Did I need my head repaired through cognitive resources or was it more important for my heart to heal?
I don’t know if Jesus is in the business of mental health but I’m certain that He heals the brokenhearted and sets free the captive. I know this because I didn’t need my brain fixed, I needed my soul to stop bleeding. My heart ached for comfort — my soul longed to be still.
My brain was on overload constantly – tainted with rapes and murder. I know its now called hypervigilance. I call it survival! I appreciated the fortitude my mind gave me. It was all I had. Strong-minded I stood, when my oppressors took more than I had to give. Even when my body failed me and I lost consciousness, my mind worked overtime constructing a safety zone for my heart, my fears, my emotions.
I didn’t need a lobotomy, I needed heart surgery.
I dreamed of only one thing as a child, as a girl and later as a women: I wanted – scratch that – I needed the pain to subside. I didn’t care if it didn’t leave me entirely, I just needed to breath the air. A moment of peace. Undisturbed. Away from violence. I wanted to find peace, not because my mind was sick, but because my heart was.
I can remember believing with all my heart that love was something I would not look for. Love seemed to encourage abuse, it held captive the person it admired. It was sick, tainted and hurt you. The child in me equated commitment with being locked into a situation wherein there’s no escape.
So, I headed out on a journey to find kindness. Instead of saying, “I was damaged, broken and had trust issues,” I started saying: “I’m healing, I’m rediscovering myself, I’m starting again.”