I am someone who loves to be strong.
Though life has thrown more than it's fair share of curve balls my way, I've always had this sense within myself that I needed to be able to handle it all well. My personal standard for my own emotional and mental strength has always been extremely high. For most of my life, this ended up looking like stoicism or disinterest, perhaps even a complete lack of compassion or understanding. I grew up pegging tears as weakness, showing too much emotion in the face of trauma or hardship was a huge no-no, and forget admitting when I was just too tired to function as an average human. I couldn't tell you one or two specific things that taught me this, it's just kind of what I had always thought. This isn't to say I wouldn't break down, because Lord almighty were the boundaries of my bedroom filled with cries and questions, my pillow stained with tears, my journal covered with expressions of every emotion... but no one was allowed to see any of that.
Granted, as a teenager, I was battling an addiction to pornography, extreme loneliness, depression, suicidal tendencies, the deployment of my father, and some major- life changing health issues. So, I felt allot of things all the time. But the devil had hold of my ear and told me things like "no one can know, no one wants to be friends with a depressed girl." "just smile, don't let them see your hurt." and "something's broken inside of you that you're not happy as a christian" Unfortunately, this was reinforced by the stigmas the Church had attached to depression, addiction and health issues. Satan sounded allot like "Christian" culture to me, so I didn't see the falsehood in NEEDING to be strong.
I even remember on 9/11 sitting on the couch in our basement-family room, watching the news, knowing exactly what this all meant for our military family. I was 9 years old, and as I wiped the silent tears from my cheeks I remember thinking "Don't let momma see you cry, this is harder for her than you. Be the strong one."
Now, I'm quick to admit my emotional tendencies. There's been a great freedom and release in feeling openly. I'm known to say that "Emotions are an extreme sport, that I always win!" Overall, I'm not ashamed to feel each emotion with the zeal, passion and intensity that I do. It's just a part of the person I am. I'm firey and passionate, it only makes sense that I would feel emotions intensely. It'd be fair to say that, most times, I feel free. I feel released from the bondage of the lies of "I have to be happy" or strong, or feel any certain way... ever. The old "Church culture" that used to induce my self shaming no longer has holds on what I feel. It's not that my identity is found in my emotions, my relationship with God is not purely based on emotions, nor is every decision made with only emotions. But now, I'm comfortable voicing that I have emotions tied to to those things. If I was as stoic now, as I used to be... I don't think I would recognize myself.
And just when I thought I had dealt with everything, I broke down.
Dealing with a sensitive issue within my calling of abolition, I stood strong. I brushed it off. Then I got into my car and I sobbed. My first thought? "You're not good enough for this calling if you can't hold yourself together!" But that was just it, I DID hold myself together. In my line of work, it's necessary to control your own emotions around the girls be it in a restoration home or on the streets. You express the feelings later. That's exactly what I did, so I was fine. It wasn't out of line at all. It was the thought "You can't do this..." that came with the breakdown. Why? Why do we shame ourselves for allowing the spirit to continually break us?!
I texted my bestie, and she is one of the few who I first exposed the fullness of my feelings to at a younger age. This friend understands more about me than I do myself some days. And she reminded me, that there's beauty in the breakdowns. I accomplished what I needed to do, and the moment it was just me and the Lord I let down the boundaries and wet the clay of my heart with tears as the Father molded my heart to look a little bit more like His again.
So, while this isn't something I've got down pact, I'm choosing to move forward.
With true joy in my heart, hope glimmering in my eyes and the heartbreak of humanity catching my thoughts... I'll embrace the beauty of a breakdown! I'll mourn the injustice, let me weep over broken hearts and forgotten people, I'll break into tears and realize that MY strength is NOT ever going to be enough. Let me sob alone and realize that this is weakness, and His strength is made perfect in it. Then let me sit in the serenity of a calmed storm as Christ comes to mold me, and I realize there doesn't need to be shame, there isn't failure attached to this moment. But rather, it's a Holy moment. A moment of feeling just the smallest fraction of what the Father feels for this world, a moment where I don't have the full capacity to "hold myself together" under the pressure of the glory of heaven and the weight of my Papa's heart.
And I invite you to join me. Decide that there is beauty in the breakdown, and stop being ashamed of what you feel. Let's be honest about these holy moments. Not to consistently talk about how horrible things are, because... actually, if you have the Papa's heart, you see the hope in it too.
I don't know if any of this made sense, but I felt the need to write it out. So here it is.
Though life has thrown more than it's fair share of curve balls my way, I've always had this sense within myself that I needed to be able to handle it all well. My personal standard for my own emotional and mental strength has always been extremely high. For most of my life, this ended up looking like stoicism or disinterest, perhaps even a complete lack of compassion or understanding. I grew up pegging tears as weakness, showing too much emotion in the face of trauma or hardship was a huge no-no, and forget admitting when I was just too tired to function as an average human. I couldn't tell you one or two specific things that taught me this, it's just kind of what I had always thought. This isn't to say I wouldn't break down, because Lord almighty were the boundaries of my bedroom filled with cries and questions, my pillow stained with tears, my journal covered with expressions of every emotion... but no one was allowed to see any of that.
Granted, as a teenager, I was battling an addiction to pornography, extreme loneliness, depression, suicidal tendencies, the deployment of my father, and some major- life changing health issues. So, I felt allot of things all the time. But the devil had hold of my ear and told me things like "no one can know, no one wants to be friends with a depressed girl." "just smile, don't let them see your hurt." and "something's broken inside of you that you're not happy as a christian" Unfortunately, this was reinforced by the stigmas the Church had attached to depression, addiction and health issues. Satan sounded allot like "Christian" culture to me, so I didn't see the falsehood in NEEDING to be strong.
I even remember on 9/11 sitting on the couch in our basement-family room, watching the news, knowing exactly what this all meant for our military family. I was 9 years old, and as I wiped the silent tears from my cheeks I remember thinking "Don't let momma see you cry, this is harder for her than you. Be the strong one."
Now, I'm quick to admit my emotional tendencies. There's been a great freedom and release in feeling openly. I'm known to say that "Emotions are an extreme sport, that I always win!" Overall, I'm not ashamed to feel each emotion with the zeal, passion and intensity that I do. It's just a part of the person I am. I'm firey and passionate, it only makes sense that I would feel emotions intensely. It'd be fair to say that, most times, I feel free. I feel released from the bondage of the lies of "I have to be happy" or strong, or feel any certain way... ever. The old "Church culture" that used to induce my self shaming no longer has holds on what I feel. It's not that my identity is found in my emotions, my relationship with God is not purely based on emotions, nor is every decision made with only emotions. But now, I'm comfortable voicing that I have emotions tied to to those things. If I was as stoic now, as I used to be... I don't think I would recognize myself.
And just when I thought I had dealt with everything, I broke down.
Dealing with a sensitive issue within my calling of abolition, I stood strong. I brushed it off. Then I got into my car and I sobbed. My first thought? "You're not good enough for this calling if you can't hold yourself together!" But that was just it, I DID hold myself together. In my line of work, it's necessary to control your own emotions around the girls be it in a restoration home or on the streets. You express the feelings later. That's exactly what I did, so I was fine. It wasn't out of line at all. It was the thought "You can't do this..." that came with the breakdown. Why? Why do we shame ourselves for allowing the spirit to continually break us?!
I texted my bestie, and she is one of the few who I first exposed the fullness of my feelings to at a younger age. This friend understands more about me than I do myself some days. And she reminded me, that there's beauty in the breakdowns. I accomplished what I needed to do, and the moment it was just me and the Lord I let down the boundaries and wet the clay of my heart with tears as the Father molded my heart to look a little bit more like His again.
So, while this isn't something I've got down pact, I'm choosing to move forward.
With true joy in my heart, hope glimmering in my eyes and the heartbreak of humanity catching my thoughts... I'll embrace the beauty of a breakdown! I'll mourn the injustice, let me weep over broken hearts and forgotten people, I'll break into tears and realize that MY strength is NOT ever going to be enough. Let me sob alone and realize that this is weakness, and His strength is made perfect in it. Then let me sit in the serenity of a calmed storm as Christ comes to mold me, and I realize there doesn't need to be shame, there isn't failure attached to this moment. But rather, it's a Holy moment. A moment of feeling just the smallest fraction of what the Father feels for this world, a moment where I don't have the full capacity to "hold myself together" under the pressure of the glory of heaven and the weight of my Papa's heart.
And I invite you to join me. Decide that there is beauty in the breakdown, and stop being ashamed of what you feel. Let's be honest about these holy moments. Not to consistently talk about how horrible things are, because... actually, if you have the Papa's heart, you see the hope in it too.
I don't know if any of this made sense, but I felt the need to write it out. So here it is.
