“C” Thru

I was sitting and talking to God about how I remember days when I’d be going through something but hiding behind a godly smile because 1) I didn’t want anyone to know I was having trouble, 2) I thought that if you trust in God then you should smile, and 3) I thought it was wrong to be honest about it — seemed like complaining. But I was never really at peace or ever really had joy even though everyone may have thought I did because of the front I put on.

I’ve spent 92.8373% of my life as a walking, talking brick wall.  Thankfully, I matured enough to only spend 4.225% of my life as a side of sheet rock.  Transparent? No. Readily understood? Absolutely not.

Only certain people know certain things, and even then, it may only be slightly more than the surface layer information.  I never had the opportunity to establish a healthy vulnerability with others.  Very few people “played nice” with me.  And because of the powerlessness that I felt, I built up defenses to keep them all away.  Because between the male misogyny and the female maliciousness – I never stood a chance.

I realize now that my wall wasn’t built so much to keep people out, but to keep me in.  I had/have secrets. Secret thoughts, secret trauma, secret desires, secret memories that if anyone knew, they wouldn’t want to know me.  And this was before I truly started my walk with Christ.  So once I became “perfect”, as the church folk say, I had to keep pretending to be “perfect”.  I couldn’t possibly show my scars because that would mean that I’m not really trying hard enough to be “good”. I couldn’t possibly be hurt or disappointed or sad or frustrated because that would mean I didn’t believe enough or have enough faith.

But eventually the space that I’d given myself got really, really tight.  I didn’t fit anymore.  He kept shaking my tree so that I couldn’t stay walled in behind my own mind.  I didn’t notice it, but every time I would step into a stupid situation, God would use it to chip a brick. And frankly, the more absurd the situation, the more I had to be real about.  I had to cry…publicly. I had to speak…publicly.  I had to hurt…publicly.  And I am private – I don’t do public.

But eventually, after the kicking and screaming died down, Christ started to show me that public was the only way to shine the light that was transmitting through me and that I had been blocking for so long.