being me.

I am not an athlete.
not by any stretch of the imagination.
So when I realized that I had registered for Lifelong Physical Awareness and hadn't really exercised all summer, I was a little freaked out.

During the first workout (9/2), I was regretting my summer laziness.
And I continued to regret it for the next several days.
I could not move without every part of my body crying out in pain.
But during class, I wanted to fit in and work hard and not let anyone down.
I was assuming that everyone was holding a stone, poised to throw it at me if I showed weakness.
(More about that later.)

On the following Tuesday or Wednesday, I rolled over in bed and felt something like a pop in my abdomen.
My abs had been hurting for a week, but this was different.
I was a little concerned.

When I got to class that Thursday, I tried to do a push up, and it felt like something was trying to push its way out of my abdomen.
I was seriously concerned now.
I told Coach Randolph, and, after jokingly asking me whether I was pregnant, he had me walk/run around the perimeter of the gym for the rest of the class.
I did my best.
I walked hard.
I felt it the next day.
The abdominal pain went away sometime over the weekend.

Last week, I had a pain in my neck, I was tired, I was feeling lazy.
I slept through class and worked out on my own time.
And I felt good about it.

Tonight, Dr. Ted Bryant spoke at Vespers.
He talked about how so many people at this college cling to being fake.
We cling to the image we want to create.
We cling to the idea that we must have it all together, and that we don't belong here if we make mistakes.
He dared us to be real.
He told us to try to be ourselves for one week.

He's so right.
I have a Pastor's Kid Complex.
For some reason, I think that everyone is waiting for me to screw up.
And I feel that if I show my flaws, it will reflect poorly on my dad.
I know that the people who would blame my problems on my parents have their own issues.
My mistakes are not my parents' fault.
My faults should not be seen as reflections of my dad's ability to help lead a church.
I know this.

But I have struggled to shake the imaginary pointed fingers and jeering grins.
I keep my mouth shut because I don't want to say anything wrong.
I don't want to look stupid.
I don't want to look weak.
I don't want to look like I don't have it all together.

I have hid behind a facade for the past several years.
Middle school was difficult for me.
I was awkward.
I wore strange outfits.
I didn't like to ask for passes to the bathroom, so I always bled through my pad and had to wear sweatshirts tied around my waist every time I was on my period.
I was a crier.
I tried to fit in and I learned tough lessons.

After I left middle school, I was determined to avoid situations that would give opportunities for ridicule.
This has continued for six years.
I have missed out on so much that has happened around me.
I hate that.

I hate that I assumed such awful things about everyone around me.
I hate that I projected my insecurities onto my friends, my family, my peers and classmates, my teachers, my directors, strangers on the street, and even onto God.
I forgot that He loved me anyway.
I ignored His promises.

But He never did.
He is teaching me more and more about His love.
He is showing me grace, and I am learning how to recognize and accept it.

And when I wake up in the morning, I will go to Lifelong Physical Awareness.
I will wear a yellow tank top, brightly colored plaid shorts, black leggings, and pink and black striped knee-high socks.
And I will be confident.

I am me.
I am discovering the woman I was created to be.
I will not conform any longer to the patterns of this world.

I will gasp for air, I will sit down, I will lag behind the other girls as we run around the gym.
And I will do these things with my head held high.
Because I have no reason to be ashamed.

Good night, readers.