The Problem was Me

The Attic or the Addict

At the age of 25, I enlisted on a journey called self healing and self love through the truth of God’s love. I am determined to fulfill that journey before my 40th birthday. I began this journey blinded. So guilty, and so ashamed, but angry and blindly angry. I was angry at so many things, it wasn’t until one day I sat inside my thoughts and realized that my pain comes from the addiction of acceptance. While on this journey, I found some things about me, that didn’t sit well with where I was going. One of the things I disliked about myself, was the clutter of clusters piled in the corner of my life. I had mommy issues, abandonment issues, self esteem issues, and most of all co dependent issues and I kept trying to fight the evils stacked against me outside of the will of God, but by trying to prove I was okay. I was a single parent, to by this time four children. I had not experienced marriage, but I had done wifey things for men who devalued my worth. I allowed self insecurities to create the imagery of expressions. My feelings were often rejected a lot, since childhood to explain the accuracy of design , which caused me to suppress and utilize anger as a means for the unjustified pain and agony. I had retreated to make these things my norm until I realized who I was, until I found my identity in Jesus Christ. I appreciated things that I should have never tolerated and tolerated people who never gave me any appreciation. I don’t even believe I gave myself anything, especially the things I sought out of others, which is why lowering my standards became the subtle fruit that bread forth to my frustration. I parented out of frustration, drank out of frustrations, held friendships and sexual partners out of frustrations, never thinking once about the cause and effect of unhealthy intentions sprinting forth my desires and motives for light. I trauma bonded myself right into the realm of spiritual reality of a spiritual death. The devil had to become a crippled by the faith and hope that I was clinging on to. I had to come out of agreement with the combustion of lies, hurt, and the stronghold of sin.

One day I realized that my life was an attic, the place people run and hide, or the place I was too afraid to enter. It wasn’t until I entered into myself that I realized the vessels of my heart, and the synapses of my mind were clouded with the personal defects of others problems, when I realized that my purpose was drowned in the midst of acceptance and purity I understood humility. I understood that my pain was shamed, because I was not interconnected with the source of life. All the corners of my life were forced into submission by things that did not fit the heart that sat within me. In one corner sat new things, new adventures, new goals, new ideas, new love. In another corner sat moderately used things, marijuanas, grey goose vodka, poor abusive men and relationships, friendships that had expired without experience, and expectations of myself that were outside the will of God. In the other corner sat dusty things that I had longed forgotten. Things such as aspirations, self love, self esteem, motivation, and self declarations along with God’s decree and will for my life. I embodied the image of the national depth of hurt. I carried that. I carried that like a Facebook quote with misspelled words, but was something everyone could feel. At least for my case what everyone could use. I had been used and it seemed like forgotten about. Every time someone needed something and I could offer my body as a sacrifice I did. I baby sat pregnant, I gave money I didn’t have, my kids went without, while I provided for the children of my community, as I struggled through the lenses of witchcraft, that long hauled a generation of spell bounding instabilities and mental dispositions. In a sense I was selfish to my being. I was selfish to God and most of all I had allowed the demonic attacks to become a happenstance of emotional sufferage. I was selfish to the musculoskeletal transmittal form that should have protected the barrier of my heart. I knew that when I searched the attic how negligent I was to myself. Everywhere I had gone people had stories of them being more comfortable doing me, by being them, than me being comfortable being me, by doing me. I removed the centerpiece of devaluation and removed the box of leftover bruises I stored to bring back up. I removed the past, and placed an open box, and in it sat the reality of serenity. My circulatory system had enveloped a design that I refuse to box up any longer.

I took my heart out of storage and read it the treasures of life. I read the Bible. I found myself crying at the book of proverbs and realizing that my affirmations came from God. I dedicated myself to my purpose. I cleared my attic and became an addict to fixing my problems from the inside out. I realize today at 31, that happiness doesn’t come dressed with fragrances, or floral printed tops, new shoes, or coffee from Starbucks. Happiness values the meaning between life and love, or the love of life. Happiness comes from being teachable and teaching others. Happiness comes from the corrective action not the coercive defaults of definitive responses. The balance of life comes with the will power to want better, to choose better, and to understand that life happens because God pre ordained my life as the manager to instill truth and light. I realized that now when I suffer I don’t suffer from the negative things people say. I realize now that when I’m blessing I don’t hate the heart that sits deep underneath the chambers of dust and bitter cobwebs. I realize that my suffering comes because God needs not only to allow suffering but to help form me in the body of Christ Jesus. I now realize they decluttering my life means walking a path for God, I was bought at a price so why allow the stripes of God to be thrown into a pit when forbearance conquers the fears of clutter, shame, guilt, pain and suffering. I now understand that when they say cleanliness is the closest things to holiness, they mean cleansing yourself from the desires of your flesh. It is time to clean the attic.