Last week I struggled with feeling unconfident. There was nothing obvious to cause it - the sun was out and beautiful, I'd been accepted by two master's programmes and two scholarships and faced a choice between the two, I could run again with Jacob rather than sticking to yoga for shakey limbs, and I'd had good reports from my supervisors on the terms work. Life was, on-surface, 'supreme' as Lily in The Amazing Story of Adolphus Tips (gosh that takes me back) would say.
But for some reason, like this unanticipated sudden malicious thought I had last year, I felt incompetent, ignorant, unfit and ugly this week.
I looked at the choice between the master's programmes and didn't see the blessing of having that choice, I saw my own fear and the thought of being lonely and lost and overwhelmed in a big city, among people I would fail to connect with (pessimistic assumptions) and a field I've never been officially schooled in.
I looked at recovering enough to actually be able to run again and didn't see the grace of being reconnected with my favourite sport but worried over how much slower I am and how breathless I got.
I looked at my supervisors comments and didn't see their confidence and pleasure in me but my own absolute confusion on how I did it - and how I'll do it for the exams - and felt like a fraud.
I looked at my self and didn't see the person God has fearfully and wonderfully made as his child but saw a girl who sometimes wants her mid-teen body back before it put on womanly weight, before her face filled out, before her thighs touched.
I am thankful that I can speak to people I love and trust about this - talks with Alex, Jacob and Semine really comforted me. And even though I didn't mention it to her Emma's prayer that I'd remember I am a child of God echoed Jacob's words when I told him how rubbish I felt and reminded me of how God speaks through his people to his people. God's grace coming through words is something I've been holding close to my heart and my irrational mind to make my unconfidence to face off with God's truth. It has come through the words I read in the Bible and hear in John Piper's Solid Joys:
He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? (Romans 8:32)
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:6–7)
It comes through the words spoken over me by people, like Semine reminding me that I've done moving and finding my feet, learning and adjusting and being independent once coming to Cambridge and I can do it again going to London. Like Jacob reminding me that he thinks I am beautiful inside and out and wishes I would see that too (I wish I could see that too). Like my friend Ella's instagram art gallery on body images - in which people contribute a picture they've drawn of their bodies accompanied by some words they want to say about their body. The pictures have been heartbreaking ('Trying to feel better about my body but every time I look in the mirror I feel sick') and heartwarming ('You only get one body...So you might as well start loving it.') and philosophical ('Sometimes I behave like I hate my body, but I don't. I think I'm just rather confused that I have one.') and funny ('My eyes are as big as glitter pots') and remind me that bodies are just wonderful. They come in so many shapes and sizes and do so many things. In some ways the fact that we think about them so much is ridiculous because they are just there, but in other ways it isn't because they are so important and work so well. If I thought more about the functionality and uniqueness of my body instead of comparing it aesthetically to other bodies I'd have a far better relationship with it - after all, my body isn't made to be a still aesthetic but a moving, living, functioning, BODY.
This morning I went for a short run and the creeping 'ugh I'm so unfit' thought began to play in my head but instead of a) dwelling on it b) trying to ignore it c) trying to overcome it by running faster, I decided to speak grace to myself.
'You may think you're unfit but God sees you as fit for his purpose'
and I thought that over and over again, to the rhythm of my falling feet, and it was good.
In between dinner and reading about narrative in film I made the best damn batch of cookies I've ever made, adapted from this recipe.
Mix together:
1 mug white spelt flour
1/2 mug whole wheat spelt flour
1/3 mug rolled oats
1/2 mug coconut sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp vanilla bean powder (thank you Nat!)
Lots of chopped chocolate
(Unlike the original recipe I also added in sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, cacao nibs and chopped nuts (walnuts, almonds, brazil nuts, cashews and pecans))
In a separate bowl, mix:
1 tbsp ground flax
1/4 mug melted coconut oil
1/2 mug oat pulp (left over from making oat milk)
1/2 mug plant milk
Chill the cookie mix in the fridge for at least 15 mins while you heat the oven to 180 degrees celcius, then bake the cookies in batches for 20-25 mins. The recipe said it made 9 cookies but I made 9 large ones and 15 small ones so hers must have been massive. (which I won't argue with because they are so good you'll probably want a huge one) I had one while looking through 1930/40s films to watch, and then headed back to the kitchen.
A second cookie? Don't mind if I do. I think I have enough grace for that.
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