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The Not So Invisible Trauma

  • holytrainwreck777
  • Feb 25, 2021
  • 2 min read

Updated: Mar 7, 2021





I wanted so badly to pretend nothing bad ever happened to me. That the trauma and destruction from my past could be, and was, wiped away as if it never existed. Just an idea that was never reality. And while Jesus has healed and freed me of what that trauma broke, I cant escape the fact that it took place. I cant pretend it didn't happen. This skin has been broken. This heart has been shattered. This spirit has been crushed. And even though Jesus can and did fix what the enemy broke, it altered me. It shaped a woman that stands here today. It gave me knowledge that I couldn't have obtained any other way. It was experience I needed to understand and relate to the broken ones God brings before me. It grew wisdom in the deep dark places of life that most don't know of.


I'm not my trauma. I'm not the abuse. I'm not broken. I'm not a victim. But it happened. It was real. And instead of running from it, I'm choosing to use it. I'm choosing to recognize how it can serve me. And how I can use it to serve others. I realized that pretending it never existed is denying myself a reality of who I became. A survivor. A healed woman. Restored.

How can I truly express the redemptive, restorative power of my Jesus without first telling the reality of what broke me? There is power in owning the mess that He made into a masterpiece. Its my testimony. And I'm not ashamed of it so why was I acting like I was?



I wanted so badly to pretend it didn't happen so I didn't have to look at it again, so I didn't feel tainted and stained. But it's part of me. My scars are beautiful and Jesus healing me is the biggest piece of the story..... not the trauma. I needed to see that. I needed to own that testimony. Anything else diminishes the work of Jesus. Anything else isn't real. And now that I'm living in my truth I can address my unhealthy ways of living, coping mechanisms, and systems that don't serve me, with authenticity and power. Now I can finally let my guard down, let the air out of my lungs, and relax. Now I can be real. Now I can change where I need to and heal further. It feels like only now will others finally get the genuine me. Not the me I pretended to be. Not the me that wanted to believe bad things could just be erased. Not the only healed, never messy, always shiny, me. That woman is beautiful and real, but she's only half of the story. And that's not authentic at all.


I'm healed. But trauma is part of the story that got me whole. I'm owning it. It might be messy, but I've never felt more true to myself. I've never felt more beautiful. And I've never felt more free.





 
 
 

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