“It just occurred to me that many people are actually afraid to heal because their entire identity is centered around the trauma they’ve experienced. They have no idea who they are outside of trauma and that unknown can be terrifying.”
This was me for a very long time. I didn’t know how to “heal your broken heart”, much less my own. I was safe if I was hurting and crying. I was safe if I was curled in bed neglecting life and responsibility. I was safe hiding at home or planning my suicide. I was safe if I had a negative balance in the bank. I was safe if I was cuddled with Netflix and Oreo’s.
Netflix never told me no. Oreo’s never accused, lied or humiliated me and never once did they throw me in jail because they were mad at me for drowning them in milk.
Suicide held my hand and woo’d me with its devotion. Every day, it loved me more, every day it called my name from the depths of my darkness, and every day it said, “Come, my love, let’s take a drive down this tree-lined highway you know so well. I’ve got just the right place for you to end my perfect torment. You’ll only have to live with this pain for one more minute, I promise.”
That was my smell good home, my vanilla scented palace of retreat. I was welcomed and wanted; they loved me, never once denying my tears or silencing my voice.
God and I, we spent 12 years on that battleground going in circles. I fought Him with a passion. I despised Him and hated what He was doing in my life. That battle gave me as much darkness as I wanted. I thrived in it. I worshiped the ways of continual inner death. Because, ironically, that death gave me life. It ushered my pain into the perfection and epitome of doom-and-gloom darkness.
But one day the battle stopped and I could see clearly for the first time in years. The rain was gone. The clouds parted and I could see the piercing compassion of tears in His eyes.
The eyes that I for so long thought belonged to my enemy, the producer of my fear, my guilt and my disgrace, turns out they weren’t the producer of my darkness after all.
My battle, and my darkness, hid His magical light, His peace, freedom and Grace. I was hiding behind my own tear-stained film of continual shattered hope, one scarred with years of trauma and destruction.
Just like the tears I cry over my own children, He was crying His own tears over me, and it was the first time I saw the faith He had in me.
He believed in me. When I couldn’t or wouldn’t, He did. When nobody else could or would, He did.
That’s why He waited so patiently, so full of endless measures of unconditional love, doing so with His own tearful eyes.
He knew the hymns of my battle, just as He knew the hymns of my strength.
And, guess what, he knows the hymns of your battle, just as He knows the hymns of your strength.
The way you battle, won’t be the same way that I battle.
The forces you fight in battle, won’t be the like forces I have fought in battle.
The warpaths you walk, won’t be the same warpaths that I have walked.
My hymn in mine, your hymn is yours, and they flow accordingly to our purpose and hard-wired greatness.
Too many times we think we’re lost out in some hapless wilderness, sent out to die a cold, hard death at the hands of our wilderness battle, our pain, our pasts, our fears, our weaknesses.
Oh, but sweetheart, that’s exactly what the battle of darkness wants you to believe.
And you know all about battle already, don’t you?
It has dragged your lifeless, shame-filled body through the valleys of death, repeatedly, without care for the continued brokenness it willingly extends to your humanity. It has filled your mind so creatively and pursued you so passionately that its deadly method of comfort is all you know.
Can you see that now? Can you see how you’ve been used and abused and mutilated and passed off so generously to the ugly hands of lonesome defeat?
Please, please, tell me you do.
Please, tell me that your light is starting to flicker, that your sun is starting to shine, that your eyes are opening to the beauty that lies within you.
And if not, please tell me that you’re at least willing to try and learn and see the goodness of your sweet spirit and the wholeness of your inner being – just as you are, exactly as you are, right here, right now.
Please, tell me that you’ll listen to the pleadings of my heart when I say, “He knows your battle hymn, too. He hasn’t left you, even if that’s all you feel and see and understand. He didn’t cause the evil in your life; the leader of the dark battle did. He believes in you, sweet darling. He created strength and boldness and a future within you!”
And if you steady your pace, taking note of your inner guide, taking a second to really listen… that’ll be how you heal your broken heart, too.
You do it by choosing to let your light flicker brighter than it did yesterday.
You do it by choosing to find your shining sun.
You do it by choosing to open your eyes to the beauty that lies within you.
You do it by choosing to listen to those who have walked the warpaths before you – because it’s through them that your healing finally finds a place of acknowledgement and rest.
My dear sweet lady, it’s time for you to rise up and take it all, and take it by force if you have to! You don’t have time to be playing and piddling and gorging on self-hate and internal destruction.
Rise up! I dare you to let Him woo you in by His Grace and relentless, unconditional love. I dare you to relinquish control. I dare you to find the raw glory He’s already gifted you. I dare to create your life as He guides. I dare you to be a warrior of Grace and light that fights through the battles of darkness.
He won’t lead you astray. Of that, I promise.
He’ll protect you and nurture you through it all. He’ll hold you close and even hide you from those who wish to hurt you.
But you must let Him, you must surrender to His light as it flows through you.