I read this at Stuff Christians Like today. It was really something I needed to read today because I've been forgetting who I am for a few days now and it's had me on the brink of tears that I keep hidden. Because sometimes I forget that what I tell myself, what I allow to loop around in my head isn't true.
More often then not I forget that I'm the girl Jesus loves. That I'm the girl God is calling to do something bold with her life. I'm the girl that is smart, funny, beautiful and loving.
Most of the time I believe I'm the useless girl, the inconvenient girl, the stupid girl, the fat girl, the ugly girl.
When someone I love and respect talks to me about my shortcomings, of which there are many, I don't hear the words they actually speak. My past rears it ugly and bitter head and puts words in their mouth. Instead of words like, "I just want you to be healthier so you will be around for a long time to come" I hear, "You fat worthless girl, I don't love you and no one else could possibly love you either"
I forget that the person speaking to me loves me deeply and wants nothing but the best for me. Instead their kind face is replaced by the faces of many that are dead and gone, or at least just gone from my life. It's not fair, and I'm really tired of doing it.
I forget to pay attention. The very thought of the idea of having a conversation about something so personal and so deeply hurtful brings me to my knees just thinking about it. The idea of adressing what I see as a glaring failure on my part is so frightening that I decide to just plant my feet firmly on the ground and shove my head as far down in the sand as it will go. So I distract myself with TV shows and gossip, with movies and novels about other peoples lives. I distance myself until I'm comfortably numb again, until I have forgotten what it is that we were even talking about in the first place.
I am nothing if not skilled at evading hard conversations about myself.
Because I've forgotten. I've forgotten the whisper of God so many years ago that pulled the razor from my wrist and the boy from my lips. I've forgotten the promises that we would get through this and that He would build in me a life worth living. I've forgotten the soaring heights of joy, even in the depth of such sorrow, that being a girl that Jesus loves should bring.
I forget that I lay down and sleep, that I wake again for the Lord sustains me.