“I don’t know how to move forward,” I said between tears just one day after saying, I can do this.
“You’re doing it. You’re here. You’re standing,” she softly replied.
. . .
“I’m afraid that if I’m honest with you about how I’m doing, you’ll hospitalize me. And that’s my biggest fear because I’ve done that, and I don’t want to do it again,” I whispered, trying not to make eye contact with him so he wouldn’t see the pain, fear, and emptiness in my eyes.
We didn’t talk about the trauma yesterday. I didn’t need to talk about the trauma yesterday. Instead, we filled out a safety plan, a “what do I do if” plan, an “I hope I never have to use this, but just in case” type of plan. I’ve spent so much of my last few years living in the past, letting my trauma be my definition. I’d forgotten how to move forward, how to live for the future. I want to be here, so much so I’m actively trying to take suicide off the table as an option, terrifying because it’s been my only option for so long.
I didn’t talk about the trauma today. I didn’t need to talk about the trauma today. Instead, we talked about the present–the “I met God who was waiting for me in the messiness” moment, the “I’m just trying to make it through this moment by counting backward from 1027 by sevens” moment, the “I’m gonna use all the skills I can to get through this crisis” moment.
My emotions don’t always line up with the facts–sometimes I overreact, sometimes I underreact.
But the point is, I’m trying. I’m standing. I’m moving forward.
Because I thought for sure that someday, I’d end up killing myself. Now, I’m sure I won’t. It’s sort of funny how one day you wake up and realize that the thing that caused you to want to die in the first place is now what’s causing you to want to live–I want to use my brokenness to help others, the whole “beauty from ashes, some good must come from this” type of thing.
It’s so easy to bask in our brokenness that sometimes we forget that God can use our brokenness; we just have to allow it to be used–allow God to meet us in the lowly, broken places.
He came to a broken world, to redeem a broken world, to use the broken world. And he used the broken ones, the hurting ones, the lowly ones. We just have to allow ourselves to be used.
I’m allowing myself to be used because I want my life to have a purpose–to be bigger than myself. And that, that is why I’m moving forward.
“See that, that right there is why I’m not going to hospitalize you: you have long-term goals.”
I can do this. I am doing this. I’m breathing, standing, crying, feeling, hurting, letting the past go. I’m moving forward.
. . .
“I think we’re all in this place right now to help each other through these moments. You’re nothing special–we’re all part of the same broken vessel. We’re all part of the same piece of pottery, fit back together by the most precious thing of all: God.”