Talking to Myself

 

Alright, Anna, let's talk.  So you hate yourself.  Why?

It's not like you always have.  You never understood it in your younger days, how a person could really hate themselves, because you never did.  What's changed?

Maybe there's just more to hate.  Maybe you were fine before, and now you're not.  It started with Ferdinand, when your insecurities came up in ugly ways, and you looked at yourself for the first time and thought I don't know or like this person.

So maybe it's because one guy (okay, two) decided you weren't enough.  But so what?  You always knew from your older siblings that you weren't enough.  You learned to be okay with that.  You got through it with yourself, and didn't break up in the middle.  You were okay.

But...your older siblings stayed.  They never left you because you weren't enough.  They loved you anyway, because they had to.  Because they're family.  It's okay to not be enough with family, because family is enough, even though sometimes you hate them.

But guys leaving you because you're not enough...wouldn't that be a reason to hate them?  Not yourself?

And do you really hate yourself?  I know you don't like how you are a lot.  I know you're sad, maybe disappointed, because you used to be so in sync with yourself and now it's like you don't even know who you are.

But you knew that too, didn't you?  When you were twelve (and also sad, but still cohesive), you made a list of the 5 Anna's.

The first Anna, the primary Anna was a tomboy, tough and a little bossy.  She got along best with Anna 2, who was sad and emotional, and contained the depth of the emotions you didn't understand in yourself.  Anna 3 was the energy, perky and self-described as awesome, with a penchant for mischief, and became blunt and no-nonsense when working with Anna 4, who was sensible and leader-like.  And then there was the fifth Anna, who in many ways has been a secret your entire life.  Your romantic side, who rules you when you're alone, and you pretend doesn't exist when you're with others.

It bothered you when you couldn't find that list just now, enough that you looked through all your old notebooks until you finally found it in the one you thought it was in all along, but missed the first time.  And it didn't just bother you because you knew it existed but couldn't find it; it bothered you because you didn't remember who the 5 Anna's were, and wondered if it would help you if you saw that list again, if it would give you insight into why you are the way you are now.

But it is interesting, isn't it?  Anna's 1,2, and 5 used to be the constants.  3 and 4 made appearances, but were always balanced out by the others.  But when I started working, 4 was necessary.  And according to the list I made seven years ago, 3 and 4 work together most often.  So against my will, initially without my knowledge, 3 began taking over much more often.  And what used to be fun and exciting about 3 now just looks immature and annoying.

But take a second here, look at 1 and 2.  The list says that 1 commiserates best with 2.  1 took a back seat after you started working; you've stopped wearing basketball shorts all the time, you wear earrings and other jewelry, and generally just put more effort into a feminine appearance.  But you've been sad since LotN, and 2 has made an appearance.  In many ways, you've gone back to that deep grief that you felt from the age of twelve to fourteen.  But you've started hanging with the boys again.  You've started wearing baggy pants and baseball caps, driving fast down country roads, blaring country music.  That's the tomboy.  That's 2 bringing its old companion, 1, back with it.

So I guess the list is truer than I even realized?  But why, if I felt whole then, do I feel cracked and splintered now?

Of course, I don't get as much alone time as I used to.  If I felt disjointed then, I just went off for a walk by myself, or wrote until the pain felt manageable.  I never went to others.  It never seemed necessary.  Do I hate myself because I don't know myself well enough to trust myself anymore?

Maybe.  Maybe you're afraid of yourself.

Because I can't control myself?

You don't know, Anna.  You can't figure it out.  But you're frustrated.  What are you frustrated about?

I'm frustrated because I'm sitting here, talking to myself in a blog post, well aware that I sound crazy, and I don't even know who I'm talking to.

No.  You're frustrated because you've given up on yourself.  You're frustrated because you're embarrassed.  You're not frustrated because you're not enough for someone else.  You're frustrated because you're not enough for yourself.  It's not that you've stopped talking to yourself, so now you're splintered, it's that there's a part of you that you decided was dead weight, and instead of putting the work in to transform it, you tried to cut it off.  And it never works.

You made yourself your own enemy.  You've always done it, you know.  If there's a part of you that doesn't fit the reputation you've tried to shape for yourself, you pretend it doesn't exist.  You keep it to yourself, acknowledge it only in private, and try to get rid of it.

Only privacy is a failing substance now.  So by always pushing that side of you down, always trying to drown it underwater before anyone sees it, what you've really done is created one side of you that feels like a fraud because you know there's far more to the story, and another side that's uncontrollable because you're not trying to control it, you're trying to deny it.

Okay, so we figured it out, huh?  I'm my own problem?  I think I already knew that.  So I need to get reacquainted with myself.  Let my embarrassing side back into the discussion.

You're not hurting and confused and hating yourself because you don't think about yourself enough.  You hate yourself because you think of yourself too much, and you think too much of yourself.  That wasn't how it used to be, remember?  Then you thought of the things around you, you thought of the people and events, you thought even of your feelings, but you didn't think of yourself.  You just were you.  Why did you separate us?  Why have I separated me?

I have different sides, different emotions that might make their appearances at different times, but I need to learn to accept that.  I separate myself because I'm ashamed to be myself.  I'm ashamed that I get jealous and insecure just when I start to be happy with a guy.  I'm ashamed that I watched two movies today when I could have been working.  I'm ashamed that I snap at my mom when she's trying to be helpful.  But if I act like that's a different person, I don't have to be ashamed.  Instead I can hate that person, and like...well no, I still don't like myself, because "that person" is still me, and that makes me a liar.

So I guess I am that person, and I have to own it now.  I'm lazy, and cowardly, and out of shape, and really, really obtuse sometimes.  I can't just name those and file them off to the side.  Those are me.  Part of me.

And people can leave me for those things.  They can decide they don't want me, and they have, and they will.  But I'll always have myself, and it's time I understand that that's not enough.  I will never be enough, and I shouldn't try to be, for myself, for my friends, or for God.  I can't earn anyone's love.  But I should try to glorify God, because I do love him.  I should try to be more like Christ, because I'm joined to him.  I am not enough for myself; I'm not supposed to be.  But he is more than enough for me.

I am who I am.  My Lord has brought me thus far.  I am not called to love myself, but to love the God who has created me, and be grateful for the good gifts he's given me.  I'm called to know the God of truth, and to not dive deep into myself to find the meaning of life, but to dive deep into the giver of life to know who he is, and who I am in him.

And he saved me despite who I was, so he will never, ever, in a thousand years or in all of eternity, leave me for who I am.

Let me dwell in your tent forever!

Let me take refuge under the shelter of your wings.     Selah

For you, O God, have heard my vows;

You have given me the heritage of those who fear your name.