I still remember it as if it were yesterday. You know, there are those days that will forever live in your memory because they changed your life? This was the day I started to wake up. I’d lived my life in a way where I tried to tell myself there would be no consequences for living the way I had. The money would eventually show up in my account. The weight would eventually fall off. Wrongs would be righted. I had faith. If faith the size of a mustard seed could move mountains, surely I could have enough faith to at least win the lottery. Right?
But the sleepless nights kept coming. Insomnia became a way of life during the dark years. I started having some medical issues. It felt like I couldn’t take a deep breath for a long time. The doctors told me asthma. I think they were wrong. I think it was all stress. I couldn’t pay my bills. Sleep was nowhere to be found. And the money still wasn’t coming in. And I couldn’t quit eating. And I just wanted to stay in bed. I couldn’t feel anything anyway.
But this day was different. I had realized that I had a problem for a while. I just didn’t know how to go about breaking down those walls that I’d worked so hard to build. But I wanted to feel alive again. And feeling alive meant feeling something, whether it was good or bad.
I went to a deposition, because I was still a court reporter at that time. I don’t remember too many facts about the case, and if I did, I couldn’t share with you anyway. All I know is that we took the deposition of a 6-year-old girl and her 7-year-old sister. They had been physically abused. They had been sexually abused. They had been severely neglected and malnourished. The only time they were ever given any attention is when their father was hitting them or molesting them.
It broke my heart.
I remember getting in my car and calling my best friend. I told her the same story as above, and she talked to me the whole hour home as I cried. And my tears were real. For the first time in close to 6 years I felt something. And it hurt. And it was horrible. But I allowed myself to feel that pain for those little girls because I had finally realized that in order to heal from my own pain and grief, that I had to allow myself to feel pain and hurt and love and grace.
It was one of those moments where you just know that even though you’ve got a long way to go, you’re going to get there. Things are never going to be the same, and that’s okay.
It’s a long process, this grieving and healing thing. At this point I can’t hardly watch a Folgers commercial without tears. And don’t even get me started on any kind of inspirational movie. You know, like Cool Runnings. And while I don’t really enjoy being a bawl-bag, just feeling something makes me feel halfway alive again.
I’m just so thankful that God woke me up. Called me beloved. Told me that I have something to offer. Because He made me, I am enough.
Click here to see a video of some girls in my church dancing to Now Behold The Lamb by Kirk Franklin. It’s just a video that speaks to me every time. I hope you enjoy it!
Have there been times when you would just have rather stayed in bed? What was going on, and how did you move forward.