Pain radiated throughout my veins. A current so sharp, I couldn’t feel it anymore. Numb. As if my body has undergone anesthesia. I was walking away from the deepest desire my heart had ached for. The dream of walking down the aisle to a man I chose to love and who chose to love me. The dream of having a teammate in this thing called life, someone to adventure with and go out into the world with all for the name of Jesus .
Then, a collision of my worst-case scenarios happened. It all happened about as fast as it took for the rug to be pulled out from underneath me.
Everything had ended. Each time my glove met the sand filled bag, I remembered everything had ended. I could hear the accusations all over again in my mind.
“You didn’t fight hard enough for us.”
“You fought, but it ended. It wasn't good enough."
"You gave up and walked away from it all.”
My mind shut off.
I sat in my driveway with the phone on speaker, needing my hands to dry my cheeks. I think she could tell the tears streaming down my face were drowning my words, making it difficult for me to speak. But she had hit the nail on the head. This woman had been in my life for years and she knew me well. She is gifted in discernment and kind in practice. She authoritatively said to me:
“Be gentle with yourself.”
That’s when the dam of tears broke, there had already been a stream of salty drops, but the dam broke.
A breathless fear filled my lungs. My feet swiftly trekked on while my mind chose to not think of what could have lurked beyond the dark wild. A protective bear or towering moose could have easily been watching my every move, awaiting their moment. Thankfully, if they were, they refrained the temptation.
Some things are meant to be buried, to break and remain broken. Jesus has broken the power of sin, our shame has been laid to rest, our chains from our places long devastated are now free. Those things will not be undone. But what about the things we lay in bed at night wondering if there is any hope of life still beating in them? The dream we try to suppress because the fear of failure is too loud, the friendship/relationship that once was, then broke and is now seemingly portrayed as silent strangers, the hope of freedom out of a tedious cycle we can’t seem to step out of long enough to fully live in the freedom Jesus has fought for us…
Pain radiated throughout my veins. A current so sharp, I couldn’t feel it anymore. Numb. As if my body has undergone anesthesia. I was walking away from the deepest desire my heart had ached for. The dream of walking down the aisle to a man I chose to love and who chose to love me. The dream of having a teammate in this thing called life, someone to adventure with and go out into the world with all for the name of Jesus .
Then, a collision of my worst-case scenarios happened. It all happened about as fast as it took for the rug to be pulled out from underneath me.
Everything had ended. Each time my glove met the sand filled bag, I remembered everything had ended. I could hear the accusations all over again in my mind.
“You didn’t fight hard enough for us.”
“You fought, but it ended. It wasn't good enough."
"You gave up and walked away from it all.”
My mind shut off.
Paralyzed with fear, I did not want to go to the dinner party. I blamed it on my introvert self, but I knew there was a deeper reason. I just didn’t know what. Researching for another project on shame and forgiveness, the real reason hit me as hard as if I was traveling 100mph and hit a brick wall. Shocked with tears, I realized it was shame. Shame was holding me back and beckoning me into isolation.
Going through and becoming free of a psychologically and verbally abusive relationship, I was embarrassed. From the outside, it would seem, what would I have to be embarrassed of? But inwardly, I was humiliated of what I had been through. What would the people I meet there think if they knew? Would they think differently of me? Shame wanted me to hide.
“Is there anything you regret? Anything I should know about ahead of time, so, maybe I can avoid the regret?”
This question was harder to answer. I sat across from her and then my eyes opened. I woke from the dreamlike state and stared at the ceiling. Remembering the dream I had- telling my younger self what to expect in the next 10 years. Answering her first question, "Are You Married Yet?"
How would I answer this question to my younger self walking into her 20’s? I wondered if I did regret anything.
“You’re so dumb.”
It was said in laughter and sarcasm, but what she didn’t know was she had struck a wound. A wound I have tried to silence for most of my life, but she just strummed the chord loud and clear. Not feeling smart enough is a battle I’ve fought over and over, but throughout the last year I had begun to see I was winning the war over it.
Now, all of a sudden, I was bombarded by a surprise attack on an almost sealed wound.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of the crystal clear water. The way it glistened back at me, in some ways, I felt seen. I felt understood. The sunlight bounced off the white foamed waves and warmed my soul. It reflected pieces of me that have been burned like wood and ember. Wounded by words and weapons aiming to crush and destroy. But they haven’t.
The Mexican water seemed to understand the depth of my pain. Like it did see me, like it was saying, “me too” with each sway and crash onto the coarse rock below. The resilience of the emerald movements moved my heart in hope.
I sat in my driveway with the phone on speaker, needing my hands to dry my cheeks. I think she could tell the tears streaming down my face were drowning my words, making it difficult for me to speak. But she had hit the nail on the head. This woman had been in my life for years and she knew me well. She is gifted in discernment and kind in practice. She authoritatively said to me:
“Be gentle with yourself.”
That’s when the dam of tears broke, there had already been a stream of salty drops, but the dam broke.
