To Grace

The way I operate is probably not the healthiest.

I am dangerously intense, goal driven, structured, organized, and a perfectionist to the bone. I push myself beyond the limit.

And it's really not ok.

I expect the impossible from myself and completely berate myself for any mistake I make.

I compare.

I am riddled with self doubt.

And I have reached a breaking point.

About a year ago, I wrote an essay for my writing class titled "accepting imperfect" (you can read it here)

The essay describes my path to learning how to just live and not be so damn hard on myself. But you know what? It's a lie.

Because I haven't accepted imperfect.

Technically, yes, I have accepted the fact that I am not perfect by society's definition, but I have not accepted that I am not the perfect I have created in my head.

I have this dreamed up perfect Hannah. One that never gets anything less than an A. One that has a boyfriend. One that has learning difficult things come easily. One that never feels tired or hungry. One that everyone loves.

My expectations for myself are not healthy or realistic. I am Hannah, and I'm doing my best, but my best isn't always what I consider to be the best.


Tuesday, I had my first chemistry exam of the semester. I studied and studied and studied. I felt more than prepared and didn't have too much nervousness/anxiety prior to the exam. As I got the exam and spent the next hour and half working on it, I felt quite confident in my answers. There was a few I was little shaky on but nothing that I had no clue had to do. I left feeling just fine. I got home, had some celebratory dessert, then decided to check my answers with the key.

The test did not go as well as I was hoping. My grade was nothing horrible, but it was less than I was desiring. As I went through the questions I missed, I realized I missed answers because of stupid mistakes. I read a question too quickly, I tried to outsmart a basic question. I called my mom, who talked me through my grief, took a shower, and felt ok. But then I just kept thinking of my score.

I was letting a number define me.

I couldn't stop thinking about it.

It's a slippery slope, a downward spiral.

And here I am now. In my tidy little about/bio, I note that I am a "seeker of grace".

Seeking, I am.

Grace is something that we have already been given, the most precious gift from our Heavenly Father. But it's something I so struggle to accept.

A favorite song of mine has lyrics that go "Freedom comes from letting go/Open up your heart". Oh how I am trying. I am laying it all out here, vulnerable, stripping it down to the bone.

Freeing myself from the guilt feels impossible. I feel like I am in shackles.

Here's the thing that I know but struggle to full acknowledge: this grade will not kill me. It did not harm anyone else. I am home, safe, healthy. I am completely able to attend class. My friends are still by my side.  I am focusing on a grade, one of the thousands I have earned. The one making this grade a burden is me. This a completely self-inflicted wound that I continue to pour salt on.

Last night, at YoungLife, our amazing leader, Paul, gave a great talk based on Luke 15:11-32.  My heart was heavy and pleading for grace. Then, in true fashion of divine intervention, Paul began to to talk about grace and how much we need to let it be a part of our lives.

Oh, grace. Slurring together the messy bits of life that I am learning to bask in.

I am still happy, my soul sings of joy. But I know that I am missing a piece of happiness...happiness with myself. I am absolutely my biggest critic. The doubt and loathing I feel diminish the brightness of hope, my goal for being better at loving myself.

So to put it simply, I am learning to surrender. To grace, to my Maker, to love, to real life, to pressing on.

xo

Hannah