“Every good and perfect gift”
Sometimes I don’t believe good things.
People often encourage me to write about my experiences, and this is a thing I’ve noticed. Sometimes I don’t believe good things.
It is a trauma response, or so I read. A tendency or response when you’ve lived trauma — moments strung together in a hyper-sensitive fight, flight or freeze response to circumstances when you can’t see beyond survival.
No cause for alarm. I’m not living in those moments now. But sometimes it feels like I still am. Because our hearts and minds form habits. Tendencies. So sometimes I don’t believe good things or good people. Even when they’re staring me in the face, in all their faithfulness and trustworthiness. And goodness. Sometimes I still can’t believe. Through no fault of their own, the gifts stumble into the spiral of my history. And the habits I’m trying to break. Desperately.