Yesterday was one of those days where I viewed most of my interactions through the lens of past hurts. A work email, a misunderstanding with a friend, a rejection in my writing, a trigger to my trauma. I started wrestling with old lies that rear their ugly heads sometimes: “You’re not qualified, you’re not welcome, you’re a burden.”
There wasn’t anything in particular wrong or deeply concerning, but a wash of pain just colored my day. For how much I hurt, I wanted to curl into a ball and wait until it all felt better in the morning.
Instead, I asked God to speak truth over me. I recognized why a few things made me feel rejected and let myself cry. I reached out to the friend and we worked our way through the hurt in love. And when I covered my head with blankets in the dark last night waiting for Ryan to come to bed, I knew that I could easily fall asleep without telling him that my heart hurt. But I didn’t.
I pulled the covers down below my chin and he listened quietly as I said, “I feel like a burden and a broken record.” He responded:
“No, you’re human… and besides records are made of plastic.”
We laughed, I cried, and we prayed. And I felt closer to him because I stayed open, instead of shutting down.
Sometimes vulnerability has nothing to do with the words we share, but everything to do with the posture of our hearts.
If we’re used to being the strong ones, it can be hard to feel weak. But God meets us and strengthens us there, when we’re willing to offer up our weakness and surrender our hard days. If we’re used to covering up or pushing past our hurts, it can be tough to let ourselves sit in the pain. If we’re used to helping others, it can be challenging to receive support ourselves. If we’re used to wrestling through our hurts on our own, it can be hard to receive the words of, “You’re wanted here. I love you. I’m listening.”
But that is the posture that brings deeper connection, and that is the posture that ultimately brings freedom.
