My healing after divorce started when I quit living in fear and started honoring the long-forgotten little girl in me, the one God knew intimately because He had created me.
Do you have a favorite picture of yourself as a child? Maybe your little self is posing with a parent or grandparent, is engrossed in your singular most valued activity, is sandwiched between siblings, or is just you, yourself, grinning at the photographer. Hold that picture in your mind as you read Psalms 139 out loud. Listen to the poetry of promise in God’s Word written just for you.
I had lived for 25 years in a marriage where I was only occasionally enough. I existed in fear of unmet expectations, the norm for me back then. I know what it’s like to walk on eggshells, afraid of falling short. I was belittled, made fun of (sarcasm), lied to, and cheated on. I still recoil at sarcasm, whether directed at me or others. After my divorce, I was so depleted emotionally and physically that I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. My counselor suggested I find a picture of myself as a young girl, stick it on my dresser mirror, and remind myself each day of the little girl who got lost in other people’s expectations.
That picture is still stuck in my mirror and I’ve added to it pictures of my individual grandchildren at the same age to remind me to pray for and celebrate their unique little selves.
Do you daily celebrate your unique self? Or, do you give others the power to define who you are based on whether or not you measure up to their expectations?
He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.
I believe your way to handle low self esteem that was caused to you worked wonderfully, as you courageously talked about it here, despite knowing that many of your admirers who did not know about it know now. Blessings to you.
Thanks Bassam for your encouraging words. It’s difficult to be this vulnerable. However, my hope and prayer is that other women who have found themselves in my shoes will take courage.
My parents supported me and encouraged me. And yet . . . what rings in my ears even now (at age 77) is my father’s BUT… “That was wonderful, Karla, but . . . ” and then suggestions of how I could do better next time. He was a teacher, helping me grow. Or so he thought. My brother thrived, I withdrew. All I heard was that I was not good enough. Ed, on the other hand, adored me whatever I was or did. What a relief it was.
Childhood messages have inordinate power. However, we don’t have to stay in a situation where another person, spouse or not, has the authority to define who we are or should be.