Beautifully Broken

Sometimes, in order to get a clearer picture of where you're going, you need to look back at where you've been.  There are certain aspects of where I've been that I'm very happy to think back on.  Others, not so much.  So many memories filled with joy and happiness.  So many memories filled with shame and heartache.

It's taken me a long time to figure out that shame I keep silent about keeps me bound up in all sorts of messed up ways.  Honestly, I'm still working through the reality of that truth.  Speaking out about my brokenness is very much like a release valve erupting into the atmosphere, leaving tremendous room for freedom in the space that was once consumed by captivity.

There's a certain confidence that's come from knowing who I am, where I've come from, and what I've been brought through.  It's been fiercely fought for, but the confidence has been born through it all the same.

Strength shining through weakness.

Confidence in who I am and Whose I am = brokenness release valve.

About a year ago, I participated in an online writing challenge from Laura Tremaine called 10 Things to Tell You.  Day 1's prompt was "I grew up..."  I'm not exactly sure what led me to think about it as I was preparing to write this week's post, but here I am anyway.  Maybe it was this past Sunday's call for prayer at church for anyone who was struggling with darkness and despair.  That prayer was for me.  There had been a certain darkness clouding my thoughts in the couple of days leading up to Sunday.  Nothing new, just the fight to hold my thoughts captive yet again.  It's a fight I am very familiar with, and a fight that I had been losing in those days leading up to Sunday.

Sometimes the darkness of today reminds me of the darkness from my past. 

I guess that's what got me thinking about growing up and this writing prompt from a year ago.  The past still sneaks its way into the present.  

I grew up in South Florida.  Various parts of Miami to be exact.  I have lived here all my life, born and raised.

I grew up with an extremely cruel, verbally abusive, oppressive, and fear-mongering father, and a mother who tried desperately to shield us (my brother and I) from the constant shame, fear, and insecurity we were bombarded with by attempting to provide as much love and acceptance as she could.

I grew up constantly searching for love and acceptance.  This led to decades of being a slave to people-pleasing, which led to a constant doubting of myself and who I was.  The opinions of others RULED over me.

I grew up certain that I was never good enough.

I grew up lacking confidence.  And by lacking confidence, I don't mean I had at least half a tank full and just needed a boost.  I'm pretty sure I had none.

I grew up consumed by anger and outbursts of blind rage.

I grew up teetering somewhere between anxiety and depression most days.

I grew up always feeling misunderstood, and like I never quite fit in.

I grew up always on the outside looking in.

Those feelings still come and go to a certain extent.  Less frequent and intense, but they're still around and pop up at some of the most random times.     

I still have to fight my thoughts.  Sometimes I grow weary of fighting. 

Growing weary of the fight is not losing the fight. 

Enter in the fresh faith and confidence of this recovering perfectionist.  Faith fueled by truth.  

These are the types of things you want your friends to know, but for some reason the topics never come up.  Shame gets in the way, and we hide.   Oh, but there is so much beauty in our brokenness.  Why do we fight so hard to keep it hidden?  How much beauty and redemption came from the Son's brokenness on my behalf?  The ultimate darkness and despair.  Imagine if that were kept hidden; unspoken.         

Look back and remember.

Reach out and open up.

Share your stuff.

Start conversations.

Let someone know that  you think that prayer call for someone in darkness and despair is you.  

God uses the grit and grace to grow us beautifully.