Categories
#ConfessYourChurchMess faith Recovery Religious Recovery The Struggle With Church

Finding the Will to Forgive Spiritual Abuse

This is the final installment in the #ConfessYourChurchMess series. Follow the conversation on Twitter, and catch up on the other posts by clicking here. Forgiving Spiritual Abuse We’ve all seen the headlines. We’ve heard the horrible things done to people in the name of God. Some of you have lived those very ugly experiences. How […]

Categories
faith Family Messy Grace Recovery Recovery from Abuse This is My Story (series)

I was molested. How to overcome the trauma of abuse.

*Trigger Warning: This story contains graphic details of child molestation.* To be a christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God forgave the inexcusable in you. -C.S. Lewis I was twelve when my dad left my mom. To be honest, I really don’t remember what life was like before the divorce. I don’t remember the […]

Categories
Family Recovery Recovery from Abuse

Choosing to Forgive My Parents

What do you do when those who are supposed to raise you, care for you, and protect you don’t do their job? As a Christian, how do you reconcile childhood trauma with a faith that teaches unconditional love, praying for your enemies, and grace for the even the worst of sinners? In today’s guest post, Tracey […]

Categories
Mental Health Messy Grace

I’m Not Disappointed in You

The year had grown harder, week-by-week and month-by-month. There were days I couldn’t scrape together the energy to get out of bed. I’d dropped most of my college classes spring term to avoid failing – I, the straight A student to whom school came so easily. Anxiety made it impossible to eat, and I lost enough weight that people asked if I was anorexic.
I didn’t know it wasn’t my fault.

Categories
Best of Messy Grace Family Marriage Mental Health Recovery Recovery from a Suicid... relationships

Daring to Trust: Life After My Husband’s Suicide Attempt

I will never forget how cold the tile floor was on that hot September afternoon, as I slid down the wall of ICU room number six.
The statement that made my knees buckle, as I stood at the end of that hospital bed, was, “No, I did not mix up my medicine. I wanted to die. I do not want to be here any more.”

My clearest thought was how I was not enough. But if not me, how was our beautiful baby boy not enough to make my husband want to stay? I wondered how I could possibly face family and friends at our son’s first birthday party the next day, alone. I wondered if I would spend the rest of my life the very same way.