BROKEN

An honest confession of my life

Throughout college, I prayed for brokenness that I might experience a deeper longing and need for God; a prayer that I might be humbled. During my last time living a broad, I experienced a certain personal brokenness that allowed me to examine a lifestyle that I was living that was consumed by stress, anxiety, inadequacy and a longing to please others. On the outside my face contorted to flash my carefree smile; on the inside I was churning with guilt, self-loathing and anxiety. I was living a life that felt only like a shadow of who I always was and who I thought I was expected to be. For me, these were dark days. But you cannot escape yourself. Over the next two years, I began learning how to like myself again and am transitioning into a time where I can love myself as a creation of God and a vessel for God’s purposes. It has been a long battle with myself.

This year, I have continued to face these struggles, even ones that I thought I had conquered but perhaps have only pushed aside. When you are somewhere on your own with no one who has known you or your battles, your weaknesses and fears suddenly hover around you. There are less ways to distract yourself, be a busy body, or escape from life’s confrontations. Even here, I find myself exhausted and guilt-driven in trying to please others. Let me say that a life controlled by trying to please others can hardly be described as “living.” And when you are straddled between two worlds, two homes—you can certainly not live to please all.

My most recent experience was as such. I spent the first few months at the hostel literally intimidated by the 2nd year students. (Mind you they are 5 years younger than me). Even still, I found myself nervous to see them, and make the wrong impression or having to really push myself to reach out to them, enter their rooms, or at times, even strike up a conversation. For one, they are a very tight knit group that does everything together and generally sticks to them selves. They are that “cool group” that must be in existence universally. They even threw their “gang sign” at me in passing. They are the rebels of the hostel, the fashion queens, the beauties. And I? I was intimidated. And, like so often, I just wanted to make them happy and for them to like me. One day as I rounded the corner of the basketball court during my afternoon run, I happened to see that they were all sitting their watching me. Oh, well this is just great. Here I am in my horribly smelly clothes, self-consciously running as they stare at me. I flung my hand up in my best wave—slipped on a rock and completely busted it. I mean lying flat on the ground. Talk about being brought down to your knees and humbled. As these girls ran over to me, they appeared to want nothing more than be my friend. My pride and fears prevented me from relationships with these girls.

Real relationships are not about pleasing others. I write this as I sit here convincing myself of this truth. Here in India, I am slammed with this: I cannot give food or money to every person that asks me. I cannot be everywhere that everyone wants me to be. I cannot do everything that everyone wants me to do. I cannot be everything that everyone wants me to be. To love others, we must love ourselves. Without accepting this, we cannot serve others. It requires forgiveness to ourselves that we cannot please everyone or be perfect-- a life lived seeking to do so is not trusting in the existence of Grace.