Wrecked.

Three months and this doesn’t look much like the way I pictured.

Three months spent fighting like hell to move forward in healing by trudging through tangled webs of pain spun slowly but surely over time.

I sat on the floor of my bedroom a week ago thinking about the last three months and I wept because I felt free. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like my emotions were dictated by the actions and words of the people I surrounded myself with. My day and the way I chose to treat people wasn’t dictated by whether or not my mom had chosen to drink before I left for work that morning or whether my dad came home in a foul mood.  For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like my identity had the label “victim” attached to it. I didn’t feel like my story was one that was too broken to be redeemed. For the first time, I believed deep down in my heart that my life didn’t need to play into pain-filled story line I had been living in for so long. I sat on the floor and I cried tears of gratitude, wrecked by freedom as I realized that I am no longer a slave to the hurt caused by people’s addictions around me.

These have been three stunning months filled to the brim with beauty and redemption and I wouldn’t change a single thing about them.

But just as soon as the wounds start to scar over, I see that I have to restart the process again. It’s funny how that happens, isn’t it? I am starting to see that “the process” – the healing & growing & learning & refining & chipping away – never really ends. We never actually reach a point in our lives where we can claim to be completely whole and perfect. Perfection is a myth. Wholeness isn’t found in our striving. We are broken. We will always be. We will always need grace by the handfuls and wiggle room to make mistakes. So now I restart the process…or rather, continue in it. This time, because of him.

“We weren’t made for this. Our hearts weren’t built for this.” I whispered between tears. She nodded. It’s true. We aren’t made for it. God didn’t craft our hearts with intentions of breaking them. He didn’t have Adam and Eve fall in love in the garden thinking they would break up at some point and then eventually give their hearts away to other people. This whole heart break thing isn’t natural. It’s not the way things were intended to be.

Our hearts aren’t things we hold in our hands. They aren’t built in a way that we are able to give them away to someone and then take them back whenever we please. We can ask for our old sweatshirts back and throw each others stuff into boxes and leave them at each others doors, but we can’t do that with our hearts. We can’t just one day decide to stop loving someone. So right now I hurt. Even though I don’t want to. Even though these past three months have been beautiful and full of redemption and freedom. I hurt because heart break was never part of the plan. Brokenness and miscommunication and words left unsaid or spoken out of anger weren’t ever part of the plan. Not mine or the Master plan. And I have the choice right now to avoid my pain or lean into it and find the pieces of process that God can use to teach me lessons of strength and love…and I choose the latter.

So I sit on my bedroom floor tonight and pray for help through this process like I did with the last. I pray that this hurt doesn’t harden my heart. I pray that the walls you’ve built up so high are broken by floods of healing and truth. And I find comfort in the belief that this process will leave me crying tears of gratitude on this same floor sometime soon, wrecked in a beautiful way.

 

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