March 6th, 2011.
This was the close of a very long chapter of my life. And the opening of another equally long chapter.
You see, for five years, I became an addict to self- harm. It became my coping mechanism for everything, my escape from reality, from myself, from my depression. For five years, this addiction became my life, and everyday, in self harm, I would find refuge, salvation, and a temporary release. And everyday, I began to put more hope in this solution. And everyday, my life revolved around this moment of distraction. And it worked, briefly and partially. Everyday, it was never enough and it never would be. And everyday I allowed myself to slip further into believing the lies that self-injury told me, “that my life wasn’t important”, “that I would never be good enough”. And in the throes of my addiction, I was too blind to see that I had a problem. I was convinced that my self-injury was a friend – not a foe. A constant companion that promised control, comfort, joy, stability, and a temporary escape. Yet it also brought with it heartache and disappointment. I couldn’t see that I was scaring my loved ones. I remember brushing off their concerns. Self-injury was my friend. I could stop any time I wanted. Whenever I was around people my head would spin in circles, taunting me with all the things I wasn’t and all the ways I wasn’t living a good enough life. I hated myself. I felt worthless, empty, and alone. That was my “friend’s” best trick: making me feel alone by isolating me from those who were always there for me. It was a never-ending cycle and temporary relief was seemingly the only escape. This only further reiterated the tape playing on repeat in my mind saying I was unworthy of love, acceptance, and a life away from cutting. My “friend” drug me into dark places, haunting thoughts filled my head. Suicide attempts became reality in the darkest pit of my addiction.
And in my brokenness, I knew that a perfect God could never love me, I knew I would never be worthy, that I had done too much wrong. Then I met a girl who showed me a God who loved me with a perfect love so I didn’t have to be perfect, because He was. She told me that God loved me and wanted me to know that. Soon after, God showed me that self injury was my idol, and that I needed to lay it down before Him. Thus concluding a chapter of my story and the opening of a new one, of fighting a long battle.
Today, I am free. March 4th marks five years clean. Five years of freedom. Five years of bondage to hopelessness, lies, and hatred, now matched with five years of fighting for freedom, joy, and the love of my Savior. Today only the scars remain.The faded scars show healing, reminding me that even though I’ve been in dark places, I’ve survived and learned and become stronger. They are proof that I am not perfect, that I have fallen and been hurt. And for so long, I wished they would go away. I didn’t want people to see my brokenness because in it I felt shame.
To be completely honest with you, shame is the reason I more often than not I choose not to share my story with others. For years I believed what shame says, that I was fundamentally flawed, that somehow I had waived my rights to personal connection. But today, I have found permission to be honest. Every person who is reading this is living a story. And I venture to say that everyone who is reading this, their story includes desire, and I would imagine that it also includes depression. And if you don’t relate to that word, depression, I can imagine that something you can relate to is pain or to feeling stuck or to bumping into some really big questions in life. And the thing I want to suggest is that your story is sacred. That your story is unique, is priceless. That nobody else can play your part in your story. My hope is that your story also includes some people that you can be honest with, my hope is that when it comes to the stuff that hurts, the stuff that you don’t know what to do with, that you feel like you are allowed to go there, that you are allowed to be honest, you are allowed to ask for help.
Because you matter. Your story matters.
What is the one thing you wish you could say today?
Because you see, it may be that the very thing that your soul needs to say is the very thing that my soul needs to hear, because we are all in this together, we all tick to the same heartbeat.
And there in lies one of the biggest choices we have to make, as I continue to dream and anticipate, who can I welcome into my story? Who can I trust to correct my perspective when I’m more self-damning than I deserve, when my head rattles with questions like “am I worth it?” “am I going to make it out of this?” “do you see me?” “do you feel the same way I do?” “Am I too much?” “Do the choices I make even matter?” And in a future that is dependent on your participation I hope you hear this, I need you here. We need you here. It is OKAY to not be okay. But don’t you dare for a second think you are in this alone.
And today I’m not just talking about the hard stuff, today I am also talking about the good stuff, hopes and dreams. Maybe it’s a dream to live in a new country or to speak a new language, to graduate college, to have a family. Maybe that seems impossible or stupid or insignificant now. but what I’m telling you is that these things matter. Maybe we need to stop asking people “what do you do for a living?, but instead, “what is your dream?” What does it look like to be a people who care about each other stories? With strangers? With your friends?
We live in a day where we are supposed to have it all together, supposed to have it all figured out. And if we have problems we aren’t really sure if they can come out, or if we can go there,what would it look like to have a support system, a few friends where you can go there. Where you can ask “ What is your dream? And how are you doing with that dream?, what do you want?, and what makes you feel alive?” I hope that you feel that it’s okay to be honest and it’s okay to ask for help. It’s simply part of being alive. It’s simply part of being on this planet. It’s part of being human. When it’s tough, when it’s awkward,what’s it look like to love someone who living a story that maybe look a bit different than yours?
So today I hope you feel seen, I hope you feel heard. And I hope you feel invited.
For me, this week, I am celebrating freedom, because five years ago I made a choice to no longer let those cuts be my savior, but instead turned to my Heavenly Father who set me free. And today, I am free indeed.
