A Sound Mind: A Battlefield
“Don’t let what others do or say affect how your day goes.” - my dad <3
I have always hated being perceived badly. The idea that someone might misunderstand me, judge me, or think less of me has consumed my thoughts more times than I can count. It became a weight I carried everywhere—a whisper in my mind that told me I was being watched, criticized, or that I didn’t belong. Even in rooms full of love, I felt like an outsider. It wasn’t that people were actually looking at me—it was that I felt like they were. The fear of being seen, but not understood, crippled me.
I remember as a child, my father told me something that would take me years to truly grasp:
“Don’t let what others do or say affect how your day goes.”
He would always bring it back to one simple truth—I have control of my thoughts.
But even knowing this, I struggled. My whole life, I battled anxiety, the gripping fear of being perceived as anything less than what I wanted to be. It didn’t matter if the fear was irrational—if I walked into a room, I was convinced every eye was on me. If I made a mistake, even a small one, I replayed it over and over in my head, convincing myself that others saw me as a failure. The battle felt endless, suffocating. I was exhausted from the constant war inside my own mind.
I tried to shake it. I tried to tell myself that people didn’t care as much as I thought they did. But my mind was a battlefield, and the enemy knew just how to attack me. Every thought of self-doubt, every fear of rejection, every voice in my head that told me I wasn’t enough—it was all a lie, but one I struggled to ignore. And the worst part? I let it dictate how I lived. I let it hold me back. I let it steal opportunities from me, friendships, joy—because I was too afraid of how I would be seen.
It took me a long time to step out of my own head and walk in the confidence of who I truly am. And to be honest, I still battle it. Some days, the enemy’s lies try to creep back in. But I know the truth now. Those thoughts? They are not from God. They never were. They were designed to keep me small, to keep me silent, to keep me from stepping into my calling.
2 Timothy 1:7 reminds me:
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”
A sound mind. That is what He has given me. Not a mind full of worry, doubt, or fear. The enemy wants me trapped, but Jesus wants me free. And freedom is exactly what He gave me. But I had to learn to accept it.
There were moments when I felt so lost in my insecurity, but Jesus was my hero. Every time I lacked confidence, every time my self-esteem wavered, every time I felt like I wasn’t enough—He reminded me that I am His.
Isaiah 41:10 says:
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Jesus didn’t just save me from sin—He saved me from myself. He rescued me from my anxious thoughts, from the lies I told myself, from the false idea that my worth was dependent on how others saw me. He reminded me that I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14). He reminded me that my value isn’t determined by the opinions of others, but by the One who created me.
The fight isn’t easy. Even now, I have moments where I struggle. But I refuse to let the enemy steal my joy. I refuse to let the fear of being perceived badly keep me from walking in the confidence of who I am in Christ. I refuse to let my own mind be the thing that holds me back. Because the truth is, I was made for more than this fear. I was made for more than insecurity. I was made to walk boldly, to speak with authority, to live in the fullness of who God created me to be.
If you’ve ever felt this way, if you’ve ever been trapped by the fear of what others think—know this: You are not alone.And more importantly, you don’t have to stay there.
Jesus has already given us freedom. We just have to step into it.
So today, I choose to believe in my worth. I choose to stand on the truth of God’s Word. I choose to walk in confidence, knowing that I am loved, seen, and valued—not by the world, but by the One who made it.
And that is enough.