inner healing

read part one here

About three or four days after I wrote "Our love story, the prequel", I gave it a re-read.  I realized that in my excitement to share our story with you, I somehow seemed to gloss over the inner healing part of this journey.  And that is nothing to gloss over, let me tell you.  So in an attempt to be transparent, and true, let me delve a little deeper. 

So it was spring in 2008 and I discovered that I was sexually abused as a child.  I had repressed these memories for many many years.  As a matter of fact, when I was in my late teens and seeing a therapist, I asked her if she thought I was abused.  She said no.  She felt that I was treated inappropriately {sexualized} but not abused.  I later leaned in my healing process that even this is considered abuse.  But nonetheless, as a very young adult, the last thing I wanted to do was deal with being abused and since I was not totally sure, I believed I could trust this professional. My feelings went underground once again.

So flash forward to that March morning in 2008.  I was in a pool of tears.  On the floor.  Overwhelmed.  I reached out to two good friends of mine and shared the story with them.  They too had been abused.  With this network of women around me, I had people I could call and just simply cry.  I went to see a Christian counselor who was a good woman, and I'm sure a great counselor, but she was too soft.  But I will never forget the wisdom of the word she shared with me on one of our last sessions.

I had never heard that verse before. And I hung onto it. You see, I believe God.  I trust Him.  And if He said it, it's so.  End of story.  

and I am here to tell you the He has, and does, continue to restore those years that were stolen

But I digress.

So when I say the counselor I saw was too soft, I mean to say that I knew I was in a battle here.  I needed to fight.  I refused to allow the circumstances of my past to keep me in the mire.  Refused.  So I continued searching.  I went back to a therapist that I had seen when I was initially interviewing potential therapists.  I had a feeling she was the one.

This 'feeling' was me beginning to hear and trust the voice of the Lord.  

I was new in learning to hear Him.  But I was on my way.   And this therapist and I began our work.  She told me about two different books on the subject.  I ordered them immediately. I poured through the workbook.  I read the book.  I ordered additional resources.  I wrote.  I journaled.  I cried.  I painted my fury.  I cried some more.  I worked out at the gym with abandon, listening to the angriest music I could find {more fury.}And I talked, I shared, I discovered, and I forgave.

So much happened for me in that little office.  One of the greatest lessons that I learned is that my father, who was one of my abusers, was not all bad.  What? Yup, you heard it right.  It was a challenge for me, but I came to understand and reconcile that he did bad things to me and he also did good things.   It wasn't a black and white situation.  And making peace with this was paramount in my recovery.

Perhaps the greatest understanding that I came away with is that someone must have done this to him.  Abuse doesn't exist in a vacuum.  It is generational.  Only my poor father, who really did try the best he could, never was able to get the help he needed.  His life and his heart must have been tortured.

compassion

I have come to a place of compassion.  But I didn't get here overnight.  And I didn't get here alone.

When I first read those words I wept from the very deepest place in my soul.  

I was the brokenhearted.  

I was the captive 

I was bound.  

And He came to set me free.

Whom the Son sets free is free indeed!

John 8:36

Can I get an amen?

As much of the work was in therapy, the greatest work, was the one the Lord did in my heart.  And I want to continue to share this with you a bit more.  Journey with me.  There's more to come.

Until next time...

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