Sometimes

Sometimes, actually, sometimes it's many times, I have trouble remembering whose I am.  I have trouble knowing that I am worth loving.  It's like too many years of experience have combined and cemented in certain thoughts. 
I was reminded of this today when there was a huge hullabaloo because a child got an "infraction" for fighting last week.  The parents are consumed by it's unfairness.  The child "doesn't understand if he is good or bad because he got a track (good note home for a deed well done) and he got an infraction for fighting.  Well, welcome to the world.  Funny how even the parents didn't realize that they were addressing the wrong question.  We, all of us, as people are neither good or bad.  We do deeds....good and bad....but as a people, though we are sinful, I don't see that God ever calls us "bad".  I mean, if we are made in His image, are we really "bad"?  We make choices....we do wrong things...we do good things.  Our VALUE is not dependent on EITHER.  One does not outweigh the other.
But, so many years have been put in of my hearing how I am not what I should be.  How I'm not like everyone else.  How I am irresponsible.  How I am hardhearted.  How I just don't get it.  And those voices play in my soul.  Not just in my head.  Even when I try not to listen to them, I still have emotional reactions as if I were.  BUT, thankfully, though I have those feelings, I am learning to stop them there.  to not let them consume me in self doubt and wallowing.  That is progress.
About a year ago, I was shopping at a thrift store for a lamp and I couldn't make the decision to buy a lamp for $10 because I had been so beaten down about money and spending.  I realized that day that I was not going to be able to live like that anymore.  I would agonize on whether I really "needed" a new mascara.  Or underwear.  Or even bras.  I swear, I have had bras way past their expiration.  All out of some sense that by behaving in certain ways that I could make myself more lovable.  It doesn't work.  If someone can't see me for who I am and choose to love me....then, I guess they don't love ME.  They might love my efforts.  Or my abilities.  Or what I give to them.  Or my ability to meet their needs.  There are lots of things they might "love", but those things don't reach into me and make me know that I'm loved.  Secure.  Wanted.  Treasured.  Valued.  Hey, it only took me 20 years to get a clue about this.  To see the constant rut of my life and realize that I am not all at fault.  What a relief.  And what a tragedy.  Because the hardest thing that I've had to work through is figuring out what things about me are "loved" and that at the bottom line, who I am is not.  Talk about a grueling, painful, self-examining time.  But, then I can look at the relationship as a whole more clearly.  I can realize that I was not crazy.  I was not to blame for every problem that ever occurred.  I shared a life.  Goods and bads.  And responsibility belongs to both.  Yes, I mean myself as well.  I know that "should'ves" are kind of dumb, but I should have wised up and said what was what a long time ago.  But, maybe not.  My kids are nearly grown.  Life, now that we are somewhat separated, is pretty peaceful.  I think that they know, but they don't panic because there's not so much fighting.  I, for one, am glad for that.