A Journey to Confidence 

Insecurity has been a struggle for me since I can remember. I grew up on the mission field so I was always  different. I looked different when I was in Africa, and I acted different when I was in America. When I was growing up, I wanted blue eyes and straight hair because that’s what all “Americans” had. 

When we moved back, I was in 6th grade. Middle school is confusing enough without changing continents. My identity was all messed up-I didn’t know where I belonged and fit in. I looked like my peers, but I felt different. I found myself laughing at things because others were laughing. I had no idea what was funny. I got really good at making it seem like I knew about a book or movie that everyone else knew. I wanted to belong, but I felt different.

I craved belonging. 

I ended up finding my identity in academics. I was good at school so I became the smartest I could be. I embraced the title of “smart girl” because that meant people were noticing me. I was a people pleaser. How people saw me would make or break an experience. I would always have makeup on, dress nice, and be put together. It was people’s opinion that mattered and I usually came up short. Someone was always prettier, more talented, and smarter than me. This carried over to college. In my relationships, I was overly concerned about how people saw me. I became afraid that they were only my friends because of pity-because I initiated it.

I was becoming more confident in myself and accepting the uniqueness of my soul. Last fall, a series of events caused my insecurities to be taken out and hung like laundry on a line-flapping around in the wind. I turned to God, letting Him romance me as the lover of my soul. I was in the process of taking the down and folding them as God whispered “You are loved. You are enough.”

Then, the accident happened. My life changed that day, not just physically but emotionally as well. My close friends rarely left my side. My relationship with them was more than just convenient, it was deep. They weren’t friends with me out of pity-they chose me. Some of them were even at Grant before I was transferred there. In the hospital, I had more pressing issues than my physical appearance. I didn’t care how I looked. Survival was the upmost priority. 

Now, I’m insecure about specific things, like how I walk and how I talk, but I don’t care as much what people think. My need to please others is minimal. I don’t do things just because people expect it of me. No is a bigger part of my vocabulary. My outfits of choice are shirts and athletic shorts, which show my scars. It’s weird, because of my brain injury, I don’t know where I fit in the world anymore, but I’m more secure in myself-in what makes me Sara Beth. Life is short and my energy is limited so I choose to put my energy in things I’m really interested in. I had so many plans of how my life would go and then, they vanished after the accident. I am starting to get glimpses of the possibilities, which encourages my soul. 

It’s still a journey to a confidant me. Each day is better than the last. It requires so much bravery to love myself just as I am-all my quirks and faults. I’m learning to see myself as God sees me-a beautiful, smart, and loved daughter of the King.

Let’s Be Wild

I was self-conscious before, but now I am really self-conscious. I feel like my voice sounds weird, weirder than normal. I feel people staring at me when I walk. I must look embarrassing because I feel really awkward. When I try to write, it is difficult. I perceive my scars are blatantly obvious, like they are flashing lights on a billboard.

I struggled with insecurity since I could remember. Before my accident, I was beginning to get a handle on my insecurities. I was beginning to let God’s love diffuse through my soul, erasing my insecurities. Now, I am really learning what it means to not compare myself to others.

I have a lot to be insecure about now. I have several scars. I don’t walk normally yet. My speech is understandable, but it is not back to where it was. I am insecure about everything, it seems like. 

But, I am learning to see myself the way God sees me.

I am learning that I can’t change who I am. I can’t change my scars or my limitations. The stuff that I am insecure about makes me—Sara Beth. I can accept myself-my scars, my limitations-and allow God to be glorified.

I shouldn’t be insecure about what God created. If I frown on what God has created, it’s like a smack in God’s face.

Through this season, I am learning what makes me—Sara beth. I am diving into who God made me and striving to not focus as much on my insecurities.

I am choosing to be wild. Not wild as in acting crazy, dressing unique, and rebelling against society. Wild as in the living and growing in the natural environment.

It’s going to be hard, but I am deciding not to listen to what the world says. So, I choose to listen to who God says I am. I let God diffuse over my insecurities and my fears. Considering all I’ve been through, it is not surprising that my insecurities are rising back to the surface. I can choose to focus on them, or on the One who put the stars in place.

I am trying not to care what other people think about me. It is a progress of throwing off the things that I have believed my whole life and putting on who God says I am.

Yes, I have scars but they are proof that I survived. I am a survivor and that is something to be proud of.

Yes, I walk awkwardly. I get looks when I walk. People ask me if I need a wheelchair, but at least I can walk. There was a point that my parents didn’t know what would happen to me.

Yes, I have difficulty speaking. My rate is slower. My voice sometimes sounds nasally. I don’t put enough emotion behind my words. At least, I can talk.

I might have insecurities, but at least, I am alive.

So, I am deciding to be wild.

I am choosing to accept myself just the way I am-my looks, my fears, my limitations. I am choosing to be bold in the pursuit of what I like-what I am passionate about.

Let’s be wild.

Let’s throw off the expectations of society. Not because we don’t care about them, but because we don’t need to care too much about them.