Making The Most Of Me--Version One

Each year, The Harnett County Reading Council hosts a Young Author’s Writing Competition. This year’s theme is “Making The Most of Me.” Writers are supposed to write about life-events and decisions that have helped them make the most of themselves. What a difficult theme for the elementary writer! As an adult, I get it. Even so, I have struggled with this year’s theme.

After a lot of editing this entry to 500 words, here is version number one for my “Making The Most of Me” entry. This is the first time I have ever entered prose. I will post version number two on Thursday. It is a poem.

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I am a people pleaser. I like to do what’s right and have the approval of those around me. Even so, I can think of two specific times when I went against others’ approval and did what I felt best.

The first time I followed my heart and did what was best was when I went to a friend's dad's funeral during a major winter storm. The weather was horrible. The roads were in terrible condition. Making a long drive defied everything that made sense, yet I knew I needed to do it. So I did. When I arrived at the funeral, I was the only person there for my friend. I sat with her on the family pew, rode with her to the graveside, and stood beside her in the freezing rain as she watched her father’s casket being lowered into the ground. I then followed her home so she wouldn't have to make the journey alone.

Of all the things I've done in life, making that trip to that funeral that day is one of the things that I know I did right—despite signs of disapproval.

The second time I followed my heart and did what was best was when I decided to go to counseling. For many years, anxiety, depression, and intense feelings of self-loathing weighed me down. I stuffed those feelings inside and tried to cover them with people-pleasing work and relationships, yet I was deeply broken. Despite the common sentiment that going to counseling shows a major weakness of faith and a shallow relationship with God, and despite the fact that my going to counseling would be looked down upon by many church-goers, I found the strength to ask for professional help.

Week in and week out, my counselor listened to my jumbled thoughts and helped me see myself and the God that I adore in life-altering ways. She showed me the unconditional love and grace of God and provided for me a steady, safe place. Through my time in counseling, I learned the importance of finding my voice—of giving words to my thoughts and feelings and allowing people to help carry the griefs, hurts, heartaches, and joys that I too often try to carry alone. Knowing that there was someone who unconditionally supported, cared for, and cheered for me allowed me to see all of the other people in my life who were and always had been doing the same. Counseling changed my perspective and allowed me to see the world through different eyes.

Of all the things I've done in life, taking that step toward help is one of the things that I know I did right—despite signs of disapproval.

As a people-pleaser, I don’t like receiving signs of disapproval, yet I’ve learned that I must follow my heart and do what I feel is best…

…I’ve learned that being myself is the best way of making the most of me.