Hiding Behind "Fine"

“What looks like strength on the outside is actually a cavernous well of neediness on the inside.” - Emily Freeman - Grace for the Good Girl

The more I think about that, the more I realize how right she is. The times in my life when I have been the “strongest” were the times when I really was a big mess, but wouldn’t let anyone see that. I had to hold it all together when I really wanted to fall apart. I needed someone to lean on, but either there was no one around, or I was too ashamed of my neediness to reach out.

I took pride in my strength. I had been through a lot and I had not crumbled. I was strong. I could handle whatever came my way. Getting mad about it doesn’t change anything. Crying about it doesn’t do any good, so just take it, deal with it, move on and try not to think about it.

I did get mad, though. I did a lot of raging at God when no one was listening. I did cry, too. At night, in my pillow when no one would see my weakness. Then, I would get upset because no one reached out to me. No one was there to help me go through my pain. No one knew how much I was hurting and how scared I was.

The problem was, I had told everyone that I was fine. I was handling it. I was strong. I taught everyone that I didn’t need help. I didn’t need anyone. I was fine by myself.

But I wasn’t.

Every time I told someone I was fine, I wanted them to look into my eyes and see the truth. I wanted someone to see what I couldn’t show them. I needed somebody to hear the words I couldn’t bring myself to say.

Most of the time, though, they didn’t. I don’t know if that is because I was such a great actress, or because they were oblivious to the signs or if maybe they did know but didn’t know what to do to help. I suppose it doesn’t really matter, because the effect was the same. I was alone dealing with the mess that was my life along with my pain and my shame.

These days, I’m trying not to hide behind my “strength”.   I have people close enough to me that I can call when I’m not doing well and talk to them about it. I spent quite a few years behind the mask of my strength, though, so taking it off is still hard. I feel vulnerable and exposed, but that’s better than being closed off and isolated.

Maybe because I lived behind that mask for so long, I seem to be able to sense when other people are doing that, too. Especially when I know that something difficult is going on, I try to be the one to look into their eyes and see the pain that they are trying to hide. I try to be the one who says, “I know you are ‘fine’, but how are you really?” They might not tell me, but I hope that they will know, in that moment, that someone sees and cares. And maybe, they will also know that God knows and he cares, too.

　

You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.
Psalm 58: 8

　

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
1 Peter 5:7

　

Child of the Night

This is a poem that I wrote a few years ago when I first found out about the trafficking that is happening all over the world. I spent three weeks praying, crying and writing this piece. It was the most difficult as well as the most important thing I have ever written.

I've only ever shared it with a few, select people, but God has put on my heart to share it here, today. So, here it is:


Child of the Night

Lonely little girl, taken from her home

Sold by desperate parents to a world that’s dark and cold

Only six years old, her innocence stripped away

By the highest bidder who shattered her soul that day.

Used her for his pleasure then tossed her to the side

While she cried for her mother and frantically tried to hide

She’ll scream out in pain
She’ll cry out in fear
She’ll call out for help
But no one will hear

It hurts too much to feel
It hurts too much to see
It hurts too much to recognize
What’s happening to me
　

When she tried to run away, they tied her to the bed

Ignored her screams of terror and wracking sobs of dread

It didn’t take too long for her to stop the fight

Numbly accept her fate to live as a Child of the Night

Her spirit broken, her body bruised, her mind in a thousand pieces

Resigned to live a life of fear and pain that never ceases.

　
It hurts too much to feel
It hurts too much to see
It hurts too much to recognize
What’s happening to me
　

She’ll scream out in pain
She’ll cry out in fear
She’ll call out for help
But no one will hear

No one but God whose heart breaks each time

A little one is violated. He’s pierced by each cry

Each horror committed by a depraved man’s lust

Will not remain hidden, in this you can trust

What’s done in the dark will be brought to the light

God will avenge each child in his might.


It would be better for them to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones to stumble. Luke 17:2