Broken toward whole

Curled up inside myself. No, that’s not right. The truth is that I’m not inside myself, but I wish I could be. Instead, it’s more like I’m bent down and around and around in a very unusual depiction of a ball. Sure, it’s cramped and very dark, but at the same time it’s the source of a strange and unhealthy comfort. Why?

Because it’s safe. I feel protected and well, pretty much buried beneath the human shield of my compressed physical body – a sort of desperate attempt to keep the bad scary stuff out and away from me. But this is really a useless mission, because the bad and scary is inside and needs to come out. This strange method of trying to be saved from harm is actually keeping harm right at home and comfortable within.
I’m tightly wound like a Jack in the Box toy. But Jack doesn’t work. He no longer jumps out when the handle is turned. I’m all wound up with no release. I can keep turning the handle but there’s no change. Only tension and pain because the choice to stay in this position that is not natural has a high price.
I don’t have a comfort zone. I have a comfort home. It’s where I live. It’s comfortable and familiar and predictable. And if being a contortionist to curl up tightly makes me feel better, I’ll do it. It’s what I know. I’m right at home in this weird upside down and around world.

But is it what is right for me?

No.

I won’t straighten up because I’m afraid to be that vulnerable. And because I’ve been so tightly wound for so long that I think I’ll break if I try to unwind. Instead of a graceful unwinding it would be a messy clumsy painstakingly slow process.

But maybe…
Maybe being broken is what I really need. That sounds strange. But broken means wide open. Falling apart means what was all clumped together is split apart. From that fallout comes opportunity. It allows for space to invite inside what is true and permanent and freeing. If I were to break apart this unique prison, it could be a first step toward being everything I ever dreamed of and more. I could embrace real in all its fullness, knowing I don’t have to hide in fear because I’m not alone. I can be a real person with real thoughts and feelings and desires that go deep and strike resounding chords like they are supposed to. I can completely experience every facet of this life I’ve been given.
Currently, broken also means that my design for life is broken. That knowledge is a good thing because my design has been faulty from the start. It not only doesn’t work right; it works in the wrong direction.
I know that I can’t have a new start without a tough and painful breaking away of the old fortress. But I also know that allowing myself that new start means that I can finally move forward unencumbered to become who I was meant to be.

God did not create me to look like and live like a human ball. He created me to stand tall with my chin up and head held high as required by my position as a much loved princess, the daughter of not a king, but The King.

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