Confessions

Confession: I frequently re-read papers which received a good grade. Not to analyze what I did well and could do better, but to relive the euphoria of the positive comments.

Confession: I save and revisit emails in which someone complimented me. Not for any practical purpose, but to read nostalgically when I'm discouraged.

Confession: About half the contents of my "memory boxes" are mementos of my successes or awards. Not because I loved the essay that won a blue ribbon at the fair ten years ago, but because the ribbon is "proof" that I did something well.

I've been thinking about the facts of those confessions quite a lot since I started graduate school. This afternoon, I read the post Asking "Is it true?" from the blog Stuff Christians Like. Check it out:

When I feel wounded or hurt, I often feel tempted to ask Google Analytics, a web traffic tool, if I’m any good. I want to open up my statistics and look at all the pageviews and say, “See, that’s not true. I’m not worthless, look at all the countries that have read this site.”

And maybe if you don’t have a blog, you go somewhere else for the answer to the question, “Is it true?”

Maybe you go to a memory, and try to relive a time in your life when you felt popular or loved.

Maybe you ask a new car or a new pair of shoes or a new anything your question.

Am I old? Is that true sports car?

Am I ugly? Is that true new outfit?

Am I dumb? Is that true new laptop?

And we ask and ask and ask, but regardless of the answer, regardless of if our loved ones provide a temporary salve to a question that hinges on our true identity, something gnaws at us. ...

Oych. It's so easy to do that...to ask my twelfth grade soccer trophy if I'm valuable, my conference acceptance letter if I'm grad school material, my test scores if I measure up to my peers.

The problem is that for every positive memento is a negative one: rejection letters, criticism, angry words. The problem is that on the balances, the accolades may not always be heavier.

I think ultimately it's not that I keep these mementos, not that I prize the respect and praise following a job well done, but that these things are the Band-Aid I use to heal my self-esteem and the cold weather gear I put on my identity.

"Who am I?" and "What am I worth?" are awfully big questions to tie to a few crumpled ribbons, scraps of paper, and dusty trophies.

"Because you are precious in my eyes,
and honored, and I love you."

Isaiah 43