Champion

I wasn't raised to believe I'm strong.

I can't seem to come up with a good grasp on what exactly I WAS taught, because I don't remember it being an overt, "Emily's so weak, she'll never be able to do anything" type of conditioning.

All I know is that this year has been transformational. Both in terms of experiencing feelings of pain and betrayal and in realizing that I can overcome. Let me just add the disclaimer that when I say "I" and "me," I'm not attributing all strength to myself- I know that God is behind a lot of it. But to be honest, right now I'm trying to muddle through whether or not the "I can do nothing, only God can do anything" mentality is what led me to question my abilities, to subconsciously disbelieve that I could accomplish hard, even great things.

It's a complicated relationship with my past and with myself now. I guess some would consider me a "high achiever," or at least different from the others in my family. I graduated with awesome grades from a "real" high school (as opposed to home school), was the first in my immediate family to attend a 4-year university, and the first in my extended family to complete it. I graduated with honors, succeeded in extracurricular activities, was generally well-liked and worked hard at whatever I did.

But somehow, that still never left me with the impression that "I'm strong." I've enduring long periods of emotional pain and fatigue, but that didn't make me feel strong. Longsuffering, persevering maybe. Dedicated. Responsible. But not strong. Not an achiever.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

"He must increase, I must decrease."

"Apart from Him I can do nothing."

These are the messages I was taught from childhood. Are they true? In a way, I believe. But I don't remember being told that I could DO things. That I was strong. I remember feeling that people were impressed when I actually DID them, but not that they had confidence beforehand that I was going to succeed. I don't remember being encouraged to try new things with the belief that I could do well. It's such an interesting and subtle difference, and I'm not necessarily blaming anyone, just pondering.

What would have happened if I had been told, 

"Yes, Emily, you can take a financial step of faith without it surely leading to ruin."

"Yes, Emily, you can get a job that does more than just pays the bills- one that satisfies your desire for meaningful work."

"Yes, Emily, you can stand up for yourself when people take advantage of your understanding and flexible nature." 

"No, Emily, you're not destined for an adulthood of obesity and unhealth. You can turn that around if you put forth the right effort."

What if I had been told those things instead of, "Well, what if you lose your job?" Or, "You can't be too picky. Take what you can get." Or, "turn the other cheek" type messages.

God gave me a brain. I can use it to decide if I am in relationships that are healthy.

God gave me a body and the ability to say no to it's every desire.

God also gave me a body that can do more than my mind often tells it it can. My legs can carry me farther and faster if my brain tells it to.

The song "Hall of Fame" by The Script and Will.i.am. has been my anthem this year. It sounds really cheesy, and I'm sure some of the people in my background would be appalled by the "humanistic" message of "you/me" being able to achieve in our own strength.

But you know what, I'm a champion. I can survive hell, and this year I feel like I've tasted part of it. And I've also tasted victory. I've fought past voices of negativity in my head and done what my mind told me I wasn't going to be able to do. 

I'm starting to learn to tell myself messages like, "Yes, you can. It'll be hard, but you can do it. You're strong enough. You may not be perfect at it yet, but you got this. And the next time you try will be even better."

 I'm a champion.