There's Nothing Wrong With Me
There's a belief deep down in me — that something is fundamentally wrong with me.
Trying to solve for that — to resolve it, make up for it, argue against it, prove it wrong, avoid it, or hide from it — describes much of my life, so far.
But there's another deep-down voice — that just wants to play. Build. Create.
And another that just wants to give. Love. Support others.
And another that wants to go slow. To be methodical. To take extra care of the little things.
These last three voices, I think, are the parts of me I've been longing to unearth, develop, and express.
But that first one... it seems to always be there to stop the other three. To warn them that it's not safe — not yet — to come out to play, to give freely, to rest.
"I just need to take care of a few more things first."
I literally said that to my 9-year-old son this week while working when he asked me to play. And I said it to my 13-year-old daughter when she asked me for help. And I say it without words to my older two sons, and to my wife.
God help me.
What would it be like to live without the belief that something is wrong with me?
How would the opposite belief feel?
Try this with me, right now, for just five minutes...
Say these words out loud, then forget the words and feel the physical feeling they cause in your body. For five minutes. If you lose the feeling, say the words out loud again, then go back to the feeling:
There's nothing wrong with me.