What if? A lesson of trust

What if this is a challenge to become all that God calls me to be?

I was having a conversation tonight with a good friend about something totally unrelated to my current internal hell. We were chatting about her son and his approach to life; how sensitive he is. He is a very talented gymnast, yet he thinks that he is rubbish, believes that his gym coach thinks he is rubbish too. As my friend relayed the conversation she’d had with her 7 year old son, something she said really stuck with me. While explaining to her son that his coach invests so much in him that he couldn’t possibly think he’s rubbish, she said to me: “He needs to stop hearing only the negative.”


Sometimes it is SO easy to let the negative get the better of us. Especially if we’re sensitive people. Interestingly enough, only the night before I had been reading an article about different introvert personality types, their characteristics and the way they function. It’s amazing when you finally realise why you behave a certain way, or have certain needs, and when you realise you’re not the only one, that you’re not weird or crazy. So yes, I’m the sensitive type. Tell me something I don’t know. But in contrast with my friends son, I’m lucky I’m old enough and self aware enough to know that about myself and deal with it accordingly. Maybe I should research specifically into how sensitive types deal with betrayal and abandonment. Could be fascinating. At the very least, if nothing existed already, I’d have a great niche carved out for me.

Anyway, I realised that just like him, I was only allowing myself to hear the negative. I suppose there’s letting yourself sit with pain and then there’s self torture, depriving yourself of simple joy. Not intentional I’m sure, just like I’m sure my friends son doesn’t intend to believe he is rubbish, or to sabotage his own self esteem but it’s being able to tune into the right frequency to be able to grasp what you need to. To understand what’s really going on. He needed to realise that he wasn’t being told he’s rubbish at all but being pushed to become better. What if I need to realise exactly that? That’s it not about being rubbish or failing, or self destructing because I’m engulfed in emotion. Maybe I am being pushed because God knows I can be more. I deserve more.

So much has been invested in me and all the time i sit here and wallow in misery, that investment is entirely wasted.

Rather than a kick in the teeth, I need to channel this into a kick up the backside and use it as inspiration… A challenge… to become all that God calls me to be. This realisation just instantly reminded me of a bible passage I’d been drawn to a few days ago.

James 1:2-4.

“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy.  For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.  So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.”

Wow , I didn’t even realise it, but God is giving me exactly the guidance I have so desperately been praying for. Golden nuggets of wisdom and grace for me exactly where I need it. Life may be so very different to the picture I had painted but I am going to keep pushing through the fear if it kills me, and just trust. Trust that I’m being led where I need to go.


I’m sat here trying to figure out why sometimes, even when I really want to, I can’t bring myself to sit and write about how I’m feeling. Because it is beyond explanation. But I often wonder whether these are the times that I need to write most and whether I should just force myself to get it out into the open. Maybe if I could see it there in words it would be satisfied and go away. Would the act of writing out my thoughts bring to light the answers. What am I even asking? Sometimes it all seems like such a vague mess I think that there’s no point in writing, but maybe I could write it into some sort of sense.

I feel so scarred by the experiences of the last year. Some days I seem to function well, to put on a smile and make it through the day without falling apart at the seems. I wish I knew the formula for it but it just seems to happen.

Other days, well those scars seem to throb, to burn, to drag me down like huge weights on my back and then the hurt just gushes in like water surrounding me and it’s overwhelming,  helplessly watching myself drown in a sea of sadness. I don’t want to be here like this, I don’t want to feel heavy and broken. Dizzily, sinking under into the abyss, I get so lost under those waves it feels as though I might never get out alive.

Somehow though, I do make it out. And this is not the sort of trauma that you visibly see so normal life resumes. No one knows any different. I’m just glad to have survived it.  I wish I knew where I find the strength … wish that it felt like it gets easier to get myself out of it the next time but it isn’t, seems there is no rhyme or reason, just a coming out of the darkness and back into the light. I’m always looking for the light.

Is it God? Is it hope? Is it my mind growing or my broken heart piecing itself back together and fighting back? Maybe it’s all of those things. Maybe it’s none. I’d like to say I know but truth is I have no idea how I’ve survived the last year. Part of me still feels dead and so many parts of me still feel broken.

If I knew a straightforward way to just move forwards with my life, I would surely do it. But the only way out seems to be through. It feels like I’m stuck in limbo. And so I go on swimming through the endless waves of emotions. Sometimes they relent and there is a brief calm. A peace. A sense of surrender. Maybe it’s just because I forget for a few moments the pain and destruction that seems to have lodged firmly inside my heart.

In those few moments of peace and surrender I want to grasp at the happiness and relish the gratitude I feel, the light that surrounds me before the darkness descends again, and I lose the ability to feel thankful, to feel anything. The darkness swallows me up, brings me crashing back down.

It is beyond frustrating. I guess it would be like clambering a mountain only to slip back down each time. And I am so exhausted. This weary journey to an unknown destination that seems to just get further away. I can’t grasp it, something elusive, which I am reaching for. And each time as I watch my self drown and strenuously try to sit with the pain, hope somehow brings me back to the surface.

Is hope is a choice? Well hope is my choice.