PEARLS // Part one

I am out of practice, of all things important and the sum of all my parts. Even now, I hesitate.

I don't know how to write edited. I don't know how to voice; censored. It goes against everything I have been taught and all that I am. I will do my best to keep my pearls separate; to know which I can hold close for protection and which I can throw out for trampling.

This past year has been a process of inner deconstruction and navigating unknowns; an education in long-suffering and quiet.

It has hurt like a motherfucker.

I learned a long time ago these hurts, rejection and withdrawal, will not kill me. No. Nothing so definite and absolute.Nothing so extreme and dramatic and ... quick.
Instead,they will bring me to my knees. They will kick the air out of me.
They will grab me by the hair and yank back my head and force me to look
andlookandlookandlookandlook
until the complete decimation of all that I held dear has become a public play of mockery of which I have no part.
The screaming doesn't stop. Neither do the tears. Not for a long time.
The "why's" do. Blessedly. Mercifully.
The "why's" slink away and eventually the "what if's" follow them.

And then I can breathe again.
Some days I can stand. Sometimes I can laugh. And then eventually,
I wake up
and
I stop looking.
There.
Mostly.

And this is a mercy. This is a gift. And I am so grateful for it I squeeze my eyes shut and pray the prayer I have said over and over this year,
God. GodGodGodGodGodGod
GOD.
And my heart thumps, and my hands shake, and I feel a little clammy and queasy sick but I know, I know, I know, He is hearing me. He is seeing me there, all huddled up and broken, kicked to pieces and bruised, bloody heart and shredded character. He sees me. He hands me a blanket to wrap myself in, a tissue for the snot.
He tells me I'm going to be ok and also, it's time to start minding my own business. He holds my heart and reminds me He will heal it up, as He always has, but I have to stop grabbing it out of His hand and hunting for the things that damage.

Time. Time passes.
Time gives distance, but it does not give healing.
Trust does.
Reflection does.
Praying does.
Finding a mirror helps.
Beginning the shaky walk on a footpath to forgiveness will get you on your way.
Even if it's only a teeny bit at a time.
Even if you find yourself wanting to be an indian giver and grabbing it back because it's become wood for a fire you are tending religiously within you.

I gotta let that fire burn out.
If I don't,
if I let it rage and find it's own life,
it will burn to the ground all that was good and wonderful and right for a
very. long. time.
It will consume me until I'm nothing but ash and memories stained with bitterness.

I don't want stained memories. I want real ones. I can't let the difficulty of relationship take that from me.

I know. Sometimes watching the fire burn is mesmerizing. It warms me. It whispers that I'm right. I become entranced with my own pride and ego. There are some days I sit next to it and think, just for a minute. What's the harm in just a minute?

It takes a lot of grit to turn away and walk in the cold, where stark clarity and a new reality slap you in the face. Hard.
Be gritty. Let it sting.
You don't have to have the strength to walk it.
Crawl.
Lay on your back and look at the stars when crawling is too much.
Embrace the reminder that you are small and fleeting and just a speck of breath, and all of that is more than ok. Let it free you. I am letting it free me.
Crawl again.
Let the pebbles dig in your knees. Let your hands scratch and bleed. Feel it all.
You are alive. I am alive.

In this moment, this right now,
I. Am. Here.

Time heals what ?

Most of us are familiar with the expression, "Time heals all wounds." It's what we say to someone who has been incredibly hurt, someone that has been left stunned, blind-sided, and doubled over in heart pain with their guts sliding through their fingers. We know swimming with an army of hungry Great Whites and not being swallowed whole is far more likely than an apology from the person who left our friend looking like the walking dead, so we offer up a platitude on a silver tray with a pat on the head.
Neat. Clean. Sterile. Seemingly, the best we can do if we are avoiding complete honesty.
The real response, the one we feel deep in our own gut of pain and camaraderie is, "That really sucks. Let's go get some steel-toed boots and ski masks and kick the crap out of that assjack".
But we don't say this.

Even though it is by far the more empathetic approach.

The wound does suck.
Time does not heal. Time passes.
I think it is funny that we assume if we just put some space between the day of the wound and the apology that never happens, we will be ok.
It's not ok. The wound is not ok.
It just has days of band-aids piled on top of it. It can be 25 band-aids or 1,095 band-aids. (that's three years worth - a lot of freakin band-aids)

For some of us, probably all of us, we have wounds, scrapes, gashes, amputated limbs and heart gouges, inflicted upon us that the inflicter will never take responsibility for. And that really sucks. It does. I have my fair share of imaginary steel-toed boots in my closet with the names of the inflicter engraved on the toe. They are ready.
But i haven't needed them.
I have found that time does not heal the wound but,
forgiveness does.

Forgiveness.
Not letting them back in. Not giving them another boxing glove so they can knock me out on the other side of my face. Not laying down at their feet so they can jump up and down on me like a rag doll and watch the stuffing pop out of my eyes. Not handing them my duct-taped heart so they can throw it against a wall. Again.
Forgiveness.
Just letting it go. Choosing to not let them have control of my happiness. Just saying, "I am not waiting anymore for you to make it better. It's going to be better anyway."

Some people forgive and it's a one time deal. I'm not sure how that kind of forgiveness works but I am slightly envious about it. It's like their soul gets dunked once, really really deep, and they come out all shiny and forgiving. My soul takes a shower in forgiveness each day. It's not a one time dunk for me. Each day i choose, am i going to let forgiveness wash over me or not?
So one day i might be really shiny and new and other days I may have some grease spots and need a change of clothes.
But you know what? So far, this is working.

Matthew 6:11 says, "Give us this day our daily bread." (emphasis mine) He's not talking about food here. He is talking about our needs. God wants us to depend on Him each day for what we need - our physical needs, our spiritual needs, and our emotional needs.

Or in plain English - our strength, our money, our pantry, our love, our kindness towards others, our absence of road rage, and yes, our forgiveness.

Otherwise, we might get a little high and mighty and start thinking about how really great we are and how really lame everyone else is.

If you hurt, you don't have to. I'm not saying it is easy. I'm not gonna lie; some days I'd rather peel my face skin off with my fingernails than forgive some of the people that have hurt me.
But each day it gets a little easier.
Not because time is passing, but because it is becoming easier for me to trust God to meet my need and letting go of my expectation of people to.

XOXO