I don't really want to write this post, I'm afraid of putting this out here, but I feel like I need to just clear my mind. I've been going full speed ahead again. Like a mouse on a wheel - running to the point of exhaustion - because its what I do.
I don't have to do things this way. No one has me backed up against a wall. It is my choice that brings me here always. It is my escape. My retreat. It has been easy in my life to be compulsive - to push myself farther, to go over the top, to escape in anyway necessary because I felt that was what I had to do. It's how I've kept the very real pain and horror of my childhood from overtaking me. My propensity to overindulge in any activity able to distract my mind and heart from that pain has been one of the most falsely freeing and grossly debilitating plagues in my life.
I think if you were to peel away all of the layers of my soul, arriving at the deepest part of my being you would find a young girl there screaming endlessly in terror. A young girl afraid of all that is evil and equally terrified at what is supposed to be good as well. A young girl frozen in time - paralyzed within the cell she locked herself into in order to protect what little innocence wasn't taken from her.
I've been afraid as an adult, to face the reality of the fallen world we live in. It wasn't until a couple of years ago that I was able to view my childhood without painting a fantasy of goodness over it. I never claimed I had a good childhood, but I did my best to downplay what I experienced, denying the evils of it, and protecting the people who didn't protect me.
I've faced countless storms - riptides in my soul as the truth shattered the walls of denial I worked hard to build. And as the walls have fallen down, leaving the truth bare and exposed, the depth of my shame motivates me to attempt to rebuild more fervently than ever. As the walls crumble from my high tower of brick and mortar, into piles of dust, I run to and fro attempting to lay another shield of brick until I am exhausted, empty and utterly alone. It is futile to rebuild.
When the veil is removed from my eyes in moments of clarity I can literally feel the poison of the deep wound in my heart traveling through my body - an anguish so deep that if not for God's strength in my weakness I am certain my body would tear apart from my soul to escape it. And it is in this moment of gasping and fighting that I have yet to find the courage to trust God deeply enough to walk me through. It is in this nakedness of my soul that I run for cover - desperate to hide my vulnerability.
I am a Christian, I truly believe that Jesus is the only one who can save me. In fact, Jesus has been so faithful to me, that I have never trusted a person more than Him, and yet, the trust I have given Him is still so frail, so completely and utterly weak. I struggle within the body of believers though, I struggle to find other believers who when faced with the truth about my pain and experience don't also run away in fear of it. And the fear and sometimes reality of rejection keeps me constantly devoid of true, deep and intimate friendships. That form of rejection just reaffirms that my pain is too deep, too frightening for anyone to endure - that it is too overwhelming.
At the same time, I am guilty of pushing others out. When the message that people can't be trusted is seared into your heart as a child, especially people who are the closest to you, true intimacy often seems like a foolish way of opening yourself up for more pain and hurt. I've self-sabotoged many of my relationships when they got too close, demanded too much intimacy or made me feel too deeply. I am just coming to terms, almost 31 years into this life, at the damage of my own choices to self-protect.
I can relate, more than ever before in my life, to Adam and Eve in the fall. In a way I too decided that I needed to control my own destiny, to be like God - to build a life of protection aside from God - making God not a good enough protection for me. When overwhelmed with the shame, fear and pain of my childhood experiences I too have chosen to run and hide from God. And yet God still calls out to me. He still fights for me. He still invites me to have an intimate relationship with him.
But how afraid I am still!! On most days the most courageous thing I can do is refuse to detach from this life - whether its by working myself to the point of exhaustion, distracting myself with duty and obligation or tuning out in some other way - I have to fight the constant urge to disengage from life itself. I have to fight every day to stir up my desire to deeply connect with my husband, daughter and God. And I often lose that fight. And it pains me to even admit that here.
So, God, if you are listening, this is me crying out to you, from one moment of clarity - to be my very present help in my time of trouble. It is me saying I love you and I need you, and I am sorry that I keep hiding and running from you. It is me saying that I want with all that is wanting within me to have the life Jesus died to give me - one filled with a passionate love for you and others. One that points like an arrow straight to you for your glory.
Friend, if you are reading this and can relate to my struggle - know that you are not alone, and I am here to walk with you. If you are reading this and don't know what to say, or how to respond - simply knowing that you care and support me is all that I have ever needed. Simply saying that you will not abandon me because my pain scares the ish out of you or touches too close to pain of your own is more than I could ever ask, and all that I have ever wanted.