Watch it until the end because that buys me 5:01 minutes to finish wiping the tears from my face.
I am guilty of this. Of sharing my shame story with people who could not handle it, allowing them to become another piece “of flying debris in an already dangerous storm.” I have had all of these types of friends and their responses to my storm, my shame, my hurt.
Now on the road to healing and recovery from believing that I need a bus load of women who will ‘wade through the deep’ with me, I look back at the thick of the storm and realize that I did not trust a lot of people and was right not to.
The people who got mad at me because they felt they deserved to know more about the things that were ripping open my heart. Or the friends who asked me what I had done to cause the shaming I’d received. And especially the friends who locked God down into a box of rules, laws and condemnation for choices I had made. My willingness, my desire to chase after those who were not wanting to do life with me – in the ugly – took the storm and challenge of being shamed to a level beyond reckoning.
Y’all. It was almost devastating.
All along, I’ve had one or two and a few. And I’ve hit the lottery. Lord, give me more time to tell them, to share my appreciation and gratitude for them. They have earned the right to hear my shame story. They have protected it but not to the point of letting it become the only story. They have heard it but not to the point that it is a closing, final chapter. They have sat with me in the devastation and waited lovingly for me to raise my head back up and move – sometimes crawl – forward in my faith.
I have been honored to have these few friends. Lord, give me the strength to recognize that these women are enough. That I am far more blessed than many who can not be real about the darkest parts of themselves with a trusted friend. That I am far more blessed than many who have gained popularity, connection and belonging in the masses but who have an image to preserve. That I am far more healed to have women who I can pick up the story with, share the next incident and know that it will put me on steps toward being real, healed and whole. Better than chasing after the appearance of this from so many others who do not have my best interest at heart, who can’t hear my shame story without needing to alter it, or me for their own comfort.
I’ve read Brene Brown’s, The Gift of Imperfection (twice) and would recommend it. Heck, I think I may need to pick it up again this spring. My hope is for you to read the Truth about who you are, look at the storm from a godly perspective, accept the gift of a few clutch friends as plenty and walk with the One who can be trusted above all else.