#healingchildhoodtrauma
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There is a peculiar kind of silence that settles in the spaces between what was and what will be. Not absence, but suspension. A corridor without doors. A train station at midnight. A life paused mid-sentence. These are the liminal spaces, and most people rush through them like fugitives. I have learned to stand still.…
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It seems a lot of the struggle in the Christian life comes down to one question: who is actually carrying the weight of change? A lot of people are trying to change themselves for God instead of letting God change them. Self-reliance says: I will fix myself. I will control myself. I will make myself…
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Showing Up Without a Net There was a time when the wound was not a metaphor. It was a secret. A child’s body carrying what it should never have had to carry. Sexual abuse & physical does something violent to your sense of order. It scrambles trust. It teaches you that love can harm you…
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Life isn’t random to me. It’s a training ground. I’ve come to see that God designed it to shape my character, not to keep me comfortable. Every day puts choices in front of me. Some are obvious, most are small. None of them are neutral. Each one trains my will. I either move toward the…
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The closer I draw near to Jesus, the more embarrassed I am by the things I once called freedom. I spent years mistaking chaos for creativity. I thought intensity meant depth. I thought wreckage was proof I was alive. That’s what childhood teaches you when love is unstable and safety is conditional. You learn to…
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Some of us once believed God arrived only with the sunlight after the storm, when the air smelled of renewal and the heart felt less bruised. We imagined Him as the bright answer, the triumphant conclusion, the moment when strength returned and our faces were once again suitable for the world. But His footsteps are…
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For a long time, I lived without discipline and called it freedom. It wasn’t. It was decay. Addiction thrives where structure collapses. My days had no spine. Sleep came whenever it came. Promises bent. Routines dissolved. I could not uphold the smallest order, which meant I could not build anything that lasted. Nothing worthwhile survives…
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I published this over three years ago. It’s worth another share . . . Abuse never stands alone. There are so many complicated areas that abusers weave into the fabric of the perfectly crafted prison cells they make for us. Many of us barely escape, and when we do, we usually never talk about it.…
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I am a cartographer of this lost world, charting paths no one dares to trace. My compass is broken, twisted by hands that once held too much power, but still, I walk. I walk with the small hands of bruised children clinging to mine, their eyes wide with too much history for such tiny souls.…
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Introspection — what better way to start a week. Question: When you are faced with a truth, you must decide how to respond to that information. Will you deny what you know your mind, body and soul is speaking to you? Or will you lean in and with grace be kind to that returning memory?…