Happy Independence Day! Things have been a little muddy lately, but America was still founded on the statutes of freedom and personal choice. Such ideals are taken for granted, harsh words equated to oppression and violence promoted as progress. There’s a lack of responsibility and human value in the world today, people choosing themselves over others.
Here’s what I’ll say on the matter: the only person you can control is yourself. No matter what side of “the aisle” you stand on, you can’t create enough rules or shout enough tirades to make someone do or believe something they don’t. So what can you do? Treat others the way you wish to be treated. Even if they don’t reciprocate, show respect, compassion, and grace. Take responsibility for your actions, and your actions alone.
Phew! That’s good to get off my chest. Lots of editing done on this oldy because, like any good book, some rewriting is necessary to polish and finesse the idea. Well, onto the post!
The Cages We Build
Many other countries around the world are more restrictive than America, but there’s a commonality between every person globally. We live in cages.
I grew up in a good Christian home with God-focused mentors and kind friends. Nothing sinister or ominous. I had big dreams of being a published author, and was supported by my family every which way. School was a breeze minus math class; wasn’t until middle school when I caught up to everyone else and could solve problems faster than the human calculators. You’d think life was great for mini me.
Not so much. I peered at the world through metal bars. Every word and action was measured against the walls of my cage. I felt trapped by people, imprisoned by their ideas and cold stares. But no one saw the bars. No one stuffed me in the cage and hid the key away.
I built the cage. I locked myself in. My desire for personal perfection held me captive. And no one could free me.
The Keys We Possess
I constantly lived in fear of my cage. Still do sometimes; the joys of being a people-pleaser. But it wasn’t until middle and high school that I realized the cage around me was my doing, not someone else’s. Other people didn’t tell me I was too quirky. Other people didn’t say I was untalented. I did. I told myself those things. I didn’t believe in myself, and I didn’t think I could succeed.
NF had such an impact on me because part of his experience related to mine. Not the family drama, but the cage. And the key in my hand. Experiences at camp and college built out my personality, more or less rattling the bars of my perfectionism. It took a while before I recognized other people couldn’t break me out. Only I could.
Using the key I possessed, I stepped outside my prison. My work suddenly looked… good. My stories were stellar. People liked me for who I was. I gained a confidence I didn’t recognize and a stronger faith I didn’t think I could possess. Nothing perfect, though it seemed wonderful to me. Because while my fears still lingered, I recognized how small my cage had been. How little I had tried for fear of failure and ridicule.
I was free.
The Comfort We Keep
A couple years ago, I found myself scurrying toward the cage. While it kept me trapped, the bars also kept harm away. And I wanted that as I found myself in a job I didn’t feel qualified for.
I’d been hired, to my own surprise. Loved my work. But my boss didn’t seem to like me. The chill of contempt followed me again as I struggled to create designs that impressed. Nothing came easy, compliments a rarity. I found solace in a few friends, but otherwise felt alone. A number on a slip of paper. So I hid behind perfection, wanting everything to be just right.
Other events crossed my path around this time, one in particular knocking the door loose from its hinges. I suddenly realized I could either be a perfect puppet that folds to whatever people want or I can be myself and stand on what I know to be true. Truth helped me out of the cage once more, but I still see comfort in the cage. It’s familiar, safe, and easy.
But comfort doesn’t equal progress.
The Battle We Fight
Therefore, I choose every day to avoid the cage of fear that keeps me in my comfort zone. And by every day, I do mean every day. Little moments like sharing this post are my daily act of putting the real me out for the world to criticize. It’s slow and scary, but each step gets easier and brings more knowledge and progress.
Perfectionism still looms in the corner, nonexistent voices saying I’m not enough. When it gets overwhelming, I look to truth. The people who thank me for the content I put out. The promises God fulfilled in the past. I’ll never meet my own expectations, but that’s not my goal at the end of the day.
Whatever the insecurity, be it perfectionism or something else, fight back. Don’t stop because of fear. Fear only has power when you give it the reins; you’re in control of where you go and how far you go. Look back to your purpose and passion. Why do you fight? Who do you fight for? It’s time to get uncomfortable and grow toward something new.
