Ego

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jer 29:11

 

  Aaniin (Ah-nee) is an Ojibway greeting. The translation is, “I see your light.” When I first heard it on Wednesday, my heart filled with longing and desire: longing to be seen but desiring to be one who sees others’ lights.

  I had nightmares pretty much all night. Pursued by some very scary characters who were bound and determined to not let me get what I wanted, accusing me of doing things I hadn’t done. They were determined to remind me that any sense of self worth was not acceptable. They broke into my house. They chased me down the street, all because I wanted to embrace a sense of value.

  In grade 2, we were given an art project. We had to draw a picture using only straight lines. I drew a horse (I didn’t draw much else back then.) I used my ruler to create short lines. Consecutive short lines create a curve. It’s what was needed to draw the hair in the horse’s tail.

  When art period was over, the teacher held up my drawing and asked the class if I had used curved lines to draw the mane and tail. The consensus was a resounding and surprised, “No!”

  As soon as the teacher held up my drawing, I felt such shame. I didn’t know what to expect but assumed it’s because the project had been done badly. Once I realized it wasn’t, more shame kicked in…I’d made the other kid’s drawings look bad. I’d made them feel bad because mine was better.

  Mom told me that prior to grade two, my artistic skills were more advanced than my peers. But by the end of grade two, they were on par with everyone else.

  I held back because I didn’t want other kids feeling bad about their art. (This is from an adult understanding) I didn’t want to come across as conceited.

  Ego. Psychoanalysis defines it as the part of the mind that mediates between the conscious and the unconscious. Ego is responsible for reality testing and a sense of personal identity.

  A damaged sense of identity skews our reality.

  There’s a million miles between being able to appreciate and celebrate the fruits of our labours and arrogance.

  Putting the art in these blogs leaves me vulnerable. Grade two me still speaks rather loudly at times. Submission and Compliancy have a sister: Don’t be Proud.

  I joked with the therapist I saw for many years that I was getting a swelled head as God’s truth began to fill my soul. She smiled, rather sadly, and replied, “It probably feels that way. When you come from a place of zero self worth, the least hint of confidence is massive and unnerving. I don’t think you will ever have to worry about a swelled head.”

   It’s like learning a foreign language.

   The big, ugly, scary guys who pursued me last night were trying to stop me from becoming fluent.

  God is the great I AM to my little i am. He has filled the little i am with skills, abilities and talents which are a huge piece of my light. They are as much a part of me as breathing. Good stuff like this should never be kept under a basket.

  The basket’s name is Shame. (Even writing “good stuff” leaves me squirming.)

  There are a lot of baskets that need to come off.

  Some of these are gender and cultural ideologies. A man who is assertive and bold is admired. A woman who displays these same traits is deemed, “full of herself.”

  I am not. It’s God who is filling me.

  It's a terrible thing to not believe God. I am so glad He keeps telling me stuff over and over and over. Sometimes taking a peek under the basket is all I am able to do.