I think I’ve been avoiding this post – for fear of what might come out. As it stands, I feel safe saying that I’ve worked through the ugliest bits (for the time being). This time the ugliest bits included losing 15 pounds, having my hair fall out in handfulls, smoking nearly a pack of cigarettes a day (after having quit some seven years ago), throwing myself on the floor and wailing like a Native American woman who just lost her lover in battle, but mostly processing through the pain of the worst heartache I’ve ever experienced in my life.
It’s nearly two months out of the forest and a quarter into the year. But in reality, it’s really only been about a week since the door was shut all the way. In my truest form, I had to exhaust every single resource of hope before I was finally able to fully let go. I should have just let go all the way when God told me to. But I think it’s human nature that we convince ourselves, at times, to justify our disobedience if its something we truly, deeply, desire. Especially if that thing which you desire is good. We all want love. And we need it.
I won’t rehash everything that went wrong – the injustices laid upon me which I spend most of my day trying to release – over and over and 7 times 70 I forgive him. Everything that happened is not the point. I’ve whittled it down to one take away – one truth that for whatever reason I seemed to have forgotten (or perhaps never fully got) along the way.
I am worthy.
Everything in life hinges upon the grasping of this.
All I know is that I am 31 years old and in many ways still feel like a little girl. A little girl who used to show up for school everyday with a head full of schemes to get her classmates to like her. To date, the best one involved bringing a large bag of candy with me to the playground. This seemingly innocent mindset somehow transferred into adulthood to read: Your value is contingent upon what you have and what you give. What an unbelievable lie. I’ve come a long, long way. No one will ever really know just how many miles – only a heart knows its own sorrow.
This has not ruined me. No. On the contrary I am emerging from the rubble with something of immeasurable value which I haven’t quite been able to put words to. Fruit. I am changed. If for no other reason than I now know myself to be capable of giving unconditional love. REALLY.GOOD.LOVE. A kind of love that is deserving of being met with it’s like. I know who I am, more so, because of all of this. That feels really good. It’s a quiet, confident resolve that you don’t have to explain – you wear it.
I’m running – faster than ever. But not from something – to something. I am strong. I am perfectly broken.