In true literature-loving perfectionist style, I have found my tragic flaw--independence. Huh? Am I being serious? Yes, I am. And I'll tell you why.
Because I want to look invincible, I will not say that something is hard for me. Because I want to look smart, I will not say I don't understand. Because I want to be right, I will not say that I have been wrong. Because I want to look unaffected, I will not admit that I am hurt. Because I want to look strong, I will not reveal my weaknesses. Because I want to appear Christlike, I struggle with every part of me to admit when I am anything but Christlike.
Now. You might say that this is dishonesty, not independence. At the surface level, you would be completely right. But it's more than that. It is independence--I need to prove that nothing gets to me, that I adjust at the drop of a hat, that I am steel in the face of pain, temptation, and upheaval. This is the heart of the imperfect perfectionist. I am breaking, but only I should see that. I am failing, but noone else can know.
Let me give a couple of examples:
1. In 2nd grade, my mother almost pulled her hair out after picking me up from school with a stomach ache for the third time that semester. "Ash, you were fine this morning. What's going on?" I would sit in the passenger seat and bite my nails. "I don't know. It started really hurting this morning before English class. And we had a test in math today..will I even be able to make it up?" My mom shook her head pathetically. "Of course, honey." And we wound our way home on the crazy Pennsylvania streets.
In case you didn't catch what was happening, it was test anxiety to the extreme. I was a straight A student and terrified of writing an answer wrong on the test. My insides didn't get butterflies, they got bees. Buzzing angry bees that were not the products of jittery nervousness but of fear. What if I couldn't be perfect? What if I wrote a wrong answer and the teacher saw? What would she think of me? This sort of internal conversation took place before every test until I later learned to control it.
2. Over the past 4 years, I have lived in 7 different locations for a short amount of time. Lots of moving from house to house, dorm to dorm, job to job, circumstance to circumstance. I went with the flow without too much trouble; being a person who is fairly unattached to physical stuff has helped. But, to be honest, this moving around shook me to my core in many ways. I was transplanted from school to school, church community to church community, home to home, neighborhood to neighborhood. I'm sure many people know all too well how this feels. But I didn't know how to say how I felt.
Displaced. Rejected. Lonely. Afraid. Overwhelmed. Add in all of the temptations from school and the new environments and it would not be an overstatement to say I was on the brink of exploding. Many days I still am (just ask the ones who know me best). And all of this is nearly impossible to share if I am not writing it down. Why? Because I should be able to handle it and I don't know how. Because they want more from me and I don't have it to give.
3. At work this past week, one of my bosses was explaining a new merchandising process to me. Within seconds I was confused completely. After about 5 minutes of her talking about how to punch in the numbers for our inventory, she looked over at my blank face. "Does that make sense?" I looked everywhere but her face for about 10 seconds before mustering my strength enough to say without slurring, "Actually, I don't understand this machine. Can you reexplain it more slowly?" A year ago, it is unlikely I would have done anything but nod and let her know I had it under control...
You see, the truth is I'm often wrong..and weak and ignorant and unprepared and hurt. But I don't want to need anyone's help or advice or charity.
Ultimately, this perception of life is directly against what the Bible teaches, against God's character, and in opposition to His will for my life. He wants me to come to Him and say "I can't but You can. I'm weak but You're strong. I'd lose alone but with You I'll win. I'm nothing without You. I.need.You."
And there it is. I hate those three words. They cut me. You mean..I couldn't do it?! You mean I failed?! That makes me inadequate, a failure, a mistake, a reject...
Wait. Hold the phone for a second. What is wrong about my thought pattern here? I am identifying myself by what I do and don't do, not by who I am. Because I make a mistake, I become one. Because I have experienced a failure, I am one. Because my efforts were not enough, I am not enough. But all of this is a BIG.FAT.LIE.
The Devil wants me to believe it so I never get up again. He wanted me to stay so scared of playing the wrong keys that I never learned to play the piano and worship my Savior through song. He wanted me to stay so scared of taking tests that I gave up on my love of learning. Today he wants me to stay so consumed with my falls into sin that I give up on fighting it because winning seems impossible. He wants me to feel ugly and rejected and out of place because such lonely painful feelings will push me farther into sin to numb them, and farther away from the God who wants to heal me.
In realizing all of this, I have created a mantra that I should be repeating every minute until it sticks permanently: Father, Spirit, Jesus, I need You. Six words I need to burn into my brain. Six words that display my dependence on God for everything.
I need the Father when I feel like the prodigal son. I need the Spirit to comfort and convict me. I need Jesus to wash me clean, to guide me, to be my destination as I run the Christian race.
Bottom line: It isn't wrong to need the Lord. It is right to need Him! Every minute, everyday.
