Healing...not a one woman show

As a survivor, as one healing, I had certain expectations. I expected that the journey would be difficult. I expected to heal quickly. At one point, I expected my therapist to save me. I expected everyone to “get” what was going on with me. I expected God to bring me back to joy. I knew it wouldn’t be immediate in my head, but my heart expected it now. And I had countless, un-admitted un-acknowledged expectations of the bystanders.

The bystanders. Those that were a part of our lives while the abuse or assault occurred, often completely oblivious to what was going on. And somehow we don’t understand. The question is asked over and over again, “How could someone not have known”? Our pain is so obvious to us that we think it should be written across our face like a scarlet letter. But it’s not. Because, also, many of us developed a very convincing mask. The mask that told everyone that we were just fine. That mask that told ourselves we were just fine when we looked in the mirror, that we didn’t need any help. That we could carry this burden alone, on our one. We were survivors. And in that moment, survivor meant doing things on our own.

Yet, a part of each one of us had to want someone to help. We were too “strong” to ask for it. Too scared to let anyone see the turmoil. No, it was ours to bear, and bear alone.

I have never really seen this as prideful until tonight. I was too hell bent on doing it on my own, that I wasn’t going to let anyone else share in what I had endured. I had endured it, it was my piece of hell to survive, not theirs. And I was angry. I was much too angry, hurt, and prideful to reach out.

Years were spent ensuring that my pride was validated. Years were spent proving to myself that he hadn’t hurt me, and that I was so strong that no one needed to know what happened, and that I would achieve regardless, on my own.

It was only when the valleys in the road started to get so deep that I could no longer pull myself out, 10 plus years of ever deepening valleys, that I RELUCTANTLY went for help. God forced me to a place where I had no choice. Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus that you force deliverance out of us sometimes, because that is the only way that our stubborn hearts are going to move.

I had to let God be God. To let the Savior do the saving. To realize that what should have happened, did. To realize that no amount of achievement on my part was going to change the past. That the only thing that could “change” my past, could redeem it and make it something beautiful, was Jesus.

If you are a survivor, please don’t be too afraid to ask for help. It’s your time, and yes, you, are worth God’s time and healing. You are worth getting help. You weren’t meant to bear this alone. It’s time to make some beauty from ashes. Your life is a praiseworthy testimony of His amazing grace and power, bring some praise for that dear sister, and let the redemption songs begin!



Linking up with my awesome sister Jen at Finding Heaven!