Would you talk to a friend like you talk to yourself?
If the answer is no, this might be why.
Have you ever borrowed a book and accidentally ruined it?
I have.
I was in Grade 7 and accidentally dropped my friend’s brand new book in a puddle in the school carpark. I immediately shook off the muddy water and tried to salvage it, but it was ruined.
The pages dried crooked, the ink bled. I felt awful.
Feeling too embarrassed and guilty to admit my mistake, I went to the book store and bought the same book, brand new. (Can I just say, this was no small feat for a 13-year-old short of cash).
When I returned it, she didn’t notice the difference. Crisis averted.
If I replay that story, but pretend the book belongs to me, the narrative has a very different arc. There’s barely a complication. I don’t feel guilty or embarrassed. In fact, I hardly care at all. The strongest emotion is mild disappointment.
When we ruin other people’s things, we feel terrible. Why? Because we can clearly see what we’ve taken from them; the value we’ve destroyed.
But when it’s our own stuff that’s damaged, we often don’t seem to care so much. It can usually be replaced or rectified . . . Or can it?
Sure, you might be able to replace a book. But what our bodies, our minds, our souls?
When we lie to ourselves, put ourselves down, allow negative thoughts to dictate our emotions and even actions, or berate our “imperfect” bodies, we damage our health and lessen the inherent value of being a created, human being.
But when we see others doing the same thing, what do we do? Usually the opposite. We tell them to stop; we get frustrated when they don’t believe our genuine compliments; we wish they could see the value we see.
I think one of the reasons we treat ourselves so poorly is because we think we own ourselves.
We don’t.
We have been bought at a high price (1 Corinthians 6:20). We are God’s prized possessions (James 1:18). We are loved beyond measure (Romans 8:38–39). We are fearfully and wonderfully, and intentionally made (Psalm 139:14).
Jesus didn’t die for us so that we could abuse ourselves with lies. He wants us to live abundantly (John 10:10), full of joy and purpose, and that starts with how we see ourselves, and who we believe we belong to.
So the next time you’re tempted to talk to yourself in a way you wouldn’t talk to a friend, pause. Take a deep breath. Ask yourself if you want to continue believing the lies, and if not, take back your power to change the narrative.
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This reflection was originally posted to Maryellen’s @maryellencreative Instagram account.
