Accepting that I am Broken

Several events recently have forced me to accept that after decades of fighting to be strong and confident in a relationship that constantly made me feel insignificant and invisible, and another 15 months of an emotionally manipulative separation, I’m not simply emotionally battered and bruised, I’m broken.

I want to write about it – about what it feels like to not be able to trust yourself, to be vulnerable to so many emotional triggers, to be constantly debating with yourself and analysing your thoughts and emotions in an attempt to discern the reasonable from the irrational.

I want to describe what it’s like to accept that you’ve been a victim of abuse and all that means – the sense of weakness and failure and frustration and guilt. I want to share how it feels to realise that the only counselling that provides meaningful support and comfort comes from domestic violence and trauma specialists.

I want to describe what it feels like to stand on the sidelines of public debate about how evangelical churches handle abusive relationships, reading comments by those who are criticising the presentation of research, deflecting attention away from the main issue and feeling offended by the suggestion that Christian communities would condone any kind of domestic abuse. I want to share what it is like to listen to these discussions while feeling overwhelmed by the memories of my own failed attempts to seek help from leaders of the four different churches I attended during my marriage.

I want to describe what it feels like to have some of the most significant people in my life look at me in my most vulnerable moments and tell me that they think I’m self-absorbed, selfish, lacking in faith, unnecessarily emotional and inappropriately focused on my own happiness. To have my father tell me I only think of myself and my mother say that she can’t bear to be in the same room as me, while they mention that they are willing to invite my abusive ex-husband over to their home for dinner. To have Christian friends pass judgement because I’m not valuing the preservation of my marriage ahead of my own emotional wellbeing. To face a wall of silence from people I assumed would be the foundation of the network of support for myself and my children.

I want to share how terrifying it is to encounter an unexpected emotional trigger that leaves me shaking and in tears and feeling so incredibly isolated. What it feels like to be curled up on the floor having a panic attack feeling weak and fragile and hating myself for not being able to control the flood of anxiety that makes it so hard to think clearly.

I want to write about how much I hate that my brokenness impacts on those I love.

I want to talk about all of these things and more. The thoughts swirl in my mind and I want to share them, but when I sit at a keyboard suddenly the words are flat and meaningless and convey none of the intensity of what I’m feeling. It’s just another part of me that is broken.

I’m hoping that accepting that I’m broken and making the effort to get the words out more regularly – dull and lifeless as they are – will help me to reach a place where I feel less shattered and better able to pull the pieces together to redefine myself and my life.

Today I am broken, but hopefully accepting that brings me one step closer to feeling restored.