too broken

6:08 AM

Hola readers!

Sometimes I slip back into that old mindset that I'm not good enough. That I'm too damaged, too broken, to make any real impact in the world.
I hate admitting that I feel like this. I hate it. It's easy to beat myself up, to tell myself that I'm a Christian -- I shouldn't feel this way. Christians should be perfect with their lives well put together, or so I've heard. I shouldn't feel this way. My dad is a pastor, my family should have all the answers, we're pretty much perfect...or so everyone keeps telling me. 

But can I have a little moment of honesty right now? Nothing could be further from the truth. Sometimes seeing just how human we are scares me. 

And I can't not tell anyone. I refuse to revert back to that little girl who hid in her room to cry, too afraid to let anyone know how she felt. I don't want to hide my struggles. I don't want to pretend I'm OK when I'm not.

It's just

sometimes words fail me.

Sometimes I don't know what to say. Sometimes I feel so lost, so confused, too broken to by loved.  I think about my past emotions, the things I thought and said and I shudder. I slip into that mindset that I should never marry, that I'm too unstable emotionally to have someone be 'forced' to live with me.
I fall into the pit of self-pity then, angrily beating myself up for a past that Jesus gladly erased.  I feel sucked in by darkness, trapped inside myself, my own worst enemy.
I look at myself in the mirror and sometimes I can't stand to see who is looking back. 

I don't know how to explain myself to other adults. I'm like Moses from the Bible -- not good at speaking. I look around me and there's so much I want to say to people but the words won't come. 

Not the way I want them to anyway. 

It's why blogging is my therapy, why I write books. It's the only way I know how to truly be me. Writing is my voice that sometimes I do not feel I have. 

I feel bad for dropping this weight here, for being so brutally honest, but the name of my blog says it all. I am broken

but Jesus calls it beautiful.

All my life I have been drawn by people's brokenness. I am intrigued to hear people's stories, their life, to let them know, "you are never alone. I want to know more about people, to know about their pain and to share with them my own. I don't want to see people walk the walk that I did for years...ashamed of my brokenness, living in fear of people finding out who I really am. 
I want to tell them that sometimes I hear the devil's lies about myself, about my scars, about who I am

and I'll listen.

But then I want them to know how I run to Jesus and how He calls each of our scars beautiful. The world tells me so many things, pretends to like me when in reality they're just using me. They don't take me for who I am, tell me that I have to live a certain way, be a certain way to be loved.
And I often find myself struggling to give a deaf ear. 
But Jesus takes me as I am. He's there. He's there when I feel numb while reading my Bible or when I walk into church feeling as though I have nothing to give. He's there when I take people's cruel words to heart or when I look back over my shoulder with regret, wishing I could change my many mistakes. He's there when I feel torn apart by feeling so utterly dry and worn...He's there when I'm crying because I constantly pour into people but sometimes just want others to pour into me. 

And He calls me beautiful. Despite everything He looks at me and calls me beautiful. 

No, I refuse to revert back to that little girl, but she's still a part of me and I'm truly human. At times I let the hurt I use to feel, the darkness - all of that - back inside to fester. But I'm also saved by grace. I am not defined by my past; my scars and brokenness do not have to define who I am each morning when I wake up.
While, for now, in this season, it haunts me, I refuse to let it take me.

Side note: A little edited repost from a few years ago. I felt that I needed to read this again. 
Life this week is busy. I'm nearly working 40 hours as well as keeping up with final details for The Broken Prince. From time to time you will probably see me drag some of my favorite posts from the archives. Hope you won't mind. 

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5 of your thoughts

  1. A comment ... based on the idea you put something forth with the best intentions and hope it is received in that light.

    As a child, I had the experience of entering the home of a family friend. So far as I know (I don't drink) liquor is often sold in special commemorative (decorative?) bottles. The walls of this home were covered in shelves of empty bottles. You didn't need to ask if an alcoholic lived there. It was manifest. People tell you remarkable things about themselves without realizing that they're saying anything of importance.

    What does it say about someone that they own over 8000 books? Why would someone want to work 12 to 14 hours per day? It's like the bottles. It speaks loudly and clearly of a serious problem.

    It's a strange fact that we often reject truth laid bare for all to see.

    I think you're doing fine. I know you have great potential. Whatever you imagine, you're never really alone, Kara. The World is struggle and pain with a few brief moments of relief and even happiness. But, believe it or not, that's all you need to have a wonderful life.

  2. I love you. I will love you broken or not. Hurting or happy. Living with joy or pity.

    1. Aw I love you too -- thank you for reading my re-post of "too broken." *Hugs*

  3. Did I send an encrypted message? Let me try again.

    Your self image is wildly distorted. You're attractive. I'm sure you're far more stable than some of your readers. You're also very likable. In short, there isn't anything wrong with you. Don't tell me I don't know you. I know enough. Stop the self hatred, Kara. Be kind to yourself.

    The problem is very obvious. You're a healthy young woman living with your parents and sharing a room with (at least) one sister. Who wouldn't feel repressed, confined and lonely? The same is true of every girl you know here. Guys go through the same thing.

    Find an organization where you can meet someone. A place that's safe physically and dangerous emotionally. Be brave enough to put yourself out there where some decent guy can find you.


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