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Thought #1:
My body/ sensory self is named Jessica and SHE NEEDS TO DIE SO SHE CAN BE RESURRECTED!!!
My "new self" in Christ is STILL named Jewel, because no matter what, God seems to be protecting and sanctifying that name for me.
Thought #2:
I have been judging my self worth, and the worth of my interactions and responses, by Whether or not they are ENTERTAINING.
It's my "spinel curse." She really is me. If I feel I cannot make someone smile or laugh or brighten by my presence alone, even-- if my existence fails to lighten the burden on someone else's heart, if my words fail to lift their spirit, if my actions fail to soothe their pain, then I feel my existence is utterly worthless and downright damnable.
Now this is a worthy aspiration, but the problem is that I GIVE IT NO BREAKS. I do not allow room for clumsiness or mistakes or poor judgment calls. I do not even allow space for expressing, let alone admitting, my own tears and pain and not-so-happy emotions. "But doctor, I AM Pagliacci." I'm always the clown, and although part of me does love it, I NEED to also be FULLY HUMAN and that means I DON'T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE A SOURCE OF ENTERTAINMENT. But... I DO always have to be a source of comfort. This is vital to my existence.
Yet the point still stands. I have NO tolerance for failure on my part, and that inevitable weakness therefore inevitably ends in self-destruction. Why am I so merciless in this respect? Am I just terrified at the very FACT of failure to do the most good? When does such moral perfectionism become egotism and pride? Where do I draw the line between power and powerlessness here-- between capacity and incapacity, between duty and disability? If we can only do good by Christ in us, does my lack of goodness mean He is NOT with me??
It's all too heavy, and scary, to untangle now. But here it is.
My body/ sensory self is named Jessica and SHE NEEDS TO DIE SO SHE CAN BE RESURRECTED!!!
My "new self" in Christ is STILL named Jewel, because no matter what, God seems to be protecting and sanctifying that name for me.
Thought #2:
I have been judging my self worth, and the worth of my interactions and responses, by Whether or not they are ENTERTAINING.
It's my "spinel curse." She really is me. If I feel I cannot make someone smile or laugh or brighten by my presence alone, even-- if my existence fails to lighten the burden on someone else's heart, if my words fail to lift their spirit, if my actions fail to soothe their pain, then I feel my existence is utterly worthless and downright damnable.
Now this is a worthy aspiration, but the problem is that I GIVE IT NO BREAKS. I do not allow room for clumsiness or mistakes or poor judgment calls. I do not even allow space for expressing, let alone admitting, my own tears and pain and not-so-happy emotions. "But doctor, I AM Pagliacci." I'm always the clown, and although part of me does love it, I NEED to also be FULLY HUMAN and that means I DON'T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE A SOURCE OF ENTERTAINMENT. But... I DO always have to be a source of comfort. This is vital to my existence.
Yet the point still stands. I have NO tolerance for failure on my part, and that inevitable weakness therefore inevitably ends in self-destruction. Why am I so merciless in this respect? Am I just terrified at the very FACT of failure to do the most good? When does such moral perfectionism become egotism and pride? Where do I draw the line between power and powerlessness here-- between capacity and incapacity, between duty and disability? If we can only do good by Christ in us, does my lack of goodness mean He is NOT with me??
It's all too heavy, and scary, to untangle now. But here it is.
