Overcoming Trauma: A Journey In Starting With Faith Again

This trauma has shaken my foundations, leaving me feeling lost and alone at times, and challenging everything I thought I once knew and was comfortable with. The journey forward toward healing is a challenging one, often filled with the pain that I still carry and the uncertainty of what comes next. Yet, through it all, I can feel deep down in my bones that I must turn it over to God. That leaning into Him and listening are my only hope and healing sources.

While I have done many hard things in my life, for the first time, I find myself in a position where I must force myself to acknowledge that God's promises are real, even amidst the depths of my pain. I am faced with the challenge of reconciling my experiences with what I know to be true about God, what I believe to be true about people who do this sort of thing, and how my father fits into that category.

While I continue to grapple with overwhelming emotions—fear, shame, and despair, I also have had to confront the question: Do I truly believe in God’s promises, even in the face of such terrible events? And how do I let that play out in my life at a time when I really don't want them to all be true? It’s a struggle that cuts deep, forcing me to reflect on my faith in a way I never have before.

Psalm 46:1 tells me, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” At times I’ve clung to this verse and found it to be a source of comfort among the whirlwind of the world's crazy. Yet now I’ve had to ask myself if I genuinely believe it amid my suffering, and if I do, what that means for me going forward. Acknowledging my pain has been a vital step, and I’ve realized that leaning into my faith is not just a choice; it’s a necessity. I need to trust that, despite the chaos around me, God is present and offers peace.

I'm learning again to listen quietly for His voice and striving to find moments of quiet where I can sit, reflect, and be at peace. In these quiet moments, I seek the reassurance that His guidance is with me. Isaiah 30:21 resonates deeply: “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’” I long for divine roadsigns indicating which path to choose and how to live this out in a way that honors God and shows compassion and justice to all sides. I am reminded that even in darkness, God is leading me toward healing, but I still have to consciously choose to believe that and listen.

There are days when the sorrow feels heavy, and I have to confront the painful reality of my trauma. In these moments, I have to remind myself that it’s okay to feel this way. It’s a journey of wrestling with my emotions and beliefs. It's learning to face the unthinkable and acknowledge that it really did happen, it is real and tragic and all the other terrible things. But it's also a journey in learning to be gentle with myself, recognizing that healing may not look like I expect it to and that I really will be ok in the end.

Sharing my story has also been a source of comfort and connection. Opening up about my experiences helps me feel less isolated and reminds me that vulnerability can foster understanding and support. It’s a reminder that I’m part of a larger community and that God works through others to provide hope and healing.

Although the pain remains, I cling to the belief that healing is a journey, not a destination. Each day presents a new opportunity to reaffirm my faith, trust in God’s promises, and embrace the healing that lies ahead. I am learning to lean on Him, knowing that He is my anchor, guiding me through the storms of life. In this first encounter with such deep trauma, I am continually reminded that I am not alone and that with faith, I can begin to rebuild and find peace.