Untold Stories become Lost History

With Halloween right around the corner. It got me thinking about, how many of us wear “masks” everyday. The masks that hide our truth. We put on this mask of perfection, in fear that somehow our truth would lessen our story in some way.

My Truth

My story is one of hurt. In a split second, I knew truths that devastated everything I had known for almost a decade. The events of that day, spiraled me into a world of doubt, fear and anxiety. I struggled to do basic things like eat, sleep or find joy in simple things. Everyday felt like I was drowning. It was an isolating time in my life.

Flashbacks

I remember a day when my kids came into my bedroom and asked “Mama, are you sick again?” When I think back to that moment, it brings hurts to know my children had to witness their mom in that way.

Especially since I had dedicated so many years to giving each of them the best I had. I poured every ounce of myself into them, every day, for years.

How it Felt

Each day was a challenge. It literally felt exhausting to breathe. I was living in a world of hurt and pain with no clue how I was going to navigate through it all. My family and close friends lived across the country. So I was left to handle it all on my own.

Let Down

I did make the effort to reach out to those I thought I could lean on. Once they knew of things, they demonstrated zero signs of compassion or care.

Some were the very ones that claimed to be faithful, with the appearance of being religious. Being on the receiving end of that type of rejection actually drew me further away from my faith.

How could a person that supposedly loves God easily turn their back on someone who needs to have come help and guidance? 

The Breakthrough

For months and weeks, I felt resentment towards those individuals that let me down. But that resentment was eating me up. It was making me feel worse than anything else. I knew I couldn’t continue down that path.

So one day I dropped to my knees, sobbing.. I just couldn’t do it on my own any longer. The resentment and hurt were all too much of a burden to carry on my shoulders, alone. I asked God to please help me.

In those moments, that’s when I knew I had to make the choice to walk towards him.

The Light

Looking back, that was the start of my spiritual transformation. It’s when I had exposure to compassion, love and care from others. All the things that I had desperately been missing. I saw what true love looks like through people. Individuals that freely ran into my life mess with open arms. Who helped support and guide me.It gave me the strength that I needed but most importantly it helped strengthen my faith.

The last couple of years have shown me that when you allow your faith to guide you, it will bring you onto a path of great hope.Filled with a light. A light that fills life’s voids.

Not sure where my path will lead but I know I am meant to help women.Women that are holding onto hurt, disappointment and pain. I need to help them through my story. To let them know, they are not alone.

Too often women are consumed with this idea of being perfect. If only we could all come together, remove the masks, and truly help our sisters believe that they already are perfect, right where they are.

Each one of us carries an incredible story. If left untold, it becomes wasted history.

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Photos by: Lanaki Photo 

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