When you give voice to your pain it suppresses the output of anguish. What do I mean?
The last time I spoke with my mother and oldest sister, I gave words to my anguish. So much so I sounded like a screeching ostrich, I suppose. The next morning, my husband came to me and said, “Maybe you need to find a new counselor.” You see, in his determination of the night before, the events appeared to be very broken to him, or better said, I appeared broken to him.
I was broken, but I wasn’t defeated.
I gave voice to my deepest anguish surrounding them. My mom was supposed to be my protector, maybe even love me. My oldest sister was given authority in the house to watch over us. Both women not only betrayed me, but did what they could to make me feel unloved and not worthy of their time.
What my husband heard come out of my soul that night was pain. The anguish I could not control hearing both of their voices over the phone.
I helped my husband understand that what he’d experienced was a soul’s anguish being released. I didn’t need a new counselor, I’d done just what we’d built me strong for.
I’d shown the courage to expose my heart, my pain – my sometimes crippling anguish.
My brokenness was being repaired.