If we’re being really honest, we all have a not-so-perfect story to tell. And just as this world is broken, so are our pasts.
The thing about brokenness is that it’s easier to cover it with booze, drugs, food, lavish spending and sex. To pretend it doesn’t exist. To shove it down and ignore it-because the rawness of it alone doesn’t feel good.
The pain that walks hand in hand with it, is easier to put away or disguise than to wear it freely on your sleeve. It’s easier to put it in a box labeled “Previous Life” or “Never Open”, than to face it head on. To deal with it. Or worse yet, expose it.
To look at it with open eyes, whatever it is that’s hiding away, and really SEE it, takes bravery and being open to transformation. But it’s a journey and sometimes it takes a hard fight to get there.
We don’t ask for these things or the pain that comes with. Brokenness was never part of the perfect plan, but it is part of this imperfect world. It invites itself. It is never invited.
What happens when we take the hard stuff, the unspeakable, accept it as part of our story and realize that it does not define us? We stop hiding from it. We name it. We release it. We grow. We may even be able to help others navigate similar experiences thanks to the pain we’ve suffered.
Then, rather than a deep dark secret that creeps in, haunting us in the stillness; the quiet places, it becomes a part of our story, a stepping stone. A healed wound with a scar left behind to tell a story. Something for better or worse that shaped us and it takes raw courage to see that.
It can take time, years even, to get to this place of willingness to face your brokenness. To be willing is often the hardest step.
We might keep that hurt tucked away in order to protect ourselves, but in turn, what we’re really doing is unknowingly isolating. It’s the whisper of lies in moments of self doubt that tell you,
“Other women won’t understand.”
“They won’t believe me.”
“I’ll be rejected if I talk about it.”
“I’ll be judged.”
“I should feel ashamed.”
“This is my fault.”
“I have to protect my abuser.”
“They’ll think differently of me.”
What if we choose to not believe the lies and instead use our pain to bring us together? One woman’s honesty and courage can trickle down into the inspiration that sets others free.
I truly believe that our transparency has the power to encourage other women, other moms, other girls, to not be so hard on themselves. Hearing another woman speak openly about hard things can spark courage in someone else to not keep their brokenness shoved down deep too.
In the meantime, I invite you to commit to this- even if you aren’t quite ready to face it, can you at least bring it to the table?
Let’s not be afraid to see it. To show it. To name it. To have a conversation.
You never know who’s depending on your courage.