Heartbreak

Mother, I come to You with my broken heart, keeping my promise to share my vulnerability. 

I've never been good at guarding my heart. It's just not Me. And there are so many ways it can be broken. I keep putting it back together, and then it breaks again.

It was a big step for me to put myself in the position of vulnerability that allowed it to break this time. That actually makes it worse. Taking that step is part of my healing. Nothing was done with intention to harm me, and it was all fair, but it ends up feeling like I somehow betrayed myself. Trauma trains one to reject the idea that good things will happen and one will be worthy of them. It does this as a survival mechanism. But part of healing is opening oneself to those possibilities again. And now there's a part of me that's angry that my unconscious mind is having it reenforced that I don't get to have good experiences.

I know... it's trying to protect me. Being open to those experiences is vulnerability. And while what broke my heart this time was fair on the other end, it was very personal on my end. And at this time. The anniversary of trauma.

I'm scared right now, Mother. I can't ask You for justice or revenge. That's not appropriate in this situation. And, of course, I always look to You for guidance. Can I ask for comfort? I know I can ask for protection.

I don't know what any of that would do. Part of me says none of it would work, but that part of me only knows how humans give those things to each other. A much larger part of me knows You are capable of anything, and any doubt I have only comes from my lack of understanding.

I also know You guide and protect me, but sometimes lessons have to be learned in hard ways. I ask that I learn what I need from this. That it isn't wasted. That I don't fool myself into learning the wrong lesson.

I don't like everything I write. I really like the piece that was involved in this, though. It's one of my favorites. I'm thankful for the inspiration.