Will the Real Me Please Stand Up? (Part 2 of a...

In my own mind, I had been "damaged goods" for much of my childhood, all of my teen and all of my adult years and those thoughts had controlled my actions and expectations. It was a habit, but one so ingrained that I wasn't even aware that the tendrils reached out into every part of me. The effects were all the more powerful because the thoughts had the warm comfort of familiarity. Every part of my personality could be questioned: Was this part of me or something I'd created in response to being abused? Real change was going to mean rooting out the poison threads from every part of me.

I had been an introvert for so long that it was a shock to realize that I was an extrovert by nature. I had weighed every action and been paralyzed by fear. Many of my friends had been shocked when I had done something as adventurous as move to Japan. It was out of character. But was it? I suddenly learned that I loved trying new things and did a lot of exploring around my prefecture with only a small Japanese/English dictionary as a companion. I started to come out of my shell, although it was more like a tank. As I shed the heavy fear that had isolated me, I hardly recognized the person who had been hidden inside for 17 years.

Eventually, however, the time came for me to return to the U.S. I moved in with a good friend and her family until I found a job and could get an apartment. They were wonderful. Because I'd come home at a bad time of year, there were no teaching jobs available in my subject area or in physical location. So I did the best I could--I got a desk job.

Just to clarify, there is nothing wrong with a desk job per se. However if you are a teacher, you thrive on interchanges with your students. I loved children and learning. Trapped behind a desk without that was hard for me.

On a whim, I joined Christian dating service. That was actually a great idea since the only men I wanted to meet were Christian men. One day, I got a phone call from the dating service saying someone wanted to meet me. I had a test for my dates before I would go out. I would pick some unusual restaurant as a site for the first date and see if they were willing to take a chance. He agreed to meet at a local Indian restaurant.

He picked at his food but he was good looking and interested in me. I went back to my apartment feeling guardedly excited. When he called me and wanted a second date, the flattered feeling urged me to accept. We began dating regularly. As I got to know him better, I slowly realized that he was not the person he claimed to be. He wasn't really a Christian, which was number one on my list. Oh he went to church but only out of obligation. He eagerly manufactured activities on Sunday and reasons why we should be doing other things. He didn't understand that I went to church because I wanted to.

There were other things of course. As time went on, he started comparing me to other women to my detriment. He would urge me to loose weight or color my hair or something else to change me into the "perfect" woman. Of course with my past, it was all too easy to fall into that trap. Here was someone who could see those shortcomings I'd always imagined. In my efforts to please him, I forgot my dream of someone who would love me for who I was and be proud of me.

He wasn't what I had dreamed of, but the poison was whispering, "You're too picky. He's not perfect, who is?" Below the whisper was the echo of my past, "He's as much as you deserve. Maybe more." I wondered at how hard it was to "make the relationship work." Everyone said that it was difficult. I was just wishing for the moon, wasn't I?

One of my friends took me aside one day. I was mourning some comment he'd made about my appearance, despairing of meeting up to his expectations. She put her arm around me and said, sternly but kindly, "No one should make you feel like you're not good enough for him. The truth is, he's not good enough for you." Then the kicker, "Is this how you want to feel about yourself for the rest of your life?"

That night, I begged off of my date with him and decided it was time to take a hard look at the relationship and what I really wanted. I sat and examined the man, my feelings and the way he was treating me. After a while, I went into my bedroom, opened a little used drawer and pulled out the list that I hadn't looked at since leaving Japan. When I compared my boyfriend to my dream, he matched less than 5 items on the list. I had to choose. Did I believe that God could bring me everthing I dreamed of and did I believe it enough to let go of what I had?

Those of you who are confident might think that the choice was clear--a no brainer. For me it wasn't quite so clear cut. It was the dreaded leap of faith. I prayed about it and although I didn't hear it audibly, I felt like God was saying "I can't fill your hands until you empty them." I decided then and there to end that relationship so that God could bring something better into my life. With that decision, I was free.

When I broke up with my boyfriend the next day, he was bewildered at my lack of tears and my firm finality. He promised all of the things that I had longed for only a few days before, but I was unmoved. I almost felt sorry for him. The next day, I went to the stylist and had my hair cut. I went to my brother's wedding a week later feeling like the world was full of possibilities. My hands were empty, waiting to be filled.

(Continued in part 3--Everything and a Cherry on Top)

Part 1--Making the List