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-- 5th
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
Absolutely beautiful. Beauty from ashes is God in my life too! I LOVE the tender way He takes the yuck and shapes it into something better than we could have ever imagined for ourselves!
ReplyDeleteSo lovely. Thank you for the authenticity, the hope, and the inspiration!
ReplyDelete