This is Me

I was 17 years of age when I began my journey towards finding myself. I had been so lost, hidden behind the personalities and mannerisms of others, that I no longer knew who I was. By God’s grace, I moved over 500km away to study in what was then Grahamstown (now Makhanda), a long bus ride away from my hometown, Bloemfontein – away from everyone who knew me, or at least the person I presented myself to be. I now had the opportunity to discover who I was: to understand what I liked, how I talked, and what my passions were. That was when I realised my love for writing, and deep passion and joy for other forms of art: music, film, photography, movement, fashion, and pretty much anything creative. So, I took all that I loved, all of who I thought I was becoming, and spilled it beautifully onto the Instagram feeds of thousands of people. It was the platform I used to express myself and delve deeper into my artistic capabilities, and I quickly learnt that people were drawn to it – to me – and connected with my poetry, pictures, and stories. For the first time in my life, it felt as though people loved and accepted me, and that became so freeing.

But. My stories and poems were not about the beauty of the sunrise and majesty of the mountains, but about the darkness that suffocated me. They were not about love and companionship, but about rejection and loneliness. They did not paint images of life, its joys and promises of hope, but of hopelessness and taunts with death. But people did not pause their scrolling to ask if I was okay. I received only a few DMs of concern or prayer. Instead, the numbers continued to grow, and offers of collaborations began to pour in. But they loved me! Surely, they loved me? They scrolled through my posts and stories, read my lengthy captions, and engaged regularly with my content. For once, I was getting the attention I always needed; I no longer felt lonely...or so I thought.

There was a specific day, I do not remember if it was a Winter or Summer one. It could have been during the weekend or sometime in the week. It might have been raining, or the sky might have been a bright blue. I do not remember the happenings of that day either. All I remember was a moment, very brief, where it was strongly placed in my heart that the only way I would find myself was if I sought God, because who knows the creation better than its Creator?

So, slowly, patiently, and carefully, the Lord drew me to Him. In the quiet midnight hours, when the Instagram world was asleep, getting enough rest to tackle their days filled with schoolwork, household chores, back-to-back errands, gym classes, and all their other priorities, in those lonely hours, it was only God’s whisper that I could hear. When I wrestled with nightmares, felt burdened and depressed, cried, felt numb, and hated my life, God was with me. And, by His grace, I began to realise that. I was at the end of myself, but God picked me up. He did. He saved me from death and was my only true Companion amongst over 30,000 friends on social media. He loved me, well enough to look beyond the beautiful images, stylish clothes, artistic movement videos, and the dark brown eyes adorned with tiny brown markings and golden eyeshadow. He looked and saw Me.

When you know you are loved, you move differently. You walk with more confidence and are not afraid to live and love in return, and that began to show on the Instagram feeds of my over 30,000 beloved friends. I started to write about beauty, joy, peace, love, and contentment, as well as my discovery of these sweet treasures in God, the Father, and Jesus Christ. My pictures were no longer of my dull eyes with the tiny brown markings around them. Instead, my eyes were bright, and my face glistened with a smile. My videos no longer carried a dark and depressing aura, also leaving little room for the imagination of young (and old) men. They were now filled with words of encouragement for those in hard times, who did not know peace or did not feel loved.

But, almost overnight, I had only 10,000 friends left, then 500, then 150. They had forsaken me. The best thing had happened to me – Jesus gave me new life – but they were not there to celebrate with me. They loved me when I was depressed, when my life was chaotic, and I did not attend classes. They loved me when I was lonely and suffered from nightmares. They loved me when my poems and stories were filled with heartache and pain. They loved me, so long as my pictures looked good, my clothes were fashionable, my dance moves were entertaining, and my content was consistent. So, the truth was...they never did love me.

A word of advice: do not sell yourself short by being the person you think other people would accept more. Be who God has created you to be and is helping you to become, and if people reject you because of that, it is okay. At the end of the day, this is your journey with God, a journey that is infinitely more valuable than whether someone likes you or not. Trust me, God is and will be all that you need in those times of rejection. Surely, He will give you contentment and peace.

------------------------------------------------

On Finding Myself

Have I found myself yet? I do not know. In fact, that no longer matters to me. Jesus said, “seek first the kingdom of God and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matt 6:33). I will become who I need to as I keep beholding as in a mirror the glory of Christ, because, in doing so, I will become more like Him...and isn’t that more AWESOME?