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"You seem so happy"

"How do you always stay so positive?"

"I never would have guessed that all of that happened to you, you seem so grounded"

"If you don't stop bottling up, one day you're going to explode"

I've heard statements like this throughout my childhood, teen years and adult life. Being unaffected was my super power. I didn't have to think about it. Neglect, chaos, death and abuse would come and I would breeze right through.

What I am about to share is not a cry for pity but is an effort to give context:

As a toddler my parents battled addiction and would often leave me alone. I can remember running through my house, calling out for them to no avail, so I hid in a closet. I have memory of being on a park swing and a woman asking where my parents were. My little eyes looked over at the steps where my mom was sitting a moment ago, but she was gone.

At 3 my mother died.

At 14 a boyfriend left 18 bruises on my body in one go. I experienced repeatedly being sexually and emotionally abused until I was 16.

By 19 two of the grandparents who helped raise me passed. 19 also brought more abuse. It is at this age that I gave my life to Jesus.

At 21 my father died.

In between there was more that happened but you get the idea. Many incidents where there should have been pain but instead there was hardly any emotion brought to the surface. I didn't know that I was numb.

I thought my defiant joy was normal, and at some points, an act of worship.

At 23, looking at the face of my daughter made it impossible to remain numb. Something about becoming her safe place, her nurturer, her home, made me acutely aware that I needed healing in the deepest parts of me.

I learned that trauma as a developing child can cause dissociation- a defense mechanism of the subconscious. Small minds sometimes can't process trauma so the subconscious allows for compartmentalization, which can result in emotional numbness.

After having my daughter I fell into a deep depression. All of the emotions that I had unknowingly bottled up threatened to swallow me whole, like a big black wave.

Jesus began to teach me about grieving.

In John chapter 11, before Jesus rose Lazarus from the dead, He wept. Given the context of the passage, He knew he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead. He knew He was going to fix the problem that was causing pain. Yet He still presumably looked around at His dead friend and that friend's grieving family and He wept.

Why?

Perhaps a time for weeping is essential to healing. Maybe it allows us to move on to a true joy instead of existing in a state of apathetic indifference.

Now I make it a point to process my sadness, to allow my emotions to move through me, yet not rule over me. Only then do I move on, in a hopeful seeing-in-color sort of way.

I venture to say that everyone is tempted. Being human leaves us vulnerable to our appetites, our pain, our distractions. The enemy of our soul preys upon our pain and presents us with solutions that will never fulfill, and he does it well. Sometimes saying no feels impossible. Jesus literally sweat blood because resisting sin felt so difficult.

On my walk I have gone through seasons of temptation. I felt ashamed that I was weak enough to feel tempted, but even Jesus was tempted, yet without sin. He showed me that it is normal and that it is possible to overcome.

This painting is a result of my own temptation and overcoming. In the middle of the painting there is a path. All around are beautiful flowers- Angel Trumpets. At night they put off an intoxicating, magnetic aroma, but they are toxic. In the center there is a narrow way, the way of escape.

"No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it."

1 Corinthians 10:13

You hear it all the time, that the only constant in life is that change will come. I find this to be true in life in general, but especially in the context of my walk with God.

Some seasons are full of gut wrenching pain, tragedies, hard learned lessons and pain before healing.

Others seasons feel like a glimpse of heaven.

This painting is about the latter.