Monday, May 2

ever feel empty inside?

i was pondering what to write for my blog post today, and nothing leapt to mind, no words jumped to my fingers to be put down on my screen.

not a good feeling. i hate feeling empty, feeling i have nothing to accomplish, nothing to contribute.

the majority of my life has been spent accomplishing, achieving, all at the supposed expectation of "someone." i was talking to my husband jonathan the other day, and he asked me, "just who are you afraid of disappointing? who expects so much from you?" and all i could say was, "i don't know... they!" that ever-elusive they will be disappointed in me if i fail.

i've always felt someone expected something great of me. i always thought i would be known someday for achieving something extraordinary and new. i've based a great deal of my own self-worth and identity on the premise that i am what i do.

i don't know if you read the lyrics i posted a few days back, but i'm currently working on a song titled empty. and in writing it, i came to this realization, that what i do is not who i am. what is expected of me does not define me. my success is not my identity.

even writing the words feels like a lie sometimes. i have for so long desired to please, to impress, that i have a difficult time defining myself apart from my accomplishment: i am a singer. i am a pianist. i get straight a's. i...

but that's not who i am, and of late, i've craved being known. i want someone to understand me, the inner workings of my being, the reason why i am how i am. it goes being looking at my resume, and moves into a real understanding of me. i think this is where real love begins: it moves past the obvious, the facade of accomplishment, into the depth of a soul.

it requires an unveiling of my heart. it requires an honest revelation of my self, my weakness, my fear, my insecurity, but also my passion, my interest, my joie de vivre. just me, bare and open for revelation.

i tend to guard my heart, veil my emotions, and shield my thoughts. especially in going through my miscarriage, in trying to shield others from my pain, from having to endure the awkward consolations, i instead constructed a huge tower of strength and took up residence inside. i showed to the world a face that was strong, brave, doing well, trusting and moving on. i let a few people see the me that was hurting, that was broken, that struggled to understand why.

but i'm realizing more and more that behaving the way people expect of me is in fact keeping the real me locked up in that tower. if i don't show the real me vulnerably and humbly, no one can know me.

and anyways, it's okay to cry and be broken, so long as you embrace the reality that tomorrow the sun will shine again, and healing will come. it's okay to be vulnerable, so long as you don't dwell unhealthily on your weakness. it's okay not to be perfect, to realize that there is so much more to you that what you are capable of doing.

it's okay to just be. and sometimes, it's okay to be empty.

because the lord doesn't care so much about what we bring or about what we do. he wants us to come as we are, even if it's with empty hands. empty hands raised up high and spread wide to glorify his name.

and he'll take us further, deeper into holiness, into his perfection. he sees the real you and me anyways, so we may as well let him in to start refining and purifying.

and it's incredible to know that he thinks i'm special.


in spite of my weakness. in spite of my imperfection. in spite of my failings.

yeah, me.

so whenever i feel empty inside, i remember that he emptied himself of life so that i could be in this moment. i remember that he rose from the dead so that i would never die. you and i are worth everything to the lord.

that makes us special, makes us lovable, makes us worthy.

nothing i can do could ever come close. all i can do, and all he expects, is that i embrace it, that i say yes.

yes, lord. fill my emptiness. make me whole. i love you.

photo by bora (

1 comment:

  1. Totally get ya. I've struggled (and still struggle) a lot with the idea that my successes define who I am. And I can you tell you, it's an exhausting way to live. I find myself wowed by people my age who have salaries in the triple digits; who offered up something grand to the world, like novels or successful businesses or whatever. The mantra nowadays seems to be "you are your job." And as often as I tell myself that I'm happier w/what I've got, that I'd hate pouring myself into a job for 10 or 12 hours a day, it's still hard not to succumb. Hang in there...your success is NOT your identity. ;)


Share your heart with me:

Related Posts with Thumbnails