Tonight I realized something.
I have determined that I am excellent at motivating myself to do things for other people, but I am so incredibly inadequate at motivating myself to do something for, well, myself. I have determined that my worth and value are so inexorably linked to others and their happiness and opinion of me, that I can do things for them, but not for me.
This seems to be a problem, for if there is no one in my life, it plunges into a deep pit of despair, and there are monsters in that pit. Everyone has gone through things, and everyone has their own demons to face, but for me these things are not entirely my own. I'm facing my own fear, my own inadequacy, my own sense of worthlessness. It is not out of the ordinary that I berate myself for something that I have done, cursing myself in colorful ways that I won't mention here. I think that I hate myself.
This is not a new fact, but it does feel refreshing to put out there, mainly because I don't really think I've thought about it at length. But, as all things do, it has manifested itself in my life, be it depression, anxiety, anger, or any kind of sexuality. I have bought into the lie that because I have placed myself at such a low value, that others must think so. This is why I can perform for others, because maybe if I can do something for them, maybe they might see me as worth something. My whole life has been an act, performing for those who might validate me, so that I can feel worth something, valued. But inevitably, this fails, as people cannot give you your worth, and if you already know your worth, which is to say, nothing, then you cannot leave the pit that you are in. Your only option is to dig deeper and deeper, and hope that maybe someone different will come along, someone who can actually give you value and worth. I have tried to find it, be it through sexual addiction, eating addiction, sports, jobs, travel, and to a tee they have all failed to give me a cent of self worth. I have failed to find hope in everything, and days like today, where I can't even work up the motivation to leave the house, much less do something productive for my soul, only find me wallowing deeper into the mire.
There is however, something that can give me the things that I desire. Someone who holds the keys to me valuing me. Me finding worth in me. Not because I have performed, nor because I have done anything. Simply because I am. Simply because of whose son I am, whose family I belong to. Typing this doesn't bring me the joy that it should, the hope that it should, the life that it should. Because I've told myself for so long that I am worth nothing to nobody. That my actions determine my fate and my value. But what I am talking about is not a performance. It's nothing I can earn. I am talking about a man by the name of Jesus. He is the one who says that I belong, simply because I am his son. Simply because I asked to be a part of his family, he has taken me in, sheltered me, and he loves me with a greater love than man can conceive. Even though I fail. Even though I tell myself I suck. Even though I refuse him, day after day, minute after minute. Even though my performance falls apart around me in tatters. Even though I don't love him back. Even though I am a complete, total, unredeemable mess. He loves me. He has chosen me. He has given me strength, and all I had to do was ask. This may seem so commonplace to people who know him, but the thing is, I didn't know this. Growing up, I did not know any of this. I thought that religion was a performance, and I was right, for religion is trying to appease a perfect God. We cannot hold to his standards, but he has given us a way, through adoption into his family.
Alas, even that felt like a performance, something that I wrote because of head knowledge, and only because I didn't want to leave this on a sad note, making it marketable, trying to please the reader. Again, my biggest failing. Not feeling like a failure, 24/7, now thats an ask. I feel like I know the answer to this riddle, the answer to how to leave the pit, but instead of jumping at it, I look at it like it is too good to be true. I see the ladder out, and even though I have climbed it a few times, each time getting to various lengths, I always return to my pit. The light was so freeing, so refreshing, so liberating, but my pit is familiar. My pit is all I know. Why should I leave my pit? I'm worthless anyway, no one wants to see me in the light of day. And so the cycle goes, round and round, midway up the ladder on a good day, right back down the ladder on the next. Never getting anywhere, digging deeper and deeper, plumbing new depths of misery. There is an answer here somewhere, but maybe if I dig deeper I will find it. At least I will be hidden away, safe from others and safe from Him, because I am not worth anything. Again, alas, oh my soul, for what I am looking for is not at the bottom of the pit of worthlessness, it is at the top of the latter, covered in love, joy, peace, and healing. It's just too bright up there right now. Please bring it down, and illuminate the way up. I might need to be carried out. But that is the beauty of the Lord. He is strong, and he is willing.
