So...I told you that I'd finally given My Teddy Bear the boot...
...Or so I thought.
Apparently I didn't use the right words when I gave him his walking papers. He's under the impression that we're "on a break" and that we're still together.
That is NOT the impression I wanted to give him.
But what do you say when a man is sobbing?
I said, "Let's just step back and heal ourselves and revisit this later." What I should've said was, "It's been fun, but I'm done, son."
Now he wants to talk to me. In person. I don't want to.
But if I do...I have something to say. He won't like it.
What I want to say is that we've all experienced loss. The difference is that we don't wallow in it. We know how to mourn the loss and move on. We never forget, but we release the pain of it and learn to treasure the time we had with the person.
What I found is that he wallows. That's why he eats the way he does. Instead of moving through the grief of losing his parents and grandparents, he's made a home and stays there. That's why he can't live in the present because he's so stuck in the past.
And let's be clear -- I get it. If I allowed every hurt I'd experienced to control me, I'd be a mess, too. What I know is this -- Jesus paid it all. Period. Because of Him, I'm able to move on. I'm shaped by hurts, but not controlled by them.
Honestly, he's too much responsibility for me. One of his friends told me, "Thank you for saving him."
I'm not Jesus. At all. I can't save anyone. If that's what you need from me, you'll be SORELY disappointed.
Furthermore, I'm not supposed to be your inspiration to do better. You're supposed to be motivated on your own. If you're not, I can't help you.
Basically, I didn't sign on to carry him through life. He's too heavy.
...Or so I thought.
Apparently I didn't use the right words when I gave him his walking papers. He's under the impression that we're "on a break" and that we're still together.
That is NOT the impression I wanted to give him.
But what do you say when a man is sobbing?
I said, "Let's just step back and heal ourselves and revisit this later." What I should've said was, "It's been fun, but I'm done, son."
Now he wants to talk to me. In person. I don't want to.
But if I do...I have something to say. He won't like it.
What I want to say is that we've all experienced loss. The difference is that we don't wallow in it. We know how to mourn the loss and move on. We never forget, but we release the pain of it and learn to treasure the time we had with the person.
What I found is that he wallows. That's why he eats the way he does. Instead of moving through the grief of losing his parents and grandparents, he's made a home and stays there. That's why he can't live in the present because he's so stuck in the past.
And let's be clear -- I get it. If I allowed every hurt I'd experienced to control me, I'd be a mess, too. What I know is this -- Jesus paid it all. Period. Because of Him, I'm able to move on. I'm shaped by hurts, but not controlled by them.
Honestly, he's too much responsibility for me. One of his friends told me, "Thank you for saving him."
I'm not Jesus. At all. I can't save anyone. If that's what you need from me, you'll be SORELY disappointed.
Furthermore, I'm not supposed to be your inspiration to do better. You're supposed to be motivated on your own. If you're not, I can't help you.
Basically, I didn't sign on to carry him through life. He's too heavy.
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