A tale of unworthiness
by Cindy Myska, therapist
The deepest, darkest secret of man is that there is no place of love within us that we trust.
Because we believe in ourselves and because we know ourselves, we do not trust ourselves to love us. We would be crazy to trust the self that we know.
I do not trust myself to correctly hear my own wisdom or the voice of a God who could love me. I think I must be wrong. I believe others if they believe they know what is best for me. I know me too well to believe me. I do not know someone else well enough to disbelieve.
I am my secret self, unworthy of trust and unworthy of love. I am secluded from God’s voice because I am me, not God. I believe this is true, so I am not willing to hear God speak to me from within me.
I long to hear His voice. I long to have God responsible for my holiness, so I can stop pretending I know how to love me. I reward myself for listening, I take turns hiding and coming out, so that I might begin to believe in something. Just as I begin to believe, I falter, erring in my understanding.
I am afraid of being me. I don’t trust me to love me. I am afraid I did me wrong. Where was I when I was wrong? Why didn’t I know how to be a more perfect me? I cannot be free of my silly me, the one who displeases everyone so. Yet I cannot be free of the one who must help, and seldom can, either. I travel miles but think I go nowhere. I believe in anyone but me. Where do I go? When did I lose my self, selling out to some image of the me I should be? I think that to be me is to be a perfect me: displeasing no one, helpful to everyone.
So my prayer today Dear God, is let me be crazy enough to trust the imperfect me. I ask myself to love that silly one, and to let her be herself. And for just a tiny moment, I watch as the charred ashes of that deeply held, darkened secret float up to the Heavens.
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