salt in the wound

Shall we be childish?

This is fairly recent and to be honest, it causes severe anxiety.

Exactly one month ago today I spiraled into a tunnel of darkness and thought I wouldn’t make it out alive. Little did I know, I was being held the entire time.

What I can see and what others see are very different.

Being hospitalized wasn’t a weakness. It was a strength to get the help I needed. I needed to be watched because of the medicine I was taking. What I see as strength and what I see as weakness is very different from those surrounding me. The people who there to help me didn’t leave my side once. It was those who I should be the closest to that I had a hard time speaking with about my fight against depression and anxiety. But, does that really matter?

It does when trust has been denied and you’ve been rejected. People wonder what they did when I start to put up my walls. I’m sorry I’m shutting down. Don’t remind me that it hurts you. Do you realize it hurts me, too?

I have the choice to allow certain people in my life. It is my life, right? Am I wrong? Someone correct me if I am. No person can take away someone I am close to unless they are Christ Jesus themself. They have no right. This is where the hurt ends and the battle for freedom begins.

Salt in the wound, like you’re laughing right me. It’s not so funny when I’m already dying inside. I’m praying for an escape. People can take what they want. My freedom is not theirs. My life is not theirs. Though I may be in pain right now, I have a God who restores.

This is painful. It’s like eating a lemon when you have a sore in your mouth. Let me know how good that feels. Don’t put salt in my wound because you can’t handle your own.

Love keeps no record of wrong, so I will let it go. You have your childish ways. Set me free.


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