Can I be honest? This period of life is a little rough.
A move compounded by coronavirus means I feel disconnected. I like to think of myself as someone who is grounded in community, but that doesn’t feel accurate right now.
Nine months of growing a human, plus that move back to a junk food paradise, plus the stress and lack of workout options due to social distancing means my body is bigger and less able than I’m used to it being. I like to think of myself as someone who is healthy and active, but that doesn’t seem true at the moment.
I have a two-month old daughter who is so adorable but also so dependent on me to take care of her every need. I like to be productive, to tick a nice, long, to-do list off at the end of the day, but right now keeping my mini-me alive and content trumps every other item on my schedule.
The world seems to be falling apart some days, and I wish those who share the name Christian would do more to put it back together than they do. I like to think of myself as a person of faith whose identity is grounded in God, but as often as not he seems far away and my spirituality feels dry.
These are all ways I identify myself. I want the world to perceive me as social, athletic, productive and full of faith. This week I’ve felt those identities falter and give way as they fail to reflect my reality. As they disintegrate I’m left wondering who I really am beneath the identities I project.
The thing that strikes me about this reflection is my reliance on the terms “seems” and “feel.” It’s hard to build my reality without my perception, but thankfully I know that perspective can change and I don’t have to be held captive by my emotions or my point of view.
So what am I left with? How do I build a true image of my identity?
As I try to find something that I can say is true about me regardless of my circumstances, I realize I have to look outside myself. As I do that it strikes me how much my normal self-definition is based in pride and self-centeredness. The most reliable thing about me has very little to do with me, because ultimately I’m not that reliable.
This sounds super cheesy, but the word that I can best identify with is “loved.” Not loving, though I hope to be that most of the time. Loved by others. My most unshakeable and unchanging identity is something I have no power over, but simply receive by grace. It takes surrender to build my identity on this truth, because in order to do so I have to trust, and honestly I’m not that good at trusting.
But I’m really thankful that I know this to be true, and I don’t assume it’s a privilege that everyone enjoys. It’s incredibly humbling. I want to be a self-made woman. I want to be the stable one everyone else can depend on. I want to have a strong sense of self that I construct from my strengths and outstanding attributes.
Instead I’m left like a beggar on the doorstep, dependent on an invitation to come and enjoy the warmth of fellowship inside. At the same time there’s a deep sense of relief in knowing that it’s not up to me. I can hit speed bumps or crash and burn, and nonetheless I will still be defined by the same simple fact that undergirds me in the seasons when I’m doing pretty well for myself.
This is comforting as I move into the conclusion of my first decade of adulthood and on to the next one. I think this may be an important lesson of learning who I am and how I relate to the world. After a decade of “self” discovery, what I’m really discovering is how little there is to me, but how much world there is to see if I’ll turn my gaze outward.