I wanted him to want me. 

I wanted to be acknowledged by him.

To be seen by him.

To share conversations with him.

I wish he had words for me. 

Or that his eyes would catch mine when in the same room.

I wish he knew my trauma, my story.

I wish he understood how it was shaping me. Or more importantly, how he was shaping me.

I searched for my value through him and then sought the world when I didn’t get it.

• Did I make him proud, outside of what I did? 
• Outside of how much money I made? 
• Outside of the accomplishments and awards I generated?
• Did he even want me?
• Did he loathe me, in the way I often felt he did?

I needed his hug or an encouragement from him – a reminder that I was held. 

Seen. Known. Loved. Safe.

I prayed for his celebration.

I prayed to make him proud – his pat on the back somehow affirming the journey.

But I didn’t get it. 

And still, laughably some days and sorrowfully others, I pray for it. 

Being in a relationship while not being acknowledged breaks me in new ways, emotionally. I find myself returning back to a place I thought I’d healed enough to leave “back there,” back as a part of a story once upon a time. But I’ve returned and here it sits right in front me – one of my most challenging relationships has taken center stage yet again. Sure, while this older, more mature, therapy-experienced woman now navigates the same behaviors her teenage self once did, it’s my faith that reminds me why I returned here in the first place. 

And though still triggering, it’s my faith that reminds me to pause,

To look where I came from,

To have vision for where I’m going,

And then to examine what’s in front of me.

My faith allows me to see myself as the bread dough on the cutting board.

To examine this void in a relationship and to understand how it kneaded me, or maybe how it didn’t. 

What was massaged into my every day? 

Did I become hard and crusty in some areas? 

Was I still moldable all these years later?

Did I still find myself plopping down on the cutting board each morning, hoping, praying someone’s hands would pick me up and massage something into me? Value, character, belonging…

Pay attention to what’s triggering you.

I used to – and I’m talking as recent as last year – associate triggers to unhealed areas that I still needed to work on. Yes, that may be true. But I’ve began to use my triggers to see where I’ve been (how much I’ve healed) and to remind myself of the vision I have for my future (how can this help someone else?). Because perhaps your triggers aren’t for you. And if your triggers are painful to experience, I know that sucks to hear. But perhaps your triggers exist to remind you of where you’ve been so that you can share your story with someone else who needs the same healing you did.  

In my case, perhaps there’s someone out there that needs to hear that triggers aren’t meant to pull you back into a place of hurt or bring to the surface a reminder of how much you’ve chased someone to truly feel seen and validated as a woman. The triggers are there to draw you back to God, having His reminder of who He created you to be: His beloved daughter. 

And back to what you’ve always been, regardless of your story:

Seen.

Known.

Loved.

Held.