The Danger Of Comparasions

It made me want to cry. In fact, after unintentional provocation by Paul, I did actually cry.

You see, this woman and I should have been best friends. In fact, for a short while, we were. We have very similar interests and pursuits. We should have been iron to one another; sharpening and spurring each other on in our goals and dreams. There was only one thing that got in our way; a gangly awkward 5’8″ 13 year old who hadn’t found her place in the world yet.

And I am still searching.

You see, the school mate was always better than I was. I felt that our relationship was unbalanced because the few scraps I could bring to the table, the school mate could always best. She was more charming than I was, she had a better singing voice and a better ear for harmony, she was funnier, cuter, a better writer and any other -er’s that you could add to the list of what I wanted to be when I grew up.

So this is the history of our relationship when I was browsing her blog on Friday night. I found out that she has recently picked up two more of my hobbies and is–naturally–fantastically talented at these things. All I could think is that there is nothing sacred from her touch. Whatever I do, I am positive that she will maliciously and intentionally be better at it.

That is a lot of self importance, considering I have not spoken to the school mate for 8 years.

It is also tragic. 

It is tragic, because together, we may have been an unstoppable force of creativity. They few times we collaborated together, we did awesome things. It is also tragic because it shows just how little I actually believe in myself and my dreams.

You see, if I actually trusted myself, trusted who God made me to be, and trusted that amazing things will happen if I just let go of control for a moment, than it wouldn’t matter what the school mate did, because I would know that I was living out who I was made to be. In fact, it would probably change my attitude so much that instead of feeling bitterness and resentment towards her, I would feel joy at her accomplishments.

The problem is that I don’t do those things. I wear a mask and preach a message of living out your purpose, but I know deep down inside that I am not doing that. I am running, and I have been for a long time. 

Why?

Because I am afraid.

I am afraid of what God would call me to if I really let Him have control of my life. I am afraid of what would happen if actually tried to be that phantom that hangs around the peripheral of my soul. I am afraid of rejection.

And so I become a hater. I hate people who do actually live out their dreams. I watch jealously as they live in honesty about who they were meant to be. 

That is a lot of baggage to throw up via Blog, but it also baggage that God has been asking me to deal with. 

So here is my plan; stop hating and start doing.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Continuing the adventure,  

Jess