I am undone. I don’t want to be the most tidy, perfectly pressed, and put together, never shaken girl anymore. I would rather be undone. 

I highly recommend being undone. Stay with me here, I’m going somewhere with this. When I say I highly recommend being undone, I am not talking about being undone in the sense of emotionally falling apart, no, I am talking about being undone in the sense of complete and utter freedom! Freedom from the perfectly tidy, boxed in, fear ridden, perfection driven, perfectly organized, color coded, anxiety always at a 10 girl I was. Now we all know I love tidy, organized and color coded, but no longer at the expense of being free. That description doesn’t describe me anymore, but instead I put those descriptions where they belong, in spaces in my home and office. Instead, to describe myself now I use words like, undone, FREE, whole, joyFULL, loved, wanted, accepted, and even… chosen. I much prefer those words being attached to me. 

I used to think that in order to be accepted I had to be perfect. In order to be good enough, I had to perform to a certain set of standards. But, whose standards? Who was setting those standards so high? I mean didn’t they know I am only 4’10?! Insert eyeroll emoji. I thought that if I just did a little bit more I’d be noticed and interesting and valuable. I genuinely didn’t know I was worth anyone’s time or attention. I genuinely thought I’d never measure up to that invisible standard we all know is there. So when I say I highly recommend being undone, I very much mean that. Like deep down from the depths of my soul, I mean that. 

Becoming undone has been the hardest, most painful, LONGEST, season of my life. God has taken me places I never thought I needed to go. I knew in my bones He was up to something, and I knew it was something I couldn’t afford to miss. I knew He was nudging me to jump with Him. I knew He was asking me to trust Him on a very uncomfortable level. It was the only way to the freedom I had so desperately been crying out for. So… with the biggest, deepest breath I had ever taken, I jumped.

I jumped, and I landed. I LANDED. I didn’t know I would honestly. I mean, I had no idea what was about to unravel. I just knew the unraveling had started while in mid air. I felt my heart begin to open its eyes. I begin to see things I had never seen or even thought of before. My whole body began to respond. My skin began to change, my hair, my bathroom routine changed ( sorry if that’s TMI, but I need you to get the whole picture of what was happening). I was the most wide-eyed anxious I’d ever been. I felt every change, every stressor but I also was ok. I knew He was in charge because I gave Him that position. He was tearing down and undoing. 

I had been secretly battling issues and connecting dots I had in my childhood and into my adulthood. I was quickly made aware that a lot had to do with my relationship with my dad. Our relationship was awkwardly simple but super deep in complication. What I mean to say is, our relationship was kept at a level that involved very little of anything really. I began to realize that our relationship was responsible for a huge portion of my self-doubt, feeling like I had very little value, my feeling “never good enough” and never quite measuring up and a whole slew of other issues. One giant one was trust. Trusting men, myself, people in general. Trusting that I was worth the effort to get to know, or an investment of someone’s time.