Comfortable In My Skin

“We will be reading The Scarlet Letter for our book report. It’s a really good book about the weight of sin and guilt on the conscience. I really love this book…”

“Today’s sermon will be a happy sermon. We will be talking about Psalm 32, which is about the weight of guilt on sin in your life. Now you may be wondering, ‘I thought this was going to be a happy sermon.’ Well, it is. It says ‘Blessed is he whose sin is forgiven…’ ”

My pastor preached this sermon the day after I finished reading The Scarlet Letter. And, yes, I do recommend it. It was a great book, I loved it. It was this day that I realized what God was trying to tell me. 

Confess. 

Tell your parents.

Tell Me.

I was scared. I was scared of disappointing my parents. I was scared to face God. I needed help, but I didn’t want to ask for it. 

For the last two years, it has been a constant battle. I needed help stopping, but I didn’t ask. “I can do this on my own. No one needs to know, no one needs to lose any respect or trust for me.”

I repeated that to myself so, so many times in the last two years. I couldn’t do it on my own, and I was too stubborn to ask for help. 

My mental state crashed. 

At fifteen, I began to resent myself. My sixteenth year, my mental state crashed on multiple occasions. I had four or five mental breakdowns in a matter of seven months. I became fearful that I would develop depression. I don’t mean to poke fun at those who have it: it was a genuine fear of mine. 

Fear, doubt, paranoia, anxiety, and self-hatred ate me from the inside out. But no one could tell. 

There are two Caleb Pinnows. There is the Caleb in my head (Caleb II), and the Caleb everyone knows and loves. The second Caleb is never seen without a smile on his face. Caleb is laughing almost constantly. No, he did not ignore you a second ago, he’s just lost in his mind. His head is never where he is, though he can get a job done, and he will do it well. He is constantly thinking about something, but don’t ask what that is: the second you grab his attention, he has already forgotten. He jokes around all the time, and he is always calling his sisters names. But don’t worry, he isn’t being rude. He loves his family, and would never trade them for anyone else: those are just their terms of endearment. Dummy.

Caleb II, however, is not that smiley. He exists when no one is around. He exists when there is no one to pull him back down to earth. Caleb II constantly talks down on himself. Telling himself how bad a person he is. Telling himself how he could have done better on something. Reminding himself of past regrets. Reminding himself about how he will never succeed: how he will never overcome this thing that he has been struggling with since he was thirteen. Caleb II doesn’t like showing his face, so he stays inside, only coming out when there is no one around. The second someone else is present, he is gone and the real Caleb puts a smile on his face. 

I never wore a mask. It’s almost like I have dual-personality disorder (again, not trying not to poke fun at those that actually have it): the second someone else was with me, I was the smiley me that everyone knew. I couldn’t help it. And, honestly, I didn’t care. No one wants to wear a mask. I didn’t have to. My demon hid from everyone but me. Notice the past tense. 

Caleb II did, however, manage to steal some of the joy from Caleb, just not much. I was still happy every time I saw someone else, but there just wasn’t as much joy. 

It has been just under two weeks since I heard that sermon. It has been just over a week since I told my parents.

This was the greatest decision of my life. They were super understanding, and are very supportive. Since I told them, I have had no desire to fall back into what I have been struggling with for so long. I wish I could say “so long” more passionately. 

It has been a long time since I have been this happy. It has been a long time since I have been happy when I am alone. I can finally say without a doubt that I am comfortable in my skin. I can finally say that I am happy with who I am. I can finally be me.

Thirteen was my introduction.

Fourteen was my destruction.

Fifteen was my self-hatred.

Sixteen was my depression.

Seventeen was my confession.

And now I am me once again. It feels so good to say that! I am me! I have overcome! With the help of the Lord and my parents, I have emerged victorious. I am free!