For two days, I felt completely at peace. I was carefree. I wasn’t worried about the future or the past. All I knew was that I felt whole in those moments. Whole.

Whole: in an unbroken or undamaged state, in one piece.

One piece. Peace.

Peace: Shalom: nothing missing, nothing broken.

Every day after that Tuesday has been hell. I cried for a month and a half. The sadness turned into anger. So began the self-degradation. Then came the new year. I tried to put it to rest. I was doing better, feeling better. Yet every time I say I am doing well and mean it, something has to happen to throw me off. So came back the tears because I was hit with too many realizations at once. The most recent time, I cried so much I almost passed out in the shower. 

The questions flood my mind. The why’s. The what-if’s. The what could be’s.

I let it all consume me. I have blamed myself for it all. The only bad guy I saw was myself. I don’t recall ever feeling so broken. So incomplete.

Let’s pretend I am a house. We have a front yard, open to the general public to see. These are initial interactions, first impressions. Then you walk up the porch steps and open the door to the living room. Here we find our acquaintances, with several interactions and more information about me than those in the yard. Then we go into the kitchen, where the people who know some of my messy habits and help me along the way to cook up the best me I can be. In the dining room, we find those I pour into feeding off the work I made in the kitchen. Next you find a staircase. As you make your way up, you find pictures of moments that have molded me into who I am today. You see it getting intimate and confidential. Upstairs you find the bathroom, filled with images of how I perceive myself. You’ll find the lies I’ve believed and the truths that are fighting for control. Lastly, we have the bedroom. The most intimate, hidden part of me. The place where secrets reside. Where prayers are made. The place where the tears are triggered. The place that controls everything.

A year ago, I had way more bedrooms and let people, with all their junk, come and dump it. A year ago, I changed the foundations of this house that is me. This time around, I feel like I let someone walk into every part of this house. I guess I was hoping that no matter how messed up they found me, they would still want me. But I just ended up feeling rejected and unwanted.

I might feel rejected, unwanted, and broken; but I know God makes me whole. I know God wants me. I know God accepts me.

In this brokenness, I stand before Him. Exposed and ready for surgery. 

I know my healing, my joy, and my peace is found in Him.

It is hard and everyday is a struggle, but I know it’s an uphill battle.

I am learning to find peace in the unknown.

Even if I don’t know the whole truth, I know His Truth of who I am and who He is sets me free.