Ending The Pattern – Part 2 of 2
by Maya (Guest writer)
When the girl is healed, the woman will come out. -Author Unknown
A story lives within each of us. And when we share that story, relationships heal with both God and others.
In Part 1 of this post I shared some of my own story of adoption and the bitterness I struggled with. I had recognized a pattern in my adult life mirrored my life growing up. I was choosing to align myself with toxic and unhealthy relationships because that’s where I was comfortable. This pattern needed to end.
I reached out to a friend. She doesn’t struggle in the areas that I do but has overcome many of her own struggles. I asked her to pray with me. She invited me to meet at our church not knowing that was where my struggles began. My third mom first publicly announced she was adopting me in that place, while I still grieved the death of my second mom. I was still running from the wounds from the death of my first mom. For me, the sanctuary represented a lifetime of rejection and abandonment. If there was ever a physical place where bitterness needed to be laid down, it was there, where my rawest triggers sat stripped open.
My bitterness was toward God for placing me with three different mothers who didn’t want me and didn’t treat me well. Bitterness that these parents didn’t care enough to address their own issues. Bitterness with myself, because no matter how much inner work I did, I kept thinking, “If only I wasn’t me.”
I walked into the sanctuary, took off my jacket and gloves, and sat at the front. I shared with my friend the memories of what happened at each location in the sanctuary. Shame I’d been carrying about the disappointment I felt with God. I hadn’t actually spoken that out loud before. And her response was to let me know it was okay to feel disappointed and to let God know that. Why? Because He’s not a small god that can’t handle hearing how we’re really feeling inside. And so I closed my eyes. My chest flooded with a pain that pulsated into my face as thick gobs of snot ran out.
I thanked God that He’s always with me, always covering me, that He is indeed both my mom and my dad but that I was disappointed. That I felt like He just dropped me off in a snake pit and left me there knowing how it would all go. And that even though I knew in my spirit that wasn’t true, it still felt that way and hurt so much. As I continued to share out loud the rawest parts of my heart, I could feel yet another layer lifting and His Presence completely encompassing me, pain and all. When I was done, the room no longer looked big and intimidating. When I scanned each spot, I no longer felt the intensity of emotion that I did when I first walked in.
On my drive home I told God that I didn’t want to keep carrying yesterday into tomorrow. Neither in my thoughts, beliefs about myself, nor in my relationships. And the great thing is, I don’t have to. God isn’t afraid to hear what hurts, what I missed or lost. Speaking out on what’s going on inside, sharing our individual stories—that is one of the absolute, biggest first steps forward that we can each take on this healing journey.
Patterns end when we can say, “This was my life. This is my hurt. But I’m ready for something more because I’m not what my mother told me I am. I’m who God has declared me to be.”