identity exercise: genuine

 

I have to think about this one.  I'm not sure if it's entirely true.  I think I mask a lot, probably most of the time.  Most of the time I would rather be alone.  I wake up to a feeling of dread every day.  If I didn't mask those things, I wouldn't be very fun to be around.

What does it mean to be genuine?  The dictionary says "truly what something is said to be, authentic; sincere." 

Ok, sincere: I can get behind that.  

And, although I do keep depression & mental health issues hidden, I think that in other ways, what you see is what you get.  When I'm with people I trust, I say what I think and I'm "me" in spite of keeping the depression and diagnosis under wraps.  

The lady who does my TMS has been talking about taking the mask down.  She says my face will get used to the feeling of smiling.  I'm like, what? the mask IS the smile.  My face knows what smiling feels like.  But also, not always.  In spite of feeling the dread and heaviness of depression, I am usually able to smile and laugh with friends and family.  It's a weird, in-between place I live in.

But I know that I do have empathy and care for my friends and family, and maybe that's what people sense.  I love my people and have a real interest in their lives.  When I feel safe, I am comfortable to give my thoughts and input into conversation, and talk about hard things, including my mental health. 

So yeah, I think I am genuine.  Being genuine is good.     

identity exercise: see God's wonders and illustrate them

At first I was at a bit of a loss for this one.  The word "illustrate" brings to mind drawing, painting, etc, which I don't really do in a way that illustrates God's wonders.  But there are other ways to illustrate God's wonders.

But before you illustrate them, you have to see them.  Something I love about myself is my affinity for colour.  I loooove colour.  I suppose most people do, me no more than any other.  Idk.  Somehow colour makes me so happy.  I just like that about me.

Another thing I love is that I notice the tiny things.  And I don't just notice, I'm enthralled.  I want to capture them and put them on display.  Some people are big picture people.  They see the sunsets and sunrises and ocean views and mountain vistas and they are overcome by the majesty of it all.  And I guess I am too.  I mean hey, look at the colour in a sunrise or a sunset, am I right?  I've seen mountains that leave me breathless, and the ocean is my happy place; I can never take enough photos of the water cresting at the beach. 

 

But I feel like not as many people notice the little things.  Not everyone looks down much, and they miss out on some pretty cool things.  I mean, take snails for instance.  They're slugs with shells on their backs... living away from water... and also sea creatures wear the same kind of shell.  It's amazing.  And the colours of these wee things are incredible as well.  Most people look at snails as pests and hate them, but they are beautiful.  Same thing with weeds; people hate them and kill them, but they are so pretty.

Anyway, so I'm realizing there are more ways than just drawing or painting to illustrate God's wonders.  The first part of this identity exercise is that I SEE them.  That is a gift from God.  I love that he made me that way.  I know that not everyone has an eye for that.

The second part is illustrating them.  I can do that through pictures like these.  I can do it through words in story or poetry.  I can do it through music.  

And that's another thing.  I think the way that God communicates so uniquely with different people astounding.  He created me with music in me, and then he chooses to sing to me time and again.  He doesn't have to.  He gave us the Bible and that should be enough.  But he's kind and gracious and knows we are dust, so he reaches out to us according to our nature or bent, if only we have eyes to see and ears to hear.  

Anyway....

I am most grateful to him for creating me this way, as someone who is drawn to beauty and has eyes to see his wonders.  I'm grateful he has given me the tools and the talent to illustrate the wonders I do notice.  He is a good God.

identity exercise: make people feel accepted and valued

 

I know this is true about me because I've been told things like this for a long time.

At heart, I'm a peace maker. I'm very sensitive. I think I'm fairly gentle-hearted and compassionate, and I think I'm fairly empathic. All these things lead me to look at other people with understanding and acceptance. The thing is, I look at people as having value because they DO. Everyone has value because they are created by God. I think maybe if you believe in the value of someone, they feel valuable. At times I am judge-y but I usually try to keep my thoughts to myself, and most often I end up talking myself through the judgment to compassion.

It might partly be because I have so often felt worthless and unwelcome. Feeling like you belong nowhere and like you're unacceptable is a terrible feeling. I don't feel like there's a good reason to treat people like that. There are people who make me uncomfortable but I usually assume that's a me problem and even if I keep my distance from them, I try to be understanding and not be ugly towards them.

I think it's a gift from God to be able to accept people and value them the way they are. I feel grateful to God for giving me that gift. 

identity exercise: good auntie

It's been a difficult couple of days and I haven't wanted to write at all, especially not anything good about myself.  I wish I could explain how it feels to be drowning under a black wave of despair.  I can tell myself the truth till I'm blue in the face but it doesn't seem able to hold the wave at bay.

Today I went to a friend's house to pick something up.  She's about half my age, but she and I have shared pretty openly with each other and she is wise beyond her years.  She spoke truth into the despair without discounting or trying to make it better.  I recognized the value of community today, as I left with a fresh perspective that I wouldn't have had if I had isolated (which is what I feel like doing whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed).  I need to remember this for next time.

Anyway, the thing I picked this week was "good auntie."  I'm not sure this is a character trait, but it rises out of character traits, for sure.  I have had the opportunity to build relationships with five of my nieces.  Unfortunately, with my other 8 nieces and nephews this hasn't been the case.  With them, I'm a "card-with-money" auntie, but with these five, I've been able to spend more time and that has allowed more familiarity.   

But come to think of it, this is about my identity, not necessarily about my character traits.  So if I think about it that way, "good auntie" could be part of my identity, and it's a good thing to be a good auntie.  I try to be fun, to be interested in their lives and the things they like, to spend time with them, to listen to them, and to show them affection.  As they get older, I try to strike a balance between being understanding of them and supporting their parents, because I want to be an advocate for both sides.  I love being an aunt.  I want to be someone who my nieces feel they can trust and who they can come to if they are struggling with their parents.  

identity exercise: great sense of humour and dry wit

 

For most of my life, I've been super shy and introverted.  I recharge by being alone.  I dislike crowds.  I am extremely uncomfortable with strangers.  As a child, being in or in front of a crowd could send me to tears.

But.  Gradually, I grew into something.  By junior high age, when I was in a group of people, whether strangers or friends, I came out as a clown.  Not an overt clown, no.  A sly, off-the-cuff, unexpected joker.  A quiet disrupter.

In high school French class, I'd wait till Mr. Pelletier's back was turned.  Then I'd quickly flip my eyelids inside out and look around the room.  Anyone who happened to glance in my direction would shout or groan or shriek in horror, and I'd flip my lids back in an instant.  Mr. Pelletier would turn and demand to know what was wrong, and I'd look, clueless, around the room with everyone else.  He'd turn back to the board and I'd flip them again, with more of the class at the ready this time....

Random things strike me funny, and my mouth takes off before my brain catches up to tell it to stay quiet.  Usually my comments are just slightly above a whisper, and spoken deadpan.  Somehow I manage to present a facade of composure - or maybe it's my resting bitch face - that makes the wit that comes from my mouth a surprise.  People around me snort, snicker, or shoot me a smirk.  And that just eggs me on!

I looked up the meaning of "dry wit."  "Deadpan, dry humour, or dry-wit humour is the deliberate display of emotional neutrality or no emotion, commonly as a form of comedic delivery to contrast with the ridiculousness or absurdity of the subject matter.  The delivery is meant to be blunt, ironic, laconic, or apparently unintentional.

Yep, that's me.

My penchant for producing a laugh might come from my efforts as a child, to make my mother laugh.  I remember the thrill of seeing her smile and feeling like she loved me, and then I'd say more things to keep her favour.

Sometimes I feel exasperated with myself.  "Just. Stop.  Shut. UP."  Because I feel like I'm way overdoing it, and people are just faking while thinking, "God, make her stop!"  Sometimes I feel like I just can't seem to rein it in, like my brain and my mouth are a runaway train and I'm the wreck that people can't look away from - horrified fascination. "Just. STOP."

But most often, I kind of like my sense of humour.  Most often, I think I'm hilarious.  Most often, I think it's cool that I can make people laugh.

identity exercise: heart for hurting and weak

 

A heart for the hurting and the weak...is this compassion?  Empathy?  Kindness?  Gentleness?

A few years ago, a friend told me that I was not compassionate enough.  That if I just said things to her "this way" then I wouldn't make her feel so ashamed.  

So for a long time now, I've thought that I am not a compassionate person, that kindness is something I need to develop.  That I'm a sledgehammer rather than a gentle hand.  It was another thing I hated about myself and berated myself for.

I remember once as a little girl, my mom and I were in the grocery store line behind a First Nations lady.  I had $5 burning a hole in my pocket, and I was eyeing the checkout bounty in anticipation.    But the woman in front of us didn`t have didn't have enough money for her her groceries and I ended up near tears. I whispered to my mom that I wanted to give my money to the woman, and my mom whispered back that it was ok, but that I should know she had probably spent her money on alcohol and that`s why she didn`t have enough.  I did not care, didn`t understand why that was even a factor.  The woman need groceries.  Maybe she had kids and they would be hungry.  I shyly handed her my money and left the store with my mom with a deep feeling that what I had done was the right thing.

Remembering that incident, I realize that having a heart for the hurting and weak is a true statement about me.  The problem is, I often see/hear people wailing their woes and want to tell them to suck it up.  Maybe that has to do with the fact that discernment is high in my spiritual gifts inventory.  The thing about my friend who spoke of my lack of compassion was, I always felt led to speak the bald truth to her without beating around the bush, not in a mean way, but without mincing words.  I felt that she wanted but didn't need coddling.  But with others, I have felt led to be gentler, kinder, to show more patience.  

Another thing I've noticed is that in my fragile mental state, I have less bandwidth to engage.  I've thought that it meant I was callous and uncaring, but maybe not.  Maybe it means that I feel others' pain deeply, but I am often unable to do more than send a groan to God.  The sorrow and injustice in the world moves me to a darker place when I'm already struggling to stay with the light, a place closer to despair and hopelessness.  

So do I have a heart for the weak and hurting?  Yes, coupled with discernment and fragility.  All these are good things about my identity, even the fragility.  I am glad that I can enter into someone else's pain with them, glad to offer quiet presence in the dark places.  I think discernment allows me to see with clarity and avoid being drawn in where compassion isn't necessarily what someone needs.  And the fragility limits me so that I'm not trying to be all to all, because that certainly isn't healthy.  Compassion, empathy, discernment, fragility.  Gifts from God, to me, that make me who I am.  Who I am is beloved, valued, gifted, blessing.

identity exercise: courageous

I've never thought of myself as courageous.  It's in my jar several times though, since a few people mentioned it, so I guess it's time to have a look at myself and see if I can identify it in myself. 

Ok well, one way I am courageous is in travel.  When I first got married, we moved down here to the states and I was terrified to go anywhere by myself.  I didn't know the roads, I was so afraid of getting lost and being alone somewhere, not able to find my way home.  Brant worked second shift for the first two years we were married, so we'd hang out in the morning and then I'd sit at home until he got home.  I'd read and scrapbook mostly.  We didn't have a TV or computer.  I was afraid to cook for him because even though I'd had experience growing up, my self-esteem and confidence were so tanked I believed I couldn't do it.  

The first time I drove anywhere by myself, Brant encouraged me to drive him to work so I could have the car to go grocery shopping and then go back to his work so we could have supper together.  I was literally in tears.  He was so sweet; he said he knew I could do it, and he highlighted the route with pink highlighter in the big Lancaster County map book we had, explaining every step as he drew.  I think I hyperventilated the whole way home.  But I made it!

If you told my family when I was young, that I'd end up being the one with wanderlust, they'd have laughed you right out the door.  I was the most timid, careful child you could have ever met.  I was scared of everything, I was painfully shy, I was a bookworm who dove down the rabbit hole and fought against returning to real life.  I was studious in school and one of my worst elementary moments was the day I received my first C - in grade three.  When my parents wanted us to try new things, I was the most reluctant.  I was a highly sensitive wee thing, pretty much always on the verge of tears.

Occasionally a feisty side would peek out - like the time in grade three when a bully tried to beat me up and instead, heart pounding, I wrapped my hand in her long curly locks and pulled her down to the ground beside me before running away; or the time when, at 7 years old, I strongly admonished a giant grade seven boy for misbehaving and making us all wait in line outside after the recess bell.

When we moved to PA, I had no friends and a husband who was very reserved like me, and not the most relational guy in the world.  Friends came slowly.  By the time we had children, I was brave enough to have my own car and drive anywhere locally.  But as my kids got older, I wanted them to know their extended families and my husband didn't want to take the time to travel very much.  Feisty me said, "Well then, I'm going by myself!"  Glad he didn't have to go, Brant gave me his blessing and off I went.  I'd get the kids up at four in the morning and drive four hours, stop at a certain travel plaza for breakfast at McDonalds and to get the kids dressed, then hit the road and be at my mom's by noon or 1pm. I took them to my in-laws' by myself, too.

Gaining the confidence to travel by myself has been a huge blessing and a gift.  I've found myself being given multiple opportunities to travel to other countries to minister over the years.  I've been able to visit friends, attend conferences, and see places I never would have guessed I'd see.  When I look back at the fearful person I was, I realize that although I still wrestle with fear in other areas, I've been able to conquer it and become courageous when it comes to travel.  

So. yay me. :)  Courage is a gift from God and I'm pretty thankful for it.

identity exercise: spirited

 

Uh oh... spirited?  That doesn't sound positive to me.  Why would someone say that one?  When I start to get what I would call "spirited," I hate myself.  I feel like I'm obnoxious and embarrassing to people around me.  

So what does sit mean to be spirited?  Clearly, whoever gave that word to me, meant it in a positive way. Synonyms for "spirited" include animated, bold, bright, courageous, energetic, enthusiastic, fearless, fiery, gutsy, passionate, peppy, resolute, spunky, vigourous.  Interesting... courageous is another one of the words people have given me.  Passionate is definitely something I feel about some things - people usually tell me to stop yelling at them and ask me if I'm mad at them when I'm speaking with passion...

Here's the thing.  I've lived a passionless life for years.  I usually feel flatlined, with the occasional downward blip.  It's not a good life to live.  I want to be spirited, I guess.  To me, being spirited means having opinions and not being afraid to share them.  It means feeling strongly about something.  It means being fun to be around.  It means maybe being silly sometimes.  I think it's ok to have fun, to have opinions. I think it's amazing to have  desire to speak for justice.  It's good to be resolute - to decide to move forward no matter what, and to carry through.  

So I guess being spirited is a good thing.  And it's partly what makes me, me.

identity exercise: beautiful singing voice

 

This is one that I used to believe in more.  Is it a character trait?  No...but I guess it is something about me that's positive, so I'll keep it.  I used to believe in it more before Scott started telling me to stop singing in my head voice and to sing in my chest voice, and that he didn't want me to be shrill.  I had never thought of myself as shrill in music before...

Other worship leaders have told me to go ahead and sing in my head voice, that I sound great.  Maybe it's just a case of preference to some degree.  Pastor Scott has had musical training and went to school for music so I figured he knows what he's talking about, and I got pretty down on myself; one more thing that isn't so great about me.

But I hear way more feedback about my voice being lovely, so maybe I shouldn't take Pastor Scott's word as gospel.

I remember Pastor Jeff telling me that I was gifted with a beautiful voice and a heart for worship, and that my example of worship leads other to be able to worship.  I love that thought.  I really just want people to be able to feel that they are loved by God and to be able to get closer to him.  I am reading a book by Larry Crabb called Papa Prayer.  It's about approaching God relationally instead of transactionally.  I think I tend to do that already, through worship, and I long for people to be able to approach him that way too.  I don't think I'm perfect - clearly, since I've stepped away from worship team because I'm having a hard time feeling like I belong or am wanted on the team.  

I guess I'm not supposed to care about belonging or being wanted?  I'm supposed to be about worshiping Jesus, not whether I belong.  Is it really possible to go and have a pure heart of worship in an environment that feels hostile?  well duh, yes - what about Christians in prison or in hostile countries?  They manage.  Something to ponder.

Anyway.  Regardless of anyone else:  I believe that I do have a good voice.  I have loved singing since I was tiny.  And I know that I have been given an amazing gift, to be able to hear and sing harmony to almost anything - and not just one harmony, but multiple.  I love being able to sing and I'm thankful that God gave me musical ability.  It doesn't have to be the best, just my best offering.  I feel blessed.

identity exercise: comfortable to be with

 In an effort to learn to embrace my identity in a positive way instead of shame based living, I told Brant I would make a list of good things about me and write about one each week.  The problem is, I couldn't think of anything without denigrating each one.  So I enlisted some help.  I asked the story leaders and some close friends from around here to send some ideas, even though it felt super cringy.  They were happy to oblige. I printed them out and put each thing into a jar, and now the jar is just waiting.

I have yet to pull from it.  I still feel like everything they said was lovely, but also, what can I think of to say about this stuff that I struggle to believe in without adding caveats and exceptions?

Uuuuuugh.  Ok.

"Comfortable to be with"

Thank you, Lord.  This is one that I actually, truly like.  I love that people find me comfortable to be with.  I'm not usually bothered by silence in a small setting with people I know, so for the most part, an extended silence doesn't feel awkward.  I think I am comfortable to be with because I tend to be able to accept people the way they are and where they're at.  I don't feel the need to demand change or talk them into a different opinion or feeling.  Somehow I am able to allow their feelings to exist even when I am uncomfortable, which is odd considering my own issues with feeling, and my reaction to anger most of the time.  

Being comfortable to be with is a valuable trait to have because people need a safe space to just "be."  I love that I can offer that to my friends.  I love that I can be someone who is restful and easy to be around.  It makes me happy to let people be who they are and love them the way they are.  

But also, I think people feel comfortable examining themselves and owning up to areas of growth when they are with me.  I think that I am able to bear witness with a detachment that helps people not to fear judgment.  I know that I am discerning, so I can offer valuable input without feeling threatened - people can take or leave it and that gives them freedom to listen without worrying about my response.  

I am rarely afraid to talk about the hard things with people.  I let them work out what they need to, and I usually offer a fairly unbiased view because I have the ability to see all sides of a thing.

Comfortable to be with is a great thing about me.  I'm glad it's something that's part of me.