This client was a top client for the company I was freelancing for and the company emailed beforehand telling me they chose me because I was their MVP. They trusted me the most. On a call with the client, I scribbled notes and then watched as everyone, including the very important client, responded with excited chatter in response to my ideas about the book.
Later, I got a message about how important I was on that call. The client was thrilled to work with me. The team was all happy. Everyone loved my creative ideas. Later, at dinner with my husband, I told him, I’m really good at this.
It felt amazing to be recognized. I remembered a time in college when I sat across from a favorite professor, wondering out loud what kind of job I’d ever get after graduation. He joked, “someone will want to pay you for your creative brain! I’d hire you just to think!” We both laughed and I hoped he would be right—but I wasn’t so sure.
For a long time, I looked for evidence to back up the belief that I was good at something. When I got praise, it felt like proof. I clung to it. I wanted to bottle the feeling of being affirmed, validated and seen.
But I also know what it feels like when that validation goes quiet.
I sat down to write at my desk, months after going through a deep transition process and in the midst of my healing process. I finally had some quiet, a rare moment to hear my own thoughts. But instead of feeling accomplished and inspired, I felt guilt.
There was too much else to do. My to-do list was never-ending, the house was messy, and my creative energy was nonexistent. I tried to squeeze in a little of everything and ended up feeling like I had failed at it all.
I missed the days when someone would send a kind Slack message or cheer me on after a project was turned in. I missed feeling accomplished. I missed feeling like I was good at something.
At first, I felt lost. Then a bit scared. I wondered if I was still valuable if I wasn’t doing anything particularly impressive?
The weight of recovering from trauma, rebuilding, and healing was taking so much of my time and attention. It couldn’t be rushed or optimized. It also doesn’t come with a completed certificate or a 5-star review. It’s messy and it’s slow. It asks for patience and self-compassion when we’d rather hustle our way to the finish line of feeling okay again.
But somewhere in that slowness, I started to hear something different about myself.
It wasn’t the voice of a client or an amount of likes on social media or the buzz of a productivity app. Instead, it was the quiet voice of God, who has been there since the beginning.
I wanted him to say, “good job,” but instead it was simply: “you are good.”
Not because of my performance. Not because of my potential. Not because of past or future accomplishments. But all because he doesn’t make mistakes—and he made me.
“And God saw everything he had made, and behold, it was very good.” Genesis 1:31
I still love doing work that feels meaningful. I still get a little spark of joy from positive feedback. But I don’t build my identity on those things anymore. I don’t create to prove that I’m good—I create because I know I already am.
That is God’s grace. He called us good before we ever accomplished a thing. And we’re still good—even when no one is watching, because our worth was never up for debate.
P.S. I create Threshold because I believe in these conversations — not for applause. (I mean, did you hear this episode?) 😅 But if you’ve been encouraged by the podcast, leaving a review would mean a lot — and maybe even earn you a gold star in my heart. If you are someone who listens on another platform like Spotify or Apple Podcasts I’d love to see your review. It also helps more people find their way here. Thank you for being part of this space. I’m so grateful for you!
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