In the process of healing Cristal and I both can attest to moments of falling short in the moving forward department...
As much as I wanted to let go of the situation, I couldn't let go of the pain.
I opened up a while ago in the process of me pressing charges against the man who raped me. When my case was dropped, I had nothing but the memory to hold onto to validate the experience that changed a lot of who I am today.
I remember the day I drove to the court house to pick up the remains of my personal items that were taken as evidence from the rape kit.
Clasped tightly in my hand was a big brown paper bag. In it, was a white vneck, grey jeans, brown boots, my bra, underwear, and a pair of socks. Upon opening the bag alone in bedroom I remember how mad I was thinking..."I remember JUST buying those vintage boots too!" I was livid. Not just because of the memory that was now attached to these items I held, but because like those newly bought boots, my idea of college being a fresh start for me was tarnished. The warmth that came over my body ushered in a wave of flashbacks from the evening I wanted to so desperately erase. The items laid on my bedroom floor, with thoughts of "what now...?" Lingering in my mind.
I hastenly threw the boots and clothes bag in the bag and stuffed it in the darkest corner of my closet.
And there, in that same closet, I too buried every bit of my pain, lingering tear, and muffled scream and cry . That closet became the cementary for every displaced emotion, and countless mental lapses I projected on the people I loved.
But not even my closet could contain nor heal these broken wounds. As much as I wanted freedom, I was content in that closet. It was dark, it did not question my anger, or my cries...it acted much like my personal wailing wall...and I hand no intentions of cleaning, or discarding it.
Until...one evening. I had just got done meeting with Cristal and her husband at the movies and came back home with a feeling of anxiety. My room was no longer a safe place. I prayed on the phone with Cristal not too long after to help ease the PTSD I was experiencing. The Holy Spirit spoke to her, about something in my room needing to be thrown out. (At the time I never told anyone I had that brown bag in my closet, no one knew I went to the court house that day either). It was only God who knew and now Cristal who urged me In the spirit to "let it go".
Most would think, "well yea, that's a no brainer...why keep anything that would remind you of such a painful past?"
many ask the same question to those who return to abusive relationships, or ask why some are STILL hung up over their ex.
I couldn't anwser that question then...but now I can say that sometimes holding onto what's familiar is more soothing then the satisfaction of move on.
Sometimes letting go is harder than the experience itself.
Sometimes we attach WHO we are with WHAT we've been through.
I allowed my identity to be diminished to that of a paper bag, my identity stitched in worn clothes and a pair of boots, diminished to the hands that forced them off of my body, to the mattress my limp body laid on, to the pain buried in the four white walls that locked me inside his bedroom, my identity lied in bitterness and unanswered questions of commonly shared sentiments of "why did this have to happen to me?"
And I don't know "why" but I do know that letting go of that bag, was the first step of accepting my truest identity. One, that was no longer soothed by my own tears but affirmed in the LOVE of CHRIST. Letting go may be harder than the experience itself.. letting go can be a now thing or a drawn out spectacle, letting go didn't mean what happened to me no longer mattered; but that I MATTERED more than what happened to me. -DevinMarie
With love, forward-thinking, and healing,
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.