This road is unpredictable, it winds and turns, it dips and rises before me, but never visible beyond this second. I take one step and another, always moving forward, but never sure of where it will take me. It’s my road that I must travel.
My knees are bloody from all the times that I’ve fallen, my arms are scarred from the thorns ripping at my flesh, my heart, with multiple fractures inflicted from others, beats heavy as I carry the journey’s luggage along with me. Tucked under my shirt is my bag of disappointments: the less than perfect marriage, the dream home we never got, the debt, the imperfect body, the short end of the stick, the injustice, the betrayal. They’re all there, pressing against my body. Their hot acid burning my skin.
I let the pain linger before I turn my pain into hate, hate against those who’ve hurt me on this road. I hate them for leaving me in this shamble, for forcing me to carry this burden. I hate them for walking away, leaving me like yesterday’s garbage. The pain is always with me. I can never escape their memories, so with great misery, I trudge forward, leaving a black stain behind me.
I blame my abusers for my plight. It’s their fault that I’m living the way I am, that my life is so miserable: it’s the fault of my parents, my husband, my children, my boss, the government. If somehow, I could go back and pick a better husband, or if I could get another job, or if someone else was in the White House, then things would be better.
The truth is, there is no one else walking down my road. Everyone else is traveling down their own personal path. This is my road, this is my journey. Sure, others may cross my path, wound my flesh, and cause me pain, but it’s up to me what I’m going to do with those wounds. Will I let them bleed and fester or will I get help and heal? It’s up to me how I’m going to feel each and every moment and it’s up to me who and what I’m going to be. Am I going to hold tight to life’s disappointments or will I leave them on the side of the road as just a memory?
I’m not a victim of my life. I have the power to save this life from destruction and disappointment. I don’t need my husband’s approval, or my children’s either. I don’t need to justify my journey to those around me. This is not their life to save, it’s mine.
Scripture itself says, Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.
Your life is worth saving, but it’s up to you.