My life has gone completely off the rails, and if it were a train, I'd be somewhere in a field, watching it burn from a safe distance with a jelly glazed donuts in both hands, wondering how I ended up here. If you can visualize a disaster in slow-motion, and me frantically waving my arms like an overly caffeinated octopus while everything I once owned-my dignity, my sanity, and that trendy velour shirt I once thought was fashionable-tumbles into the abyss-you're not too far off. It has been the live version of bad reality tv, complete with a musical score and a host narrating, ‘And now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for: watch as Stacey loses it, in living color!’
Recently, I lost everything. Or at least, it feels that way. The things that wanted to define me –relationships, career, my sense of purpose – are gone, and with them, my confidence has vanished, leaving me standing face-to-face with insecurities I never thought I'd have to confront. But it goes deeper than that.
It’s a vulnerable place to be. I found myself questioning who I am without the titles, and without the external validations. Without the things I used to believe made me “me.” As I wrestle with these uncertainties, I was tied the identity of what I do, rather than who I am. I was also really tied my deliciously soft velour JCrew shirt that was my fall go-to and yet, somehow looks absolutely hideous on me this year.
Last night, let me set the scene: I am sitting in a Bible study with my husband, trying to be focused and attentive. But then she walks in. You know the one. She's beautiful, radiates joy like it's her super power, and somehow manages to glow as if she's just walked out of a heavenly photoshoot. She is glowing, and I mean glowing like she showered in sunshine before she made her way to the Bible study. Meanwhile, I am sitting there, clutching my Bible like it's a lifeline, while my insecurities decide that this is their moment to throw a full-blown tantrum.
Suddenly, instead of listening to the message about Gods unconditional love, I'm mentally spiraling."Why doesn't my skin glow like that? Does she have a direct line to her skin care professional, and why does her joy not seem… as exhausted as mine?” Her joy fills the room before she even says a word, and her beauty? Well, let's just say, next to her, I'm feeling like I wandered in from the land of “just woke up and barely made it.” I'm just sitting over here in a camouflage hoodie hoping God will simply remember my name.
Instead of pondering God's goodness and the lesson, my brain goes into overdrive. My insecurities kick into full gear. And because I'm nothing if not consistent in self sabotage, I casually asked my husband that night, as he was just drifting off to sleep, “Do you have a crush on her?”
Now, you think this would be a harmless question. But no, we ended up in a full blown miscommunication meltdown. Apparently, my very innocent (okay, slightly insecure) question somehow got lost in translation and came out sounding like I was accusing him of being attracted to her. Next thing you know, we're both defensive, and I'm wondering why we don't have the tools to talk about these things without setting off emotional land mines. Turns out, coming from a history of bad relationships doesn't exactly prepare you for calm, rational conversations about crushes or temptations. Instead, we end up reliving past hurts, and threw in some ex-related baggage for good measure.
Adding to this delightful chaos is the fact that my face is falling apart from the stress I've been enduring for the past year. The last month has been particularly brutal since my younger brother had a stroke after surgery for his brain cancer. It has been an emotional roller coaster, and the toll it's taken on my mental and physical health is apparent. I'm not just fighting insecurities; I am also battling a full frontal face rash that seems to be auditioning for a role in a horror film. The good news is, Halloween is right around the corner.
But in all seriousness, these moments- whether in Bible study or in the middle of a relationship miscommunication- life has a way of making me confront the deeper insecurities I carry. My insecurities and vulnerabilities force me to reckon with my faith, my pain, and mostly who I am in the eyes of God. And let me tell you, it's in these moments, whether it's in Bible study or in the chaos of every day life, that I've had to face myself.
So buckle up, because we are about to deep dive into the nitty-gritty of insecurity, vulnerability, and faith, with a little sprinkle of my own personal chaos.
I was sexually abused. There, I said it. I have had to recently “own” the profound impact the abuse has had on my life. I wish I could say that I was able to ‘get over it’ and move on because time does but, I cannot. It has always been a very viable part of what makes me who I am today. Being a victim of sexual abuse has deeply affected how I see myself and how I feel about my worth. It's left scars –emotional and spiritual –scars that tell me I'm broken, that I'm not enough, and that somehow, it was my fault. Even though I know those thoughts aren't true, they still consume me. They have had the ability to consume my unconscious mind just as much as my consciousness. They have fed my deep seeded insecurities, convincing me I'm not worthy of love, safety, or joy.
And perhaps the hardest part of all of this, is wrestling with the feeling that God had let me down or hadn't shown up. There have recently been moments when I have asked,
"God where were you?” The heaviness of that question can be overwhelming because it's strikes at the very core of my faith. How can I trust in a loving God when I feel like he didn't show up in my darkest hours?
This is a deep struggle and it is hard to reconcile the belief that God loves me with the trauma I have endured, and now losing the identity I had tied around my neck that our culture found so alluring-productivity, accomplishment, and self-sufficiency. And as a woman, let me add in here the incredibly high standard of beauty I like most woman, desperately want to achieve. And yet, God calls me to rest in His love, not in my actions, or beauty, or traumas. It is a lesson I am still learning-one that involves grace, patience, and a whole lot of humility.
My vulnerabilities have brought me here. They've shown me how fragile the things of this world are, how quickly they can be taken away. But they have also revealed a deeper truth: that my worth is not in what I've built or achieved, but in who I am as God's Child. I don't have to have it all figured out. I don't have to do it all perfectly. I simply need to trust that I am held by the One who sees me, knows me, and loves me-flaws and all.
I really hurt my husband's feelings last night, and I am feeling the weight and heavinesses of it this morning. I didn’t mean to accuse him of anything, but my delivery was off and my timing is always often misses the mark. I truly hope that, with time, I will improve and communicate better. I know God can, and will, free me from myself, and I can get this right, or at least improve to the point where my delivery is less ‘crash landing’ and more ‘smooth operator’.
If you are reading this and have experienced a similar kind of pain, I hope you know that you are not alone. Your pain is real, and it matters. It's OK to feel angry, her, and even betrayed. God can handle those emotions. But I also hope that you can find, as I am trying to, that there is more to your story. You are not defined by what happened to you or what you did for a career, or what you haven't done. You are defined by who you are –a beloved child of God.
Insecurity, pain, and doubt will always be a part of our human experience. But our identity, the core of who we are, is secure in Gods hands. Even when it feels like He didn't show up, I'm learning to trust that He is still with me. And that is where my healing begins.
