For so long, I’ve been depressed. I’ve been one who self-harms. I’ve been one with an eating disorder. Yes, I am a believer. Yes, I love Jesus. But my identity has been, for so long, wrapped up in a diagnosis. It didn’t start out that way. I never intended to be defined by this, but somewhere along the way it happened. I got so wrapped up in either being unwell or working to get well that I lost who I was.
I never thought of myself outside of a diagnosis. I hated this, but I didn’t know how to exist with out it. My mind was twisted. I believed in the lie that this is who I was and it was who I would always be. I could no longer see myself as a person. All I could see was the desperation that comes from losing who you are in the face of a chronic disease.
Then came the day God asked me to let it go. He asked me if I would let go of the fear and surrender this identity to Him. He asked me to quite literally nail this fear to the cross. But why, God? What if I don’t like who I am without this identity of mental illness? What if my friends don’t like me anymore if I am no longer known as the girl with depression or the girl who starves herself? The only answer that came was the quiet whisper, “Surrender”.
So, who the hell am I? I know the lies that I have believed. Fat. Ugly. Worthless. Not enough. Broken. But that is not who God says that I am. I have believed the lies for so long. I have claimed the identity of one who is unwell, deficient, lacking, and twisted. But that is not the way that God sees me.
I don’ t know how to bring my thoughts into alignment with who God says that I am. But these are the names that God calls me:
Fashioned for good things.
The residence of the Holy Spirit.
His messenger to the world.
Created with a purpose.
So who am I? I don’t know, but I know who I am not. I don’t know what the next step is, but I know who directs my path.