I walked onto the race; wounded, insecure, ready to play the victim, ready to run, ready to shut down, never wanted to deal with my pain, an emotional wreck, and again, wounded.
What I’m NOT saying is, I left the race with all of these things healed, fixed, dealt with, or patched up.
Actually I probably left the race with more wounds.
BUT I’m aware of it.
I see the importance of the process.
Before the race I was going through an identity crisis, I knew the things the Lord said about me, I knew the things I was supposed to be believe about myself but I didn’t identify those things as truths. ( I didn’t know that at the time)
I Identified myself as a rusty hammer, no one wanted but needed.
for instance..
Anytime someone walked in sin, they avoided me.. (this never made sense to me)
I took it so personal. I always thought, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?”
Sometimes I would hear people talking about me and other times I read things people said about me.
The last week of the race someone told me “ I can finally say I survived being on a team with Jordan Overton”
I admired the honesty.
Some of the names were correct though, I wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, I could sometimes be a b word, but who isn’t. I pushed people away because I was so hurt by them, (actually that was a lot of the time) I rejected people before they could reject me.
If people didn’t choose me, (in my mind) they were against me.
and I’m sorry. I’m sorry to the people I hurt.
I do believe alot of things could have been handled differently but thats how they all played out.
If you’re reading this and thinking “ your life is messy” You are soo correct.
Life is messy, especially when you have a lot of things to work out. I have had built up past wounds that I never brought to light and a lot of it caused by wounds of rejection.
rejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejection
rejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejection
rejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejection
rejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejectionrejection
rejection
sometimes I feel like It’s plastered on my forehead.
After I became aware of that wound, I let it define my identity.
Why not, right? It’s what seemed to happen to me all the time ( I played the victim a lot, HA!)
Rejected.Reject.Rejection.
I really do hate this word.
I sometimes still catch myself identifying myself with that ugly word.
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Now that I’m home, able to process everything (KINDA) I see the Lord doing something beautiful in this messy heart of mine.
Its a lot of pain, It’s dealing with more rejection, It’s attempts at processing, It’s fighting lies with truth, && my favorite thing ever, ugly sobs.
But that’s what I’m in the midst of.
A Beautiful Mess.
