band-aid? We learned early that covering wounds, cuts, and scabs would keep them clean,
and avoid infection while our body somehow magically healed. But after a while you had to let
the scab breathe. It needed air to aid in the healing process. Not to say it wouldn’t heal with
the band-aid but after some time you had to give it some room to breathe.
Somehow in adulthoods those rules doesn’t always measure up the same when it comes
to wounds of the heart, cuts to the emotion, and scabs on your soul. Soul wounds don’t always
fare well in the light. The more you expose the terrors that keep you up at night, the more you
shine a light on the haunting despair a certain setback has created; the more a soul wounds
stays open. It’s like the dirt, the salt, the rain, the gunk you used the band-aid to keep away
gets inside of you. Too much of those things in an open soul wound and it infects you.
These kind of infections get into your spirit, your inner voice, your inner being, and at
times makes you question your very reason for taking in air. These kind of wounds don’t fare well in the open. They need the band-aid; the covering of good friends, family if you’re lucky,
and human love. But to really heal I’ve found soul wounds need something more. The kind of
healing that can only come from a bended knee, and long talks with a higher power.
The kind of healing that take lifting the band-aid to show a therapist just how much it hurts.
It requires being brave enough to cry, and letting those tears fall into the broken crevices of
your soul. Soul wounds can mend, they can heal. But they take so much time.
For the better part of my thirties, I’ve shown all my scars. The heart breaks, the surface cuts,
and the soul wounds. And, last year it felt when so much of my soul was breaking, aching for
human affection, desperate for a different set of cards, the wounds didn’t get it smaller.
It was like pouring alcohol on soft, fleshy scabs. They burned, the ached. It no longer felt like
freedom sharing the battles of a mental illness, it felt like exposure. I felt like a joke, a laughing
stock, a punchline. Depression took over me in the winter months, there were moments
when I’m barely kept it together – more breaking of the soul wounds, more tearing of the
flesh. So this time I went to what I need. I covered myself. I took myself off every social media
app. I logged off, and signed off. And, I covered. I allowed myself to be real to the
people who love me of my soul struggles. I got help when it was hard. I went back to work
when I was barely functioning. Some days, I was just under the band-aid. Under the radar,
going through the motions. The covering allowed for the wide hole in my soul to have a
break from the exposure. I fought relentless demons. I battled with thoughts of suicide. I
cried myself to sleep. All my circle could do was pray, check-in. Pray and check in. Now that
the hurricane winds of depression are dialing back, the rain is slowing down, I can see some
light in grey places. It is in this aftermath I am finally hearing my Heavenly Father’s voice
again. A voice that was always there but my pain was too loud to hear. At thirty-seven I
convinced myself I had lived my best days. In the stillness, I can hear God calling me to
dream again. It’s the Neosporin I was missing. Every day I apply a little more in prayer,
in the sermons that remind that this moment, right here is holy. This is a turning point in my
healing.
A lot of my success as a speaker and influencer has come from laying my heart and soul
bare to the world. For now I’d like to keep a lot of that heart and soul hurt to myself. The
Neosporin is still working on me. I realize that like Christ we all have a cross to bare in this life.
Something that impedes our walk but we have to carry. My mental illness is mine.
And it is not an easy load to manage. I wish I could say I have the right drug cocktail or
all the answers to mental serenity but I don’t. And, excuse my French God but it fucking sucks.
I can’t run from it anymore. This is my cross to bare and I believe everyday I’ll always be learning how to carry it.
I’m sorry I’ve been away friend. Thank you for the emails I didn’t respond to. The messages,
the comments wondering if I’m ok. I’ve got a band-aid on right now, and God is my Neosporin.
So sometimes I’ll be back. I’ll share a story like we used to. We’ll laugh. I’ll post fun pictures
of me and Boo. Some days though I may need to go back under the band-aid. And, I think
I have to establish a new normal where I can exist online but not feel overexposed.
Until next time friend. If you want to do something nice for me, pray. Pray for me and the
people I hold dear that God heals us to live the lives we want and need. That we have healthy
lives to be present with each other. Pray, I keep dreaming, and start walking on those dreams.
Love You, Love God More
Lauren Hope AKA LOLO
