Who I Am Without You

Are you anything like me? Have you ever stood in front of the mirror, half horrified, and wondered who on earth is staring back at you? Who is that person with dark green eyes and lazy posture? What does she love?

                                                      What does she dream about?

                                                                                                           What does she want?

It used to be that I silenced those questions with the only answer I had ever learned: God. He was all I had been taught to want, all that I was allowed to need. I learned how to fold up my confusion, neatly like a napkin, and tuck it away in a box entitled: God. My hopes and dreams soon lived there too, stacked and dusty, next to ashes of my undeveloped identity. For 19 years they sat there, all the precious parts of me, ignored and forgotten. I walked around as a shell of a person, with the God-box strapped on my shoulders.

How did it happen? How did I come to the place where I was nothing but a shell? It started slowly.

At 8 years old I wanted to be a singer.

                    

Broadway.

My first dream.

“Theatre is not a safe place for a girl. The world is full of evil people. Trust in the Lord, he will show you how to use your talent for His glory!”

From that point on, I knew. God was the only acceptable answer to every question.

Emotions? God. 

Relationships? God.

Self worth? God.

Aspirations? God.

                                  God.

                                              God.

One day, the God-box got too heavy; so I threw it off. As it hit the ground, it shattered into a million pieces, taking part of me with it. I was told that the God-box was the perfect investment. I thought it would make me complete, I thought it would tell me who I was; I thought it would teach me to be happy. I had invested everything in the box, and it had failed me. I do not know who I am apart from God; all I know is that I should know.

And now here I am, standing in front of the mirror again, trying to guess at who is staring back at me. Every day I learn a little more, and the guilt of leaving the God-box lessens. Every day, as I pick through the rubble of my identity, I find old sparks of things that make me smile. I invite you to come along with me as I learn who I am. I am hoping to find that I am worth more than a title. I am hoping to learn who I am without God.

I am hoping to learn that I don’t belong in a God-box.