The Loudest of Them All
I write just as much to myself as I do to other people, so the words you find here, they are just as much for me as they are for you. I've said it a million times: writing is how I process. Things get jumbled if they stay in my head too long, so this is where I come to lay it all out, sort through, work. This is where I unload my heart and unpack and arrange and make sense of it all. The world slips away and it's just me and this blinking cursor, waiting for my fingers to find the keys that they need. With every word I type I feel like I learn a little more about myself and about life, and I feel a little lighter. I figured if you want to read what I write, you guys are welcome along for the ride and maybe you can learn something, too.
True confession: Sometimes I get caught up in thinking about the people that will read this and start to worry what they'll think, but then I just think about the one. And then I remember that I'm not supposed to write to the masses because I'll lose myself there, but I'm writing for the one person who might need to read this. Because they're who matter, not the masses. I have this weird pulling in me to write this because someone needs to read it, and that's enough for me. Maybe when you read my blog, none of it makes sense and you think I'm weird and I write about Jesus too much. Or maybe you read it and feel exactly the same way I do, and that little "me too" is worth it. Whichever one it is, I'm glad you're here. And if you're that one who needs this, then I'm even more glad you're here.
True confession: Sometimes I get caught up in thinking about the people that will read this and start to worry what they'll think, but then I just think about the one. And then I remember that I'm not supposed to write to the masses because I'll lose myself there, but I'm writing for the one person who might need to read this. Because they're who matter, not the masses. I have this weird pulling in me to write this because someone needs to read it, and that's enough for me. Maybe when you read my blog, none of it makes sense and you think I'm weird and I write about Jesus too much. Or maybe you read it and feel exactly the same way I do, and that little "me too" is worth it. Whichever one it is, I'm glad you're here. And if you're that one who needs this, then I'm even more glad you're here.
Lately, things have been jumbled. So here I am with this cursor and some words. Let's do some work.
I guess somewhere along the way, I held on to guilt, shame, and unworthiness. Things that weren't mine to carry, but I thought they were. I think on some level everyone struggles with those things in different ways and different degrees.
I wanted my friends and family to be loved and seen, but for some reason I couldn't want those same things for myself. I would say that I wanted those things for myself, but when it came down to it, I couldn't accept it; it felt selfish and uncomfortable for me. I wanted my friends and family not to feel bad for things they didn't need to feel bad for, but I felt bad all the time for things I didn't need to feel bad for. I wanted my friends and family to follow their dreams and not worry about money or missing big events in my life, but I would orchestrate my life based around other people and doing what was best for other people, even if it wasn't what I wanted.
So I'm trying to take off all these hypothetical jackets I guess, but that isn't as easy as it sounds. You have to unzip them or unbutton them, take an arm out, take the other arm out, lay them down somewhere. My jackets turned out to be a lot more complicated than I had originally planned (I hate when that happens). They have trap doors and zip ties, like straight jackets or something. I can't just rip them off all at once. I have to work at it. So I'm working at it. I'm learning what's mine and what's not, and it feels good and complicated and scary at the same time. I'm trying to learn how to live in this new skin. And I'm trying to do it with poise and grace and still be considerate of other people, but at the same time giving myself enough grace to figure this out because I really need to.
Most of all, I'm learning to accept the love of Jesus in ways I never have. It's awkward. You know the saying about when you've been a slave for so long, it's hard to know how to be free? I guess I had been listening to those 3 things instead of Jesus, so I'm having to re-learn who to hear. I'm learning to realize when I'm letting Guilt, Shame, and Unworthiness talk, and then learning to stop and listen for that still, small voice and choose to hear Jesus the loudest instead. Because if you listen close enough, He is—in the most gentle and constant and peaceful ways—the loudest of them all. And He's right. He's true. He'll win every time if you let Him. I hope you let Him.
I hope He drowns out every insecurity and every ounce of guilt with constants streams of Truth. I hope every time you want to cover your face and hide or lie, He whispers that He sees you and He loves you and He isn't mad at you for whatever it is you did or whatever it is you're trying to hide from. I hope when you hate yourself for everything inside of you that you wish you weren't, you hear Him telling you over and over that you're made new and you're not the same person, that He bled for you and He meant it and He doesn't regret it. I hope when you're feeling responsible for things you shouldn't, He'll tell you "that isn't yours" and when you're running from things you should take responsibility for, He'll say "this is yours and you can handle it." I hope when you start to try and measure your worth, He'll cover you with the words "you're worthy, you're worthy, you're worthy" until you start to believe it. I hope you hear Him the loudest of them all despite the mess of all the other noise and anything else that is screaming at you. Those screams have nothing on the things Jesus is telling you, and it's about time you started listening.
Something happens to a person when they realize the things they are responsible for and the things they are not. I feel like I'm pretty self-aware for the most part, but something's happened in me the last few months. It started with a conversation with a friend. She's ballsy, sarcastic, blunt, and graceful. She also doesn't put up with any of my crap (because I can be an A+ bullshitter). She's the best kind of friend.
She was explaining to me that guilt, shame, unworthiness--they are like these crappy, ugly jackets you find on the ground and put on, and when people ask you what you're doing you say, "Oh, these are my jackets." And people are like, "No, those aren't your jackets. You picked them up off the ground. They aren't yours." But you keep them on and hug them close to you and convince people and yourself that they are yours to wear. The whole time my friend was explaining this to me, I was listening but I was thinking, "This is the dumbest analogy ever..."
My friend went on to explain that these 3 things mar our perception of ourselves and our perception of other people. She, in the most loving way, told me she thought I let those things dictate my life and the way I accept love, including Jesus' love.
She asked me what I thought about Jesus. And I was like, "Um, hello? I love Jesus. Do you even read my blog?" Then she started asking me if I thought Jesus loved me. "Umm, yes. I know He loves me. What are you getting at?" I was getting annoyed, but all of my Sunday School answers weren't fooling her. She kept saying, "But do you really know that He loves you? He really loves you, and He isn't angry with you and He wants you to take off all those jackets you're wearing...guilt, shame, unworthiness...because He has more for you than that."
She was really passionate about this whole jacket thing, and I was sitting there (frowning) thinking, "Okay, whoa. You're making me sound pathetic. Everyone struggles with different parts of those three things." Then my friend challenged me to take off my jackets. "They aren't yours to wear," she said. "You don't need them anymore. Take them off." I almost laughed out loud.
Oh, okay. Homework. Sweet. Does she know I'm a straight A student? I'll take off all the hypothetical jackets. Watch me.
Shame. Guilt. Unworthiness. I think they're all best friends. The trifecta. All of it is a slippery slope, really. You give the Devil an inch of any of those 3 things and he will go for your soul.
Shame is an ugly thing. It drives most of what we do: why we keep secrets, why we lie, why we try so hard to compensate for our shortcomings. Shame controls us. Shame spends all of its time telling us, "Don't let them see that part of you." "You aren't enough. You need to be more of ______ to make up for ______."
Guilt is it's own little prison. It will eat you alive. But you know the funny thing about guilt? It has a lot to do with control. If you feel responsible for enough things, it's your way of feeling in control of them, especially if you can't admit you were helpless or victimized; if you had something to do with it then it means you had some sort of control over it...and some control is better than no control.
Unworthiness. This is the one some people struggle with more than others. I guess I'm one of those people. It's hard to explain, but a sense of unworthiness has lingered most of my life. I think the biggest area this has woven into my life is in relationships. I remember watching people in healthy relationships, watching my friends be loved in incredible ways, and I would think, "How do they do that? How do they know that's what they deserve and accept it so easily?" It seemed so easy for them and I couldn't seem to figure it out. This same friend who was having a come to Jesus meeting with me (about the hypothetical jackets) said that she's noticed I'm terrible at loving people who love me back. "Kenz," she said, "you are so worth loving, do you know that? Do you really know that? Because I've noticed this pattern of you loving guys who don't act like they give a rip about you, but you turn down guys who would shout it from the rooftops that they were at dinner with you. You deserve the shouting-it-from-the-rooftops kind of thing. Why don't you try loving someone who loves you back?" Honestly, this feels funny to write about because it feels really vulnerable, like I'm waving a big flag saying THIS IS ONE OF MY ISSUES, LISTEN UP. But a lot of people who know me have pointed this out to me, so I guess I was only fooling myself thinking people wouldn't notice I couldn't seem to like the guys who were interested and always wanted the ones who weren't (and come on, I'm not the only one like this. There's plenty of us out there). My friend told me that once I believed I was worthy of that shout-it-from-the-rooftops love, I would be able to accept it and feel comfortable in it. Those words haven't left my mind since she spoke them over me. Unworthiness doesn't just have to do with love. If you believe you're worthy of that promotion, you'll apply for it. If you believe you're worthy of that forgiveness, you'll accept it (even though someone forgiving you has little to do with whether or not you accept it, but you get what I mean). Do you see where I'm going with this? Unworthiness has a lot to do with what things we accept in life and what things we hide from.
Unworthiness. This is the one some people struggle with more than others. I guess I'm one of those people. It's hard to explain, but a sense of unworthiness has lingered most of my life. I think the biggest area this has woven into my life is in relationships. I remember watching people in healthy relationships, watching my friends be loved in incredible ways, and I would think, "How do they do that? How do they know that's what they deserve and accept it so easily?" It seemed so easy for them and I couldn't seem to figure it out. This same friend who was having a come to Jesus meeting with me (about the hypothetical jackets) said that she's noticed I'm terrible at loving people who love me back. "Kenz," she said, "you are so worth loving, do you know that? Do you really know that? Because I've noticed this pattern of you loving guys who don't act like they give a rip about you, but you turn down guys who would shout it from the rooftops that they were at dinner with you. You deserve the shouting-it-from-the-rooftops kind of thing. Why don't you try loving someone who loves you back?" Honestly, this feels funny to write about because it feels really vulnerable, like I'm waving a big flag saying THIS IS ONE OF MY ISSUES, LISTEN UP. But a lot of people who know me have pointed this out to me, so I guess I was only fooling myself thinking people wouldn't notice I couldn't seem to like the guys who were interested and always wanted the ones who weren't (and come on, I'm not the only one like this. There's plenty of us out there). My friend told me that once I believed I was worthy of that shout-it-from-the-rooftops love, I would be able to accept it and feel comfortable in it. Those words haven't left my mind since she spoke them over me. Unworthiness doesn't just have to do with love. If you believe you're worthy of that promotion, you'll apply for it. If you believe you're worthy of that forgiveness, you'll accept it (even though someone forgiving you has little to do with whether or not you accept it, but you get what I mean). Do you see where I'm going with this? Unworthiness has a lot to do with what things we accept in life and what things we hide from.
I wanted my friends and family to be loved and seen, but for some reason I couldn't want those same things for myself. I would say that I wanted those things for myself, but when it came down to it, I couldn't accept it; it felt selfish and uncomfortable for me. I wanted my friends and family not to feel bad for things they didn't need to feel bad for, but I felt bad all the time for things I didn't need to feel bad for. I wanted my friends and family to follow their dreams and not worry about money or missing big events in my life, but I would orchestrate my life based around other people and doing what was best for other people, even if it wasn't what I wanted.
But listen, I've been learning. There's this thing called boundaries and moderation. It's why I've cut myself off from or distanced myself from people that made me feel less than or small or not good enough. Why I stopped repeating unhealthy patterns, even if I love the people. It's why I took a job in a city 1,200 miles from home because I stopped putting it off until the time was right (because there won't be a right time to leave). It's why I stopped saying yes to things for the sake of other people at the expense of my comfort or feelings.
I am responsible for my life and my choices and my actions, not for anyone else's. And there is so much freedom in realizing that.
I am responsible for my life and my choices and my actions, not for anyone else's. And there is so much freedom in realizing that.
I think I've surprised some people. Maybe even offended them or hurt them. I've been different than they're used to. It's not my intention to offend or hurt anyone, but it is my intention to draw lines, set healthy boundaries, take care of myself.
So I'm trying to take off all these hypothetical jackets I guess, but that isn't as easy as it sounds. You have to unzip them or unbutton them, take an arm out, take the other arm out, lay them down somewhere. My jackets turned out to be a lot more complicated than I had originally planned (I hate when that happens). They have trap doors and zip ties, like straight jackets or something. I can't just rip them off all at once. I have to work at it. So I'm working at it. I'm learning what's mine and what's not, and it feels good and complicated and scary at the same time. I'm trying to learn how to live in this new skin. And I'm trying to do it with poise and grace and still be considerate of other people, but at the same time giving myself enough grace to figure this out because I really need to.
Most of all, I'm learning to accept the love of Jesus in ways I never have. It's awkward. You know the saying about when you've been a slave for so long, it's hard to know how to be free? I guess I had been listening to those 3 things instead of Jesus, so I'm having to re-learn who to hear. I'm learning to realize when I'm letting Guilt, Shame, and Unworthiness talk, and then learning to stop and listen for that still, small voice and choose to hear Jesus the loudest instead. Because if you listen close enough, He is—in the most gentle and constant and peaceful ways—the loudest of them all. And He's right. He's true. He'll win every time if you let Him. I hope you let Him.
I hope He drowns out every insecurity and every ounce of guilt with constants streams of Truth. I hope every time you want to cover your face and hide or lie, He whispers that He sees you and He loves you and He isn't mad at you for whatever it is you did or whatever it is you're trying to hide from. I hope when you hate yourself for everything inside of you that you wish you weren't, you hear Him telling you over and over that you're made new and you're not the same person, that He bled for you and He meant it and He doesn't regret it. I hope when you're feeling responsible for things you shouldn't, He'll tell you "that isn't yours" and when you're running from things you should take responsibility for, He'll say "this is yours and you can handle it." I hope when you start to try and measure your worth, He'll cover you with the words "you're worthy, you're worthy, you're worthy" until you start to believe it. I hope you hear Him the loudest of them all despite the mess of all the other noise and anything else that is screaming at you. Those screams have nothing on the things Jesus is telling you, and it's about time you started listening.
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