The wounds that we received as young girls did not come alone. They brought messages with them, messages that stuck at the core of our hearts, right in the place of our “psyche.” Our wounds strike at the core of our femininity. The damage done to our feminine hearts through the wounds we received is made much worse by the horrible things we believe about ourselves as a result. As children, we didn’t have the faculties to process and sort through what was happening to us. Our parents were godlike. We believed them to be right. If we were overwhelmed or belittled or hurt or abused, we believed that somehow it was because of us – the problem was with us.
Women are always looking for something to work on. Prayer, exercise, financial responsibility, a new hair color, more discipline. Why are we trying so hard? Don’t we know how amazing we are? Sometimes, what makes our search so frustrating is that we don’t know what is wrong with us. We simply fear that somehow we are not enough.
Many women feel that way, by the way. We can’t put words to it, but down deep we fear there is something terribly wrong with us. If we were the princess, then our prince would have come. If we were the daughter of a king, he would have fought for us. We can’t help but believe that if we were different, if we were better, then we would have been loved as we longed to be. It must be us.
Some women who were abused choose another path. Or, perhaps more honestly, they find themselves compulsively heading in another direction. They never received love, but they did experience some sort of intimacy through that abuse, and now they give themselves over to one man after another, hoping to somehow heal the wrongful encounters.
The vows we make as children are very understandable – and very, very damaging. They shut our hearts down. They are essentially a deep-seated agreement with the messages of our wounds. They act as an agreement with the verdict on us. “Fine. If that’s how it is, then that’s how it is. I’ll live my life in the following way…”
It’s taken a lot of years for me to sort through the wounds and messages that shaped my life. It’s been a journey for growing clarity, understanding, and healing. Year 2001 made me realize more clearly what the message of my wounds has been. That was the year of my divorce. The message that landed in my heart was that I was overwhelmed. My presence alone caused sorrow and pain for others. I got the message, “You don’t have a beauty that captivates me. You are a disappointment.”
And so, I made a vow in 2002. Somewhere in my heart, without even knowing I was doing it or putting words to it, I vowed to protect myself by never causing pain, never requiring attention. My job in the world was to be invisible, to cause no waves. If I upset things at all, surely this ship would sink. So I began to hide. I hid my needs, my desires, my very heart. I hid my true self. And when it was all too much, I hid in that proverbial closet.
Fast forward to 2006, I married a strong and forthright husband who is not afraid of confrontation (he welcomes it even). When I felt to run and hide, he would come looking for me.
I was embarrassed by my immature behavior, felt foolish about my seeming inability to talk maturely through a disagreement. But I had never seen it done, and I didn’t know how, so my husband’s slightest disappointment in something I had done triggered my unhealed heart. It took four years for Kenji’s love and reassurance to begin to penetrate my frightened heart. I still remember the first time we were in the middle of a “disagreement,” and I was able to stay with him in the room. It took all of my will to keep one foot in the room while the other straddled the doorway of the bathroom, ready to retreat into contrived safety. It was a turning point. I’ve never hidden in that way again.
I did, however, begin to put on weight faster than you would think humanly possible. Unconsciously, I had found a new way to hide. I feared from the start of my marriage that at my core I was – and would always be – a disappointment to Kenji; that it was simply a matter of time before he realized it. The wounded little girl inside thought it would be better to hide. And my hiding, like everyone else’s hiding, made things much, much worse.
Fast forward to the last month of 2010, I am now changed! Again, Kenji has sought me, but this time in a quiet way. My husband prayed for me (and he is still praying for me). God heard his prayer – finally, I have come around. I thank God for my husband’s love, loyalty, determination, dedication, pureness of heart and trust. As Jesus said, she who seeks to save her life will lose it (Matt. 16.25). The vows we make and the things we do as a result of our wounds only make matters worse. I am happy and content today. If not for the protection of God, through my husband’s unconditional love, I’d probably still wonder what message is out there for me.
May we all have a godly and blessed year ahead!
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