I sat in a meeting today for one of my favorite kiddos. He is so low. He is very language disordered. But if anyone were to sit and have a conversation you would hardly notice there was anything wrong with his communication skills. Unless you started digging deeper you may never even think there’s anything wrong at all. He is funny and uses sarcasm. He is able to take turns and use language pretty appropriately. Surface stuff looks super typical. But if there’s any critical thinking of deeper language stuff that needs to happen, he has glaring holes in his abilities. When I was explaining this to his parents I told them that he often “fakes it ‘til he makes it.” He loves to talk and that is part of what makes him look typical. He can talk around his deficits and many people, unless they are really analyzing what is being said, think that more words are better. In this case, they aren’t.
As I walked to my truck I reflected on the meeting. I always think and re-think and overthink my meetings and my kids. Did I convey the severity of his challenges? Do the parents know what a struggle he has? Is there something different I should be doing for him? Something more? And then I thought of that phrase: fake it ‘til you make it. I had a little chat with my Heavenly Father and then realized that this phrase could easily transfer to me.
My communication skills are in tact. At least I hope they are since my livelihood sorta depends on that. It’s not about my language or the subtle cues that I’m missing during problem solving. Or maybe it is. I fake it ‘til I make it too. Just not in language, but in life. In feelings. In anxiety. I emotions.
The new year started a fire burning in me, like it usually does. The turn of a calendar. A clean sheet. A new opportunity for hope. A fresh start. New goals. New focus. New places to hide. New chances to fake it ‘til I make it. I have packed my life with goals and challenges. I have moved from the addiction of food to the addiction of being busy, of exhausting myself. I have been fresh with excitement and happiness and joy. Until sneaks of negative started rearing their heads today. I was sharing my goals with someone. When I mentioned the 2,018 miles in 2018 they asked me if I was counting all of my steps, or my intentional exercise sessions. I told them I was counting all of my steps in order to get in five and a half miles a day. That I wouldn’t be able to do it if I was only counting my exercising. They told me I was cheating. That those everyday steps didn’t count. I argued that I walked a mile and a half at the grocery store the other day and that certainly should count. They said it shouldn’t. That I wasn’t walking to exercise. So, that started me overthinking.
What if they’re right? What if it is cheating? Maybe I am a fraud. My PTSD tells me I should always be paranoid. Always looking over my shoulder. That I’m one step away from screwing something up. My anxiety tells me that I’m worthless and that no one has time for me. And the negative thoughts just kept coming. The fear of thinking about doing this much exercise for a whole year, and then hearing from one of the first people I shared with that it doesn’t even count. Knowing how exhausted my body is from all the walking and running and kickboxing. Thinking that I am too fat and too lazy and not committed enough for this to last for a whole year. It’s only the third and I’m already ready to be done.
And then, I think of one of my favorite verses: Matthew 11:28 - Then Jesus said, “Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” It says come to Him! It doesn’t say come to your friend, or come to your daughter, or come to this person or that person. It says come to HIM. Too often, I seek approval of other people. I want other people to tell me my worth. I look to my daughters to tell me I’m a good mom. I listen for my friends to sing my praises and tell me “good job.” I read old cards from my husband telling me that I was everything He wanted and needed. And I find my worth in those words. So, when the opposite happens, I devalue myself by those words also.
All week I’ve been on cloud nine and so proud of myself. It only took one person to grind that progress to a halt and suck me right back into negative thinking. So, I have a choice. I can either let this drive me to a Big Mac, or big change. And I’m praying for big change. I cannot rely on people, on sinful imperfect humans, to help me figure out my worth. I already know I’m worthy. I have a loving Father in heaven who loved me so much, He sent His only son Jesus to die an awful death to save me from my sins. He loves me and He finds worth and value in me. I need to press into him and realize that His approval is all I need. And I NEVER need to prove my worth to Him. I am His daughter, His precious child. He loves me and in Him, I can always know that I am enough.
I am enough. And when I finally can fully realize that I can truly come to Him in my weariness and bring him my burdens, then I will know my value. I can accomplish anything though Christ who gives me strength. And whether that is walking five and a half miles on a treadmill, or five and a half miles through a grocery store, I am enough! So, don’t worry! Be happy! Don’t worry about anything! And be happy in everything! No more faking it until I make it. Because in my Father’s eyes, I’ve made it. I’m enough!
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