And I took my off-ness and walked headlong into a dangerous place, looking for something I would never find. And twenty plus years later, here I am.
I think there’s a chance that I might not recover from this. I need a whole new me. Not just a restored version of the woman I was at nineteen before all of this happened.
But a healing in my deepest parts, in ways I don’t even know. A reconstruction. Words to paint over other words that cut me til I bled. That left me limping through my life, walking wounded, hurting others along the way.
I am not a liar. The truth is setting me free.
I am not a moron. I know a thing or two and can stand on my own two feet, or so I keep telling myself.
I am not crazy. Much of my behavior, not to make excuses, looking back, was reactionary and protective, not based on an imbalance inside of me.
I am not full of, well, you know. I am a sinner, yes, but I am filled with Christ. Not bad words.
I need to learn to breathe again. To walk through the halls of my home and not be afraid. To stop searching the eyes of each person around me for validation that I am really okay, that I am liked. That I am loved.
Will I always feel this way? This ever-so-slightly-in-need-of-help aching within me? This sense deep down of being sadder and weaker than the next person? Will I always feel like there are huge pieces of me missing that I will never find again?
I’m told healing will come. I’m told I’m being healed even as we speak. But how will I know? Will I wake up one day and feel healed?
I hope so. We’ll see.
If this post helped you, I would encourage you to check out “Surviving in a Difficult Christian Marriage”, found here.