“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” James 5:16
Five years later, I know exactly why I never hit the “publish” button. I can still feel the sting of the hot tears as they rolled down my cheeks while I hid in the darkness. I prayed that the glow of my cellphone wouldn’t give away the fact that I was still awake, stashed on the top bunk of the semi I called home.
I never finished this post because it flat-out hurt. My little heart was scattered in a million pieces. This undone post was just a fleeting thought and I popped that bubble as quickly as it dared to float to the surface. I preferred all emotion and memories to stay locked away, hidden in the depths. However, for a split second that night, for whatever reason, I dared to dream. I dreamed that the chains would fall and I could walk out of hell a free woman. Fortunately, I put pen to paper and created a cairn on my trail of time. In my limited knowledge of God, I was confident that this dream could never come to pass. I had no faith to believe. I was tired and simply accepted fate.
First off, what I couldn’t say outright, was HELP! I couldn’t tell you that I was locked away in an insanely abusive relationship. Talking would land me in harm’s way, especially speaking about my past. Secondly, my past was ugly and peeling back those layers brought more shame and judgment than I could handle. Thirdly, I was messed up mentally. I had some severe hurts, which led to some serious issues. I knew I needed help. Which led back to the first issue. I was stuck in a vicious cycle, a downward spiral, and I honestly did not want to live through any of it. Consequently, I wrote in circles, skating on the surface, saying all I could say without saying a word.
Fast forward five years, I can talk about all of my past now without fear. It’s still not easy and I use caution with whom I share. I still don’t trust everyone. But I can share without the fear that used to immobilize me. Back then (from 2003 to 2019), I lived in fear; it was my home. Fear was all I knew, it was my familiar, and I couldn’t imagine my life without it. Yet, I so desperately wanted just to imagine how freedom felt.
I kept secrets from the time I was four and finally, they found their way out. In 2019, within the safety confines of a Celebrate Recovery step study, I found my bravery. I began to actually speak out loud (for other women to hear) the words I had been dying to say. Freedom on this side of Heaven is possible because God is good! I am living in it and I genuinely love it!
From the original Journey, written May 4, 2016–never published, never finished.
“Learning to Write”
Learning to write is learning to think. You don’t know anything clearly unless you can state it in writing. S.I. Hayakawa
My thoughts exactly.
In these solitary moments of reflective silence, I corral my thoughts. However, for me, this is more like herding chickens.
I’ve always wanted to put all my thoughts (or feelings) into words. However, fear immobilizes me. I file the tough ones in the cavern of the vault hidden deep within the heart of my cave, buried until I’m brave.
I’m afraid to write (or talk) about my innermost feelings. I have found it’s just easier to keep to myself. It’s such a long, complicated, and twisted story full of shame, disgrace, and embarrassment. Each time I embark upon that journey of letting go, I realize how much effort it will take. I just don’t have that kind of energy anymore. I walk back inside my cave and deadbolt the door. In my cave, I am safe.
I give up. I already feel like I’ve shared too much. However, I will force myself to continue.
The more I write, the more I realize I need to write. I need to let it all out and let God move in to heal me. I desperately want a space where I can sit and talk or write and let go completely. I would like freedom on this side of Heaven. I’ll call it my creative therapy. I’m thankful that I can trust the Healer with the places in between.
I would love to say I was one of the trusting types, but on the contrary, I am trust-leary. For me to share anything, I must feel safe. Very rarely do I feel safe enough to put my feelings onto paper. I have to believe that God knows my thoughts before I even write them. I know He eagerly waits on me to lay them at His feet. However, some things I do not want to let go of. Inadvertently, I put thoughts into words, scratch them onto paper, and somehow what was once running amuck now has a purpose. After days of deliberation, writing, rephrasing, (really I’m stalling here because I don’t wanna let go), I’ll force myself to hit “post.” Timidly I whisper, “It’s out there now, God, I’m letting it go. I’m sending you a cry for healing, a cry for help!” Each post a marker on my trail of time.
I cringe. Take it back, hit delete post. Not because I worry that my post won’t be liked or that my grammar is lacking, but simply because if I let go of all the things I’m holding onto, I will have nothing. I never knew how tightly I held on.
If I let go of my aches and pains, my hurts, what will be left inside? …
Wow! I never knew…thank you for sharing