When I came to college, I was a writer. I was a musician. I was a runner. And that was pretty much it. It took me less than a day to realize I was far from the best writer on campus. I quickly realized that telling music majors that I could play the French Horn was a lot like boasting about my role in my high school play to the actresses and actors and Broadway. And though I was a runner, I struggled finding time to run. While I was running my little 5ks, a girl down the hall was preparing for the Boston Marathon.
Suddenly everything I was--everything I had defined myself as--wasn't enough.
Suddenly, the question of "who am I?"carried much more weight.
This year I have my first advanced writing class. For our first writing assignment we were asked to trade our essays with one of the other students in the class and mark up their essay with comments and suggestions. I traded with a wonderfully kind girl named Bethany. I took her essay home, read it, and immediately stuck it back in my plastic red folder, behind an assortment of papers for various other classes, where it stayed for the rest of the week. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Well, such has never been my fortune. As the days dragged on and the due date loomed nearer, I still couldn't stop thinking about her paper. It was flawless, beautiful writing. How was I supposed to critique an essay that was already better than anything I had ever written? (or so I thought).
I began, once again, to doubt myself as a writer, and even doubt that I was worthy to call myself such. I began to see the page as a minefield of potential errors which I was to laboriously navigate on nervous tip-toe. I was so terrified to make a mistake because I believed that being less of a writer made me, almost, less of a person.
When I confided this in my friend she told me that there's a huge difference between making a mistake and being a mistake. It all comes down to how you define yourself. "Your reality," she told me, "is defined by your perception of it. Want to change your reality? Change your perception. So who are you?" she asked me. "And who do you want to be?"
It was then that I realized something profoundly important: I am not a writer; I am not a musician; I am not a runner. These are things I do, but they are not and do not have to be who I am.
Wow, that's hard to say. And yet, it leaves a sugary-sweet residue on my lips. It's incredibly liberating to rid oneself of these titles. But then, who am I now?
I am Brooke Ellen Anderson. I am a noble daughter of God. I am one of his beautiful creations. I have been blessed with incredible talents for writing, playing the french horn, running, and many other things—but these are not who I am.
I've found, having rid myself of these titles, I'm okay not being the best at something, at messing up and making mistakes, because these mistakes—these mess-ups—don't lessen who I am; rather, they provide me the incredible opportunity for growth that comes only when I am willing to be stretched and make those mistakes.
I am not perfect. I make mistakes. But that's okay, because I am not a mistake. I am not a runner. I am not a musician. I am not a writer. I am not my GPA, my awards, my talents, or my honors. Nor am I my mistakes, shortcomings, blunders, or failures.
I am a daughter of God. I am beautiful. I am loved. And I am absolutely limitless.
Candidly,
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