meet me in my brokenness

Around 9 o’clock last night, I found myself driving in circles around town yelling at God. If it’s a sin to cuss while praying, then today, I am the chief of all sinners.

I was so mad.

 

After two weeks of stability, a week where for the first time in my life I could say, “This is what it feels like to be ‘normal’ or ‘stable’,” it had all gone out the window. And I was so mad.

I had gone two weeks of it being so gloomy and sad and rainy outside, and yet, I found peace and joy in the midst of really gross weather. I had gone two weeks of going to class out of enjoyment, rather than obligation. I didn’t force myself to get out of bed for two weeks. I woke up excited about life. I invested in others and loved well. I was eager to love. I was eager to be loved. I had no reservations on being vulnerable and letting others know me. I actually allowed myself to love me. For two weeks, I knew stability.

 

But then this morning, I reflect on last night. It was one of the most emotionally and mentally unstable nights of my entire life.

Instability kicked in when I realized how boring depression was. Instability reminded me that I have many insecurities. Instability guided me into the many thoughts of maybe death is a lot easier than living and maybe I should just end my life. Instability captured my attention, and blinded me with anger, sadness, frustration, apathy, numbness, and guilt. Instability is the place I found myself in last night.

 

I mourned the loss of my stability when I found myself in battle with my mind, when I realized that maybe stability was just an illusion, and when I recognized that I’m in need of help because I’m not okay.

 

I’m not sure at this point whether last night was fueled by depression, i.e. an imbalance of the chemicals in my brain, or if it was fueled by my inability to handle my emotions in a healthy manner, or if it was fueled by how incredibly overly sensitive I am, or if it was fueled by weeks of hiding my brokenness and pretending I am fine, when in reality, I’m not. Maybe it was a little bit of everything.

 

However, in the midst of my monologue to God, I recognized that I am, in fact, very broken, and I have been lying to myself and others for a while now. I found myself revealing things to my empty vehicle and God at a loud volume, such as, “I don’t think anyone actually cares about who I am as a person. People just want me because I make them feel good about themselves and I serve them and they want how I make them feel and what I can do for them. They don’t actually want me. So why would anyone give a damn if I died? Why would anyone care if I stepped out of their life, besides that they wouldn’t feel quite as good about themselves… Why would anyone want to hear what is going on in my head? They don’t actually care.”

 

I found it to be so uncomfortable to face these thoughts; to face how weak I am; to face how I really feel. Because for so long, I’ve tried to make others care about me by making them feel like they need me. If I can value who a person is and really, genuinely care about them, and love them how I want to be loved, maybe they’ll reciprocate that sort of love and friendship back to me. But it’s not working. Instead, I’m just draining myself and giving all of me to people who don’t give anything in return. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have incredible friends. I have people who have loved me through many of my darkest nights.

The truth is: I’ve been trying to find love and acceptance and fulfillment in people. I’ve been trying to fill the emptiness and fix the brokenness in my heart with relationships. I’ve not seen myself as very valuable, so I’ve given the entirety of myself in pursuit of relationship.

 

I have this deep craving and hunger to be loved–to be loved well… to be loved extraordinarily.

 

This is the part of the blog where I recognize that “everything I’ve ever wanted and needed can be found in Christ.” There’s a part of me that believes this to be true. But there’s also a part of me that hasn’t experienced that revelation in its fullness.

 

So yeah, I’m in a season of searching. A season of forsaking the way I’ve been trying to feel loved and cherished. A season of turning away from giving myself wholly to people. A season of giving God a chance. It sounds so selfish of me to write these things. I mean, he died for me; he died for my freedom; he’s the only one who is worthy; he’s the only one who knows the darkness in my mind and in my heart, and loves me anyways.

 

But these are things I’ve always said, to myself and to others. I can repeat the things I’ve heard are “true” about my identity, but I don’t fully identify with them. I can tell you about who you are in Christ, and it can change the course of your life. I can get on the platform and speak truth about identity and who Christ is and how he loves you and is rejoicing over you and delights in you, but at the end of the day, I have to be honest: I don’t believe these things for my own life. I don’t feel lovable. I don’t feel called. I don’t feel good enough or adequate. I don’t feel needed, wanted, or important.

 

So I’m entering into a season of searching out the Father’s heart. I’m trusting that he meant it when he said, “You will seek me and you will find me when you seek me with all your heart.” And I’m hoping that he will meet me in my weakness and brokenness. Most of all, I’m praying that when I find stability in the Father that he will forgive my unbelief and my shallowness and my hardened heart and the mask I’ve been wearing for many years and the lies I’ve lived. For I feel like the greatest hypocrite, who has told others to forgive themselves, love themselves, claim the Lord’s freedom and victory over their lives, to be genuine, to make His opinion the only opinion that matters, and to rest in the Father’s love, when I fail to do these things daily. I’m thankful that his grace is greater than my brokenness and weakness.

 

So here’s to this upcoming season. May we find the Father. May he be everything we have ever wanted and needed. May we find fulfillment and satisfaction and deep, deep intimacy in him. May he be enough. May we be found.

 

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