It happened a little over a week ago. Another label has been slapped on me. Actually, it’s apparently been floating around for about a year, but someone finally had the nerve to repeat the gossip to my ears.

It’s easy to say, Don’t accept the labels. It seems that most people are pretty good at brushing off the shit others say about them; but for someone who was trained from early childhood that other people’s opinions are more valuable than my own, it’s hard to shake that new label.

At first, the deep, hard-to-breathe, wracking sobs took over my body along with the belief that if they’re saying it, it must be true. Then, the resolve to prove them wrong. Next came the attitude: if they’re already saying it, I might as well give truth to the gossip. Finally, hopelessness settled in along with a dose of isolation.

And I’m stuck.

But here’s the thing. People are going to believe what they want. They’d rather invest in gossip than in hearing both sides of a story because gossip and labels are cheap and easy. There’s no investment in the person being ripped to shreds. And when people are part of the gossip clique, it makes them feel safe.

But one day, the safety net will fail. The gossip and the labels will turn on them because they’ll eventually fail in some way. Everybody does. And when it happens, I won’t join in the attack. I won’t spread the gossip or fling the labels. I’ll go to them and say, I know how it feels. I am here for you.

In the meantime, I sit with the new label, analyzing it, questioning it, fighting it. And fighting the urge to isolate myself; fighting to teach my girls that their opinions are just as valuable as anyone else’s; fighting to believe in myself; fighting to believe the truth of what God says about me.