I don't want to talk about it. I don't want this to be part of my story. Christian Ritual Abuse is ugly. It takes what is sacred and spins it around, using prayer, faith, and Scripture as weapons against innocent victims. I hate that so much of what was done to me was done in the name of God. It still brings up unanswerable questions - and I have nothing left in me today to wrestle with them.
On my good days, I know that the "God" I was taught about is not the one that I choose to follow. Nor do I see that "God" in the world around me or in the pieces of Scripture that I can hear. Today is not a good day and I find myself pleading in tears for mercy. Mercy for my doubt-riddled belief. Mercy for my angry words of pain. Mercy in this fight, because today I can't fight.
I can't fight. All I can do is rest. I wrap myself in softness and purple. I let the music flow over my rawness. I sit in the pool of sunshine and grieve for the child I was.
Gungor's "Please Be My Strength" is one of my favourite songs in this season. It's deceptively simple - a heart psalm, and one that I find myself often repeating.