I am merely a physical manifestation of the echo of a painful journey. Existing, with my mind’s wires set like twisted roots. My soul, caving into the abyss..being it. Expansive yet hollow- being nothing. And my body, the vessel through which I feel this deep, deep…sadness. Containing it. Craving it. And longing to be free of it. You only need healing where you’re damaged. Where you’re broken. I am spread as if each experience breaks a part of me, and casts me out. A puzzle spread. Void of connecting pieces as if I had never fit together. But I’m here. I don’t know why? Why…God?

I have hopes to reach many destinations, but I am always halted by these internal fractures. These chasms between where I want to be and where I actually am. 

A deep sadness in me grows not from observing, but experiencing the stretch of the gap and feeling the depth of its roots. And an anger from understanding I didn’t do this to myself, yet it’s my responsibility to fix it. I tell myself I have to, and I do. But there are times when the water is just too deep. Too cold. And too dark. Sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to heal.

I wish I didn’t have to feel something I can’t communicate because I don’t understand it, yet I must try time and time again to find a new way to be. To exist. 

If I don’t, I will continue to suffer and hurt other people. 

I sink into myself and the pressure to work and work to heal is like rushing out of quicksand. I am forced to slow down and endure a suffering that is only prompting me to run. 

In the midst of every fight for myself, is the awareness of why I have to fight in the first place. Because something is wrong. 

There are milestones I’ve reached during this process. Things I am grateful for, mostly the abundance of wisdom I’ve received. But every so often, I see clearly all that I have to fix. Times where I’m up high and I look down. I move forward, but I look back. 

Those are the times this pressure overwhelms me. Where I don’t see “how far i’ve come”, but how long I have to go. “I might as well just stop, because this will never end. I will never have to stop fighting. I will never breathe. I will never have peace. I will never get to where I want to go.”  And where fire meets fuel, “this isn’t even my fault”. 

I think to myself, “If it was up to me..” but I was only born. I was only 5. I was only 6. I was only 9. I was 12. I was only 13. I was only 16. I was only 17. I was only 18. I was only female. I was only anxious. I was only sad. I only wanted to feel. I only wanted to go home. I only wanted to be seen. I only wanted to be loved. Known and loved.

“For the rest of my life I will have to clean up messes I didn’t make.” I’ll be expected to. And I need to. Because if I don’t, no one else will. If I don’t, bigger messes will be made. 

I can accept that reality, but .. I just wish I didn’t have to “heal”. 

I wish I didn’t have to hurt.

A greater part of me knows this is what must be done, because it is so and all things are according to His word. 

But I shall feel no shame for being human. 

I recently learned that you can’t experience the reality of God’s promises if He doesn’t have a reason to show you. 

I can’t experience God’s promises, if there aren’t reasons for Him to show me. 

And furthermore, because reality is reality, things have happened in my life. 

He doesn’t change them, but instead holds to His Word. 

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.

Romans 8:28