Her Broken wing

Shame On You

Shame can be a debilitating emotion.  It is like carrying the proverbial ball and chain. We go to laugh and there is present some internal hurdle keeping us from the true release of the moment. I have actually felt foreign in my own land. Meaning—I did not recognize my own laughter. It was frightening.

Growing up, I experienced hurtful things, very hurtful things said to me. Bad things happened, situations out of my control. When I was young, I was molested by a family member. That was the beginning of my living alone and experiencing tremendous shame. I am sure I caused this, and I had nowhere to go. My mom never believed me and because of who the accuser was, she would have defended him to the end.

It was in those moments, that my life shifted its destination.  The course of my life that I imagined — died.

Once my purpose changed, I felt like I had landed on a desolate island. An island in which I was alone and fending for myself. As the Cruise ships passed, happy Go-Byers would look over at me and just laugh. Pity—I hate pity. So I began to build a wall, keeping by passers out. Alone—on an island—The island of destruction.

My wall was built of drugs, extra weight and too much make up, I thought if only my life were like those out of a soap opera or love story. The bottom line is the same— I wanted to escape the horrific pain deep inside my soul.

I deserve to suffer… because if people only knew!

Drugs were a great escape in the beginning. But it would not be long before I soon felt more shame and guilt than ever before. I became an expert of lies.  I was now a woman drug-addict and a liar with a drug problem . (^{Ephesians 4:28}He who has been stealing must steal no longer, but must work, doing something useful.)

I remember lying in my bed one day; the sun was warm and shining through my bedroom window. I couldn’t get up that day– too tired. But I could hear my children playing outside. My neighbor was watching my children. I lay there and cried defeat. Is this what I have become? My days became months and months became years. My children grew. I missed out.

But this was not enough to stop me– Shame on me and shame within me.

And there I was, isolated on a deserted island with my walls of shame—dying.

When does my ship come in?

The Daughter of the King…

This entry was posted on March 22, 2010 at 2:40 pm and is filed under Uncategorized with tags Hope, journey, shame. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.