It’s been a really long time since I wrote anything, and because of that, this entry will probably be far from elegant or perfect.
I haven’t touched a piece of paper or keyboard, in hopes of sharing my heart, out of fear and hurt for far too long now. No journal entry, not even a note in my phone, and for a little while, I thought I’d never write again. For a writer, to say, I am done with this, is a form of death. And to leave behind every creative outlet in my soul, felt like a kind of death.
Since my last entry, I lost another baby, this time I was four and a half months pregnant, and gave birth to a little lifeless boy, in tears on my living room floor, before rushing to the hospital. Nine Months later, I found out my biological Mother had terminal cancer. She lost her battle to the disease, on September first, of this year. At that point, I had come to a total stop. Grief had made its way through me, devouring my hope and faith. I’m not saying I didn’t love Jesus anymore, or that I had taken my life back from Him. I’m saying, I was not strong enough, to overcome it this time. I had been fighting too long, and too hard, to stand up against it anymore. Take in mind, I was also still healing, from learning that I was horribly abused and molested as child. The repressed memories had pushed themselves through, and surfaced that same year. The battle against the nightmares and hatred still raging strong. I can say, even in the safety of my own home, and the love of my husband and son. this was one of the hardest parts of my life. I guess I can say, I’ve gone though worse. Even if that’s hard to believe. The difference with this time, and the times before it, were that I had become weary in a way I had not before.
I fell into a state of detachment, and because that was so far from natural to me, I felt almost dehumanized. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a joke. When I searched my heart, I felt like a joke. My body, a useless vessel that could not hold life. My heart and soul, unseen, unappreciated, and discarded. My hopes and dreams….garbage that no one but myself cared about. And I didn’t have the strength to fight for them anymore. Every time, I picked myself up again, by the grace of God, something would come and slam me back down to the ground. For while, I felt like I had a target on my back, and I often still feel that way. How can one life hold so much pain? the searing question being…when will this finally stop?
I had cared, and loved, and fought and stood for so long. And because the chaos seemed never-ending, I lost myself. The saddest of it was , even if the urge to feel hope again walked towards me, all the other bullshit pain I carried, ate it up before I could even hold it. I kept a brave face for my son, but inside, I was terrified I would never be me again. I knew how pathetic it was, or at least it was pathetic in my opinion. I hated myself for feeling this way. After so many years of climbing the mountain of faith with Jesus, look where it brought me. To a dead-end, and I felt like I was being mocked by my own hope. My feelings and beliefs about my God had not changed, what had changed was the idea that I could follow through with His will for my life. I stopped believing I could, and I think, out of everything, that’s what hurt the most.
As for today, I feel less like a joke, but I still fight with it every day. Because I lost so many people close to me this past year, rejection still burns me on a daily basis. I have to tell myself everyday, that I am seen, even if it’s not by the people I want to be seen by. I don’t feel as pathetic anymore, because I know, I’m a powerful and strong, and wise person. I know, I was being very mean to myself with those thoughts and words, and I need to re learn how to be kind to myself once more. I know that bad things will still happen, and I’m slowly starting to understand, how beautiful it really is, that myself, and my little family, are still standing strong in the name of hope, in the name of Jesus, and in the name of all things good in this universe. Even though, at times, it appears we are all crawling, it means the world that we are still moving. I still cry almost every day, and I’m still very afraid of whats to come. But, for the first time in a while….I’m willing to say,
This WILL NOT take me out.
To the enemy, to the darkness that took over my heart and mind…… I call your bluff. And if you have anything to say, you can take it up with Jesus.
“I will persist until I succeed. I was not delivered into this world in defeat, nor does failure course in my veins. I am not a sheep waiting to be prodded by my shepherd. I am a lion and I refuse to talk, to walk, to sleep with the sheep. The slaughterhouse of failure is not my destiny. I will persist until I succeed.” ~Unknown