The lies we believe about ourselves can destroy us until we KNOW we are, “someone” …
This was just one of the many lies I believed…
I had just left the modeling agency feeling even more dejected than I did when I went in. In hopes that it would make me feel better about myself ( my self esteem was like subzero at that point) I thought pursuing this avenue might be the way to go … Ha…obviously ,I wasn’t thinking clearly. Worst idea ever for a very vulnerable,fragile,insecure and newly divorced,single young mom of three little ones.
The agency had us practice in front of a video camera and I absolutely froze.The worst part was they played it back for all to see. That was bad enough. Then one glimpse of myself in the mirror and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. All I saw was how ugly I was. The camera was not my friend nor was I .
That night, back in 1988,was by far, one of the darkest nights of my life.I’ll never forget where I found myself. After walking for what seemed like forever, I found myself hidden in a dark alley ,crying the ugly cry, silently shouting out to God for some kind of assurance that I was someone.
I fumbled through my purse for paper because I knew I had to get my thoughts down. Writing was my only therapy. It was in that moment that I wrote, “SOMEONE” on a piece of crumbled up,tear stained lined paper.
30 years later and much inner healing , I feel compelled to share it with you now because I know it is for someone…
I have the need to be someone
But I just can’t figure out who.
For you see, I’m not that happy with me ,
Or is it, that I don’t feel free to be me.
I don’t know who I am
I’ve always wanted to be noticed,
But instead, have always felt laughed at.
Why is that ?
Oh, sometimes I feel pretty but rarely from the inside out.
Looking out that is.
I really do want to be liked as well as liked by myself.
I think sometimes I have many wrinkles, my nose is crooked and my teeth stick out
So I don’t smile as much as I should.
I wish, oh how I wish I liked who I am but maybe that’s not really me.
Sometimes I feel like two different people literally.
One which is pleasant and people love,
The other is much less pleasant, sometimes frightening of which people rarely see, except those who I’m supposed to love the most, my children.
Such fragile hearts yet they protect them.
Oh God, how I don’t want to break their hearts!
For broken hearts are hard to mend.
You know my heart has been broken.
All cracked up inside,
How can a shattered heart be put back together again?
I’ve been told that its only through Your power that can make things well or better yet, whole again.
I’m asking you this day God to start your work in mending my shattered heart.
But God I don’t want it to look like the same heart that I had before.
Please make this heart to glisten in the darkest hour when everything is still.
Because as my soul is still, so am I.
And I will have the assurance that I am, someone.
My frame was not hidden from You when I was formed in secret and intricately and curiously wrought in the depths of the earth.
Crooked nose, wrinkles, big teeth and all. It feels good to be someone.
Simply said, simply me.