Life seems weighted unfairly from the start. As daughters of Eve, we have been deceived. As soul-wounded women, our brains have been tampered with, manipulated, and aren’t as reliable as we like to think. The result: A damaged self-worth that convinces us the fallout of an emotional trauma is better than the potential unknown. Afraid if we try to change, the emotions may prove too painful.
We crave certainty—often at the expense of contentment. Stemming from a primal need for security, we cling to some things, no matter how terrible, simply because of familiarity. While miserable, life is at least predictable. As with Eve, this lie originates from a fearful, misdirected attempt to manage what we aren’t intended to control.
Our sense of control is a mere illusion; what are you desperately trying to control?
Forgive us, Lord, for an arrogance that believes if our hand of control is present that we can somehow make everything okay. You are the only one with the power to protect, redeem, heal; the only one with the ability to make it well with our soul. Help us to focus more on who we are in this world rather than what we think we have the ability to change in the midst of it. You have intricately designed us, and have a unique purpose for us — in spite of all that may have happened. Help us to focus on that. Help us to release the need to control that which we do not understand.
Excerpt from Write Where It Hurts: Writing as a Healing Tool.
