Bricks


Several years ago it became apparent to me that I was having some struggles. More than a bad day. More than monthly hormones. Every day felt like I was carrying around a backpack full of bricks. I carried those bricks everywhere, they even followed me as I lay my head on the pillow each night, suffocating me as I slept in bad dreams. For only a brief moment when I woke each morning, forgetting the weights of the previous day, it seemed the bricks were gone and I was finally relieved. But as soon as I came downstairs and poured that first cup of coffee, they settled back into their position.

These bricks went by the names of

Photo by Dave Webb on Unsplash

Shame

Humiliation

Pride

Embarassment

These bricks were put on me. But many I put on myself over and over.

I asked a friend to help. I didn't even know where to begin. I just needed someone to help me with this burden. I was so ashamed that I had to ask for help. It was an inconvenience to find a sitter so I could spend time away, but some friends loved me well by caring for my kids while I did this work.

It was heartbreaking work. It was very, very necessary.

The bricks are mostly gone now. They had been mortared together, walling me in, but asking my friend for help gave me a pick so I could break thru. Once one brick was loose, the wall began to crumble and I began to squeeze out and be free.

The freedom now is worth the work it took.


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