|Tuesday, Mar. 01, 2005 || Still broke|
“How would it make you feel to always be told you are broken?” she said, voice cracking.
He hugged her. Tightly.
She hates that she is still so pitifully needy. Selfishly so.
Just about the time she thinks she is doing pretty well, the gaping hole of never being enough, not being worthy, always being wrong, rears its ugly head.
She feels wounded, and cornered, and angry, and powerless.
She lashes out. She wounds others. She utters threats that, in the moment, she wishes she could keep. She wants to keep. In that moment.
Though she likely never would.
Perhaps she’s just tired. She longs for things – something - anything - to change.
And yet, she knows that the drive for relief cannot be the catalyst for change. That it has to be His timing. His plan. His direction.
But it doesn’t change how her heart feels.
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