The Scarlet Letter—that embroidered red A with flourishes of gold thread adorned Hester Prynne’s every outfit. That A became part of her identity–so intertwined in who she was that she kept it on even when no longer required to wear it. The A was an integral part of her life, and even perhaps a security net. As a bearer of the A, she knew the role she was supposed to play even if that role caused her hurt, humiliation, and isolation. There is safety in doing what is expected of you.
When Hes removed the A from her dress in a sign of freedom, her daughter, Pearl, sees the empty space on Hester’s chest where the A once was, and refused to come to her. Pearl was suspicious of what happened to her mom because little Pearl only knew her mama as one who was always accompanied by the A–since the day she was born. The A was a constant in Pearl’s life. Hester wasn’t stepping into the A-identity Pearl knew so so well…so things got uncomfortable.
Do you know that feeling when you do something different than you’ve done before and people get uncomfortable? They don’t know what to do with this different manifestation of You than they’ve seen before… They may diminish your change, say it won’t stick, or try to convince you there was no need to change. They may get agitated, or even continue to treat you as if that big ole A is still on your chest proclaiming your bestowed identity for all to see. They are uncomfortable and desperately want/need you to go back to how things were.
Hester put the A back on her chest to satisfy Pearl. The minute she re-brands herself with the A of her own accord, her beauty fades—perhaps along with her spirit and freedom from this identity she didn’t choose…. Have you done that? I know I have.
Isn’t that how it goes? We begin the path of personal growth: of living intentionally, setting boundaries, shedding control of others, remembering we are only responsible for our own actions….. Our hearts change, we grow up, control is released, faith is increased, but yet something holds us back. We are more comfortable in living the identity someone else chose for us—or even different identities with different groups of people—like Sydney Bristow living out Aliases—just without the kickboxing and all things KGB.
Sometimes the Letters aren’t assigned to us, but rather a product of what people did to us. They are signs of the hurt we bear–even if we never share it to a single soul. When we wrap our entire identity around being abandoned, abused, violated, discarded, wounded, ignored, uncared for, cast aside, belittled, and the like, we still have a Letter–that letter is just burned into you on the inside, precious one, and it colors everything we do—we just don’t know it, yet.
It’s less vulnerable when we live our lives to please others—to caretake—to never have to choose for ourselves who we want to be–to never have to carve out our piece of selfhood land and say This is Who I Am. It’s less vulnerable to live our lives with our Scarlet Letters being a product of what someone else did to us, or didn’t do to us. We adopt the letters given to us because we don’t have a letter of our own to proclaim.
As a divorced woman, if I wrap my entire identity over what my X (or Xs) did to me, I am taking that giant D and sewing it on my favorite sweater like a letterman’s jacket getting stripes for every victory I gain over them. Like a letterman’s jacket, our D letter is not meant to be worn season after season like a classic Prada purse, but rather, it’s meant to be put away once we’ve outgrown the season and we’ve moved on. We can’t clutch that letter forever—our hurt matters, but we have to let go and allow ourselves to heal and to grow.
When I talk with my therapist Lilibet (not her real name—but she is the Queen), I sometimes feel I have a whole collection of letters sewn onto my shirt like I’m on a 1970s episode of Sesame Street. The Letter for Today is:—–
What are the identities you carry which drag you down–letters which give fodder to your therapist or weigh heavy on your mind every time you rehash a conversation in your head?
Perhaps it’s an:
F for failure—you’ve always been the kid who can’t seem to get things right—to please the parents—to reach that pinnacle of success….
H for hero—you’ve always been the one to show up for everyone else—doing their work, solving the problems, protecting everyone…..that is everyone except yourself.
W for wounded. The wagons are circling, the buzzards out there are just waiting to devour you–everything you do is in response to being hurt and you live in protection mode. You either proclaim it to the world, or never get close enough to anyone where you’d reveal your hurt for fear they will be a buzzard and tear your fragile flesh….or worse, completely reject you.
L for life of the party. Even when you want to get your life back in control, there is an expectation that you will entertain everyone—be the fun person—be the one popping Champagne bottles at 3pm—even when you’ve made a pact with yourself to tone it down.
S is for support—you are the one who picks up the pieces, who drives everyone to everything, who loans the money, who fills the gap of other peoples’ poor choices.
P is for peacemaker. Conflict makes you anxious and you feel the need to get everyone to calm down, to be the negotiator—people rely on you to be the glue to keep everyone together.
C is for compliant one. You don’t often make waves and find yourself saying yes because you don’t want to risk someone being hurt if you say no. Rules are your friend—even when the “rules” of a relationship always seem to benefit the other person and not you. You’ll take care of everything just because you don’t want to feel responsible for someone else’s discomfort.
The list can go on and on—there are 26 letters in the English alphabet and legions of identity words which can accompany them.
The point is we brand ourselves with identities we didn’t choose. Oh, those brands may be bedazzled and feel oh so pretty—until they don’t. They help us navigate our roles with other people; albeit a navigation more like an old school Rand McNally map and less like Waze in real-time effectiveness…. Those names may keep us from being comfortable setting boundaries, making lasting change within ourselves, and keep us tethered to a role we’ve outgrown—or one which never rang true.
My 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Silliman called me Rachel the entire year. Seriously. Y’all. At the beginning of the year, I corrected her a few times, but I never really found the way to be firm in my reminders without feeling disrespectful, so I played the role of Rachel the whole year. Kids would snicker when she called me Rachel, and I’d just sink into the depths of my wooden desk hoping to melt down into the floor. Those of you who know me, understand how strong of a person I can be. Even in 6th grade, I could be quite opinionated….but in that classroom, I allowed Mrs. Silliman to choose my identity—even if it devalued me as a person. I mean, the lady graded my papers, and took roll every day—and yet, called me Rachel publicly…. But y’all—we do this so many times—allow others to give us identities which do not reflect who we are—AND for some reason, we assume that role because being called Rachel is easier than the alternative.
Think about it—when your family puts you in the role of Hero to rescue everyone, or Failure because you cannot measure up, we take those words as gospel truth. Those words pierce our hearts, numb our hearts, smother our hearts until those words color every relationship we have, and even the thoughts we think about ourselves.
When people get uncomfortable when we step out of those ill-fitting roles, we sometimes open that sewing box, and sew that bright A back on our chests to keep everyone happy. Everyone happy, that is, but us.
Next time that happens, perhaps we should say, Little Pearl: Darling, I love you and understand you are uncomfortable, but you, dear one, do.not.get.a.vote in my identity. The only ones who get a vote in who I am to the core are me and God. That’s it. No one else gets to define me in a way which alters my intentions, alters my boundaries, and alters my beliefs about who I am.
Who am I? I am smart, I am kind, I am a competent business woman, I am considerate, I am creative, I am a daughter of the creator of the world–beloved and cherished by Him, I am generous, I am faithful, I am courageous, I am a complicated woman. I am enough.
Shalom Shalom: Peace, Harmony, Wholeness, Completeness, Prosperity, Welfare, and Tranquility y’all!
B—
The Divorced Diva's Guide to Survival 