Life is weird. Can I just say that and hope for a resounding heck yes it is! As each one of us makes our mark on this world for the brief moments we reside here, more often than not, life becomes this process of simply discovering who we truly are. Scientifically, we know that each of us has a unique pattern of DNA which forms our physical makeup as well as our personalities, interests, and other behavioral attributes in some cases. Our childhood shapes us, our adolescence shapes us, early adulthood shapes us. I hear of many middle aged people asking themselves questions we thought only pre-college teenagers should ask. My point is, do we ever really find out who we are?
For the past few weeks this question has bombarded my mind. In so many ways, I think I know who I am. Although a lot of my identity feels shaken up at the moment, I still try to be as real as possible with everyone I know. Putting on a show seems pointless. I wish everyone could see each other for who they really are. I’m tired of false judgements and preconceived notions of people because of one or two encounters. Why don’t we give each other a little grace?
If it’s true that we never really understand who we are – who God fully created us to be – why do we put ourselves in His seat, making up notions of individuals based on the way they look or how they talk, their shyness or boisterous manner of speaking? I have an issue with this myself. I feel misjudged and I know I’ve misjudged so many others. But why?!? I’m sure my own personal angst is going to surface, but why must you jump to conclusions? Can you stop for a minute just to consider that your opinion might actually be inaccurate?
Why did I title this With Nothing Left to Say: because I was thinking how taxing it is on our own mind and sense of self-worth when we continually let others’ personal conclusions dictate the viewpoint of our own. I know I can’t change that person, though I want to spell it out, concise and articulately, how they have it wrong. But even with that, I’m making a huge presumption that he or she is even conceiving that kind of judgment. In these cases, we truly have nothing left to say. My words, my anger, my frustration won’t change a thing…and as much as I loathe this statement, I have to let it go.
How? I have no clue. But as I think about these situations, I hope I remember that I might be judging the person I’m mad at for judging me just as much as they are judging with their initial judgment (ha ha…how was that for possibly confusing?). The possibility of my attitude changing is a far better bet than seeing the other person change. I can only work on myself…because I’m only able to really find out who I am anyway.