I was chatting with the youth pastor at my church last Sunday — we got on the subject of being honest with our hurts and feelings with God. I shared with him how vital it is that we don’t avoid and shove down the hurt in our hearts but learn to get gut-level honest with God. I said, “God already knows what we’re thinking and feeling; He’s waiting for us to be honest and bring it all to Him.”

That conversation reminded me of what I wrote in my book, Life is Muddy — I felt led to share it with you today. I pray these words meet you.

Much love, J

“When I was walking through my divorce, the initial shock put me into somewhat of a numb state of mind, but I was also in a close-my-eyes-and-just-jump-off-the-cliff kind of place. That’s what pushed me forward on a lot of overwhelming paperwork to re-establish my life. In the middle of my whole world falling apart, all my downtime was spent at my sister’s house. I would go over there almost daily to help around her house and with her little ones; she was pregnant with their fourth baby, and her husband worked long hours. This pregnancy hit her hard, and she really struggled through that first trimester. So “Jojo” (that’s me) would help around the house with laundry and meals, giving my sister some much-needed couch time.

That was my normal: strong, independent, and able to handle life with strength. And quite honestly, it was also an escape from the pain that was going on in my heart. I was too busy helping my sister rather than focusing and tending to my own heart. I do believe God’s grace was over me, and He allowed me to take on that much in that season. He knew I needed to be there as much as my sister needed me, and so did my kids. It’s what helped us all get through that hard transition, and it gave my kids amazing memories of life at their cousin’s house with auntie and me rather than difficult memories about “mom and dad’s divorce,” and then dad leaving them completely.

To this day, when they reminisce about that season, it’s filled with good memories of family time.

Thank you, Jesus!

Sometimes busyness can help us survive a season, but eventually, we will have to face the core of ourselves. Staying busy can actually set us up to remain in denial, which builds barriers around our hearts . . . and we become stuck in the Cemented Mudder mentality. So, while sometimes being busy is good and may help us move through a painful season, enabling us to take care of some responsibilities, we don’t want to make busy the lifelong habit in hopes to numb the pain. Too busy for too long leads to denial of the pain in our hearts and remains an unhealed wound that will chase us down until it’s dealt with. In other words, the wound doesn’t go away and can easily become the broken filter through which we see ourselves, life around us, and even how we view people.

We are not truly free if we have to remain busy in order to numb the underlying hurt in our hearts.

As for me, the fast-pace of “busy” came to a crashing halt, and I was met with the rude awakening that deep inside, I was not okay.

I felt like I was going to completely and totally fall apart.

Truth be told . . . I did.

I chose to face it.

I made the decision to allow myself to feel the vast emotions that were surfacing; I refused to take old hurt into my new life.

This concept has become a vital tool in my life toolbox that I visit often.

Why?

God is calling His bride, His church, you and me to be emotionally healthy people so we can be spiritually solid, fully connected to Him, and in turn, release the fullness of His Kingdom to those around us. He knows we can’t truly become all we were made to be if we are carrying around a wounded heart. There are too many potential dangers with that, and we see it come out in many different forms:

Isolation—

Control—

Pride—

Overly busy—

Disconnected—

Inability to experience true joy—

Making decisions out of fear—

These are just a few examples of how heart-hurts leak out and take on a new form. We cannot live in the freedom of peace and joy if we are carrying around a wounded heart.

About a year after I filed for divorce, shortly after it became final, life and momentum had to slow down. Bottom line: the grace for busy was up, and I was hit head-on by my emotions in the rawest form. My emotions showed the truth of my heart, and I realized just how much pain I was in.

The loneliness.

The fear of facing life with just me and my four little ones.

Their emotions.

My emotions.

The wounds and behaviors that were surfacing in each of my children because of their hurt.

Financial pressures.

I went from being home and available 24/7 to working nights and going back to school and feeling less available to my kids. The heartache of sleeping alone and the pressure of being both mommy and daddy just plain sucked, and it sucked the life out of me.

While I’ve never regretted my decision to leave my violent marriage, I still had to walk through an incredibly painful healing process. One that was not grieving the loss of what we had (because what we had was toxic and unsafe) but instead grieving the loss of the hope I had in my heart for the entire length of our marriage. I had hoped my husband would utilize the help that was made available to him and receive God’s healing from his rage and drug addiction so we could have a healthy family. We had pastors, counselors, and mentors in place who knew our battles and were cheering us on for healing. That hope never became my reality. Pain had developed in my heart because I lived in the belief that things would change, and we would have a powerful testimony one day.

I had to face the whole truth that, instead, I was living in a destructive cycle with someone who lied and manipulated his way through life and didn’t really want to do the work that true change would require.

Many empty promises from him led me to believe we would make it, but the direction he steered our family ultimately led us to total destruction. The façade he tried to create left him with such an internal battle that it leaked out into every area of his life and into our home. He used any and every kind of drug and endangered my children while driving (I was unaware at the time); he recklessly broke objects in our home; if I ever questioned his lifestyle, he would pin me against the wall by my neck, and one night even crushed my ribs as he pinned me to the stairs of our Nevada home. This is just the nutshell version of what we lived, and it was time to go.

I thought this ending would automatically be met with the freedom of a new life.

It wasn’t automatic.

I came to realize that before I reached true freedom in this new season, I needed to grieve the loss, hurt, and trauma and invite Jesus to come in and heal it all.

The busyness of life had to slow down – it was time to enter into a season of grief before I could truly dance again. It was time to rip off the Band-Aid that was sustaining me and let the breath of God heal my broken heart.

My emotions surfaced.

My plate of responsibilities was so heavy and intense I had to drop some things.

And I became the ugliest broken mess I had ever seen.

I shocked myself.

It’s crazy what we can become when we’re hurting . . . mostly when we allow ourselves to feel our hurt.

Big difference.

Most nights, I cried myself to sleep, and there were plenty of times I was just straight up doing the ugly girl cry. You know . . . the one where you are crying so hard you can’t help but make that ugly face, tears are streaming, and you end up lying in your own puddle of drool, snot, and tears?

I know you girls are giving me a fist bump now ‘cause my sistas get me while you guys are seeing a picture in your mind you didn’t really want to have. Sorry for the glamorous visual, guys, but come on . . . I know you got the ugly-guy-wail in you, too.

It just looks a bit more like getting in your car, driving to some empty parking lot, and yelling at the top of your lungs.

I did that, too.

Until my throat hurt so bad I couldn’t anymore.

And I felt so much lighter after.

True story!

Now that I’ve given you an honest visual of where I was at, you can see how I’ve learned the true meaning of “feel.” I didn’t know what to do with my pain, and I felt no end in sight. Not everyone had the “privilege” of seeing the messy-ugly truth, but the people closest to me did. The more I talked about where I was at (or at least tried to), the more I found people pushing me away or avoiding me. Most didn’t understand what was going on with me . . . why I was behaving so polar opposite of my “normal” self. On the flip-side, if I was introduced to people in my season of brokenness, I became labeled through it unfairly. They didn’t know the strong, solid walk I had with God and assumed I needed spiritual sharpening rather than compassion for where I was at.

From an outside perspective, it appeared that I had completely lost it.

Which, really, I did.

I lost the person I knew since we were sixteen working at a local smoothie bar. The boy who moved in across the street from my childhood home. The one I spent hours upon hours talking with while stargazing on the driveway. The one who held me in his arms when I found out I was pregnant at eighteen. I lost someone who, for many years, was my best friend.

Remember, I picked him, I loved him, I married him.

What he became because of his brokenness is what broke us.

And I needed to grieve it all.

The “busy” was what propelled me forward in many ways, but the truth of my broken heart and the realities of my new life could not keep up with that kind of momentum. Something had to give. I couldn’t keep that pace because that pace was not established on wholeness and health. It was established on an urgency to protect myself and my children. Once we hit a different stage in our family life, it was time to look at my heart head on.

I got complete freedom and wholeness as I relented to the process of grieving my loss with Jesus. I walked away in freedom without all the diagnosis and stereotypes that would typically be attached to survivors of this kind of trauma.

I didn’t come out with hatred toward men, a fear of being alone, or a fear of marriage. I had all the symptoms of what would be defined as PTSD and clinical depression, but I chose not to wear my feelings as my identity. Instead, I used my feelings to go deeper with Jesus, and He touched each and every one of the broken places of my heart until I reached complete healing and freedom.

This healing process took time. Honestly, it took a lot longer than I wanted, and even after I thought the flashes of past scenes and dips of depression were done and gone, something would “trigger” that deep pain, and I needed to invite Jesus to go deeper, and He met me. The memories that would once trigger a strong emotion out of me became less and less.

My memories are no longer attached to incredible pain, but attached to the grace, love, and healing touch of my ever-present Heavenly Father, who comforted me though the process. My heart and my mind are at peace.

I did not pray my feelings away. I couldn’t.

I could not talk my way out of what I was feeling. My feelings were real.

I did not live in denial with any of my emotions. I was honest with my hurt.

I felt extreme depression and anger.

Putting my emotions in their proper place (with Jesus) and then making a conscious choice to get back up (believing He would meet me there) launched me into my freedom.

I learned so much about myself, my need for the presence of the Holy Spirit in deeper ways, and where I needed to grow as an individual. I learned about my true weaknesses, and as I prayed through my human limitations, giving them to God, He met me with His strength. I can testify that God really is our strength, and it is only when we are vulnerable to our limitations that He can show up.

You will know your heart has been completely healed when what used to trigger a strong emotion no longer carries power.

The sting is gone.

When the sting of pain is piercing your heart, and you turn to God during the messy, overwhelming moments of life, it becomes a powerful opportunity to get to know Him in deeper and incredible ways as He launches you forward into wholeness — the miraculous takes place, and you live fully healed and free.

Pray with me:

Father, I know that life can be hard, but I’ve experienced so much loss it’s overwhelming. I’m not sure if I’ve ever fully grieved the losses I have experienced, and I am not sure I know how. Today, I am surrendering my loss and my pain to You . . . my Divine Healer. I am asking You to show me what has hindered me from living in the fullness and the freedom of joy and peace that I know is mine through Jesus. I have heart-hurt, and while I do believe You are who You say You are, I am finding that there are areas where I am struggling to fully believe that You have total healing and restoration for me. Lord, help me with my unbelief. Highlight to me the areas that have not been met by You so that I can invite You into that place of pain and grieve what was, as I learn to rise and fully step into my new life. I am asking You, Father, for the release of Your Spirit to come into every crack, every crevice, and every cell of my memory that has kept me in bondage to old hurt, trauma, and past pain as I release all my hurt to You. In Jesus’ mighty name, amen.”