When I hurt, I want to freeze. As if movement would cause me to bump into another painful angle and cause more pain. And yet in my mind I intentionally gouge myself against every possible angle to cause as much pain as possible. Possibly to render myself useless, and thus to have a valid reason for my lack of physical movement.
Yet again, there comes the voice of calm reason which pulls me away from my self-imposed emotional bashing long enough to whisper, “try this.” And I resist, because emotional bashing is my comfort zone. It’s where I go to inflict the most amount of pain so nothing can hurt me more than I am able to hurt myself. Which is considerable.
But the pain is a lie. It is a total fabrication. It is a distortion of reality- the reality which is that I am completely and totally okay. That my marriage is beautiful even at its worst. That I get tired and grumpy and pessimistic, but that even in that moment I am a glorious, divine creature created in the image of God. THE God. And He completely and totally digs me and approves of the life I’m living.
Pain is an indicator that something is “off.” But not irreparably off, just enough that a little tweaking is in order. Maybe some spit and polish on the attitude, or a bit of time in prayer and repentance. Because life is more than checking a bunch of boxes on a scavenger hunt and turning in your list at the exit interview- it is becoming. It is Becoming Even as (HE) is, and (HE) doesn’t believe in wallowing or hiding or cowering.
So I take (HIS) hand and answer “here” when my name is called. Sharp angles and all. Because in His hands, the angles disappear and I really am okay.