Rage

This is RAGE. My days have been consumed with the story at hand. I’m back there in every way. It has been more than 30 years, and everything is STILL just as fresh as it was the day it happened! I thought, “time heals all wounds.” Time hasn’t healed ANYTHING. I thought that with all the deliverance, prayer, fasting, forgiving, and evangelism, I would be free of everything that happened. I have tried my BEST. I have laid it on the altar and then laid it down again, but still, I can’t write a single blog entry of this series without violent tears. I am trying my best. I didn’t want to share this chapter of my messed-up life; I knew it would affect me much deeper than the first series. Writing it takes me back, I can remember every emotion, sound, sight and smell.

Then I walk through the corridors of my heart and mind and realize not one chapter of my life is sweet or normal. One train wreck right into the next. I wish I had some cute clean life to tell you about, I just don’t.. these chards of glass are the making of me. I really hope that me laying bare for dissection is helping someone to face their ugly part. I just don’t understand why I can’t be normal. Why I can’t have a mundane, mediocre life. Why, every time something happens, it’s extraordinary. Sigh. I’m just tired. I’m depleted. I have nothing left in me. I just want to stop. I don’t want to write ANY of this! But every time I stop and lay my phone down to breathe, some other memory is unearthed, and I’m pulled back to the figurative pen. It spills out even when I try to restrain it. I’ve decided that I’m going to walk this wilderness through because I KNOW that there HAS to be something on the other side.