“When the world is itself draped in the mantle of night, the mirror of the mind is like the sky in which thoughts twinkle like stars.” ~ Khushwant Singh

Photo by Johannes Plenio on

I’ve always been a thinker. A deep thinker.

It may not appear to some that I am, but it’s as if I’m multi-tasking both physically and mentally.

The photo above pretty much sums up how I feel most days. Small. Insignificant. Small, compared to the tree. Insignificant in comparison to the vastness of the universe.

Some people want to be remembered in perpetuity when they pass with their name emblazoned on buildings or scholarships or stadiums. I’ll be content with being remembered by my family until they too pass on. I’ve no need for my name to be listed on walls, plaques, or trophies.

My goal is to share the love of Christ with everyone I meet, and in that I know that I am a failure. I am only human. I have those people whom I strongly dislike and I must admit I selfishly rejoice when I hear they are having troubles. I don’t wish hardship or pain on anyone and I certainly don’t pray for it to happen but neither do I have much empathy for those who hurt me with their actions or words.

I’m rather caught in a catch-22: I wonder at times if anything I do makes a difference, if “I” matter and on the other hand, when I receive words of praise such as I did this past week — phrases such as “you’re special” and “I’m proud of you” — while most people would welcome those words, they threaten to rock my already shaky and fragile existence.

If you’ve ever been in a relationship where someone figuratively placed you on a pedestal with words of encouragement and praise, words such as “awesome” and “amazing” and “phenomenal” and assured you of their love . . . and then by their words and actions pulled the pedestal out from under you . . . let’s just say it’s a steep drop. And painful. Especially when most of your life you’ve been told otherwise, and you made the mistake of starting to believe that this person might actually be seeing something in you that others missed — and maybe you really were worth loving.

And then . . . BOOM. You hit the ground, back where you were, maybe even a bit lower from the impact. Ahhhh who am I kidding, a bit lower? Let’s say so far further down than you were that you can’t even see daylight and you aren’t sure you want to. As you start to pull yourself out of that hole, with the help of a few close friends, you develop coping skills to maintain your fragile hold on who you are. Much like Cinderella at the ball, you had your few moments of transformation, but you end up right back in rags and soot.

So to those who cannot comprehend the effect that compliments have on me . . .

Overwhelming panic. Fear. Tears. Nausea. Flight, forget any notion of fight.

It is just easier to maintain my status quo of “nothingness” than anything else as I don’t know that my psyche could survive another fall. Out of self preservation I have to maintain a distance. Many of my friends laugh or joke about my 72-hour rule of “togetherness” but to me it is a necessity. Maybe that is why my faith deepened and strengthened — God has not failed me ever.

And here is one of my favorite songs — “The Real Me” by Natalie Grant

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