To my “Dearborne” Child,
I know behind that smile, is a woman who is slowly but, surely healing from rejection, low self-esteem, depression, anxiety, and attachment issues. You’ve been fighting to regain control of your life ever since the age of two years old. Although you have fallen short time and time again, you never gave up. You always knew deep down inside, you were better than your circumstances and different than the others. Living in the projects, having a father addicted to drugs, and being sexually abused NEVER defined you, but it did make you angry and resentful. You lost control of yourself and became verbally and physically violent towards other to mask your brokenness. You learned how to reject, because you were rejected and in turn attached to any man or woman who was seemingly more broken than yourself.
No matter what you did, you could never do enough.
It was as if you were trying to pour your emptiness into cups with holes in them. People abruptly leaving you triggered something deep inside of you and it was difficult for you to recover, because you couldn’t understand how people could put their own needs before you.
You were let down often.
You internalized it and subconsciously told yourself, I'm not enough. Not enough to be chosen over their drug habit. Not enough to choose you over their hobbies. You didn’t understand it then, but you do now. These people described are also people who were broken and found their fix to “fix it”.
...but you, Dearborne--your fix was trying to fix people.
You became attracted to broken individuals as they were a reflection on your internal self. This behavior transcended from your personal to professional life as you sought out the helping profession looking to help yourself, oops I mean people. You relied on broken people to aid with putting your broken pieces back together. Instead, you became exhausted from pouring from an empty cup, masking pain and disappointment, motivationally encouraging friends, family, and clients when you lacked it. You were addicted to drama and used it as a replacement for love.
You weren’t the victim anymore, you were the volunteer.
You’ve battled the spirit of depression for years while trying to help people deal with theirs. After one unsuccessful suicide attempt in college, you gave up and in to the notion that you had it all together. You were done with seeking validation through accomplishments, accolades, and achievements. When the applause faded, you were still empty. The cyclical or as you say “sicklical” behavior of serial dating men and women made you spiritually and physically sick. You were the walking dead and wanted out.
I remember the day you realized that you could no longer do it on your own and you finally surrendered by going inpatient at the healing hospital. I watched you try to help and heal yourself with the longest, deepest prayers. Three years ago, you climbed on a table also known as “The Altar” and underwent a procedure with my son who is a world renowned surgeon, his name is King Jesus. The wounds that you covered up with temporary Band-Aids were ripped off--I’m sure it hurt! However, you allowed Jesus to go deep down and untie souls attached to yours, and extract debris in the form of false truths.
Your mean and broken spirit was filled with the Holy one, and my word was poured into your broken heart. The procedure was successful, but you have to receive it woman of God.
My “Dearborne” Child, you are healed, you are delivered, and you are free. I’ve always had my eyes on you. I’ve always heard your prayers. I’ve always wiped your tears. I’ve never left you, and I’ve never forgotten you. So in this moment, walk out of the recovery room my Dearborne child and declare “I AM NOT FORGOTTEN!”
Your Heavenly Father