I'm broken

I'm broken.  I freely admit it.

There was a time when I didn't think so.  I thought I was fine.  (Denial: I was anything BUT fine.)  I thanked God that I grew up in a Christian home (Delusion: it was a religious home, steeped in religious superstition and fear.)  I boasted in my own Christianity (Deception: I was a legalist, bound up in rules and regulations, afraid of people who were different from me.)

One of my friends said once, "We're all broken toys."  At one point in my life I would have been offended.  But he was right.  Somewhere deep inside of me I knew he was spot on!  For many years - in fact, for most of my life - I just wasn't willing to admit I was broken.  God had to bring me through a lot of things to get me to face that fact about myself.  Abuse - verbal, emotional, physical, and more - had robbed me of my self-concept, stolen my childhood, crushed my innocence, whipped my confidence.  So by the time he said, "We're all broken toys," I knew it was true. 

In my dealings with people throughout my life, it's like I had this big red, black and white bull's-eye target painted on my back - a big "Kick Me" sign.  I attracted people who would treat me the way I was used to being treated: like a nothing. They were rough in their handling of my feelings.  Or perhaps I was just too fragile by then.  But if I was, I wore my fragility like a badge of honour.  By the time I figured out that I was a victim, I had learned to play that role to the nth degree.  I figured it wasn't wrong to play the victim if you really WERE a victim.

No wonder I repelled well-adjusted people who wanted to be my friends.  They couldn't stand being expected to "fix me."  They knew I was broken, too.  I "needed" people too much.  I needed them to need me, to not be able to live without me, to be my soul-mate.  I smothered them with my intensity.  

And when I was placed in a position of others needing me - such as being a mother - I became the controller.  I had to control everything my kids did, said, thought, and believed.  I became outraged when they dared express an opinion other than my own.  They were afraid of my anger; they resented my manipulative, intimidating, controlling ways.  And they turned away from me.  I was lonely and unhappy and I was mystified as to why.  After all, everybody would just be happier if they did what I said.

I was truly alone.  I was broken and nobody, not even me, knew how to fix me.

Except God.

He worked things out in my life such that I would be forced to go to Him in desperation.  He knew what it all meant.  He knew the very things that would send me running to find help.  It took Him well over 20 years in a marriage with a man who was slowly taken away from me by alcoholism, to get me to the point where I knew I needed help and that I was willing to do anything - ANYTHING - to be free of this horrible ache inside.  It wasn't a life.  It was barely an existence.  I thought about suicide but I was too scared.  I thought about leaving my husband and family but as I worked out the finances of it all, I realized that things would be so much harder with just one income: mine.

I remember praying that God would do something - I didn't care what - to heal me on the inside.  Things really started falling apart after that.  The tension built.  I felt more and more lonely, sad, abandoned.

The straw that broke the camel's back was just a simple thing.  It would have been nothing by itself, but after all that had happened, it let the rest of my load come crashing down on my head so hard that I felt I could no longer cope with things the way they were.  I felt so empty, so terrified, so lost ... so broken.  

That's when I asked for help.


And that's when God could start to heal my brokenness, to shine through the loneliness and the darkness I had known. To show me that His kindness was enough for me.  That my weakness could be - and would be - swallowed up in His strength. He helped me to see myself in a way I had never done before - as He sees me.  My relationships started to transform.  I formed new relationships with equals - a new concept for me.  I got rid of old dysfunctional relationships that would never change. I could talk to God about things, deep and intimate things I couldn't share with anyone.  But He listened - and He cared.  God actually became my friend, my strongest ally, my champion, and my healer.  I am so grateful He did.

I'm still broken.  In some ways I suppose I always will be.  But now I just trust Him to fix me, and I don't need other people to do that. He loves me just as I am, and loves me too much to let me stagnate; He keeps me challenged and engaged in my life and in relationship with Him.

That's freedom.  And for a broken toy, that's pretty cool.