Too Much for Everyone — Except God

Human beings are incredibly complex, physically and emotionally. We are fearfully and wonderfully made by our Creator. 

I was not made well, it seemed, as I was told many times that I was “too” something as I grew up – too loud, too emotional, too fat. One of God’s experiments that had gone wildly off the grid, perhaps.  Too many ingredients.

As I shared before, definitely too emotional, which can still be quite triggering for me today, which was often accompanied by a phrase that is also quite triggering to me still well into middle age, “Calm down.”  

Calm down.

Two little words. Two words that I am sure have good intentions behind them. They must. They were often spoken by family that loved me, so no harm was intended.  Still spoken by friends, family, parents, loved ones everywhere with the intent to make themselves feel better by saying they’re trying to make you feel better.

And yet. 

Those two words taught me so much on how not to be. How not safe I was. And trained me in so many ways, leading me down a dark path of unhealthy relationships, gravely poor mistakes, mistaken self-identity, false healing, misguided idols, and wanting desperately to die. I am still working to deconstruct the beautiful city of lies and falsehoods in which I lived for many years, lies I believed about myself and others, the person I believed myself to be and wanted others to see me as, ignoring the prisoner of my real self who was locked away, starving, screaming, trying to escape.  

Always too much. Always needing to calm down.

I had myself fooled for many years, too.  

I truly had believed that, through all the trauma I had been through – father’s death as a child, cancer at 23, traumatic childbirth to name a few – that I was quite literally stronger than death, stronger and healed and able to overcome everything. I was her. I was the one that above all had won, had risen above. I had managed my emotions, was above the pain, and needed no one.  

There’s a show that my kids watched, and still do, called OK KO, Let’s Be Heroes. The main character, KO, is a young boy determined to be a great hero, motivated by desire to make his mother proud, loyal to his friends, optimistic to a fault, and always, always believing in the goodness of others.

He has an alter ego, T.K.O., who is the embodiment of KO’s anger, rage, and powerlessness, the sides he doesn’t ever let himself show. During the earlier seasons, T.K.O. is in a cage inside KO’s mind.

Although a kid’s show, it was one I enjoyed and still watch with them because it explores powerful themes of identity and friendship. And I’ve realized lately in another rewatch that I’m watching me.

I tried, and truly believe, that I see myself in KO. I wanted to be, believed myself to be, this person who is fearless, never letting anyone down, always there with a go-to spirit and desire to please all. And I had the real me, the angry me, the ugly, rageful, but most powerful me, locked away from site, unpalatable, unwanted.

I would hear her screaming at night, in the quiet moments, in the dark, though. Or in the moments that I would stop, just for a moment. That’s when I knew I wanted to die so I could just stop pretending for just a moment. So I didn’t have to smile anymore. So I could just rest.  

But day would come. Or I would keep moving. I would drown her out and keep her locked away. I would put the mask on, not only pretending to be the person who was in control but truly believing myself to be.  

And one day, looking out the window in the middle of the work day as this beloved person who has it all together, I thought, maybe I should just walk into traffic. Maybe, even though I know what it feels like to lose a parent young, that actually would be better for my boys? The peace that came with death was so inviting, so freeing.  

I convinced myself, with the support of others, that I had it all together, that I was someone worth looking up to, and I took it as an honor to be the person people leaned on for support. Others said so and fueled the belief. Fueled that ego. The problem? I had spent so much time believing that I was strong enough that I could help everyone but never helped the one person that needed it the most — me. And I continued to let others feed and take from her, while she watched, screamed, and begged for help. Until she realized she not only had nothing left but was nothing at all.  

She was nothing. 

I was nothing. 

My mind felt that as an emotional negative, a void, leading to the thoughts of suicide. However, this time, I heard God in my soul, and realized that there was more to that sentence.  

Yes, I was nothing. Without God.  

I was nothing without Him. I was also nothing WITH Him. 

HE gives me the strength. HE’s the one to look up to. HE’s the one I should be trying to please. HE’s the one for whom I’m working. And HE is the one who made me.  

If God made me, who literally am I to be anything but me, the real me? The one who has not been acceptable or accepted since day one. And yet, that didn’t seem to matter anymore.  Because I mattered to God.

The cage I’ve been in started to shift, the bars rust, decayed. The door creaked open, a hand reached through.  

I was finally free.  

I finally realized that the caged version wasn’t just the real me but was part of me.

Eventually, TKO and KO merged and became one with full understanding that he was whole, all of the parts belonged to him and made him one with himself. And just like KO, I realized that if God made me, He made all of me, including all of those parts that I was made to believe were wrong, and ugly, and unwanted.

God wanted them, though, because I have them. Because I am me. And because of He, I am free.