Editor's note: This I Believe is a nationwide essay project that aims to inspire public discourse about belief. For the third straight year, the R&L is publishing one local essay every day of February. For more information, visit www.thisibelieve.org.
I believe that the search for serenity has to begin with a sense of self-respect. Through nearly a half-century on this earth, I have sought a sense of peace. When I couldn’t find it, I blamed myself. I am not inferring that I have been in perpetual turmoil — far from it. I am blessed with a wonderful wife and family. I live in a community that, for the most part, is deeply caring. These external blessings have been able to overshadow the internal storm from which I chose to hide.
I was born as the youngest in a family of overachievers. My parents nearly bubbled over with pride and love when my brothers and sisters were figuratively and literally onstage. That familial pride was a big part of keeping our family together. I wanted to play my part. I strived to attract the attention of my siblings and parents, on the basketball court, stage, school — wherever I could. But I, seemingly, always fell short. Sadly, in my youthful eyes, I failed. My parents divorced somewhat bitterly when I was 12. I vowed that I didn’t want to ever fail again at meeting the expectations that I perceived others would have of me. That is not advice that I would ever pass on to anyone else.
My life has been lived with the co-dependant spirit that required me to seek others to validate my self-worth. “If I do this for you … if I do whatever you want/expect me to do without a care of what I want/expect … then I am successful.” In living for the esteem of others, I have found a perpetual war. I hoped that if I was thought of highly in the eyes of others perhaps it might change what I thought of myself.
Unfortunately, that was not the case. I stuffed my self-loathing deep inside but you can only stuff a suitcase so much before it spills out. I found myself living two lives occasionally, in which my public persona was positive but I was destructive to myself and those I hold most dear in private.
Over the last couple of years, I have spent much time in an interpersonal journey. I am beginning to recognize the defects in my character. I am slowly starting to stake my own claim to my own feelings and opinions. I have said “no” when in years past that word has not been a part of my vocabulary. I am making the intentional choice not to try to have others mold who I am — I now know that I am my own artist.
Through this journey, I have accepted that I was not the blame for my parents divorce. It wasn’t fair to leave this 12-year-old to serve as the man of a dysfunctional house. But it didn’t happen because of who I was or was not. My parents loved me, they just didn’t love each other. My feelings were and are real. I have value. I still have to be very intentional about considering my true motives for my actions but I am grateful for the recognition that my motives are worthy of my own consideration. I am finding occasional moments of serenity but would never have gotten there without first understanding the truth of self-respect. In me, I now believe.
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