I’ve been looking at my last few posts–Louie Awards, book signings, devotionals. And I’m afraid you might start believing something that just isn’t true. For example, that I have it all together.
So let’s just set the record straight. I don’t have it all together. Not now, not ever. I’m a mess, really. I was actually saying those words as I walked into Barnes & Noble for my book signing last night. I was so nervous that I couldn’t eat dinner. I felt like I had something in my nose (that always happens when I’m tense). And as I walked across the parking lot I just kept saying to my husband, “I’m a mess. I’m a mess.”
Ironically, those words made me feel better. Because there is this temptation to climb up on some sort of pedestal. I think as women we all feel it (or at least I hope I’m not the only one). We want people to think we’re cool, smart, beautiful, or whatever it is we value because then we’ll be loved. But I’ve tried it enough times to know that the pedestal is no fun and certainly not where I want to live.
And the truth is, I really am a mess. I struggle with anxiety and depression at times. I have my whole life. I’ve fussed at my husband twice today about totally stupid things. I’m insecure quite often even though it doesn’t show. I forget to eat my fruits and vegetables. I kill plants. I hate to iron. I’m bad at asking for help. I let myself get worn out a lot. I whine. I can’t accessorize to save my life. Decorating makes me hyperventilate. I have trouble being content. I drool excessively in my sleep.
The list could be a lot longer, let me assure you. But I think you’ve got my point. So just in case any of you were getting any sort of idea that I might be someone I’m not…just let that crazy idea go.
I believe we’re really all a lot more alike than different. And we’re all just trying to be a little more like Jesus. Because that’s what it’s all about in the end, right?