Time to heal.
It is, isn't it? Years and years of gray living. Going through the motions, day in and day out. Trying to do your best, and always coming up short, getting the opposite of what you tried to accomplish in your loved ones' lives. Feeling ignored, rejected, unappreciated. It wears away at the spirit, in spite of your best efforts to stave it off - leaving a deep root of resentment and bitterness. But you live in denial. You tell people how wonderful life is, how grateful you are. Inside you wonder if this is all there is.
I know. I was there. And for me, it was high time to heal. I'd been sick long enough - caught in a trap of my own making. For, you see, my desire to control, to influence my loved ones, only made them resentful against me, caused them to resist my best efforts. I'd push, they'd push back harder. Every time. I'd give and give some more; they'd take and expect more. I'd give it - and they'd use me and I'd resent them more. Like I said: a trap.
It was time to heal.
But once I had reached out for help, I learned something important.
It takes time to heal.
I couldn't expect a divine "Zap" - a miraculous Zeus-like thunderbolt - no matter how hard I prayed for an instant miracle. Not that it doesn't happen; it does. Sometimes. But this was one time it wasn't going to happen. Not this kind.
There's a major principle of healing that holds true not only in the physical but in the emotional and spiritual as well. The deeper and more long-lasting the wound, the longer it takes to heal.
The wounds were far deeper than I was willing to admit at first. I didn't even think the problem was in me; I thought it was with everyone else. If they'd only do things my way!! If they only knew how much I cared!!
I never stopped to figure out WHY I cared. WHY I wanted to have that much influence. Once I admitted that the problem was not in them, but in me, the pieces started to come together. And I started to heal. From the inside out.
And it took time. The majority of the healing (although it's always ongoing) took place in the first year, and only with the help of someone who'd been through the process before and who was willing to walk me through it. It took complete honesty, openness, and willingness to commit to the process, in order for that same process to only take a year and not five - or ten.
While I was going through it, I wanted SO. VERY. MUCH to skip to the end, to not have to go through the difficult, painful process of cutting away the diseased parts of me and starting to get better.
Messily. And slowly. Too slowly for my liking.
But it happened. Little by little - mistakes and all - it happened. Thanks to the strength and help of God, and the assistance of a wonderful counselor, as well as the fellowship of people who accepted me as I was - plus a whole lot of determination to not hide from myself, it happened.
And now, three and a half years later - I can honestly say that it was well worth it.
Isn't it time to heal?
It is, isn't it? Years and years of gray living. Going through the motions, day in and day out. Trying to do your best, and always coming up short, getting the opposite of what you tried to accomplish in your loved ones' lives. Feeling ignored, rejected, unappreciated. It wears away at the spirit, in spite of your best efforts to stave it off - leaving a deep root of resentment and bitterness. But you live in denial. You tell people how wonderful life is, how grateful you are. Inside you wonder if this is all there is.
I know. I was there. And for me, it was high time to heal. I'd been sick long enough - caught in a trap of my own making. For, you see, my desire to control, to influence my loved ones, only made them resentful against me, caused them to resist my best efforts. I'd push, they'd push back harder. Every time. I'd give and give some more; they'd take and expect more. I'd give it - and they'd use me and I'd resent them more. Like I said: a trap.
It was time to heal.
But once I had reached out for help, I learned something important.
It takes time to heal.
I couldn't expect a divine "Zap" - a miraculous Zeus-like thunderbolt - no matter how hard I prayed for an instant miracle. Not that it doesn't happen; it does. Sometimes. But this was one time it wasn't going to happen. Not this kind.
There's a major principle of healing that holds true not only in the physical but in the emotional and spiritual as well. The deeper and more long-lasting the wound, the longer it takes to heal.
The wounds were far deeper than I was willing to admit at first. I didn't even think the problem was in me; I thought it was with everyone else. If they'd only do things my way!! If they only knew how much I cared!!
I never stopped to figure out WHY I cared. WHY I wanted to have that much influence. Once I admitted that the problem was not in them, but in me, the pieces started to come together. And I started to heal. From the inside out.
And it took time. The majority of the healing (although it's always ongoing) took place in the first year, and only with the help of someone who'd been through the process before and who was willing to walk me through it. It took complete honesty, openness, and willingness to commit to the process, in order for that same process to only take a year and not five - or ten.
While I was going through it, I wanted SO. VERY. MUCH to skip to the end, to not have to go through the difficult, painful process of cutting away the diseased parts of me and starting to get better.
Messily. And slowly. Too slowly for my liking.
But it happened. Little by little - mistakes and all - it happened. Thanks to the strength and help of God, and the assistance of a wonderful counselor, as well as the fellowship of people who accepted me as I was - plus a whole lot of determination to not hide from myself, it happened.
And now, three and a half years later - I can honestly say that it was well worth it.
Isn't it time to heal?
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