When The Closets Don’t Stay Locked

They say everyone has skeletons in their closet. Things that they would prefer stay buried. Things to be forgotten. Awful things that no one wants to talk about. Or at the very least the things we don’t want anyone to know about. Things that we’ve done or said. Or things that were said or done to us. Damaging self-talk. Lies we believe. Dark, debilitating thoughts. Fears. Doubts. Grief. Failures. Rage. Shame. Events that left a mark. Festering wounds. Secrets. Dead things.

We all have them. These dead things that we refuse to name. Remnants of our past, wrapping us in invisible strands that influence our present. Our closets are how we keep them from swallowing us completely. Our closets become the masks that we hide reality behind. Presenting to the world what we want others to see. And so rather than face these things, we bury them. Stuff them into the farthest recesses and dark corners that we can. Out of sight and under lock and key. And that usually works. For a while anyway. Or so we like to believe. But the problem with the things that we don’t actually let the Sun shine on is that they always inevitably manage to escape. Something said. Something seen. A seemingly innocuous and completely unrelated event will suddenly invariably become the key that opens the lock, allowing those remnants of dead things to burst forth. Spewing their decay all over everything and everyone.

Last week, a wave of grief found the keyhole to my carefully guarded lock. Last week, my closet spewed its contents and put me face to face with things I haven’t wanted to see in years. Forced to face some very dark and painful places. Some of them things I didn’t even know had been buried there. It made a mess of me. It left me reeling. Feeling empty and alone. The aftermath is ugly. And the guilt is heavy. Because unhealed wounds become weapons and those closest to us in turn become the wounded. And no matter how hard we try to push the truth back into its hiding place, once the closet doors have blown open, it’s hard to get it all back in. Last week, I had to face the truth: I’m not ok.

The problem with darkness is that it hides what we can’t see. It takes all of our attention and saps our energy. The fog that keeps us from seeing the Light that waits just ahead, unwavering. It keeps us from seeing our neighbor huddled in the selfsame shadows. It makes us think that there’s no hope. Makes us feel like an island. And when we believe that, we begin to live like islands. Isolated and desolate. Living in the fear that Light is terrifying because it’s somehow better to be isolated in the dark in ignorance than to see it for certainty in the light. And therein lies the danger. Because we were never designed to be alone. And so our closets become our prisons. And sometimes, our coffins.

I was raised to keep secrets. Taught to keep the truth hidden.  It was drilled into me as a child from as far back as I can remember and became second nature by the time I reached adulthood. As easy as breathing. It’s something I have worked steadily at overcoming through the last few years, but it’s a hard habit to break. Primarily, because it preys on the need to be accepted. To be loved. And there’s no security, no guarantees, in vulnerability. Breaking free means finding my brave and unlocking the doors. It means leaving the known behind, even if it is a prison, and learning to step out in trust. Trust. Not just being able to trust One Who holds my heart, and knows my end from my beginning, but also my fellow man. The latter is often the hardest of the two.

Yes, last week my locks failed. But something else happened too. Last week, I dug deep and I did find my brave. I let someone else see into my closet, if only a glimpse. It was terrifying and incredibly humbling. But you know what I found? Freedom. I found open arms. Listening ears. Helping hands. Loving hearts. Whispers of “I’m not ok either.” For the first time in years, I have room to breathe. Room to let the lock lie open and let the Spirit breathe new life into the place where old bones hid. Because I found out I’m not alone. In fact none of us is. Because we all have closets. Some are just more packed than others.

The contents of my closet haven’t changed. They are still there. Dry, decaying bones that still need to be dealt with. But now, instead of stuffing them back into the closet and trying to lock it again, I’ve decided to let the Light at them. Decided to unearth all that needs to be exposed and then perhaps they will be able to finally be laid to rest. It’s going to mean a lot of work. It’s going to be process. It’s going to mean more days of abandoning “I’m fine” in favor of “I need help.” Days of trusting that God’s got me, even when it doesn’t feel like it. Trusting that my loved ones will love me through all the ugly and turbulent moments. It’s not going to be easy, but it will be worth it to know that I won’t have to closely guard my closet any more. That I can be real. And I know I don’t have to lay these bones to rest alone.

So, here I am. Trying to be brave again and share my story. Because someone else out there just maybe needs to hear it. You’re not the only one. Sometimes the most terrifying thing to do is take the first step and break the paralyzing silence. And if there is one thing I have learned through all the darkness in my life, it’s that things are never as scary in the Light as they seem in the dark. And when we finally get to the place we are so low that we can only look up, we find that Hope is right there. That God is right where He has been all along, reaching back for us. Just waiting for us to take His Hand so He can pull us up out of the murk.

So, yeah. Right now, I’m not ok. But I’m going to be.

He also brought me up out of a horrible pit,
Out of the miry clay,
And set my feet upon a rock,
And established my steps ~ Psalm 40:2

“Just take one step closer
Put one foot in front of the other
You’ll get through this
Just follow the light in the darkness
You’re gonna be ok

And when the night is closing in
Don’t give up and don’t give in
This won’t last, it’s not the end
It’s not the end
You’re gonna be ok”

~ Jenn Johnson “You’re Gonna Be Ok”