Strong and Fragile
Ever since I can remember people have told me, “You’re so strong.” I guess in some ways I am, but in other ways I’m extremely fragile. It’s a very complex mix of two extremes. My strength has always come from a desire to fight, my definition of life was a big fight for many things including success, independence, worthiness, stability, safety, etc. Today though, I define strength differently. Strength is no longer defined by a fight but instead a peace so deep and unwavering that the need to fight is non-existent. Strength isn’t something gained through fighting daily through life, but is something that has always been present and just needs to be quietly exposed.
My fragile side is most often only exposed in private, and not for long because the truth of my own fragility scares me. Lately I have learned to sit with it longer and longer. What I have found there is a need for Christ and a volunerability that is both freeing and terrifying. This weekend I have had time to sit with the fragility of my own emotional and spiritual healing. It’s so important for me to carve out time for self care and time to spend with God. The past few weeks Work and life have overshadowed all of the things I know to be necessary to maintain healing. I have prioritized everything over my self care and it has left me with the familiar feelings of paralysis and numbness. It’s scary that my body still defaults to that so quickly, thus the fragility of healing.
When you start feeling better it is easy to want to be “normal” to drop all of the boundaries and controls that you set so you could heal and resume the busyness and distracted lifestyle that the world (Satan) calls us to. Trying to maintain boundaries and other self care activities is hard, and the devil knows that slowly chipping away at them is the best strategy to take you back to feeling numb and paralyzed emotionally. That is where he wants me. When I am there I am easily irritated, angry often, and lonely. I am incapable of seeing the big picture and I’m irritated by all the details and overwhelmed by all the dysfunction. I hate going back there. I hate that the neural pathways that I default to are so deep and easily accessed. I dream of a time that emotional and spiritual health won’t take so much effort. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe self discipline, boundaries, and Godly priorities that reflect an eternal perspective aren’t supposed to come easy. Maybe the fragility of spiritual and emotional health isnt just true for those who have experienced trauma, but maybe it’s the truth for all of us.
What is interesting is that when I finally accept that I am fragile and that because of that I need to be diligent with the safeguards of boundaries and self care, I then feel strong. I want to encourage everyone to embrace their volunerability and fragility, find security in Christ, and as a result find their strength.