Most days I don’t want to be reminded of her.
I don’t want to recall the way she talked and the things she did. I would rather not be reminded of the pain she inflicted to others and herself in the name of pleasure and ‘fitting in’.
She marched to her own drum, she was angry at the world, and she hardly took no for an answer.
The only spark of her that remains is the need to show others that she can do what they tell her she can’t. Because she was told her entire life what she couldn’t do.
She thought she was free, but in reality she wasn’t. She was tangled in chains. She didn’t know what she wanted, she didn’t plan for the future, and she sure didn’t think about consequences. She just did. Her motto was “I desire”.
She was me. 10 years ago I was not the person I am now. I don’t want to tell you who she was because most days I’m ashamed of her.
But somedays….somedays I miss her.
There’s no reason for it, just suddenly out of the blue she’ll rise up and smack me down a little bit. She lives in a completely separte world, so separate that when I think back on those years she feels like a different person. Like I’m watching a movie. But when I’m frustrated beyond anything her voice comes out of my mouth. Her temper gets ahold of me more often than I’d like. And somedays I just plain miss the fun she used to have, no matter how fleeting it was.
Things happened to her that shouldn’t have. There’s nothing to be done about it now, but it left a weird void in both of us. Something she fought against, something I carry.
So when I’m reminded of her, her actions, how fun she was at parties, how tight she wore her jeans, or how fearless she was, I tend to grin stupidly, shuffle my feet, and say something along the lines of that’s not me anymore.
It wasn’t until my early-twenties that I fully devoted my life to Christ. I grew up in a “Christian” home, I went to Sunday School and Church. I memorized the verses, I could resite bible stories. But it never went past my head. It wasn’t until I was in a desperate situation with no way out that I realized my need for a Saviour. For redemption. On that day she died. Her desires and her evil thoughts.
Parts of her are still with me because I’m human. The flesh rears up way more than I want it to. It makes me think I’m missing out on good times. That I could be so much happier if I didn’t hold back and just had fun. “You only live once” it whispers. But on the days that I miss her there is also something I’m reminded of.
She had no hope. She was lost and broken and hurting. She hated herself. She used to yell vicious things at her reflection in the mirror, she cut her arms, she picked the skin off her fingers (a nervous twitch that I still have to this day – although not as bad), she was tormented and she despised her life. Her anger at the world was a way to hide the brokenness inside her. To hide the need for something she could not find. Always searching, never finding. Until one day, at the darkest of times, God scooped up all her broken pieces and stitched her back together.
He took my heart of stone and replaced it with a heart of flesh. He forgave my sinful ways and taught me to hope and to love. The lessons are never going to be over, but each day I pray that I change a little more – that I step one more step farther away from who I was – away from her. It’s not always easy, but it’s so worth it.
She was always searching for what I have now, and when I miss her I wish I could hug her and tell her it’s all going to be alright.