beliefs took root, and from that moment on I was different. Psychology Today quotes Maya Angelou’s thoughts on what an epiphany is, she says, "It's the occurrence when the mind, the body, the heart, and the soul focus together and see an old thing in a new way." (Angelous, 2011, https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/epiphany/201101/how-do-you-we-i-define-epiphany-exactly). This perfectly describes my experience. I still struggle with believing that I am loved for just being me, but this earth-shaking moment gives me something to hold onto, and every day I get closer to fully owning who I am outside of what I can do for others. Slowly, with the help of other people, positive self-talk, and holding on to God’s Truths, I’m rediscovering where I end, and others begin.
EPILOGUE:
This young woman’s story is far from over. She daily tries to love people well through grace and truth, while learning that she is not the end all be all for the world. While there are many walls still around her heart, her love for people is no less. Families in Afghanistan, kids in the foster care system, and really any child she comes in contact with captures her heart daily. She continues group counseling and is slowly but surely learning where she ends and others begin. She is currently working with an amazing team of staff and volunteers who spend each weekend teaching kids the lessons that took her years to learn. Her deepest desire is to love God and love people to the best of her ability. Her mission statement found through counseling is: With God I co-create a world of safety, intimacy, and freedom by maintaining strength, authenticity and playfulness.
No matter where life takes her next, she will strive to live In Mission.
Stay tuned for the next adventure…
A Young Girl’s Tale by Sarah Grundy
PROLOGUE: Once upon a time…there was a young girl. She loved her parents, brothers, friends, and though she started out shy she loved nearly everyone she came in contact with. From the moment that pieces of her identity began to form when she met her little brother to the day that her value and self-worth were shaken into place, this is her story. I invite you into a few of the moments that created her basic identities, fears, hopes, and dreams. I hope that you are able to relate to pieces of her story, find hope, and know that whatever you are facing today you are not alone.
EPISODE 1: The Little Blue Bunny (1993)
I was almost 2 years old, a little blonde girl who loved Barney, football and wild flowers. I adored my parents and they adored me. One day, my aunt and uncle took me to the hospital to meet my new little brother. I remember carrying a little blue bunny to give to the baby. I understood generally what a brother was, but I thought it would be like getting another baby doll.
I remember standing on my tippy toes, gripping the little blue bunny, and peeking into a clear box that held this small human. People say that a parent’s whole world changes when they are overwhelmed with love for this new little life. I felt something similar to that for the little blue bundle that was my brother. I don’t remember what I thought (I probably didn’t have the language skills to put words to it), but I fully remember the emotions I felt as an almost 2-year-old. My heart swelled with what I can now put words to as unconditional love and protectiveness for that little blue bundle.
Growing older we would fight like cats and dogs, but the second that anyone was mean to him, he was hurt, and even when my parents tried to discipline him I would step in and fight for him. One blog describes the role of the older sibling as the “defender and mentor for the younger child.” (Mrs. Sleepysparrow, 2016 https://sleepysparrow.com/whats-the-role-of-the-older-sibling/) Somehow I grasped that role at a very young age. This is the earliest memory I have. It was the moment where I first understood something about purpose. In this instant, meaning was made. Meaning of my identity, my understanding of self and other grew, and assigning importance to that little blue bundle. (“Meaning Making” Week 2 Slide 8) I know those are big words and thoughts for such a small girl, but somehow I understood I was no longer just “Sarah”, but from here on out I was big sister, vice mom, and Sissy.
Little did I know that he would only be the first of 3 little blue bundles to capture my heart. The identity of “Big Sister” created that day in the hospital shaped me throughout my life in a way that only a few other things have. When I asked my second brother Stephen what my identity as “Big Sister” has looked like this is what he said, “You have managed to develop a unique balance of compassion, openness, along with sage experience-based wisdom, and bad ass “mom” that can still keep people in line.” (Moldenhaueer, 2018) My adaptation of self, self-concept, personality, and personal values started to be shaped in this early years and grew into the description by brother described (though I think he left out all the crazy, not so great, sister moments in his answer). It all started with the impact those 3 little boys had as they captured my heart. To this day every time I look at that little blue bunny I am filled with the same love and protectiveness that I felt that day in the hospital when I met my first little brother.
EPISODE 2: The Doll House (1998)
When I was a little girl, about 7 years old, I desperately wanted a doll house. My friend Joanna had a big beautiful wooden doll house that I tried not to be jealous of every time I went to her house. My family couldn’t afford even a small simple doll house, so I was saving up my birthday money. I cherished every penny as it got me closer to a beautiful doll house like Joanna’s. One day sitting in church dressed up and desperately trying to sit still and pretend to understand what the pastor was talking about, something caught my attention. The pastor was telling a story. A story of someone in need and he asked for an offering so that we could help them. I don’t remember exactly what it was for, but I know it was to help someone who needed it more than I did. My little heart started to beat faster, my palms began to sweat, and I knew that this is where I should put my money. Nothing else mattered as much as helping people that needed it, not even my doll house. I took out all the money I had in my little pink purse and put it in the gold and red-velvet offering plate as it went past. That afternoon driving home from church I watched all the houses flash past and knew I did the right thing. I understood that the doll house I wanted was even further out of reach and that made me sad, but I also knew I would give up a million doll houses if it meant I could help someone who needed it. I was content. Tiger Woods said, “They [his parents] taught me to give of myself, my time, talent, and most of all my love.” “This shows that you can have super involved parents who still foster the child’s own growth…” (Dweck p.194) This moment of contentment in a young girl was a reflection of the heart God gave her but also the desire to help others that was a result of intentional parenting by my Mom and Dad. Sitting there in church, they didn’t force me to give away all my money, but all of the small lessons they had taught lead up to me making that choice for myself. As simple as it may seem, this was a big step toward developing a growth-mindset. I was able to deviate from my fixed plan in order to love someone else when they needed it.
That night as my brothers and I were playing outside I saw something AMAZING. It happened to be the week of the big trash pick-up day that happens a couple times a year, and in one of the piles at the top of our cul-de-sac was a pink and white treasure waiting for me: A beautiful doll house. I ran inside heart racing once again, and my dad helped me carry it to our house and give it a good scrub in the shower.
The moment I saw that doll house sitting there waiting for me on the same day that I listened to the voice inside of me that told me to help others regardless of my own wants, I felt like it was God saying, “Trust me, I will always take care of you.” Little did I know that that image of the white and pink doll house poking out of the trash pile would represent such a deeply needed promise from God. This image would carry me through eviction notices on our door growing up, bankruptcy for our family when I was in high school, and the struggle after David and I got married causing us to move 8 times in 4 years before finding a place we could call home. In moments of feeling worthless, less than, and undeserving, I don’t always know if I believed the words of that promise. Even in the moments of doubt, God always gently reminded me that He will always take care of me. I can trust Him. Whether it’s something as simple as a doll house, or as big as signing the papers buying our first home, He cares.
EPISODE 3 Cutting, Disorders, and Suicide (2005-2009)
As I ventured into my high school years I found myself part of many different worlds. I was a competitive gymnast for a local high school, a drama kid who kept the show running but never landed the lead role, I competed in the national homeschool speech and debate league, and found myself a part of the “popular crowd” though I tended to navigate towards those outside of our group. I was the nerd at gymnastics, the jock at speech competitions, and all around the good kid who enjoyed pushing the boundaries. The one thing that connected all of these worlds for me seemed to be that I was the one who people could turn to when life was falling apart.
As teenagers everything can feel like it’s the end of the world: that boy doesn’t like me, I got a bad grade, I don’t have cool clothes, etc. That being said, there are also things that many teenagers walk through that can deeply wound, confuse, and disconnect. I walked alongside friends going through many different things: Parents going through a divorce, parents with unrealistic expectations, sexual abuse, coming out as gay, bankruptcy, losing loved ones, and the list goes on and on. As we all walked through our own struggles, we each found coping mechanisms. Self-harm was at the top of the list for the majority of my friends. As I walked through the long nights and bouts of self-hatred I found myself spinning out of control and falling into an eating disorder as I tried to hold it all together. Any given night I would be up texting with 2-5 people about what they were thinking, feeling, and what they wanted to do (cutting, burning, pulling out hair, punching themselves, suicide). I would sit for hours in fear of what would happen if I didn’t respond. I would have constant Imagined Interactions of this friend falling apart and accidentally cutting a little too deep, or that friend saying, “fuck it” and driving off a cliff. More than once I called the cops to go pick up a friend before they attempted suicide. These images and scenarios I carried with me kept me motivated to the point of emotional and physical exhaustion. During Imagined Interactions the emotion can be almost as real, if not as real as it would be in real life. (Week 4, Slide 8). So, in essence I was reliving these horrific and traumatic things that I felt responsible for.
I was already a people pleaser and giver with the desire for everyone around me to feel loved. However, in this season I took it another step and put the outcome of every situation with on my own shoulders. I lived in fear that something would happen, and I would know I had not done EVERYTHING I could to love that person enough to keep them from hurting themselves. Talk about pressure and unrealistic expectations, and yet this is the state of mind I lived in most of my teenage years. I know now that much of what I did created a co-dependency and was as enabling as it was helpful. But what started with wanting to love with the best of intentions quickly began to say as much about me and my need to be needed as it did about my friends struggles.
My self-worth soon became wrapped up in how many people trusted me to solve their problems, who needed my advice, and how deep they would let me into their lives. If I wasn’t helping someone else I was depressed. I felt worthless and alone. I would tell myself that everyone else was hurting too much with their own stuff to worry about mine. And in some ways I still think I was right, but I also know that often my pride never gave them a chance to step into MY brokenness. In my pain and pride I built up walls to keep out loneliness. I put on a mask of strength so as not to burden anyone else and created a story in my head that “I am only worth something if I am doing something for others”. This type of self-talk created dysfunction and a distorted view of myself and the reality I lived in. It seemed to me (reality or not I still don’t know) that every time I turned around someone I had supported on a deeply personal level would move on and disappear. This would leave me alone, friendless, and looking for the next “project” to fill the void. At one point I held tight to the idea that God gave me to each guy I dated in their hardest season of life so that I could love and support them through it (talk about pride!), but once they were in a better place and no longer needed me they would move on. I have been fighting the idea that I am only valuable if I’m useful ever since.
EPISODE 4: The Earthquake (2017)
Growing up as the oldest of four kids, in a co-dependent homeschool community, and in a low income family, I quickly learned how to help people. I was the Vice Mom, Go To Person if someone needed support, and Provider in many ways. There are so many beautiful things about loving people well, knowing how to help them and actually make a difference. However, the older I got the more unhealthy this became. I would give and give until one day I felt my worth was all wrapped up in what I could do for other people. The line between myself and others was burred so deep that I lost sight of where I ended, and others begin. I slowly realized that this was a problem, but it wasn’t until I was 22 and married that I decided to do something about it. I began going to counseling, attended a weekend designed to peel back the layers to reveal who you were created to be, and I joined a group of women healing from the pain of life and running after Jesus. Little by little I began to pull back the layers of people pleasing and finding my value in what I could do for others. I began to rearrange unhealthy relationships that kept me stuck in destructive patterns. I would repeat over and over things like, “I am enough just as I am. I am loved for just being me. I am worthy of being fully known,” trying to use positive self-talk to move these new truths from my head to my heart. But something still wasn’t sticking. My husband is amazing and loves me well, but somehow in the depths of my heart I believed that if I wasn’t able to do enough for him, he wouldn’t stick around. If I worked hard and kept him happy he would stick around because it was convenient, but nothing more. My head knew this wasn’t true, but my heart still couldn’t quite believe that he loved ME.
Last fall, we went on a humanitarian work trip to Mexico. We were helping with construction for a retreat center. David and I were working on a project together and having a great time, but the 3rd night I got REALLY sick. I was up all night unable to keep any liquids down. Finally, early the next afternoon I was able to keep some water and Dramamine down, but I was far too weak to do anything except sleep. I remember the guilt I felt lying in bed listening to the sounds of construction right outside my window. I felt completely useless. I dozed in and out of sleep until I awoke to what I thought was David shaking the bed to wake me up. It took me only a few more seconds to realize that more than just the bed was shaking. It was an earthquake. I remembered from a conversation the night before that the thing to do was to get out of the house. I stumbled out of bed with the floor waving under me. I was so dizzy, nauseous, and drowsy that I could hardly stand and fell into the door frame. I had to make it down a flight of winding stairs before I could make it outside to safety. I remember running down the stairs, unable to see straight watching the stairs moving and praying that God would make my feet and the stairs match just for a moment. I stumbled to the bottom of the stairs into the arms of our host and my husband. They came back for me. We all made it outside and I just sat shaking in David’s arms as the ground moved, trees bent, and the house rocked back and forth. As things began to still, the realization dawned. When I was at my absolute worst… smelly, sick, and unable to help anyone else… my husband ran back into a potentially crumbling building for me. Hundreds of lives were lost that day, and he risked his coming back in the house; not because I had earned it or was useful in that moment, but because he saw my value even at my worst.
I can’t say that I don’t still tie my worth and usefulness together. I think this will be a life long journey, but something shifted in me that day so now I can trust that my husband will be there no matter what, even when I am completely useless. This new level of trust has brought peace and understanding as I apply the same concept to how my family sees me, my boss, but most importantly… how God sees me. He chose to create me, and He loves his creation. He has chosen me to do some amazing things for Him, but His love and my worth are not based on how well I do things; His love is unconditional. Living out of this place of trust changes my everyday life and allows me to live out of a place of joy. It just took years of counseling and the epiphany of a 7.1 earthquake to show me that.
I know that this was a moment where my worldview shifted, beliefs took root, and from that moment on I was different. Psychology Today quotes Maya Angelou’s thoughts on what an epiphany is, she says, "It's the occurrence when the mind, the body, the heart, and the soul focus together and see an old thing in a new way." (Angelous, 2011, https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/epiphany/201101/how-do-you-we-i-define-epiphany-exactly). This perfectly describes my experience. I still struggle with believing that I am loved for just being me, but this earth-shaking moment gives me something to hold onto, and every day I get closer to fully owning who I am outside of what I can do for others. Slowly, with the help of other people, positive self-talk, and holding on to God’s Truths, I’m rediscovering where I end, and others begin.
EPILOGUE:
This young woman’s story is far from over. She daily tries to love people well through grace and truth, while learning that she is not the end all be all for the world. While there are many walls still around her heart, her love for people is no less. Families in Afghanistan, kids in the foster care system, and really any child she comes in contact with captures her heart daily. She continues group counseling and is slowly but surely learning where she ends and others begin. She is currently working with an amazing team of staff and volunteers who spend each weekend teaching kids the lessons that took her years to learn. Her deepest desire is to love God and love people to the best of her ability. Her mission statement found through counseling is: With God I co-create a world of safety, intimacy, and freedom by maintaining strength, authenticity and playfulness.
No matter where life takes her next, she will strive to live In Mission.
Stay tuned for the next adventure…
Comments
I love the overarching story of God's love that is present here. Your point on learning where you end and others begin is so powerful. It was so good to engage your work again this semester!