Sallie was a forty-seven year old woman trapped in a seven year old body. To say the least, she didn’t get the nurturing she needed as a child. There weren’t any positive affirmations spoken to validate any of her feelings & God seemed like a foreign entity that she’d only heard of in passing. She lacked emotional & physical stability, so she tried to create her own. Despite her best efforts, she fell short so her life played out by watching & waiting from the sidelines. She never gained the confidence to get in the game. She was a hidden gem on the bleachers, cheering everyone else on. That became her passion. Surely, she found her calling. She was destined to becoming the best servant to others while neglecting herself. Most certainly, God would be very pleased. I mean wasn’t her life a modern day parallel to Job?
She was drawn to brokenness, people with a sadness in their eyes that resembled hers. Surely, God gave her the compassion to “rescue” them from pain. I mean she was an expert at suffering, loss & grief. It became her way of life. Little did she know, she was addicted to “pain!” The uncertainty & instability was her drug of choice. It was her comfort zone.
Years of her own neglect went unnoticed by many. She started to forget about her own dreams. She was a master manipulator in disguise, who excelled tremendously at concealing pain. She’d worn the mask since birth and even though it no longer fit, it became a vital part of her identity. Surely, she couldn’t function without it. It was hidden beneath piles of debt, designer handbags & lots of self inflicted pain. It became the “norm” without hope of a better way.
Year after year, she drove herself into a state of physical exhaustion. Serving others was her only meaningful contribution to the world but she was tired. She grew distant & withdrawn from public scrutiny. She was a classified permanent resident in the “waiting room.” Was this it? Was this God’s plan for her? Hadn’t she suffered enough trauma throughout life?
As she positioned herself to hear from God directly and stopped seeking out prophecies to affirm her inclinations, things begin to shift. The people she served for years really didn’t need the bulk of her time nor attention. In her isolated moments, she studied like a mad scientist longing for more. Even though she was smart, the world would never know because she had a secret disability. She refused to speak. Social interaction made a way of escape years ago. It was only a vague memory. She hid in the crowd, sporting her security blanket, a pure white sheet. In her mind, she was doing the best she could with what she had been given. She was “surviving!”
She was far from Mother Teresa but she learned to keep her legs closed. The very opposite of what people considered her reputation to be. God was building her up from within and there was no room for distractions via pseudo-type relationships. She grew increasingly frustrated by the loneliness, never admitting that she was sick. She was suffering from a broken heart. God needed her healthy & healed before he would release her safely into the world. Her anxiety grew stronger as she made “self” the main focus. There was no dramatic chaos that needed her attention so she started to create her own safety net of dysfunction. She’d cause more“self inflicted wounds,” that showed up by piling on more neglect. She carried the emotional baggage mostly within the inches forming around her bulging waistline. However, the void remained unfulfilled and tension grew.
She grew angry starring at all the unfinished projects she’d started. Everything in life was a “work in progress!” Every time she drew closer to completion, the devil sent a clever distraction to claim her undivided attention. He already took advantage of her restless soul, which some referenced as immaturity. They didn’t understand why she lost interest so quickly. It was a flawed trait that caused her a lot of heartache. People couldn’t figure her out & it was way too complicated to explain.
One day she drove to an abandoned cliff and cried out to God. She didn’t have a clue. The world was distant & cold to her. People that she respected & admired from afar didn’t even know she existed. She felt rejected, like damaged goods. She was an antique sitting in the bargain basement waiting to be claimed. An orphan looking for a home. An abandoned ship that wrecked & washed up to shore without notice. She was the pink elephant that walked in the room. The uncategorized diagnoses that didn’t fit a rightful cure. She just couldn’t be explained. A shameless face without a name.
She sat for hours on that cliff. She’d driven more than 8 hours to reach it, in the middle of nowhere but longing to fit somewhere. She pulled her sleeves up but was reminded of her battle scars. She wondered where God was when she found herself a bloody, broken mess. She was angry & he should know it before she took her last breathe. He was so close but yet so far away.
God created this ideal moment for her to decide via (free will) if she had the courage to jump or the will to live.
She was drawn to brokenness, people with a sadness in their eyes that resembled hers. Surely, God gave her the compassion to “rescue” them from pain. I mean she was an expert at suffering, loss & grief. It became her way of life. Little did she know, she was addicted to “pain!” The uncertainty & instability was her drug of choice. It was her comfort zone.
Years of her own neglect went unnoticed by many. She started to forget about her own dreams. She was a master manipulator in disguise, who excelled tremendously at concealing pain. She’d worn the mask since birth and even though it no longer fit, it became a vital part of her identity. Surely, she couldn’t function without it. It was hidden beneath piles of debt, designer handbags & lots of self inflicted pain. It became the “norm” without hope of a better way.
Year after year, she drove herself into a state of physical exhaustion. Serving others was her only meaningful contribution to the world but she was tired. She grew distant & withdrawn from public scrutiny. She was a classified permanent resident in the “waiting room.” Was this it? Was this God’s plan for her? Hadn’t she suffered enough trauma throughout life?
As she positioned herself to hear from God directly and stopped seeking out prophecies to affirm her inclinations, things begin to shift. The people she served for years really didn’t need the bulk of her time nor attention. In her isolated moments, she studied like a mad scientist longing for more. Even though she was smart, the world would never know because she had a secret disability. She refused to speak. Social interaction made a way of escape years ago. It was only a vague memory. She hid in the crowd, sporting her security blanket, a pure white sheet. In her mind, she was doing the best she could with what she had been given. She was “surviving!”
She was far from Mother Teresa but she learned to keep her legs closed. The very opposite of what people considered her reputation to be. God was building her up from within and there was no room for distractions via pseudo-type relationships. She grew increasingly frustrated by the loneliness, never admitting that she was sick. She was suffering from a broken heart. God needed her healthy & healed before he would release her safely into the world. Her anxiety grew stronger as she made “self” the main focus. There was no dramatic chaos that needed her attention so she started to create her own safety net of dysfunction. She’d cause more“self inflicted wounds,” that showed up by piling on more neglect. She carried the emotional baggage mostly within the inches forming around her bulging waistline. However, the void remained unfulfilled and tension grew.
She grew angry starring at all the unfinished projects she’d started. Everything in life was a “work in progress!” Every time she drew closer to completion, the devil sent a clever distraction to claim her undivided attention. He already took advantage of her restless soul, which some referenced as immaturity. They didn’t understand why she lost interest so quickly. It was a flawed trait that caused her a lot of heartache. People couldn’t figure her out & it was way too complicated to explain.
One day she drove to an abandoned cliff and cried out to God. She didn’t have a clue. The world was distant & cold to her. People that she respected & admired from afar didn’t even know she existed. She felt rejected, like damaged goods. She was an antique sitting in the bargain basement waiting to be claimed. An orphan looking for a home. An abandoned ship that wrecked & washed up to shore without notice. She was the pink elephant that walked in the room. The uncategorized diagnoses that didn’t fit a rightful cure. She just couldn’t be explained. A shameless face without a name.
She sat for hours on that cliff. She’d driven more than 8 hours to reach it, in the middle of nowhere but longing to fit somewhere. She pulled her sleeves up but was reminded of her battle scars. She wondered where God was when she found herself a bloody, broken mess. She was angry & he should know it before she took her last breathe. He was so close but yet so far away.
God created this ideal moment for her to decide via (free will) if she had the courage to jump or the will to live.
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