I’m Not That Girl

Last summer, to my horror, my parents found a couple of bins in their basement from my high school years. I had all but forgotten, and was blissfully unaware that their contents even existed.

But as soon as they were discovered, and handed off to me, I knew there would inevitably be things in there that I wouldn’t want to find.

At the same time, I knew there’d be things in there that I wouldn’t want anyone else to find either.

So, there was only one thing to do, I’d have to go through them. But the thought of what could be inside, brought up so much shame.

The thing is, I’m not who I once was.

I’m not that girl.

Because I’m born again, and made new, I didn’t want to go back there, to that place in time, where shame and pain and darkness existed.

I didn’t want to stare down the tunnel to my past.

Maybe you too can relate to a past that you would never want to return to.

Do you struggle with shame about who you once were?

Perhaps you too are born again, and you aren’t that girl anymore either.

Now, 20 plus years later, I was afraid of becoming acquainted with her again. So afraid in fact, that I let those bins sit untouched in my house for another 2 months after bringing them home.

But after they had sat there for way too long, it was finally time. If nothing else, I thought, I had better get rid of anything I don’t want my kids or grand-kids to find one day.

I dragged the bins outside, joined by my husband. As we sat across from each other, he encouraged me as I ripped the band-aid off, so to speak. 

As I began to weed through the papers, I came across my old journals. Conflicted for a few moments, I wondered if it was really worth opening them or not. Did I really want to go back there?

I’m not who I once was.

I’m not that girl.

As I pondered my next steps, I sat there in front of the mess of my past, and prayed.

“God, please protect me from the enemy. I feel like I’m about to open the gates of hell. Don’t let me believe his lies. I’m not who I once was. I’m not that girl. You’ve already forgiven me, and set me free. Thank you, God, that I don’t have to carry this shame. Thank you Jesus for your grace that I don’t deserve.”

I took a deep breath, hesitating, and opened the first journal. I knew that what I’d find wouldn’t be great, but it was also shocking to see it now. 

That girl had filled the pages with dark poetry, and drunken ramblings. Looking at it now, all I saw was immense brokenness, hurt, and pain. So much pain.

And then I found the next journal. As I opened it up, I found a sewing needle tucked inside, and my heart sank once again. 

You see, that needle wasn’t used for mending, but rather, for destroying. It was the needle I had used to harm myself. 

As soon as I saw it, I could almost feel myself back in my high school bedroom, crying out from a burden that was too much to carry. The darkness I was reminded of was palpable. 

To someone who has never self harmed, the concept probably doesn’t make any sense. But to someone who is desperate to not ‘hurt’ anymore, and struggling with suicidal ideations, it seems like a better route than death.

For me, it became an addiction. The same way a heroine addict shoots up to not ‘feel’ the pain of whatever she’s running from, I would cut myself to ‘release’ the pain that I could no longer carry.

Now all these years later, I held that needle in my hand. A wife, a mother, a beautiful life blessed by God, and there in my hand was the evidence that it wasn’t always easy.

I sat there for awhile, staring at it in absolute shock. It wasn’t something I was expecting to find, and I couldn’t understand why I would have saved it in the first place.

Then it hit me. Even though I eventually got treatment to stop harming prior to packing up those bins and storing them away, I was still walking around with one foot in the grave, and one in freedom. 

Before I fully surrendered my life to Christ, I couldn’t let go of the darkness, or rather, it still had its grip on me.

In my teen years, once the cutting stopped, the self-harm moved on to alcohol, drugs, and anything I could do to cope with that darkness that I couldn’t escape.

By the grace of God, a couple years after high school ended, I got onto a better path, and straightened out.

Now, all these years later, a born again child of God, I didn’t want to hold onto these physical reminders.

I’m not who I once was.

I’m not that girl.

It many ways I had all but forgotten the intensity of the pain. It was as if my old self had died, and I was finding someone else’s dirty secrets.

As I went through those bins, I was seeing her through the eyes of a mother now. I hurt for her, but in a new way.

My shame became compassion for the suffering endured, and gratitude to God for the miracle of changing this life that was once lived in so much bondage.

Though I knew Jesus left the 99 to go after me, a prodigal child, I was now faced with the evidence of the hell that he pulled me out of. 

To come face to face with the deep pain and memories of your past, will reveal in new ways what Christ did for you, in the rescuing and transformation of your life.

With a lap full of my old self, I stopped to praise God.

I wept tears of joy, and tears of gratitude, for the life He had blessed me with, in spite of the life I had once lived.

Then tears of grief and sadness, for what this hurt girl, who I once was, had suffered.

Oh, if I had only known back then, all the pain that could have been avoided, had I just surrendered to the One who could heal it all. 

I wanted to come along side that girl, and tell her it would all be okay.

This world is so broken, and I too was broken. But God. Walking with Him changes everything.

There’s more of this story to tell, but to wrap it up for now, that night ended with a bonfire.

In a poetic justice kind of way, I set my past up in flames, with my husband right beside me.

The journals, the notes from old friends, the needle, the photos that didn’t portray anything I was proud of, along with any items that carried shame, all burned that night.

Thinking about it, it’s kinda like what Jesus did for me, the day I fully surrendered my life to Him.

As the fire blazed, I was grateful that I too had been held to the fire at times, refined by the trials.

While the items in the fire slowly turned to ash, I gazed at the crackling flames, and thanked God once again.

No more shame, no more chains, because I’m not who I am once was. I’m not that girl.

I’ve been set free.

To my kids, and future grand-kids, 

If I’ve done my job well, then you already know my story. Within the many chapters, there is pain, but mostly, beauty. You are a large part of my redemption story. I’ve hopefully lived out the gospel to you, showing you how God transforms people like your Mama, and anyone, no matter what their story is. When we fully surrender our life to Him, he makes us into a new creation. For all of our human missteps, there is always more grace. He offers the same for you. 

To my own Mama,

I believe that my life today, as I write this, is evidence that God hears our prayers. Thank you for never losing faith that God could save my life, as you faithfully prayed over me, without ceasing. There is no love on this earth, like that of a Christian mother on her knees in prayer, as she battles against the weapons of hell, interceding for her child. Despite all that you suffered on my behalf, you have lived out the gospel to me, modeling forgiveness, grace and pointing me to Jesus in all things. Of all the mamas in the world, I’m grateful that you are mine. 

To my husband,

Thank you for holding my hand through my recovery from trauma, PTSD, depression and anxiety. Your unending support and love, always gives me a soft place to land when I need it. You have been my encourager, without judgement, embracing me where I’m at, through years of growth together.

 

A note if you’re struggling…

Sister, the battle doesn’t need to be fought in your own strength. When you surrender your life, and all that goes with it, to God, he will set you free.

He will pick up the broken pieces, and put you back together in a new way. He will make you a new creation.

If you’re struggling with suicidal thoughts, or thoughts of harming yourself, please tell someone. Get help now, because your life is valuable.

If you’re caught in the grips of addiction, please get treatment. There is freedom available from the bondage that you’re suffering under.

You are seen.

You are known.

You are loved.

You are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Hotline

New Life Christian Therapy & Recovery Services

SAMHSA Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration

 

To the mama of a prodigal,

Don’t lose hope & don’t stop praying.

I hope that my own story will be an encouragement to you, as you pray, once again, for your own prodigal. 

God sees you, and he knows your pain. You are not alone.