It lives with me daily. Very rarely does a day go by without it haunting me. Images from a past life, and in the media, tug at me, reminding me of a place from which I'm thankful to have left. But the pain lingers.
I don't know how long it will be before I can look at myself without hating the fact that I feel shame from my past. But God knows. And in that truth I rest my suffering on Him.
On God, who did not want to see it happen to me, but knew that I could handle the hurt and live to share what I know with others.
And that's the crux of it all. The fact that I must share my shame to be healed from it. And one day I will.
My close friends know of my shame. They know of the hurt I've felt from having my heart, mind, body and soul ripped apart. They know how worthless I've felt, and how filled with shame I still feel.
The day is nearing when I know I will be released of this shame. But I know that God has some more plans for me yet. Mote growth. More healing.
So until that day I hold onto my shame, but am comforted to know that Jesus is right here with me holding it too.