Lately, in my season of fragility overcoming cPTSD symptoms through therapy, I’ve felt shakier than usual to hold myself together.
Some days are good, and some, like today, are a battle not to tear, moment to moment.
One night, my 8-year old prayed, “Dear God, I pray you take away all of Mama’s fears. I pray she’ll never be bothered by barking again. Help her overcome everything she needs to. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.” 😭
I’m learning, that while every part of me prefers to hide the complex trauma I’ve faced from my children, prefers to never need to explain what complex PTSD is to them and why I struggle, God has another way—
As I cry to Him, and let my children witness my fight for breakthrough, it gives them the opportunity to see the reality and wrestlings of trusting in God, to see strength emerge from my weakness, courage from my fears.
I read a card she gifts to me one afternoon, “I hope you’re getting better about the dogs! You are doing a good job!”
I’m learning, that while we long to present our strongest, most put-together parts for our children, it is in our weakest, most reliant moments that our children get to see our dependency on God, our real outworking of faith, and grasp for their own words as they cry out to a God they know will answer on their behalf. They learn to mimic our bold, unrelenting prayers we’ve prayed aloud for them— but this time, for us.
I’m learning— that it’s okay to feel too broken to be a good parent. Because it’s in our brokenness, that they bear witness to God’s work in us, every time.
If you’re struggling, too, remember- you’re doing a good job, the best job you can. 💛💌