You've heard people talk about "too much of a good thing," but have you ever seen it in action? Somehow I've found myself being the perpetrator of that "good thing." When I see a person's potential, the teacher in me does everything she can to encourage that person to strive for success.
But I'm too enthusiastic. Too vibrant a personality. I was once told that if my life were a colouring book, my pictures would be coloured with crayons so bright that it nearly blinds the people who look at it. I put so much of myself into what I do. The end result of this? That I push people. I smother them. I care so much about their spiritual well-being that I crowd into them and make myself unwelcome.
What hurts is when it's a best friend. The realisation that the outpouring of my love is actually stifling them. That they aren't free to be themselves, to just enjoy the friendship, because I'm pushing. Wanting to see them grow. Wanting to see them develop. Wanting to see them find freedom and victory.
I feel stupid.
I feel like my heart has been torn.
Thank the Lord for the wisdom of my husband. He's the one who saw it.
And now I examine myself. Am I codependent? Do I need people to need me? I know that used to be the case, so I wouldn't be surprised if some of that was trying to creep its way back.
When depression hit me hard, four years ago, God used it to tear away my self-identity. To tear away my self-constructed ideas of capability and strength. To tear away my saviour complex.
Now that I'm healing, I wouldn't be surprised if it were coming back in another form. I need to be vigilant.
Unfortunately, that knowledge doesn't stop my heart from breaking. I mourn the damage I've done. And while I know that I'm forgiven - after all, that's what best friends do - I still mourn that it even happened in the first place.
