Hold Onto Yourself, Honey

Some days it is harder than others.

The loneliness and regret overwhelm you with their weightiness, locking you into sadness so complete that you conjure story lines of sandy beaches and distant locales to steel yourself. To keep from losing it completely. You burrow down deep into your secret self, mantras meaningless and tears abundant as you sit with the rage. The bitter, bitter disappointment. All you really want is for all the sound to stop—the thoughts that howl in your mind to be silent. You want to cry one big satisfying wail of a weep, huge enough to release your heart from the ache of devastation and lost love and brokenness and angry pain scarring your soul. Every day you cry that big cry. Every day you find yourself angry all over again.

Hold onto yourself, honey.

Because when all is said and done, the only things you’ve lost are illusory. He never knew you, never really loved you because loving you is not easy. He loved the idea of you, the soft curve of flesh you offered up as payment for his scanty attention, the abandon with which you loved him unto your own near death, the broken spaces of your childhood easily exploited for his pleasure and benefit. But never, never you.

Hold onto yourself, honey.

Because all you’ve lost is a dream…not even the real dream that you cleaved your mother’s womb with, tightly gripped by little balled up fists. You lost a dream you never even wanted before you met him, life swallowed up in his thoughts and ideas and mindsets and expectations. This was not your heart’s desire. And if you were honest with yourself—truly Godly honest—you weep for the things you left behind. Your dignity. Your self-worth. Your courage. Your creativity. Your freedom.

Hold onto yourself.


Hold on.

Because after you press pass the agony of not recognizing this person looking you in the face each morning, you will realize that you’ve been given an opportunity to grow your own particularly sweet smelling rose out of the concrete of this pain. You will find yourself–and not the distracted “rebound” self of “I can do bad all by myself and I don’t need a man”; no, you’ll find your God-imaged self. Your whole self. Your complete self. The self that emanates light from your broken places instead of hurt. The self that dances rather than mourns. The self that loves from a God space, eternal and without expectation.

Just hold on. Okay? Hold on to yourself, honey. It will be over after while. This I promise you. This I declare over you. The morning is coming to end your darkest night.

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