(even when it's ugly & painfully hard)

(TRIGGER WARNING: If you suffer from trauma or have experienced abuse you may find this triggering.)

I was 18 years old, when I first heard that healing was really possible. I’d wrestled with the anxiety, the critical self-talk and the broken tapes that played inside my head for as long as I could remember. I grew up believing I was too broken to find healing. But when my good friend from high school told me something different, I realized there was another way to live.

It was in the middle of winter, January and the snow was piled high when Kim (I’ve changed her name to protect her identity) and I met up. We hadn’t seen each other since the day we graduated high school. I was living in Philadelphia but home for winter break when she walked into the restaurant where I was working. I took an early break and we scooted into a cozy corner booth where we caught up with one another.

We both battled eating disorders while in high school to disappear and somehow diminish our hidden pain. But mine was spiraling out of control the day she surprised me.

As we sat across from one another I noticed something was different about her. There was a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her face, she didn’t look as sunken in or emaciated like she did when we were in school. I, of course felt fat. I always did no matter what the number on the scale said. When your heart is sick, you’re unable to see yourself correctly.

As we sat there sharing what we’d been up to, Kim cracked her heart wide open and told me that she’d recently recommitted her life to God and was seeing a counselor. She then shared that she was sexually abused as a young girl. As she described in detail what she went through the room suddenly went silent, and her words were hanging overhead. I felt my face flush. It was hot and burning as if I was fully exposed. I said nothing and just tried to focus on what she was saying, but everything was quiet and all I could hear was a small voice inside of my head saying, “that happened to me!” But the little girl within me was too ashamed and afraid to admit it.I wondered if I was a coward.

All of that dark winter, into the spring and throughout that hot summer I never spoke a word of what I went through.

why do we do we keep secrets locked up inside of us? Aren’t our stories meant to be shared - to reveal the One who is the author of our story?

That was the first time I had ever heard anyone openly speak of abuse. I didn’t know people weren’t supposed to touch me like they did. I didn’t know what felt wrong, was wrong! I didn’t know it wasn’t my fault or even something I didn’t cause. I didn’t know that wasn’t the way you should be treated. And for the very first time, I realized I was abused.

This realization brought some understanding but even more confusion. I didn’t know how to process it.

This might sound odd if you’ve never experienced abuse, but to those who have buried a past pain, it’s all too familiar. You see, children who experience trauma often do this to cope and to survive what they’re experiencing.

I now know the immense courage and strength it took for my friend to share her story with me that day. Although, I never did tell her how it awakened my own story but I hope one day I can sit beside her and tell her how her courage changed my life. It’s because of her that I found healing.
Oh, how I thank God for this!
I thank him for placing her in my life and for the way he wove our stories together.

Friend, I don’t know the story you’re holding onto. I don’t the pain that you’re hiding or what you might be navigating right now, but if there’s anything I could leave you with it’s this -
Sharing your story will help you process pain, heal the past and connect you with others.

“The Annals of Internal Medicine has published the results of a provocative new trial examining the effects of storytelling on patients with high blood pressure. And it appears that at least for one group of patients, listening to personal narratives helped control high blood pressure as effectively as the addition of more medications.”

Trading our story with others is how we make sense of our lives. When we name our experiences, it brings healing. There is a plethora of research about the emotional and physical benefits of storytelling, and this is also true for our spiritual lives. Because the swapping of our stories connects us at a deeper level with others and allows us to retrace the presence of God throughout our past.

I was thinking today of how God created our bodies both physically and emotionally to be resilient and to recover. Yet, in order to experience this kind of transformation we must create space for our souls to breathe.

Sweet Ann Voskamp says it like this:
”Tight lips can suffocate till life lies limp, and secrets can smother and leave you for dead.”
”Keeping secrets can keep you sick”

Scars come from sickness and seasons of painful wounding. Yet when we pull up our sleeves, slip up our pant legs and rip off our bandages, we’re showing that we survived.
This is a holy act. An invitation to see what lays underneath and within. Friend, the only way to really heal is from the inside out.
With one another. With God. And even with ourselves!