It's Okay Not to Be Okay: Moving Forward One Day at a Time

by Sheila Walsh

The life my “fresh out of seminary, determined to save the world, to love the unlovely, get nine hours of sleep every night and never let God down” self tried to live for so long.

“The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second-best time is now.”

“Grace is love that cares and stoops and rescues.” Grace is the opposite of karma. We get what we don’t deserve: the love, mercy, forgiveness of God. Grace is unmerited favor. Grace is here for you right now, in the middle of what is hard or not working. The writer to the Hebrews described it this way: “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy

If you’ve experienced sexual, physical, verbal, spiritual, or emotional abuse as a child, the feeling of being out of control is crushing. Many women and men struggle with eating disorders later in life to try to cope with abuse from childhood, as if to say, “This is one area I get to control.” In those situations, if you dig a little deeper, underneath that need to control lies one of the greatest enemies of our souls: shame.

Life is scary to one who lives with shame, and what feels like the antidote, control, is actually its own prison. I know because I lived that way for many years. I had no control over my father’s anger and ultimate suicide. The confusion, fear, grief, and shame that produced in me pushed me into a desperate need to control something. I didn’t turn to food or alcohol—mine was darker and more twisted. I tried to control the love of God. For years I lived under the burden of trying to be good enough for God, but because it looked good on the outside I was never challenged by anyone. If you show up drunk at your Bible study, people will notice. If your weight has skyrocketed, it shows up in the real world. But if you’re the one who volunteers for everything at your church, who leads a Bible study, who speaks, who sits on national television every day and talks about the love of God, only He knows whether you’re serving out of pain or passion, out of a genuine calling or a devastating wound.

I believed it was not okay not to be okay, so I relentlessly pushed myself to fix myself. Did I know I was addicted to that pursuit? No. I thought I was living a life that was pleasing to God because I worked so hard to be worth loving. That worked until it didn’t anymore. I believe the mercy of God allows us at some point in...

Twelve words, a capsule of the truth. But when we step back into Joseph’s story we see it took thirteen years for those twelve words to unfold. Thirteen years is a very long time to believe that God is with you when every circumstance of your life says otherwise.

Not only that, I didn’t know how to let someone into that place I had guarded so carefully.

Have you ever been in a place like that, a place where you felt so hopeless that no matter what anyone said, it didn’t reach you? Have you ever looked at words that used to bring life and joy and hope when you opened the Word of God, and now they’re just words on a page? Have you ever felt that even when you’re surrounded by people, you are desperately alone?

If your own dad could eventually hate you, anyone could. Don’t let anyone get too close or they might see what he saw. Help other people so they see you have a purpose and won’t reject you.

Abuse or trauma in childhood impacts how much of the real you that you allow the world to see. You become more careful, more contained, because you’ve learned that life is not safe. Sexual abuse in particular brings with it an ocean of shame.

those who are married and unable to have sex with their own husband because they equate it with what is wrong and dirty.

In both situations, what should have been seen as a good gift from God has become a prison.

Verbal abuse chips away at your very soul. Whoever coined the phrase “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” had likely never been hurt.

Barry came into our bedroom where I was folding laundry, and he held out my phone, which I’d left in the kitchen. In his mind he was going to do something cute. Rather than give me my phone he planned to grab my hand and pull me to him. It didn’t go well. He honestly scared me. My heart was beating out of my chest as I sat on the bed and cried like a little girl, because that’s who was crying.

The truth about our lives is that we are all broken. It’s more obvious when the scar is on the skin and not on the soul, but we are broken nonetheless.