I've been morphing into a new person. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that my old self has been dying off, bit by bit. The new bits of me are tender, like the fragile pink skin under a wound. It's so sensitive. And I don't know myself at all.
Most of my core beliefs in the gospel of Jesus Christ are the same. My marriage is rock solid and my relationships with my kids continue to be great. These are blessing. But everything else sways like a boat out to sea, and sometimes it makes me seasick.
Here are some of the lies I've believed all my life:
—Heavenly Father is like a really mean teacher who won't let me into heaven if I don't earn enough points.
—My worth is based on my achievements.
—My personal preferences don't matter.
—And agency is just an illusion, and there really is only one way for me to be saved...OR ELSE.
I'm having an existential crisis. I sit quietly with my psyche, and we grieve together. That new skin near the wound is so sensitive that it is painful to be around many people.
Now I see that some of my minimalism comes from wanting to let go of things that hurt me. Often it's stuff that reminds me of the past. But usually it's stuff that represents the fantasy self I aspired to be but never lived up. My fantasy self is a lie too, and she makes me feel false guilt.
Guilt says, "I did something bad." Shame says, "I am bad." But I hope it's a lie. I hope it's okay that I can barely run a sewing machine, and I could never get through all that enriching but BORING literature that I sold off. I hope it's okay that I can't turn out beautiful cakes and that I'm terrible at deep cleaning.
That shouldn't stop me from feeling like I contribute to the world, but it does. When my grandpa was sick for decades, there was a song that said, "Only he who does something has reason to live," and it made him feel so badly about himself. They've changed the words: "Only he who does something helps others to live." I have to remember that I'm good at some things, like snuggling, and listening, and getting my husband and kids to laugh.
One lie I used to believe is the one about Heavenly Father being mean and not letting me into heaven, even if I want to be there and I'm kind-of-an-okay person.
I always noticed my faults as a child. I knew I was bad. I thought I could make up for my badness by doing the most heavenly thing in the world someday: be a mother. My mom told us that she could have been a doctor, lawyer, engineer, or anything else, but she chose to be our mom because it's the most important work.
Once when my friend came over to play dolls with me, we played hospital, and she said she wanted to be a nurse. I thought that was a great idea. And as I got older, I decided I could earn extra heavenly points by using my natural talents of taking care of people. I could not only be a mother—I could be a nurse too and save the WHOLE WORLD!!! That would give me some extra points and maybe put me over the top to qualify for heaven despite being bad.
I worked and made things happen, and my plan worked. I became a mother just before I passed the nursing board exam. But working as a nurse was hell for me. I hated it (I don't use that word unless I really mean it). I felt my gifts come through when I asked for them. But I hated leaving my kids. I hated caring for other people instead of them. And it made me so sick in my heart that my body soon followed. Organs started failing so I would finally listen, and I finally, finally quit. And now I'm talking to you.
I grieve that I ever believed God wouldn't want me. I think He's actually a parent, and He thinks we're adorable when we fall down and try again, as many tries as it takes. I think He regards us with mercy and trust.
I could have done something that would have fed my heart. I mourn this. And this is only one story. Every one of those lies and a host of others have dozens of stories attached to each. Existential crisis, folks. But the truth comes through. I don't have enough threads to weave anything substantial yet, but as I process the lies, and any manipulation and bamboozlement and I abuse I've ever felt, I sometimes drop burdens and feel better. I honor those who see beyond my scabby grossness and let me change, especially my Heavenly Father.
