The Greatest Lie

At a very young age I was captured by the lie of insecurity. Some folks are lucky enough to not have to face this opponent until later in life. I wasn’t quite so lucky.

I was around six or seven years old when I first told my mother I hated myself…hated how I looked, my hair wasn’t straight enough, body wasn’t thin enough, the list went on. Before I was even able to peak the double digits I’d convinced myself—or had been convinced—that nothing about me was desirable or interesting.

Who sold me these lies? Who compromised the integrity of my self-worth before the seed even had an opportunity to bud?

My childhood wasn’t chaotic. I had 2 adults who loved me, thought the world of me, and made sure I knew it. Yet, there I was with a shattered self-esteem before I could even conceptualize the meaning behind the words. Was it pop culture? Was it childhood peers? Was it the “lies of the enemy?”

Take your pick.

Whatever and whoever it was, it dug its heels into my soul hoping to rob me of experiencing any real joy or peace in this lifetime. And for nearly 20 years…it’s worked. These lies took me by the hand and walked me down the road of some of my worst decisions, pains, heartbreaks, and disappointments. It’s entire purpose has been to see to it that I self-destruct… that I don’t find the hope, life, and the living water that the woman at the Well was treasured to find.

The lies have profited off my silence, benefited from my charade of holding it all together, and advanced its mission through my claim as the “strong friend.” There is no freedom in this place, only cycles. It knows that.

So, I write for one purpose and one purpose only. To serve notice to the lies—the jig is up.