Spooky Town

Some people who know me probably think I have a strong sense of self. They know that I’m an introvert or that I like to write or that I like to meditate or that I listen to obscure music. This is probably even more the case with people who have seen my spiritual side and know how important prayer is to me and how much believing in God affects my life.

But I actually don’t have a strong sense of self at all, and it has always been that way. I spent years feeling like a shell of a person, and I still sense an uncomfortable lack of substance to myself a lot of the time. I can remember one of the things that scared me the most as an adolescent was feeling like I wasn’t a real person. I had emotions but no sense of identity. I was so scared of my nothingness that I started a notebook to record everything about myself I could think of that made me a real person. I ended up with a bizarre list…

15. I like rainy days
16. I like lotion that smells like roses
17. I like music on CDs more than live music
18. Cream is my favorite color
19. I write poetry
20. Sundays depress me
21. I sketch faces

…and it went on for a few pages. Every time I realized that I had a like, a dislike or an interest, I wrote it down in the notebook, and if I were feeling especially empty or numb I would look over the entire list to prove my existence to myself. Years later, in an eating disorders group, I would find out it’s common for women with eating disorders to feel hollow or invisible.

My relationship with God has gotten strong enough that I no longer have the fear that I’m not a real person. I know that I’m a unique creation, I know that I have gifts, I know that I have many shortcomings and I know that there is a purpose to my life that I am living out each day. But despite knowing all of this and despite knowing how creative I can be, to me my identity still seems diluted and weak.

I covet personalities and characteristics the way other people covet expensive cars and large diamond rings. Last night was a perfect example. I went to eat dinner at my sister-in-law’s house because she wanted my daughters to see her Spooky Town collection. My sister-in-law (whom I shall name Maxine. Will this name work, Maxine? If not, I advise you to leave a comment suggesting a new alias) had a table covered with Spooky Town houses, skeletons, pumpkins, tombstones and even pebbles for landscaping. It was one of the best Halloween decorations I’ve ever seen, and my daughters were enchanted by it.

The decorations triggered a longing in me. I wanted Spooky Town to be mine, but more than that, I wanted to be the person who decided to collect the pieces instead of being the person who walked past the display in the craft store. I wanted to be the one with the good idea. It wasn’t the thing that mattered, but the desire for it. In spite of how needy I am, it’s hard for me to want things.

So I look at other people and see the things they do that make them real. Then I want to be the person who majors in geography, gets French manicures, uses a crockpot, enrolls my children in art class, paints bird houses, makes pesto, donates to charities online, buys my jewelry from consignment stores or uses monogrammed stationery. I don’t care about any of it; I just want to care.

I threw a friendly challenge out to God this morning and asked him if he wanted to say something about this in my morning Bible reading. I’m going through the New Testament again in order, so I wasn’t going to flip through pages randomly. There would either be a message for me in 2 Corinthians 5 or there wouldn’t. I had to smile when I read today’s passage, especially verses 16-17

Therefore from now on we recognize no one according to the flesh; even though we have known Christ according to the flesh, yet now we know Him in this way no longer. Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.

So often I try to recognize myself according to the flesh. I look at my possessions, my education, my schedule, my hobbies, my habits and try to convince myself that I matter as much as the people around me. But these are the “old things.” I am a new creature.

Today I can choose to recognize myself according to the spirit. My decision to become Catholic, my belief in God, my thoughts about Mary, my prayers, my spiritual journal and the miracles I’ve witnessed were all given directly to me as part of my spiritual life. I don’t ever worry that I’m pretending to believe in God or that I only believe in God because I saw someone else do it first. When I speak to God I don’t worry that there’s no meaning behind my words. When I am with God in silence, I don’t worry about whether I’m a person who matters; instead, I am ready to lose myself.

Spooky Town is still calling to me. Christmas decorations will call to me. Someone’s coffee mug or Mary Janes or book club will call to me. I will always feel that huge hole inside of me, that need to fill it up by buying the things the Joneses buy and doing the things the Joneses do. Thankfully, the hole inside of my soul is bigger, and my need for God grows larger each day.