Feeding what leads to well-being


I am secretly envious of those who have never suffered with trauma and the subsequent pains that manifest from it because all unknown symptoms relate to the suggestion of satan who reminds us of memories endured.  And so the eyes close and the throat tightens and I plan into the future and then plan some more.   I may not ever be without pain but I have often joked that, “I can handle physical pain over emotional pain any day”.

My dad never did anything but make me feel endangered and filthy when I was little, something I couldn’t shake even into adulthood, even now.  I find myself keeping enough food in the house and spacing out doctors appointments so that I can breathe, I actually touch my own skin to make sure I’m alive and tell myself, “everything is okay in this moment”.  Yet internally I feel like a deep pit whose well has run dry because I’m fighting the air with my fists gripped to keep whats coming, that my palms never open to receive the greater of what God could bring.  I like my life for the most part, I cry everyday and laugh all the more because of it, but I do feel a quiet, desolate hole is widening within.  I may not ever have love and that’s okay by me because I don’t believe I ever have, but I would fear much more, lacking the security of health and the time to enjoy it.


I’m not a sap, I’m just a nomadic spirit on the journey of capturing deep emotion that seems to elude me.  Why can’t there be a male version of me out there somewhere?  And I answer my own question with, “there was in my brother, but he has gone on to meet his maker too soon”.  So then maybe money, health, relationships and purpose are overrated?  After all I know no one who has it all. But I may not have any of them but have the One who does.  I’m wondering if I shouldn’t just throw all caution to the wind and sell off all I have for the pursuit of miracles and the expectation of continuous supernatural exploits if I have already lived more life than most of my friends combined?  What’s to stop me?

Fear of medical needs and judgment from naysayers, the haters who silently watch in hopes that they get a good laugh?  Fear of restriction and mandates of vaccines and seat belt dings that erode my capability to think for myself on a remedial level?  Fear of unpopularity in a time where liars preach standards but cheat on their wives behind closed doors, where their pulpit produces a following without discerning the lack of anointing?  My disillusionment has been full of grace despite a 7 year dessert season in the South, yet I stumble further to look to man for help?  I surrender.  I am not an activist that needs camaraderie in order to behold purpose and I won’t stand with those who bully or shame people who think differently than them.  Nobody can hate in the name of love and get away with it.  If anyone should have a right to dwell in homosexual, minority, scapegoated groups it should be me but they have never taken time to ask because agenda has lied to them about their own identities.


So here I stand, open arms, tired and overwhelmed with society and it’s grave depravity, and yet I am grateful. Grateful that I have more gumption than most to admit my flaws, remain an empath and exhibit courage to walk away from unbelievers; anyone who manipulates weak personalities to puff themselves up.  Control used to be my thing but I’ve seen the light and faced my demons.  I won’t expect anyone else to walk the narrow road I have, but I won’t be ashamed of where my feet led me either, because some of that journey was necessary to keep me from repeated mistakes.


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