Hello my friends!
No matter where you are in life, I believe we all have a story to tell….
How can we be heard?
How will people actually listen?
Why would we want to share our story?
Honestly, it’s not until we own our story that we can truly be authentic and transparent with others. We can laugh and smile wherever we go, but how much longer can we wear a mask around our fragile hearts? Isn’t “to be happy” one of the most common hopes we hear from people? I know I’ve said it time after time. “I don’t know what I want exactly, but I just want to be happy!” So then what? Was I a fake person all those times I laughed until I cried or shared good moments with people? Well, maybe… Perhaps I wanted to fit in or, I possibly didn’t want to let people into whom I really was.
Maybe you can relate.
Quite frankly, I never really felt heard when I was younger. I deeply craved love and affection, but I somehow felt rejected. But why? My thoughts were that I must have not been important enough, pretty enough, or valued enough to be heard or even looked at. I really believed I wasn’t enough especially in my own home. So, why would I think i’ll be good enough elsewhere?
My memories from all the years I attended school are very vague, but I can tell you that I was always very quiet and observant. I was obedient for the most part, then I went through a phase of rebelling against my teachers, to later on in high school being the quiet one again, yet with my own dirty secrets behind closed doors. I couldn’t seem to figure out whom I was meant to be. Depression, anxiety, drinking alcohol, cutting myself, binge eating and vomiting eventually lead to catching my family’s attention. For a moment I felt loved and heard, yet after my first hospitalization discharge coming back home to what felt like a prison cell was not what I was expecting or wanting. Why do I feel worse?! I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without being checked on. “What’s the use if I shared how I felt if it only felt worse to me.”
While my depression and bad copping methods only numbed part of my pain for a while, I stuck to believing I wasn’t good enough or worthy enough which constantly lead me to making bad relationship choices. ” Heck, why not settle, at least I’m noticed by someone for a moment.”
Do you see what happened?
This is only a small glimpse of my story and I know one day you’ll be able to hear/read a clearer picture of it. But what I wanted to share with you today is that I wanted to be heard, loved, and cherished by my family in a way that made ME feel loved. I didn’t really feel that way and I’m not blaming them for anything at all because I know they did and still do love me, but there way of showing it wasn’t specifically my love language. I desired words of affirmation and quality time, but anyway, neither them or I knew there was such a thing as a love language.The choices that I made were choices that I chose for myself. At the time I didn’t know that I was doing all of these things for their attention, nor did I expect to fall into a bad habit of searching for that love in toxic relationships.
Truth is, it’s not until I accepted Jesus Christ as my savior that I began to heal. I know I still have many wounds to be healed and confidence to keep gaining, but I’m not at all where I used to be and I most certainly don’t feel alone or unheard. God has taught me to love unconditionally as I learn more about Him through His word and the people He’s placed in my life.
To learn how to truly love we must submit to the creator of love. His love endures forever…
What’s your story?
Trust God, and Do Good 🙂
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