That Little Girl
Emotion was high and I was upset with myself. I shouldn't be reacting this way, but I couldn't stop. Who is this crazy person that I am? That goes here and thinks these selfish things. The real me knows this is wrong. But the root of these issues run too deep. I cannot yet just stop thinking and feeling what I know I shouldn't.
I apologized to God for the way I felt. I did my best to leave it up to him. I know he has to be the one to heal this and in the meantime I will trust and give it to him. My new and oh so frequent line, "This doesn't change anything." I will still follow God. I will still continue on the path he has me on.
I heard a soft whisper last night. "Emily this is not who you are. You are called to love. How much different would this night have been, if you responded in love?" It was comforting and brought peace. There was no condescending tone to it. Instead it was full of grace.
I crawled into bed and didn't say a word. I couldn't even change into my pajamas. I felt awful. Completely awful and used up. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Quickly I fell asleep.
This morning I still felt the residue from the night before. I could feel the heaviness and the weight of depression at the edges. But it knows. It can't so easily consume as before. Now I have more of a choice. I read a book. I needed to get my mind elsewhere. Eventually I was hungry and decided to make breakfast. Again the thought came back. "How much different would the night have been if you responded in love?"
I thought about how I draw myself into isolation. How I kept myself on the outside. I, myself, am the one who chose to stay on the outside. That is not love. Love pours itself out and floods into the empty spots.
I'm sorry God for my response last night. I am sorry that I reacted so strongly in such a negative way. I'm sorry that I didn't respond out of love, but instead out of shame and fear.
I was that little girl. The shy one full of insecurity. Who is hurt because she is not a part, but is so fearful to allow herself to be vulnerable in the middle of people. The one who sees joy and desperately wants it, but is held back by herself.
The one who constantly disappoints herself. The one who knows she is broken and everyone else would be better off without her around. The one who hates herself at the core of who she is. Who won't let anyone in, because she knows what's really there. Who on the outside is not scared of anything. But on the inside, fear drives so much of what she does.
It's better to control the circumstances of isolation and manage the pain that way, than allow others to see the mess. There are times I can't even bear to look at the mess anymore. And when I'm forced to, I shut down. There is no room for emotions that can give it away.
And so I see that last night was about that little girl. That through and through that was my response. God thank you for the insight. This is only temporary. You are bringing healing. As my counselor said, you will join together the wounded little girl and the strong adult who has left the little girl behind. I love children. I cannot let her stay lost and afraid and ignored. Even if it is me, she still needs help.
I was asked to write what I would tell little Emily as a child. I wrote out this last line, "You have a future to look forward to." I felt so much weight and emotion packed into that statement. I remember even saying out loud, "I can't believe that's the line that would do me in!" After all we had talked about who would have thought that would have so much impact.
My goal is to simply write. To write a story for that little girl. The one who has no idea of her future and the hope it holds. From the adult who is only just beginning to dream of her future and the hope that proves true.