I am an island with a dark lighthouse. Untouched by any keeper. Stark. Cold. Impenetrable.
Untouched by any keeper. Stark. Cold. Impenetrable.
Stark. Cold. Impenetrable.
Neither the warmth of sun nor the freshness of rain can change my affect.
Unmoved by any but the utmost violence.
Sometimes, I think I could go the rest of my life without ever touching another person ever again. I quite literally repel physical affection. Regularly.
My poor children have to ask me before they hug me. Because sometimes, I just can’t. And I don’t know why.
What kind of mother does that make me?
It’s depressing to think about.
I reach out for help, but I am still waiting. No tools are placed in my hands. Only pats on the head, and you’ll-be-fine’s.
What do I need to get through this?
I want to live “wholehearted,” like Brene Brown says. Vulnerable. Open. Believing in my inherent worth in the eyes of God. The worth he ascribes to each one of us, rooted in his extravagant, ridiculous love. The gall of our Creator, to think that we are worth reaching down into the mud for.
If only I could believe it of myself.
I know it. I can touch it, look at it, reason it to be so.
Where is the string of faith that connects my heart to my mind?
I am untouched.
And I don’t know why..
As I write more, I am just free-writing. Letting whatever comes to mind flow from my fingers to this page. It doesn’t define who I am, only where I am in a moment. I’m trying to step back and see what’s really going on in me. Your patience with these ramblings is appreciated. This post was written back in April of this year. I don’t remember quite what lead to it, but I know the struggle still lingers. It’s taken a back seat right now, and isn’t so prnounced. But…I’m trying to be real. So there you go.
Grace & Peace,