The monsters inside of my head

The chorus is on repeat, and the words get jumbled but still they play their tune throughout me.

The Monster is written as, "I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed/Get along with the voices inside of my head."   Somehow, my mind keeps singing (and it sounds exactly like Rihanna), "I'm friends with the monsters inside of my head, get along with the voices that are killing me dead."  I don't know the rest of the song, but these words stick with me.

We tell ourselves that monsters aren't real, and that there is nothing to be afraid of, but the truth is they are and they have very loud and dangerous voices.  Their words speak into our lives in tones of discouragement.  They mock our good intentions. They tell us we are not good enough, we are weak, we are losers that are incapable of anything meaningful.  They remind us how we have messed up, and we are never going to get it right.  They are liars that point out the facade that everyone is better than we are.  They thrive on comparing.

My husband has heard all of the "I'm not's" come from my lips.  He tells me how it's my Achille's heal.  I cry silent next to him, because I know he is right and I wonder how many times I will fight this same battle.  Each time they find me, I fall victim to their words.  I cradle the lies they speak, and nurture the sores they inflict.  I pay them all the attention they require to grow inside of me, and soon the life that I am truly capable of is lost in a pool of blood that drips slowly from wounds.

It's a massacre.  I have murdered myself in mental suicide.  I have incapacitated the life that could be by focusing on what it is not.  I fall impotent.  This is defeat.

These voices were not conceived in love.  They are the child of Satan, a thief.  They seek only to steal our joy, kill our dreams, and destroy our lives.



But there is another voice that whispers truth.  It tells us how our lives are purposed to be rich and satisfying.  It speaks encouragement.  It offers grace.  It reminds us that we are delicate, marvelous, and wonderful.  We are precious.  YOU are precious.  I am precious.

It is difficult for me to remember the truth.  I am always forgetting in whose image I was made, but He is always pursuing me, and forever rescuing me with reminders of his love.

Psalm 139:13-18

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
    and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
    Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
    as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
16 You saw me before I was born.
    Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
    before a single day had passed.
17 How precious are your thoughts about me,[a] O God.
    They cannot be numbered!
18 I can’t even count them;
    they outnumber the grains of sand!
And when I wake up,
    you are still with me!



Comments

  1. Thanks ginger. I woke up yesterday so in need of Truth and opened to this very Psalm and read it out loud. Thanks for the reinforcement!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Boy to you hit the nail on the head with me lately! Needed that today! Thanks for your inspiring words. So nice to see you last night. Being with you and your family always brings me up! Barb

    ReplyDelete
  3. Well said and sadly, so true that we torture ourselves listening to the enemy of our souls instead of the Savior of our souls!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

This is my Isaac

The many forms of "fine"

A daily surrender