Unhealed – Part One

Hello!

It has been a while since I last posted here. I took a long and much-needed break from social media and writing. But now I’m fighting my way back. Over the past several months, God has been doing significant work on my heart. This “work” seems to come in waves, and those waves can feel endless.

Out of all the blogs I’ve written, this one has been the hardest. The raw content and intimate details leave me feeling quite vulnerable. However, as my sweet daughter recently reminded me, people relate more to the “mess” than being “all put together.” So, here is some of my mess…

Several months ago, I received a text message from my uncle, my father’s brother, telling me that my father had reached out to him and wanted my contact information. I was stunned, to say the least. I hadn’t heard from my father in over 20 years.

Feelings overwhelmed me: confusion, surprise, anger, and even fear. What could he possibly want to say to me after all this time?

Thankfully, my first response was to pray. I knew I didn’t want to interfere with whatever God was doing. A flood of thoughts raced through my mind: Was he sick? Had Jesus touched his heart? Or was this just another manipulation tactic? I sincerely didn’t want to hear from him or give him any opportunity to hurt me again.

I’ve always known my father to be manipulative and cunning—an abusive man who twisted the truth and preyed on people’s weaknesses. He always blamed everyone but himself. Naturally, I didn’t trust him or his motives.

I responded to my uncle, asking for a day or so to think and pray about it. However, that “day or so” turned into a week; all I felt was unease and despair. After all, I had worked hard and come too far to heal from the damage caused by my father and his abuse.

But after much prayer and support from my family, I gave my uncle an email address to pass on to my father, allowing him to say whatever he needed. As much as I wanted to reject him and felt he did not deserve to contact me, denying him simply didn’t sit well with my soul.

Then, I waited.

The waiting was the worst part—the uncertainty, the anticipation, and the fear of it all. What struck me the most was how unhealed I felt. I had thought I was past the damage, the abuse, the pain, and all of the grief.

I thought I was healed.

For years, I dedicated myself to healing. I sought God through prayer, His Word, therapy, and support groups. God and I took long walks where I poured out my heart. I cried, yelled, and clenched my fists at Him for allowing this to happen in my life. There were times when I turned away from Him and sought solace in the world, attempting to fix myself through partying, drugs, alcohol, affairs, and every other self-destructive behavior you can imagine. But ultimately, I found myself back on my knees, surrendering everything to the only One who could save me—Jesus. I laid my burdens at the cross, chose to forgive, and resolved not to look back.

Yet, here I was, waiting, and in that stillness, I began to feel victimized once again. Honestly, I felt a bit like a coward—weak and pathetic for even considering giving my abuser an opportunity to say anything to me.

I found myself caught between faith and fear. I had faith that God allowed this for a reason and that I needed to trust Him. However, I was also gripped by the fear of being hurt and damaged again. I worried that the wounds I had worked so hard to heal would reopen, causing me to lose myself once more.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself frequently checking that email, trying to hold onto my faith. Then, the day after Father’s Day, there it was. It seemed ironic that of all the days he emailed, it was the day after Father’s Day, as if there were some deeper meaning behind it. But I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and began to read.

The content was sad, but not in a way that made me feel sorry for him. It was sad because none of his words reflected any accountability for his actions. His apology was half-hearted, consisting of just three sentences where he acknowledged that he hadn’t been “the adult” he should have been. After that, he asked if we could have “some level of a relationship.” The rest of his message was filled with polite pleasantries, and he ended by giving me permission not to respond.

What I was left with was a flood of emotions and an overwhelming sense of despair. I didn’t understand why I felt this way. I thought I had worked through all of this, so why was it affecting me so deeply? What lesson was I meant to learn from it? Should I respond or not? How do I navigate a tender heart aligned with God’s will without losing my heart in the process?

There I was, right in the middle of a trial, blindsided by my own emotional and mental response.

All I could hear inside was just how unhealed I truly was. Amid the pain and disappointment, I began to feel that I had no right to write or encourage others in their faith in God because I was unable to do it for myself. I felt like a fraud, not the healed and redeemed woman I believed I was.

In time, this realization revealed far more within me than I could have ever imagined.

Stay tuned for the upcoming conclusion, titled “Unhealed – Part Two,” coming soon.