Pride

"Pride makes us artificial and humility makes us real." Thomas Merton

In spite of all the drugs I did and the many times I had my head bashed against a wall, I went back to school - to university. Got on the dean's honor list. I thought they made a mistake. I thought I didn't deserved it. I thought if they realized they had given it to me they would take it back.

I struggled to talk in school. I couldn't stand up in front of the class. I couldn't even stand up at my seat or even answer a question. I was afraid of being seen - afraid of being noticed. If I opened my mouth everyone would know that I had no idea what I was saying, that I didn't make any sense.

I couldn't stand up and talk, but I could write. When I write I don't have to prove myself. I don't have to convince anyone of anything. I don't have to stumble and falter and look stupid. No one's looking at me. No one's judging me. When I write, I'm free.

I've always felt like a fraud. I always thought, if people knew........... so I pretended what happened never did. I pushed everything down and copied other people, how they acted, moved and talked. I did all the 'normal' things everyone else did. Then I came home and threw up and cut my arms forcing myself to be strong. Continuing to live a lie.

I never wanted to tell anyone in my life where I came from. Hardly anyone knows. It was so bad that I've been afraid of what people would think of me. Pride. I think I have a lot of pride. Bad pride. The kind that keeps you from living the way God wants. Funny thing about pretending - it keeps you in a cycle of shame - hiding from the world and even from yourself. Somehow I had convinced myself what happened wasn't so bad.

A friend of mine knows I've been writing. She told me last night she can't wait to read my book. I told her I don't know if I want her to see it. She said, It won't change the way I think of you. But I'm not so sure. Pride. I've always worried what people will think of me if I tell them all the stuff that happened. Pride. I want to be real. I don't want to pretend anymore.

My book will be published soon. People will know. They'll know the truth. My friend told me yesterday her church is considering having me speak. She's on the women's committee and she told them about me. She gave them my blog and a copy of the radio program I did. Everyone will know.

When I'm alone I feel God. I feel his presence. His gentle touch. I can't live in silence anymore. I owe that to Him. Maybe I owe it to me too. And if my telling helps just one person find peace and freedom, then the shame of telling versus that of staying quiet is worth it.