Recently I had a situation where my relational inventory was taken, and by those taking the inventory, I was found lacking.
Because I write to process, this is what I wrote in my attempt to sort through the emotions of that event:
I read the emails once again, trying to understand, but knowing the pain that will wash over me each time that I look.
I tell myself that I am whole enough to deal with this. I know that I am ultimately loved. I can deal with this from the basis of that reality.
I try to objectively understand the flood of emotions. What is it?
Am I having trouble accepting the truth? Or am I having trouble rejecting the lie when it is spoken to me in words that confirm the accusations that the enemy already whispers in my ear?
Is it a lie or the truth when the failures and weaknesses are real?
So I go back and read again, even though I shouldn’t.
I bounce back and forth between what I feel and what I know.
Yes, I am guilty. I have not measured up. But I don’t want to live in the world of keeping track and measuring up. Is this a cop-out?
If you are keeping score, I will eventually fall short. You don’t have to prove it. I already know. I already know that I am never quite enough of what I should be.
Yes, I could be more, I could be better. But so often I am not.