How could a child who felt so sure she was meant for something special, grow into a teenager who couldn't have felt more worthless? Somewhere along my journey into adolescence, I took a path that led me into a deep, dark forest from which I thought there would be no escape.
I suppose it could have started from that first rejection. The smart thing would have been to cling to my mother’s words, see past my failure. Instead, I took a little piece of it with me, just for safekeeping.
I began to doubt my abilities. When my older sister teased me just in fun, telling me I couldn't sing, I took it to heart. I developed a defence. I said I would write my own songs one day. That way, no one could say I was doing it wrong (she deserves my gratitude for that incentive, by the way).
I had a need to prove my worth. I started going to a church near our home. All the time. Every chance I got. I would ride my bicycle up the street and down the dirt road. Thinking about how wonderful it would be when I had learned everything I needed to know to prove I was right all along. I was special and I had a purpose. I became a member of the choir (just to prove I could still sing) and I got to light the candles for every service.
Studying with the minister one on one, I learned that if I were good enough and behaved myself, I would be chosen to carry on with my mission. I began to set very high goals for myself, with time limits of course, just to make sure I would stick to them.
I began to feel a huge responsibility for the welfare of everyone around me. My friends, my neighbours, my family, and well, everyone on the whole darn planet. I might as well take care of them all, instead of just a few! Soon, it became my sole responsibility to keep everyone else from going to hell. I didn't realize that I was about to accept an invitation for my own personal tour.
There isn't anything wrong with setting goals. I like the excitement of the chase! The thrill you get when you accomplish one is exhilarating. The problem comes when you set goals that aren't really your goals at all, just the ideas that you got from someone else. Caring too much about what they might think if I failed was the opening of the door to my tour.
I didn't fail at every goal I set. In fact, I accomplished most of them. The idea of failure didn't sit well with me. I had tasted it once and it wasn't anything I wanted a second helping of. Well, when we bite off more than we can chew, we're bound to swallow more than we need. As high as I would get with every goal I reached, I plunged ten times deeper with every one I missed. One step forward, ten steps back.
Sometimes you miss a goal that is absolutely impossible to get a redo on. The shame that comes with that failure is the first brick laid in a wall of guilt that will soon seem insurmountable. Along with my virginity, I lost my confidence and my idea that I was someone special. I also lost my ticket to heaven. There was nothing I could do to change it. I was no longer worthy of my mission. I had to face the fact that I wasn't going to save my family or the world. In a selfish, human moment, I had succumbed to the temptations of the devil. I let everyone down and now, I was going to go down with them. What a massive failure for someone who had so much to offer . . . so much potential.
With every failure after that, my wall grew taller and taller. I couldn't do anything right. I found myself in one bad situation after another, wanting to ask for help, but telling myself that I didn't deserve it. I had put myself here. Who would want to help me?
You deserve what you get. You made your bed, now lie in it! No one ever really said those things to me, I just felt they had the right to . . . and ought to.
I didn't expect perfect behaviour from anyone else, but I couldn't accept anything less from myself. I was the hope of the world and I blew it. Now what would we do? I was . . .
. . . worthless.