it takes time .

It’s been nine days since. It’s taken nine days for me to have the courage to confront it. If I’m honest, it’s all a bit of a blur. I remember feeling cold, it had been a rainy evening. The tiles on the bathroom floor felt like ice and my body was shaking. The shard held to my skin was cold, I simply sat there, still. My warm cheeks tingled as cold tears trickled down them. I didn’t know what to do. It’d been years since I’d been there and the fact that I’d regressed to that point, broke me. As I was in that moment, wrestling with the urge for a physical pain that hurt far more than the internal pain, I needed Jesus. The thoughts racing through my mind and my actions in that moment, were both so distant from what they should have been. I was ashamed and I needed to pray.

Looking back I can attest to the fact that my perspective was distorted. I don’t know about you but in the heat of the moment, changing perspective is about as easy as predicting the weather and if you live in a town thats anything like mine, you’ll know its near impossible. I find that when I am amidst a difficult moment as such, its more easy to spiral downward than it is to actually take a step back and pull yourself together. In my case, a new perspective tends to come afterward, often too late and the damage has already been done. I pray that I’ll have the strength to better my habits and that eventually my default will be taking a step back and leaning into Jesus. After all, He meets me there.

Since nine days ago I’ve fluctuated between wanting to and not wanting to feel. These last few days I’ve felt entirely numb, I think I switched off sometime in the early hours of Saturday morning. I’ve been in a mellow and emotionless state of mind.. I feel like I’ve been in a haze lately. As if each day flows into one another. I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep that causes my weeks to feel like one never ending day, or whether perhaps it’s because I no longer feel the distinctive difference between the hours of a day. Very little is clear around me, sometimes it even feels as if I’m no longer embodied with myself, but rather I’ve taken on the position of an outsider looking in.

Earlier this afternoon, I found myself on the beach. I needed to feel something. I began to run along this empty beach, not a soul in sight. The icy air burnt my lungs, I could feel it. I kept going. The shells pierced my feet as I ran, I could feel it. It began to rain, I could feel it. And just like that, I fell. Grasping for air as the tears that rolled down my cheeks mixed with the rain. I reached out and grabbed hold of a jagged shell, I closed my eyes and clenched my fist. I could feel each shard pierce my skin as the shell shattered. Moments later, I shifted my gaze toward the vast sea, I took a breath and paused. I pondered how long I’d be able to hold my breath if I were to dive below the surface. I exhale, pondering what it would be like in the moment between having and losing oxygen. I sat in the sand for a while, crying and thinking. Praying. This is where He met me.

Back to needing Jesus. In His word God tells us that He will never leave not forsake us, in my moments of weakness, I wasn’t alone. I’m reminded of the lyrics; “There is another in the fire, standing next to me. There is another in the water, holding back the sea. I’ll count the joy come every battle cause I know thats where you’ll be.” Jesus is always with me, I know this. However, I lose sight of that. I forget that there’s another next to me. I forget that my God is greater and stronger than anything I might face. I forget that the darkness within me is nothing compared to the light of Christ. There is yet hope in Him. There is power in the name of Jesus, power to break these chains. Here I am. Healing takes time, nothing happens over night but I know that through Jesus, full restoration is possible.

He meets me here.

– c x


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