Broken

In order to live, we must love. When we love unfortunatly we do get hurt.
Whether we get hurt by something someone says, does or something else. In love there is hurt.

Last night my ma spoke to my Aunt on the phone, and i happened to be fixing myself a snack. She said that the guy who abused me as a child was here in our house enjoying coffee and cake with her when i was away. Right then i felt so alone, so betrayed and felt the pang of broken loyalty.

I wanted tso much to be a child again, so i could be comforted. I could cry and be scared, and i could be the one laying one someones lap while they held me close, stroked my hair and dried my tears. Instead i grabbed my half finished snack and stomped back to my computer crying not to cry.

I'm used to my family not being loyal to me, and i know it will happen again. Maybe next time it won't hurt so bad or maybe it will. I just long for the understanding , i wish i knew how my family could act the way they do.


With His perfect timing God taps me on the shoulder and tells me it's time to remove the bandaid, and allow myself to fall apart. Because the bandaid is holding brokeness, it's not healing the broken.

Healing will come with God.