Worn

I want to write.  I think about it multiple times a day, but every time I sit down to do it, I feel at a loss for how to say what I want to say.  It’s hard, deciding what to make public, what to keep private, what can fall into the gray area surrounding my new life, but writing is so helpful and healing so I am going to try to do it more often.  

The other night I found myself sobbing, on the edge of what felt like hysteria.  It was nearing 2AM and I had mistakenly checked my email two hours before, right before turning off the light and going to sleep for the night.  I had received an email containing information that scared me, broke me, and wrecked any chance at all of sleep.  It was dark.  I was alone.  I was scared.  So, I cried.  Not only were tears running down my face, soaking into my pillow, but my heart was crying out to God.  I was walking the thin of line of losing myself to a panic attack.  It was a feeling I was used to.  The emotions were familiar.  But it had been months since I had felt them.  It was a place I had grown accustomed to living in months ago, but since arriving home, they had slowly dissipated until they were gone, until the other night.  As those old familiar feelings came flooding back, I allowed myself to slip back into my very dark and scary ways of thinking, the places where Satan finds us and wreaks his havoc in our lives.  I allowed the fear, the darkness, the loneliness settle into my heart, and I ached.  I was overcome with fear of an unknown future.  I was overcome by feelings of guilt about what this is doing to my boys and how the mess of my life is affecting my parents and my sister’s family.  I was overcome with anger, just wanting justice and vengeance.  I was overcome with hatred.  I was overcome with sadness, just wanting him to do the right thing, and make the best choice that would give our boys their best chance.  And in those moments I realized I no longer know the man who pledged his life to me.  I don’t know if I ever knew him.    

I remembered the last night of my previous life.  I remember laying in my bed with my sons lying on either side of me, knowing in the morning I would wake, say goodbye to the life I had dreamed of since I was eleven, and go home where we would land in the arms of those that love us most.  I remembered the peace I felt in my heart at that moment, the peace that came from finally asking for help, for revealing to the light what had been in the dark.  I remembered my resolve to leave, to get my boys back to a support system, to pack up what I could and leave everything else behind, knowing I might never see it again.  I remembered feeling relieved.  I remembered having hope for the first time in a long time.  The conflict in that was almost unbearable, having hope in the midst of my destroyed marriage.

Thinking back on those final moments made me recall all the moments that led up to that point, the moments I can’t really talk about here.  The moments where I fought hard for my family, for my dream, for my children, for my husband.  I thought about how I stopped sleeping, how every night felt like a lonely dark hole I might never crawl out of.  How my fears overcame my heart and panic became my worst enemy.  How I didn’t see a way out. I didn’t know how to stay in.  

Going to that place in my memories the other night felt awful.  But something came out of it I never expected during those bleak and dark hours of the night.  I also remembered that after each night spent like that for months and months, the morning always came.  The sun eventually rose in the sky, the city would roar to life, and I would plant my feet on the floor of a brand new day.  

So, I began to pray and cry out to God.  I remembered a song I listened to a lot right after I got home.  I started singing the words, over and over again.

I’m Tired I’m worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I’ve made mistakes
I’ve let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world

And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn

I know I need to lift my eyes up
But I’m too weak
Life just won’t let up
And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn

My prayers are wearing thin
Yeah, I’m worn
Even before the day begins
Yeah, I’m worn
I’ve lost my will to fight
I’m worn
So, heaven come and flood my eyes…

Within minutes a peace flooded my heart.  A peace that passed all understanding.  My tears began to slow.  Finally, I slept.  And, guess what?  The morning came, and with it came perspective, and peace, and support, and love, and purpose.  I don’t have any belief my marriage will be redeemed and I don’t believe that is supposed to by my path or the path for my children and I don’t want it to be.  I don’t think that will happen, and I haven’t thought that since I left.  But, I do know God will redeem my life, and my broken heart.  He may not do it this side of heaven, and then again he may, but I have that promise and that’s enough for me.   And in this brokenness I pray God guides, and uses, and teaches me.  I have no guarantee the sorrow will subside today, tomorrow, or in a month.  I have no promise this grief won’t be a visitor who stays a long while.  So, tonight and tomorrow, this will be my song.  

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3 thoughts on “Worn

  1. Laura Ewton says:

    Wizzy, this is so beautifully written! God has blessed you with the gift to write. It will for sure encourage and inspire so many! I only wish you did not have to go through such pain and heartache. Praise the Lord we know there will be healing and joy after the mourning! I am praying for you sweet beautiful lady! Hugs!

  2. Your writing is beautiful. Don’t worry about leaving out details because your pain and what you describe can be applied to many other situations, personal and unique to your readers, just like a good book or movie. Maybe sometime when the purpose of this difficult time is revealed, you will feel called to share more. Right now your writing continues to touch me deeply. Thank you dear one. I am always praying for you.

  3. Barbara Irwin says:

    Grammydoright IS right. I absolutely agree with her. You express your pain well, and you end with hope, with the morning, with the hope of a kind of healing that you can’t grasp yet. But He is good.

    The Lord is Light, Clarity, Focus, Feet-on-the-Ground, and He is with you and will guard you and guide you and the boys. I am so very grateful that you are beginning to put the pain down in words. Jesus never said our lives would be without pain, His certainly was not, but painless living is life in a bubble of unreality. Early in my marriage I discovered a new thought … in the words of a song from the Edwin Hawkins Singers, “Lord, don’t move that mountain! Lead me, Lord, around it!” We can’t discover what God wants us to learn and do and be if He always jumps in and removes barriers. Oh. duh. seems obvious, but I never grasped that. I am grateful for what He continues to do every day to redeem us, especially through our pain.

    Bless you as you continue the journey. The morning does come. Amen.

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