Broken to Blessed January 5,2015

From Broken to Blessed

 Follow me as my broken and jagged pieces come together for the blessed life I am leading. I know the hurt, the incomplete, the “never enough”. No more pretending. Let’s just be raw and real. Let’s grow together.

 I thought I was one of the few who were broken. Nobody else seemed broken. There must only be a few of us.  I broke early-- 5^th grade. I broke deep and wide.

I even got a name for the broken- Eating Disorder-Anorexia.

The broken doesn’t disappear. It is always. I discovered that broken is how many of us operate. It is hard to get out of the broken. Few can do it on their own. Few are strong enough or brave enough to reach out for help. You hold so tight to the little pieces, afraid if you let go you may fall instead of fly.

Every day of 2014 I asked for the broken to go away. But it didn’t. So, sometimes it was just easier to give into it and fall into the crevices. The deep dark crevices that lead to the self-sabotage, anger, and hurt.

Climbing out is tiresome and hard and leaves mental cuts and physical bruises and then the dreaded guilt. Guilt overwhelms and makes me want to escape. I hide in pretend perfection. I work out and eat right and maintain my weight and do family dinners, and focused work. I sneak chocolate, take breaks at work, lose my temper, and become prickly to the husband. I let the coveted few know I am broken. I am light hearted about it, but really I am broken. Very deep and very wide.

 I can twist life and pull and get loud. I can manipulate. I am jealous. I am selfish. I am numb. The color of broken is black with red outlines. The sound of broken is piercing words, the feeling of broken is empty, and the look of broken: bruises on the arms no one sees.

I cannot continue with this. I ask for it to go away and He does not lift it from me. So, I reach out to those trained to help. Sheepishly knowing, I am one of those who are trained.  I reach out and she helps me see the broken as not a part of me but its own entity. Slowly, I pull away from it. It is hard work to separate. Broken is sticky and manipulative. It makes me doubt my ability to fly. I will NOT be defined by it. God has plans for me. I know He does. He promised. He breathed it into His book.

It is a big ball of grey, the broken. It sits in the corner of the room. I see it separate from me. Now I can walk around it. Sometimes, it trips me…makes me fall. But I know how to get back up. It still sits. Some days I think it grows smaller. Other days it looms large. Most days, it just sits. We don’t touch. I stay away from it. It angers me for sitting there. I don’t understand why it doesn’t disappear. This mass of broken. This mass of guilt and anorexia, this mass of self-doubt and anxiety. Nobody else seems to notice it. Well, maybe the husband does. But he even says it is smaller than it used to be.

 I pray for it to go away. Broken is stubborn. It started at the age of 11 and it still here at 38. Every day I ask God to heal me completely and make it go away. Every day, it is still there. Frustration overwhelms my spirit. How can I lead when the broken sits in my life?

Then, it hits me. The loathed and hated broken made part of me. The diamond in the coal. It gives me purpose.

I have to BLESS the broken. The thought drives me down to the floor. On my knees, heaving tears, hot and messy. This raw honesty brings a painful release.

For you see, my broken is a gift. I know how it lives and breathes. I know the tricks it plays and how it grows. I know the manipulation. I am wiser for the knowing.  I know my way through the dark crevices I have visited so many times and I know how to be a tour guide through it. I use to think I was a stepping stone. But I now know I am a tour guide. Through the broken to the strong.

Dear Heavenly Father,

 Who was I to doubt You? You tell me again and again “For I know the plans I have for you….” and I refused to listen.

You knew the broken was hard and made me doubt who and what I was. You hurt and were frightened when I questioned living. You cried with me. You walked with me through the darkness and it was You who turned my Broken into Blessed. You knew my story could help others. You knew if you took it away I would not grow into graceful strength and You knew if You took it away I would not have Gracefully Strong.

Heavenly Father, bring the women who read this blog together. If I am to be a tour guide through the broken, help me to bring these women together so that we may embrace each other and our struggles so that we may all move together from Broken to Blessed.

Your Daughter,

Heather