One of the triggers from my past flared last night. I bit my tongue, because it wasn't the time or place and my thoughts were all jumbled. I bit my tongue because the words I wanted to scream weren't about that time and place, but about all the years of being told that I was fundamentally wicked, not to be trusted, evil from the day I was conceived.
I don't believe those lies and I refuse to cower under their power. This is my resignation letter:
I resign from a world where my heart must be bad, my emotions not to be trusted. One misused verse from Scripture no longer holds sway over my heart. My heart is beautiful and alive. My emotions are what make me, well me. They are full of colour and keep me connected, grounded, sober.
I grew up in that world, that world where emotions were evil and my heart deemed wicked. I spent 12 years trying to bleed the evil out of my body, 16 years of my life went to wanting, trying to be dead. My heart lived on mute. Don't tell me that taming my heart is good. It's evil. Twisted, wicked, straight from the pit of hell evil.
My heart doesn't need to be tamed - she needs to be set free. To passionately pursue beauty, to run after dreams and chase down hope. Her voice will no longer be silenced. My heart is not wicked - it is the essence of me. And I, I am not wicked. I do not need to be tamed, controlled, or numb.
So while you are entitled to your opinion, I no longer live by it. Not only do I not tame my emotions, I listen to them, allowing them to teach me, to guide me, to connect me to this vibrant world. I honour my heart's feelings, listening to what they tell me about myself and my world.
Those twisted words, yanked from context, spun around, and spat out as justification for breaking my spirit have ruled me for far too long. I've given most of my life to those words, feeling guilt and shame that are not mine. I won't live there any longer.
I choose me. I choose life, experienced through the entire spectrum of my emotions.
Showing posts with label Scripture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scripture. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Dark Days
{Good Lord this post sounds melodramatic. It's not meant to be. It's honest. As honest as I know how to be right now. I'll be back to a more balanced place in a little while. Too often I don't acknowledge my own dark days. I'm trying that here, with this.}
Some days my broken gets too big. It eclipses every thing else in my life. I sink down, mesmerized with my own pain, sucked into the aching hole of my own private dark places. When I say some days, I mean at least once a week. Introspection is a good thing. At times I go overboard and know myself a little too well. I forget to look around. I've spent long years believing I was other and alone. I was told to get over my broken, to see that others suffer more than I can imagine.
I've heard the platitudes and comparisons with a little Jesus sprinkled on to make those who offer such filth feel righteous. They ring in my mind, in my memories. Some are etched in my soul. Other still block my ears and blind my eyes, tricking me into believing that what was is still now.
My voice is panicked, defiant, and silently screaming. There is no objectivity. Things that I know are right for me are called back into question once more. I back into the corner, desperate for protection, needing permission to choose for myself, to function, to breathe.
This is the fallout I hate. I hate my brokenness at times. I hate the way it dominates everything, that THIS, this is what I know. It's all I know. Trauma and recovery. I wish I could rip my heart out of my chest, to find some way to let all the darkness pour out of me once and for all. Darkness I never invited, never wanted, never deserved yet that darkness haunts me, torments me, taints me.
I lost the first 22 years of my life to abuse and I've spent the last 8 finding myself and healing from all the damage. I don't know anything else. The only beauty that I possess comes from ashes. Most days I embrace the mystery along with the pain - the mystery of why this was allowed in my life. The mystery of the purpose that it may one day serve. The mystery of abuse done in the name of a holy merciful God.
On these types of days, I loath the mystery. I demand answers. My heart's voice screams "why?!" until it's hoarse. There are still no answers. No more of a response now than there was back then. My pain swallows me and everything I know, all that I have learned is once more lost in the howls of a soul in agony.
Some days my broken gets too big. It eclipses every thing else in my life. I sink down, mesmerized with my own pain, sucked into the aching hole of my own private dark places. When I say some days, I mean at least once a week. Introspection is a good thing. At times I go overboard and know myself a little too well. I forget to look around. I've spent long years believing I was other and alone. I was told to get over my broken, to see that others suffer more than I can imagine.
I've heard the platitudes and comparisons with a little Jesus sprinkled on to make those who offer such filth feel righteous. They ring in my mind, in my memories. Some are etched in my soul. Other still block my ears and blind my eyes, tricking me into believing that what was is still now.
My voice is panicked, defiant, and silently screaming. There is no objectivity. Things that I know are right for me are called back into question once more. I back into the corner, desperate for protection, needing permission to choose for myself, to function, to breathe.
This is the fallout I hate. I hate my brokenness at times. I hate the way it dominates everything, that THIS, this is what I know. It's all I know. Trauma and recovery. I wish I could rip my heart out of my chest, to find some way to let all the darkness pour out of me once and for all. Darkness I never invited, never wanted, never deserved yet that darkness haunts me, torments me, taints me.
I lost the first 22 years of my life to abuse and I've spent the last 8 finding myself and healing from all the damage. I don't know anything else. The only beauty that I possess comes from ashes. Most days I embrace the mystery along with the pain - the mystery of why this was allowed in my life. The mystery of the purpose that it may one day serve. The mystery of abuse done in the name of a holy merciful God.
On these types of days, I loath the mystery. I demand answers. My heart's voice screams "why?!" until it's hoarse. There are still no answers. No more of a response now than there was back then. My pain swallows me and everything I know, all that I have learned is once more lost in the howls of a soul in agony.
How long will you forget me, Lord? Forever? How long will you look the other way when I am in need? How long must I be hiding daily anguish in my heart? How long shall my enemy have the upper hand?Answer me, O Lord my God; give me light in my darkness lest I die.
Psalm 13:1-3
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Bible Blackout Poem - Genesis 1
the beginning created empty
Spirit was hovering
Let there be light separated from darkness
Be gathered into one place
And God saw good.
God said
Let each kind have it's own kind
Each bore fruit
Each had it's own kind
God saw.
Lights serve as signs to mark the seasons
Serve to give light on earth
He made light to rule
put there to separate from darkness
God said
Be filled with living
fly above
He created and it was blessed
God created his own as female
God said
I am giving you all
I AM breathes and it was very good.
Spirit was hovering
Let there be light separated from darkness
Be gathered into one place
And God saw good.
God said
Let each kind have it's own kind
Each bore fruit
Each had it's own kind
God saw.
Lights serve as signs to mark the seasons
Serve to give light on earth
He made light to rule
put there to separate from darkness
God said
Be filled with living
fly above
He created and it was blessed
God created his own as female
God said
I am giving you all
I AM breathes and it was very good.
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