Let’s talk about the mountains on my body. The tiny boils of fire that the enemy uses to eat away at my soul. The first one was fearful isolation.
When I’m dead to this world #anotherbullet
I am writing these lamentations to You because I’m tired. I’ve complained to my mother, my family has been ashamed of me, random mad men on the bus have teased and insulted me, ex boyfriends have gagged at me…surgeries didn’t work. I’ve failed too many exams obsessing over the wrong anxieties and now my co workers probably think there’s something wrong with me because I’ve made a mountain out of the dirt inside of me. I’ve spent majority of my life – 25 years – being angry and disgusted by the design that You made me to be, that You allowed me to become. So I’m writing a complaint to the manufacturer of my soul. I know You can fix this broken vessel, because I’ve tried everything, and no one, none of these people, no one could save me from the pit I’m drowning in, not even myself. So this is me, pleading, answer me, please.
I spend most of my days trying to lift my head up …. but then the weight of guilt and pain forces me to look down so that my head covers that invisible necklace that suffocates and burns into my neck and spine. It’s been choking my life, yet spelling the words “U-G-L-Y, You ain’t got no alibi”, so how can I even see You? The truth is I have 5 imaginary dwarfs trying to suck holes into my soul. Though small, they appear loud. Those little leeches, accompany tiny mountains. Those mountains, whoever sent them are reminders of dark spirits. And they try to remind me of their presence everyday, and even when I toss in my sleep. I’ve noticed how much for a while, these thorns in my flesh have managed to dictate my posture, how I walk, my lack of eye contact, the constant state of self torture and hate, and even bigger, the life long hindrance to fulfilling my true calling and destiny. I can barely find myself, when I’m constantly hurting from these growing scars. I NEED YOUR HELP!
I laughed at the verse of the day Ephesians 2:10; “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.” I ask You, Lord, what can do you with someone who is so broken that whenever they look into someone else’s eyes all they see is their own dysfunction. Why do I never feel like I’m good enough to wear that dress, to go to that one party, to talk to that one person, to interview for that job. I walk to the state fair and people look at me like the walking freak display, because I have allowed myself to wear that chain around my neck. So I keep my head down, but You say I’m Your workmanship. For what purpose Lord? Will You always be the Only one, to love me for who I am? Is that why You allowed me to be and look this way?
Let’s talk about the mountains on my body. The tiny boils of fire that the enemy uses to eat away at my soul. The first one was fearful isolation. Growing from my lack of trusting others especially those closest to me, I hid even the most painful cuts, and this grew into layers of layers of lies and frustration. I was always hiding. I trusted no one. Bad things have happened. People have taken advantage of me. Family have mistreated me. Friends have misused me. Siblings have mishandled me. But I was made to think it was normal. By the time I was 7, I was shivering from nightmares, drownings, beatings, starvings, touchings, and a life too dim to see Your light. Then I saw a sunflower. The weirdest plant, with the happiest glow. Like me, it was skinny, and had a big head, but more hair, especially in the middle. It made me smile. Still, that yellow pierces through my thoughts. It was too beautiful to wonder who loved me, and who loved me not. I think that was You smiling at me; me, my mother’s darker child.
This is a working progress of faith. To be continued…………..