By Jennifer McPherson

Today, honestly, I don’t know what I feel.

I suppose that’s one heck of a way to start an entry, but I’ll explain.

There are seasons in my life that seem to redefine the parameters of everything I thought I knew. It’s almost as if my operating system has been upgraded. This particular season has done nothing short of that.

To understand it, you’d have to know something about me.

I have lived much of my life wanting to be loved. I never truly felt loved by my family, never really felt loved by my friends, and most certainly never felt loved by the people I was in relationships with.

Seven years ago, after getting divorced, finding myself in a situationship that left me feeling unwanted and unattractive, and then entering an abusive relationship, I was beyond broken. I decided I was going to take a break.

So I did.

Over the course of those seven years, I believed I had healed from the trauma of my past. I believed I was content. In reality, I had simply avoided my trigger. I closed off some of the most beautiful parts of myself and retreated into hiding.

The idea of hiding inside myself is something I learned as a child. There were significant arguments in my home growing up, and I learned that if I stayed hidden, I wasn’t the target of the anger and frustration surrounding me. Sadly, I never truly unlearned that pattern not even after sixteen years of marriage.

One of the things we teach our clients is how people respond to trauma. Me? I’m flight, all day, every day. If there’s a way to run, I’ll find it. And if I can’t physically run, I’ll emotionally run.

Do I think that’s healthy? Of course not.

But it was effective.

As a child, it made the pain go away. Even as an adult, it worked to a point.

So let’s talk about this season.

I had firm boundaries. I had closed myself off.

Then he came.

He blew past my boundaries and reminded my nervous system of everything that makes connection terrifying and everything that makes connection beautiful at the very same time.

On paper, he seemed like someone who could have been a wonderful partner for me.

In reality, he wasn’t even free to pursue me.

That reality reopened wounds I didn’t realize were still so close to the surface. It reminded me of every moment I’ve ever felt unprotected, unseen, unheard, and unloved.

So yes, this season has shaken my foundation.

Not my faith.

Jesus has never been the question. I love Him with my whole heart.

People have been the question.

Humanity has broken my heart so many times that I’m finding it difficult to keep offering mine. If I’m honest, that’s been one of the greatest struggles of this season.

So today…

I don’t know how I feel.

Not because I feel nothing.

But because I feel so many things that I can’t find one word big enough to hold them all.

I still spend my days helping people find recovery. I still advocate. I still encourage. I still protect.

Yet one question continues to echo in my heart:

If I’m advocating for and protecting everyone else… who is protecting me?

I don’t know what the future holds.

But I do know this:

He is my anchor.

He is the measure of true love.

He has been my only real place of safety for every day of my life.

He’s the only place where it’s safe to say:

I feel sad.

I feel happy.

I feel grief.

I feel disappointed.

I feel vindicated.

I feel exhausted.

I feel like running.

Yet somehow, I know the right thing is to stay.

He’s the only One who has spent my entire life saying,

“As you are, who you are, is okay.”

No need to become someone else.

No need to upgrade.

No need to earn love.

Just being me has always been enough for Him.

So in the coming days, if you hear from me more, it’s because you mirror that sense of safety.

If you hear from me less, it’s because, right now, I need to feel safe.

Please don’t mistake my silence for a lack of love or appreciation.

It simply means my heart is learning, once again, where it can safely rest.

Jenn