I have seasons where I like me. I have seasons where I don’t. I go through phases that sometimes last over a year where I am completely confident in who I am. But, then, I also have seasons when the opposite is true and I am constantly unsure, painfully aware of all the things about me that I’d like to change if I could.
But, whatever season I’m in, whoever I am… I’m worried that you won’t like me. I’m worried that I am going to fall short, yes even when I’m confident, of who you expect me to be. Of who you want me to be. Of who you need me to be.
I know, in my head, that this is silly. Silly and unhealthy. A need to be 100% liked by everyone I know is a need that will never be fulfilled. No one is going to be liked by everyone. So, it’s completely illogical to set that up as the standard. And yet, I do.
And, of course, I don’t measure up.. for who can? So I begin to change myself to fit who I think you want me to be. Maybe not in big ways… but definite changes. A little tweak here, a little tweak there. A compromising of my own integrity so that I will pass muster and become okay in your eyes.
Until one day, I wake up. I look at myself in the mirror and I realize that the “me” I have squeezed myself into in order to fit some ideal isn’t me at all. She doesn’t fit. She’s uncomfortable and stiff in all the wrong places. And she isn’t me. So I begin to peel her off.
One piece at a time.