For years I avoided facing myself. I knew the surface level of who I was, but I also had received not so subtle messages that all – deep down in the soul searching places of my being – was NOT hunky-dory. A wild, wounded, primitive woman lurked deep in my cave. So I stayed away from there.
Sometimes my inner cavewoman would rear her head and I would not be able to explain where it came from, apologizing to the world for the ferocity and the sudden outburst of je-ne-sais-quoi that emanated from this mysterious region. I stuffed it back in and tried rolling a rock over the door.
Much like a heavy tombstone. I tried to bury her alive.
But she wouldn’t die. Thankfully. Because turns out I need her. I AM her.
This scary inner cavewoman was my authentic self, and while she may have been wounded and scared, she was still ME.
I hadn’t tended to her, I hadn’t tried to get to know what she needed, because the depth of the mess freaked me out. I knew that her issues were way over my head and beyond my ability to solve.
And as a codependent, I NEEDED to fix things and solve peoples’ problems and generally make sure that everyone was happy.
I couldn’t do this for my inner cavewoman, so I ignored her. I stuffed her down deep and tried to keep her at bay.
In comes the light.
I finally realized that my mistake was not so much in avoiding what I could not understand and fix, but rather in thinking that fixing was my job in the first place.
I didn’t ask to be here. I didn’t create myself into existence. I didn’t choose my body, my sex, my family or my circumstances.
There was someone else involved in all that. And as it turns out, I am His project.
Call Him what you will – the truth is, he isn’t so caught up with names. He knows who He is, and whether or not we get it, He stays the same. And I am His. Ergo, my messy, scary, wounded inner self is His mess – not mine. And thankfully, He actually knows how to soothe, heal and grow her.
So the first thing I did was hand my inner cavewoman over to the One who loved her enough to take her on. And for that I am grateful beyond words.
You see without a loving hand holding mine, I would never be able to face the darkest parts of who I am, caused by the darkest parts of my past. It’s too much. The few times I unsuccessfully tried, I ended up beating myself up, making long lists of everything that was wrong and then sinking into depression, feeling hopeless, feeling broken, and ultimately no good came of it. I couldn’t change the events that had wounded me, and I couldn’t heal the wounds. What was the point of seeing it all? Just to remind me how messed up I was? No thanks. Thus the heavy rock and the avoidance.
But once I understood that my messy self was His project, and that He actually had the power to heal – there was hope. And I didn’t feel this horrible weight – this fear of failure. I felt light…the burden was no longer mine.
I was HIS. And I reminded Him of this constantly, in case He forgot: “Look at this mess! I can’t fix this! I am YOUR mess. Please heal me. Thank you that you can, and you want to, and you are.” And the scale of the mess never bothers Him – much like an amplified version of Marie Kondo, the bigger the mess the better. That’s where He can do His best work and really shine. He thrives on messes like me.
And so slowly, as I faced the inner demons and darkness with Him by my side, I realized it wasn’t all so scary. There was hope and healing available. I was loved. I was safe. I was going to be OK. He had me.
So don’t shut out your wounded self. They need help – and there is One who is waiting to get in there and like a skilled surgeon, cut out the diseased tumor and make us whole again. Bring Him into the cave, place yourself in His hands. You are HIS project. HIS patient. HIS mess.
And if that doesn’t scare Him – why should it scare us?
-Pictures from wonderful Pixabay
4 thoughts on “Who’s mess am I anyways?”
A deep and discerning voyage, beautifully written and leading us to a door with the word “Hope” carved into it. Thank you! – d
Thank you for your kind words! I find such hope in the knowledge that I am not my own project but His. I only need to do what the “life coach” says…