Body Soul
Healing my brokenness: One Woman’s Story
August 26, 2016
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So there I was, broken; broken in every possible form –emotionally, physically, spiritually, sexually… There I was drenched in brokenness, the stench of bitterness reeking off me like alcohol on a drunkard. Bitterness was my vice now, after all, I was a battered woman; battered and beaten down by life, scorned by one too many. I was a tattered soul trapped in a wasted body, or at least, that’s what it felt like.

My identity was now in the frame of a victim. I was wholly and solely a wounded little girl, afraid and insecure, shamed and disgraced. A mind set of helplessness and powerlessness clung to me like print on a zebra. I chanted self-pity mantras like a monk chants a prayer. Oh! I had it bad.

My body slowly came apart, unwound like a woven basket, one ulcer at a time. Resentment coursed through my veins turning my skin to a hue that resonated with the darkness I felt inside. My mind was in a state of perpetual anguish as I lived and relived every hurt and betrayal. The irritation quickly turned into anger, and the anger swiftly morphed into rage like too much yeast in too little dough. I felt the betrayal running deep. What were guardian angels for, if not for protection? What were prayers for, if all they did was resound against the walls like echoes, reinforcing not only the emptiness without, but even worse, within?

There I was, scattered in pieces like a broken vase on a wooden floor, hushed voices saying, piece by piece lest I scratch the floor. How lost I was, a wandering void, seeking to fill my hollowness by knocking on the doors of men and asking for a place in their beds. How lost I was, reaching for love in the arms of strange men who knew nothing of whom I really was; yearning for meaningless acceptance from faceless vultures who caught the waft of my bitterness and swung down for the scavenge, before moving on to the next one. How lost I was spreading my legs instead of spreading my wings, wanting to be wanted, as though that validated me in some way. There I was lying in a pool of my own brokenness, defiling my temple in the embrace of a seductress who thrust me in the throngs of lust and an unrivalled lack of control for the self that I thought was ‘wild’. Teasing bared calves and come hither looks grew into a thirst for exhibitionism and then forced exhibitionism that bred arousal so ripe that no sacred form of gratification could come of it.

There I was, alone in the silence, so far down the only way to look was up. Clarity struck like crashing waves against a cliff, boring its way right into my heart. There was only ever one direction to face from the beginning. There was only ever one sure person with the answers. There was only ever one certain place with redemption, with hope for the broken, with refuge for the lost souls.

A voice said to me, “Child, he is not within because you have made his temple uninhabitable with your fetishes and perversions. You let human nature take over you as though you belong to the world. Don’t you know that the world hates you because you do not belong there? You are a child of the Most High God. His grace is sufficient for you. Lay down your battles to the ground and let him fight for you. Humble yourself before him and he will make you great. Our Lord Jesus was sent to the world not for the righteous, but for the lost sinners struggling to find their way back. He is not here to condemn you, but to protect you from those who long to cast stones at you.

Seek nothing from the world, instead, turn to Jesus the Bread of life from whose fountain if you drink, you will never thirst again. Turn to Christ the light of the world, from whom you will have the light of life and will never walk in darkness. Submit yourself to the Lord and he will greet you with a kiss and throw his arms around you like a child who was lost, but now is found. He will robe you in the best robes and throw you a feast, so that everyone will celebrate your return home and your enemies will watch and witness his glory and greatness.

Come now child, the Lord already knows your prayers.

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About author

Wanjiru Ndung'u

Wanjiru Ndung'u is a Published Poet and Founder of The Hooting Owl. She is an irretrievable, tea-loving nightowl with an ardor for matters of Personal Development.

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