Year four at university is when I realized just how broken I was.
I had failed a total of ninety (90) university credits which meant in order to graduate in May 2002, I had to take 3 extra credit courses on top of the 10 I was enrolled in for my fourth year. I was drowning in student debt; had very few friends; and had even pushed away my family – save for my grandparents. All because the pain and rage I had suppressed for so many years had led me to become a bitter and ugly person.
Yet somehow I managed to make it through each day in the hopes that somehow I would eventually feel and do better.
Alcohol had been my companion throughout university. I always looked forward to when I could have a drink to numb the pain and forget about my sad-sad life. I was good at feeling sorry for myself back then… until I finally realized that drinking alcohol was not solving my problems – it had become another one.
As you can probably tell, I wasn’t exactly walking a very straight and narrow path at that time, but I did feel what I believe to have been God in a moment of desperation.
That is when I wrote the following poem:
The Abyss
By FlawedBeauty7
I sink further and further into the abyss with every step I take forward.
I call out into the void and no one responds.
Is there anyone out there? Can anyone hear my cries? Will anyone help me?
A sudden feeling of abandonment fills my body.
I look about me for something to comfort me…
Out of nowhere a hand reaches out to me.
As it draws nearer something appears in its hand – something in the shape of a bottle.
I take the mysterious object and drink of its contents…
POISON.
Could this be the answer to my problems?
It is as though the poison in the bottle is not poison at all, but a potion.
A potion to help me not feel so alone and abandoned.
As the effects of the potion wear off, I realize that I am still alone in the abyss.
I call out once again for someone to help me, but still no response.
Is there someone out there who hears me, but simply ignores me?
Another hand reaches down to me, and in it appears a picture.
The picture is of my mother.
What does this mean? Why this picture?
I take the picture in my hand and visions flash through my head – memories.
One in particular sticks out in my mind.
I’m holding a trophy… an award of sorts.
I stand holding the trophy smilingly.
My mom watches me.
Her disposition puzzles me.
Is she proud of my award?
Or does she not care?
The picture falls from my hand.
As it tumbles to the ground, it vanishes.
I feel the tears well in my eyes.
Why this picture? What was its purpose?
Another hand reaches out to me with another picture.
This picture is of me.
Wait… this isn’t me… or maybe it is…
Could this be a picture of my future?
The picture is blurry.
I cannot tell what I am wearing or what the background looks like.
I can only tell that there is someone in the picture beside me.
It’s a man.
Is it my husband? Is it my father? Is it my brother?
What is that in his hand? He’s holding something…
I can’t see it, but it looks like a piece of paper.
The picture falls from my hand.
As it tumbles to the ground, it vanishes.
My body starts to tremble in fear.
Who is this mysterious man?
Will I ever find an answer to my questions?
Suddenly a bright light flashes before my eyes and before me appears a man.
He wears what appears to be a robe and… wings?
He holds something out to me.
I study this being carefully and examine the object he is holding to me.
It appears to be a book of sorts.
What is this book? What tale does it tell?
It opens.
As I reach for the book, it slams shut.
I ask the man about its contents.
The man’s response to my question was too simple, yet puzzling.
‘Life’ he responded.
‘Your life’ he added
The man faded away into the abyss and I was left alone once again.
What does the book say? Why couldn’t I read it? Did it reveal my future?
Would I ever evade the abyss that I find myself dwelling in?
I could feel my heart sink into my stomach.
The tears started to well up in my eyes again.
Would I ever find hope in this abyss?
I close my eyes, praying that someone would come rescue me.
When I open them again, I see before me a door.
There is an inscription.
It reads: ‘Knock and the door shall open’.
I freeze, thinking one more step would render me even further into the abyss.
Then I remember how I first entered into the abyss: Through fear.
I take a deep breath and attempt to take my first step towards the door.
Before me appears a stepping stone.
I step onto the stepping stone and remain there…puzzled.
Hesitant, I take another step towards the door, and another stepping stone appears.
As I approach the door, I look behind me into the abyss and a feeling of comfort fills my body.
I turn my head back towards the door, and knock.
The door opens.
On the other side is light…
I enter it, and my life begins…
Here we are 20+ years later, and that much wiser, and I continue to endure the process of sifting through my ashes. The difference is that now I can look back with new eyes and a new perspective – and see the beauty and grace that God continually gave.
The suffering we endure in life produces endurance, and endurance refines our character if we will allow it. It is in this place of suffering that Jesus comforts, and does the work needed to help us grow through the ashes. Trust. His. Process. Even if it takes a lifetime… you will see the beauty in the journey when you travel with Him.
Thank you for reading. Blessings!
#childhoodwounds #healingchildhoodtrauma #childhoodtraumahealing #emotionalwounds
#attachmentissues #emotionallyunavailable #generationaltrauma #attachmentstyles #childhoodabuse
#unresolved #relationshipissues #insecureattachment