I’ve realised that there are at least two of me operating at any one time. There’s ‘Monday’ Emma, (who’s sort of grey-brown and slightly squashed). And then there’s someone else. Let’s call her ‘Friday’ Emma. I think she’s pink.
Monday Emma doesn’t think she’s any use. She bites her nails and, (despite her mum’s training), remains a domestic slattern. She wants to like Newsnight but watches Don’t Tell The Bride. She compares herself (unfavourably) to others and Needs Routine. She’s tired and overwhelmed. She Can’t Learn New Things and is too afraid to try. She’s not good enough and never will be. So she curls up and hides away. She turns from others and in on herself.
Friday Emma is a little different. Friday Emma can Do Anything. She goes sale shopping and spends £40 on a leather t-shirt that she’ll never wear. She can read War and Peace before breakfast, plug the hole in the ozone layer and repaint the house. She’s a remarkably well-adjusted human being, flawless save for some (loveable) quirks. She’s also self-sufficient and self-obsessed. She too turns from others and in on herself.
You’d think that insecurity and pride are very different. But funnily enough, they end up looking exactly the same. Whatever my motivation, when I turn inwards, I find there’s nothing there. My real hope is not Monday Emma or Friday Emma or any Emma at all. It’s in Christ. And it’s only in His face that I start to see myself.