We all have wounds that we’ve carried since the earliest years of our lives. Even when we have a wonderful childhood with loving parents, there are areas of our hearts that get pierced. Until we learn from God Himself how to bring these hurts to His throne AND we choose to let Him have them—they can only become infected.
I have a tendency to be a perfectionist. When it comes to work, hospitality, marriage, parenting, my faith, my relationships… I just want to get everything right. (Yes, I realize this is impossible. But it doesn’t always stop me from trying.)
I used to believe that if I shared the truth of my heart— people would judge me, ignore my pain, get annoyed at the inconvenience, or all three. Putting on a happy face was easier than trying to keep it together enough to ensure only a manageable amount of realness came out at once.
A few weeks ago- out of nowhere- I started having mini panic attacks. I’ve never had a problem with them before and I never knew how hard they were to contend with. On a tiny level today— I want to say that I understand what you’re going through. They are ROUGH. It was a battle to shut them down.