I love to journal, blogging well has taken a backseat as of recent. But I do and I journal everywhere. It’s an escape. It’s a therapy session of such.
Today I stumbled upon one of my notebooks where I journaled. 2 years ago I journaled, the same situations with the same thorns as I feel today, still.
It along with other things brought back hurt. It took my breath, making me thing back where I was and ….
I don’t share many things one on one with nearly anyone. I have best friends, but I’m VERY guarded. Very.
No one knows the whole story. No one.
So when I hurt because of some of the reason’s I’m so guarded, I just deal with it. When I look in the mirror, I see the girl with the broken heart, red eyed. I recall so many things in my past that make me stumble and say wait a minute. But I kept quiet and let them rave, I kept to myself and walked away. Not because I didn’t have a response but because they aren’t worth it.
Family. Funny word I think. Something I feel I’ve outgrown. I’ve outgrown and stepped into the world of reality. Where just because we share the same blood doesn’t mean we share the same life. Family. They are the ones who dig the knife in the deepest. Who twist it with a vengeance. Who intend for it to hurt and laugh while doing it. They will reap what they sow and I will pray for them all along the way, begging God to help them because I HOPE “they know not what they are doing”. I hope.
And as I pray, I will not allow myself to be there with them. Not at a holiday or celebration. I will not. I cannot.
I’m not the things they say. I’m a person. I’m a good person. I’m a child of God. Chosen. Not whole anymore, but broken, but still a person. And while I am alone, God has not left me. Somehow HE promises I will be okay. That I HOPE, as well.
I know my journey, I know what hurt me, I know how much I am responsible for and I own that. I also know that God is here with me and with all my tears and questions, doubts, and fist pounding anger HE doesn’t shake HIS head at me. HE isn’t ashamed of me.
When we can’t find Sophie’s shoes, HE doesn’t say why don’t you get it together?
When I have 50 tons of laundry, HE doesn’t say “you have got to be kidding me!”
When I just need another set of hands, HE doesn’t say “why can’t you do this on your own?”
When I struggle with life, HE doesn’t say “raise your own kids and get off you’re a!@!”
When I just need to share something with someone, HE doesn’t say “I have no idea what you are talking about”.
See HE isn’t, HE IS... my everything.
I don’t know what has me where I am, I don’t know why I can’t have the hurts be amnesia’ed out of my life so that I can just survive this part without continuing to hurt. But I am here.
I thought recently about the past few years. I had a time when I didn’t have any dreams (some days I’m still there, pain will do that to you, it numbs you). Then my life took a good turn (or so I thought), months later dreams smashed. I still find myself wondering what are my dreams, what am I destined for? Am I ever going to make it out of survival mode? I want my smile back, I want to breathe again, I want to say, believe and know that I’m good. Will I make it? God says have faith. Even as small as a mustard seed.
Somehow I will make it. I will be ok. I will be blessed with the Lord’s Favor far beyond those critics imagination, all because “the Lord has anointed me” Isaiah 61 reminds me of HIS promise and I cling, sometimes by my fingernails but I cling.
Much love, me.