Sitting in my sunroom that doubles as a living room, I watched the trees dance in the gentle spring breeze, listening to a plethora of birds sing their morning songs. (So much better than the rooster a half mile down the road, by the way.) It was at this moment that I had an epiphany:
I’m an imposter.
Those birds, the ones God says He cares so much for (see Matthew 6:25-27), live a life more real than I do. An investigation of sorts was in order. I began to scrutinize my life, not in a judgy way, but in a contemplative I-was-made-for-more-than-this way. Those birds, singing their morning songs, just doing what they were created to do, awakened me.
I grew up with a perfectionist father and naturally developed perfectionistic tendencies. I clearly remember my father standing behind my sisters and me, watching with eagle eyes and making comments as “necessary” as we painted white the mortar lines between cement blocks on the back of the house. It was a stressful way to live.
I thought I had to do everything perfectly to be accepted, to be loved. Nothing was good enough, including myself. That mindset followed me into adulthood.
Insecurity was my middle name. I struggled to know how good was good enough. I longed to be loved for who I was but didn’t believe I ever would be. I tried this, dabbled in that, and basically lived to please others.
Exacerbating the perfectionistic proclivity was the fact that I was trying to find my place in this world, as any child does. The little girl in me became lost in a sea of masks. In a desire to validate myself, I would be whoever anyone wanted me to be. Complacent? Sure. Rebellious? Why not? A follower? Absolutely.
The myriad masks led me right into the comparison trap where I remained captive, until recently. Maybe I should cut my hair that way. Perhaps dressing like that would make me more desirable. I should talk more like her since people find her so funny and engaging. Maybe if I… On and on it went.
I realize now that I became an imposter at a very early age.
The day of my lightbulb moment was the proverbial fork-in-the-road for me. I could continue going down the same path or I could choose a new path, a better path, the path God had for me all along since “before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart” (Jeremiah 1:5, NIV).
I chose the narrow path. I chose to be me.
Around this time, God brought an amazing mentor into my life. It was back to school for me as after each gathering she gave me homework. During our very first meeting my mentor asked me, “Who is Tammy?” Talk about a 99-mph curveball I didn’t see coming. The question left me dazed and bewildered; I realized I didn’t know who I was. She told me that was my first homework assignment.
For the next four days, I attempted to tackle my homework assignment and answer the question, “Who is Tammy?” I cried every time; I couldn’t do it. I lived as an imposter for so long that I truly didn’t know the answer. Sure, I could give all the biblically correct answers stating who God says I am, and that would be all true. But that’s not what my mentor was looking for. She wanted me to know what makes me…me. The “me” that no one else can be.
After much prayer and revelation, the answer to that crucial question came into focus. Life is all about discovery, so I’m still working on that one. My mentor said to “go deeper.”
At one point my mentor asked me to name my accomplishments. I was taken aback. Wouldn’t that be prideful? I didn’t want to puff myself up. As though reading my thoughts, she added, “I want you to see how God has been working in your life all along.”
Wow. Even though I had been living as an imposter, God still moved, still used me for His purposes and kingdom advancement.
Here’s the thing: living life as an imposter may get you through life, but it won’t be as satisfactory or as amazing. God created the perfect “me” and that’s the me I want to be. This imposter is no more; I’m living the real, genuine me.
