“The beginning is the word and the end is silence. And in between are all the stories.”
– Kate Atkinson
The start of something is beautiful. It is new, exciting, and an adventure awaits. The middle consists of dealing with the adventure. But, the end is different. The end is where the pen is set down, and no more is written. Yet, there is a promise in an ending.
We all have a beginning, middle, and end. We may those multiple times in our lives.
However, when an ending comes. It is time for the pen to be silenced until it is picked up again.
Setting My Pen Down
It is time the truth came out. Braced By Truth will be silent for awhile.
It is time I set down the pen. I have to, because I am a hypocrite.
The posts here are filled with beautiful truths found in Scripture. Yet, I struggle with them. I struggle so much it can come across as being bipolar. Why? It is because of my own untold story.
My Story Told
I struggle, because I need to heal. I am a hypocrite, because I haven’t healed.
I was abused – emotionally, sexually, physically, and spiritually. Yet, I grew up in a family where image is everything. My past and struggles had to stay buried and out of everyone’s sight. Gaslighting became the dirt over a bone yard of pain.
I was born with a disability, and that meant life would be hard. Yet, what made it more difficult was having those closest to you emotionally abuse you. A hand doesn’t have to strike to cause pain. Words can wound. Actions can scar.
Being told you are a freak hurts. Having your nose shoved into your own urine to make sure you learned a lesson brings shame. Having no one listen to you brings silence. Being bullied over my body and interests wasn’t something I only encountered at school. It came from church and home.
I began to realize I was an outcast, the villain, and the person who could never do anything right. I only saw myself as a burden. Most tension in my family was blamed on me. If I hadn’t said or done this or if I had done… then things would be different. If my family is seen as a mess, then it is my fault. Anything I endured was because I deserved it. Each instance, whether at home, school, or church, was based in something I had done. I brought this all on myself. The teachers to help me live better were the consequences.
Those wounds are deep. I hid them for years. If someone came close to them, then the beast inside would attack. Pushing people away became my strategy. When you’re wounded from all sides, then you don’t have acceptance or protection. Instead, you fend for yourself with your wit and sarcasm. Outside I could appear as one not to be messed with or as the trying Christian, but inside I was a scared Jr. High boy trying to find someone to love, accept, and protect me. I didn’t want money. I didn’t want stuff. I didn’t want another Bible verse. I wanted the pain to go away, and I wanted the pain to never happen again.
When I went to college, I thought I had found it. But instead, I encountered a new abuse – spiritual. I left college wanting to serve God, but fear and a low view of myself became my shadows. Unless I could prove myself worthy and a good Christian, then my future was shot. I had the gifts, but no one gave me a chance. I never knew God’s love. God’s love was based on how repentant and how much change was found in my heart.
God was someone who I had to earn love from. I couldn’t go to him and expect forgiveness. I had to prove myself over and over.
The seeds of these offenses became a root system of hurt and bitterness. My heart walled off so no one could see what was truly inside
It has been said, “Hurt people hurt people.” That phrase could be my epitaph. All my hurt did was hurt others. I would blow up over things, and those in the line of fire felt each bullet. Lashing out and being suspicious of everyone became a way of life, because I didn’t want the pain to happen again.
Protection only harms us when our protection fight off our allies. Words cannot be undone. Actions cannot be redone. Instead, a memory of a list hangs in my mind of those who reached out only to be bitten. When crisis arose, my suspicions stabbed and my worry over being hurt again warred against my allies.
Which is worse? The hurt I endured or the hurt I caused?
The Author Revealed
I have been hurt. I have been wounded. I have hurt. I have wounded.
When I look in the mirror, I see a monster in a cage. When I look in the mirror, I see someone who wants to be transformed from a beast to a man. Who could ever love a beast when I can’t even love myself?
I no longer recognize me. I want God. I want to love Jesus. But, I am hurt and I hurt. I keep hurting inside and I keep hurting those outside. I love reading the Bible and want to be ministry, but that dream could never be realized unless I put the pen down.
A madman’s words can sound sweet until you get to know the author.
Silent Ending and Promised Beginning
When an author puts the pen down, there is silence. The story is over. Yet, the pen can be picked up again. A new story can be written.
I am stepping away from Braced By Truth for a while. I need to be in silence. I need to heal. I need to journey into a new chapter of life. I need to ask for forgiveness not expecting anything in return. I need to set boundaries. I need to plug into my church and heal. I need to deal with myself with all my fears and doubt.
I need allies in my healing. But, at the moment I feel alone. To those who I’ve hurt, I am sorry. I understand why you left. To those who’ve read, thank you. But, please don’t give up because of me. This isn’t a crisis of faith. It is a journey of healing I know I must take.
Will I write again? Maybe.
But, I need to stop pretending I am this amazing author who has all this stuff figured out. It is only the handwriting of a hypocrite.
The promise of a new beginning is there…
But it starts with an ending in silence.