Sticky Notes on My Face.
Considering what is going on in the world at this point, I thought I’d share I bit of my personal history regarding a certain psychological battle (albeit still ongoing) that I’m sure many of you will relate to. No politics here. This will be a safe space. Plus, I need to write this out and get it off my chest. I figured those who read this will get a better understanding of the human being behind the screen and/or find out more about themselves after reading my story.
I want you to pay close attention to this next paragraph.
I’m the first born child in my little family, and soon became an older sister to my baby brother after 3 years of waddling on planet earth. As I grew up, I was homeschooled. Despite the social stigma regarding this private system, it’s made me who I am today. I would go back and do it all over again. I was raised by my mom and dad, my mom being a highly esteemed worship leader at our local church, and my dad being on staff at said church as the kid’s ministry pastor. I would have been around 10 when they got these positions. I followed after my mom’s footsteps and joined our youth group’s worship team as a singer. Later, I began to discover a more creative side of myself. I’m an artist, in the general term. To narrow it down, I am in the visual arts, dappling in graphite and digital mediums. But to be even MORE specific, as I grew older I became a conceptual developer, character designer, digital illustrator, graphic designer, animator, screen writer, and creative director, to name a few. I am now a graduate of Kalamazoo Valley Community college, with a degree in animation with honors. Currently, I am nearing the end of production for my first collaborative, animated short film that will release in the coming months.
Wonderful. Now that I’ve talked about myself, I want you to do something for me. Count all of the titles I have stated in the segment above. Adding the obviously worded statements plus the one’s loosely mentioned… that’s 17.
17 titles mentioned about myself. Out all those 17, which stood out to you the most? Which sounded more appealing to you? Were they intriguing? Relatable? Likable?
Whether we like it or not, we are all labeled. There will always be some aspect of us that people identify with as soon as our name is mentioned, and it will always have a name.
I want you to think up a list of all the titles and labels others have given you or that you’ve given to yourself. Think up as many as you can. A contractor, Pastor’s kid, singer, university student, doctor, engineer, couch potato, foodie, pretty, ugly, football player, band geek, hyper, emo, conservative, liberal…
It could be a small list or an extensive list. Think of all of yours? Great.
Who would you be if they all just went away?
Photo by Kelsey Wilson
Are These Labels What Really Define Me?
I want you to go back to the list of my own titles. There were plenty to choose from such as homeschooler, worship leader’s kid, pastor’s kid and artist. Those were the labels I was known for growing up.
When my family moved to Michigan and started going to our awesome local church, I had to start my life over. I was a fresh face, a newbie. I had to start making new friends, but I didn’t know how. I grew up with friends already by my side back in Indiana. Meeting new people and befriending them was a foreign concept to me at the time.
But soon, kids and adults alike began to address me as Karen’s kid or Brad’s kid… since my parent’s faces were quickly becoming well known in the community. Which, for some reason, made me popular. I befriended other PKs (pastor’s kids) while my dad was on staff. I remember two or three kids in particular I gravitated towards during those first few years in the mitten state. We would often stay in church all day on Sunday because of our parent’s pastoral obligations, so we would run up and down the office space and just be goofy kids.
I was homeschooled from 1st grade onward, which was another label I was recognized for as I went into middle school. I never went to co-op, or went to many outside classes with others in the homeschool community, so all of my friendships were cultivated in our church’s youth group. Everyone knows once you go into middle school, things start to change… everywhere. Kids start to judge things they don’t understand a little more harshly than before. So a lot of the kids I tried to be friends with picked on me for having that label. So for a long time, I tried to suppress that and make my PK status more prominent.
But I was in middle school now and my dad wasn’t overseeing these grades. So that title was only visible to a select group of kids along with the adults in my life who respected my parents. With my credibility gradually declining, I had to find another title that would help maintain what social status I had. So I started bringing my sketchbook to youth group with me.
Kids were drawn to me like a moth to a flame. It was like I had these sticky notes on my face that listed all the titles I had in my possession that molded me into this appealing museum piece. I was shocked to see so many kids I’ve never met just walk up to me and gawk at my drawings. I did’t even need to initiate anymore… I just had to create interesting things to gain the interest of others. Almost every week I would come in early, sit down on the couch, just draw whatever come to mind, and let people come my way. From then on, I was known as the artist. I would post art on Facebook, I would create more drawings on my off time to show off on social media and in person. This went on, and it worked. Until life decided to not go my way.
Photo by Gregg Lawson
Loss of Self.
It was the summer of my last year in middle school. I remember my family sitting down at the dinner table and my dad telling us the news that he was leaving his position as the children’s pastor. Soon after that, my mom stepped down from the worship team after singing in every morning service for nearly 5 years. Just like that, 2 prominent titles that the world identified me with were gone. I wasn’t the pastor’s kid anymore. I wasn’t the worship leader’s kid anymore.
I panicked. I literally had anxiety attacks over this for months. I had no idea how this would affect me and my friendships and other people’s perceptions down the road. It got worse once I transitioned into high school.
I was friends with all lower classmen, besides a few guys I hung out with in my same grade. But they changed drastically in short span of time, and seemed as though they did’t want anything to do with me. I was in the midst of an identity crisis, and I had to figure out someway to make myself appealing to these new, older, taller group of students with the only positive label I had to my name.
I worked my butt off to be known as the creative artist.
I didn’t bring my sketchpad with me as often as I used to, but I drew almost every day. I honed my skills, and got better. I posted more online, I made more friends over seas because of my art. I had a batch of “online friends” to brag about to people. I wrote stories to draw more characters about. I did everything to make myself look as impressive as a freshmen could with the talent that I had.
Come sophomore year, I gradually found my people. I clung to these new friends every weekend, because they were the only ones that accepted me. I drew for them. I made art for them. I tried to appeal myself to them as often as I could. In hindsight, the smothering of creative adulation was farfetched and unnecessary, but back then that was the only thing I knew to do to maintain a relationship.
So I got better. I drew more and more. I wrote creative stories, and built magical worlds with my visual talent. I made all of my work known to people. Creating art began to transform into an obligation than a pleasant pastime. Once I graduated high school and my friends parted ways, it crashed on top of me like a dump truck. The friends I thought I had weren’t intentional about keeping in touch. They found new labels, and were drawn to those of the same name. I was left alone, on my own path. All the work I poured into art was squandered. It meant nothing. Even in the midst of working towards my animation degree, I had no passion for it. Not only did I lose my love for creativity, I lost my identity.
Photo by Chris Holt
Who Are You, Really?
Freshman year of college was a rough time for me. In the midst of change, I had to take a few steps back to rediscover myself. My whole perception of love and friendship came out of the mindset that I had to perform. I felt I needed to create more content, to live up to my artistic title in order to get the admiration I wanted from the people around me. Because that was what I was known for. That was who I was.
But was it really?
It was’t until a year later I went to a conference with dozens of like-minded creatives, passionate about their craft as well as their calling that I began to understand. I had conversations with people that were twice as old as me who had been dealing with these same issues. There were professionals in the industry who talked about these things. It was then I knew I wasn’t alone on this journey of self discovery… but it doesn’t have to be as complicated as one might think.
So what if all my labels disappeared? I was no longer an artist. I could’t sing. I have no talent to speak of. I was’t pretty, but I was’t ugly. Not athletic or smart. No notable works to be mentioned. I have done nothing to entertain the masses or add to society. Who would I be then?
To my surprise, I’m more than all of those labels combined. I went back to my roots. The foundational truths of God’s Word that I was raised on. It’s amazing how we can go throughout life and sometimes forget or completely disregard what the Bible says about God’s love and promises.
In Romans 8 it describes us as heirs to God, adopted into His family through faith in Jesus. Going on it mentions we have a purpose in His plan as His children.
I am a new creation. 1 Corinthians 5:17
I have not a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7
I was bought with a price. 1 Corinthians 6:20
I am a light. Matthew 5:14
I am blessed. Ephesians 1:3
I am an overcomer. 1 John 5:4
I am more than a conqueror. Romans 8:37
I am loved. Romans 5:8
The list can go on and on. There are so many places in the Bible that state God’s opinions about me. The kicker is that he thought of these things before I was even conceived. Before my heart started beating, before my eyes saw the world, He loved me. I didn’t have to do anything to earn it. He loves me, because He loves me, because He loves me… just because.
I didn’t do anything.
Do you know how much relief I felt when I was reminded of that? There was NOTHING I could do that would make Him love me any more or any less than He does right now. He’s always been in my corner, I was just too blind by my own warped mindset to perform and succeed to gain admiration from others. In reality, it was far simpler than what I imagined.
Photo by Luke Spangler
The Love that Defines You.
I didn’t need to put sticky notes listing my accomplishments and my titles all over me. Those are just things I happen to be called or that I happen to do. Those can come and go. Life has a habit of shifting your perspective that way. But what I know for sure, where my foundation lies and what I am grounded in is the fact that I’m loved by the Creator of the Universe.
You may be reading this with one or two or fifteen labels spinning in your mind that you’re known for. You may feel the pressure to uphold those titles because you feel that if those sticky notes fall away, you would be left with an empty canvas that no one would love or admire.
But know that in the very heart of it all, the treasure of your being is the unconditional love that burns inside you. The Love that wants you to prosper in life. The Love that had a plan and a purpose for you before you were born. The Love that loves your abnormally large nose, the one dimple on your left cheek, your bushy eyebrows and frizzy hair. The Love, that no matter how screwed up you are, or what awful things you may have done, or how many people you’ve hurt, He is there by your side, willing to walk life out with you as you rediscover yourself in Him again.
No matter how others see you, know without a shadow of a doubt, you will always be loved by the One who wanted you here in the first place, just because you’re His creation.
Cheers,
Hannah Spangler
