Acceptance

            I’m just going to be honest. I struggle with acceptance. I’ve been struggling with it since the day I knew I created to have community with other human beings. Some times I’ve succeeded in overcoming the awkwardness, yet other times I know I’ve failed. But the issue of being socially accepted has never been as real as when I entered my sophomore year of college.

            The hype was done. The excitement of moving in and meeting new friends was over. It was time to get settled and officially run this “college” thing. I was 16 when I came, and I turned 17 a month after I arrived. Life has never been so much like a roller coaster before. Weeks fluctuated between feeling overwhelmed by the strong sense of community at Ozark and sensing that everybody just wished I was gone. But this was just the first year.

            When second year came around, I resolved to break out of my comfort zone of quietness and reach out to people. For a certain period of time, things went really well, but something happened along that line that cut me deep to the throat. Crushed, I embarked on a journey towards extreme reservedness, using my introverted aspect of me as an excuse for doing so. This went on for most of my third semester, and I felt as if I was silently hated by the whole campus. I started to close up, not knowing why but definitely knowing how. In the process, some people started closing up to me as well, furthering my own agenda of closing up and not talking to people.

           

But a conversation changed my whole perspective on this issue. 

           I talked to my dad on the phone, asking him what he did when he felt awkward. My father has an associate’s degree from an institute in Dallas, Texas, and I sought his wisdom and advice on this matter. I expected a soothing, pity-party conversation, but his response shocked me. Instead of wallowing up in the pain with me, my dad asked a question to answer mine.

            

“Are you accepting who you are?”

            

This question caught me off guard. My dad went on to explain that I will never be satisfied with the friends or the quality of friends I have unless I learn to fully embrace the person God made me to be. I realized then that the core issue of my problem was not the hurt I’ve been experiencing, but rather the decision of whether or not I truly accept the person who God made me to be.

            “You will never be able to accept others' acceptance if you don’t accept yourself,” my dad continued. “You will never be able to enjoy what God has given you until you are at peace with the person God made you to be. Are you accepting who you are?”

            I fell silent. Suddenly the seemingly complicated world of friends and estranged acquaintances dimmed into a blur. The only thing I could see is myself. What have I been thinking about myself lately? Have I been grateful to God for who He made me to be? Have I been accepting the attributes God has specifically implanted in me?

            The call ended, but the conversation within kept growing. Little by little I realized that I was the source of my own insecurity. I noticed that I haven’t been secure with who I am. I haven’t found the confidence to step outside and hold my head high. I haven’t been able to give myself the acceptance I yearned for from my friends.

            So I decided to change. There I was, coming to terms with the person God made me to be. Once I accepted myself, my situation changed in a heartbeat. People were nicer. My friends were more welcoming. My heart was lighter.

My father’s advice was proven true: It is impossible for me to receive others’ acceptance when I myself have not accepted myself.