hello

Hello.

My name is Miki.

And I am…

What?

What exactly am I?

Not enough.

Unseen.

Shamed.

Unneeded.

Unnecessary.

Dead weight.

An after thought.

… what am I?

I allowed those adjectives and labels to define me for most of my life. I was the kid who didn’t matter but knew how to follow the rules. I would never be the smart kid (even though I was smart), the athletic kid (even though I was athletic), or the favorite kid (well, I’m not a boy, so that shot that chance). No, I was designated – by a vote I was never part of, I should add – to be the kid that made all the other kids in the family look good.

Well that’s a crap job. What kind of sad label was that to put on your chest (or forehead for you quirky weird-ish kids)? “‘HELLO MY NAME IS’ Miki, and I’m the kid that makes my cousins look good”? Seriously?

Then high school hit, and I was a whole new set of adjectives.

Ungrateful.

Disrespectful.

A liar.

Undeserving of a voice.

Not worth your time.

And a couple more “colorful” ones.

They all came from the same sources, though. How did the words suddenly get so hostile?

I guess cuz that was right around the time I started fighting back.

So.

If you can’t shame her into submission anymore, then you beat her into submission. When that doesn’t work (it didn’t), you slander her to the point where she can go no place else but back to her “family” – and thus, back to submission.

Like hell.

Go back to the people who shamed, then attacked, then slandered me? My, have they underestimated my monstrous sense of self-worth.

See, there’s a catch with words:

If they’re not true, they have no power over you; and contrary to popular belief, they have no influence over the makeup of your identity.

If you call a mouse a car… guess what? It’s still a mouse.

So then.

Labels aside.

Hello.

My name is Miki.

And I am…

Forgiven.

Redeemed.

Vouched for.

Beloved.

Made righteous.

Important.

Blessed.

Loved on.

Saved.

photo credit:http://mindtheproduct.com/

Hello.

My name is Miki.

And I am enough.