Something's Leaking: When We Name It, It Can Be Healed |
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| I love donuts. Like, a whole bunch. Specifically, Shipley Do-Nuts in Texas. There's something about the original glaze that rocks my world. But when I was introduced to the snacks in vending machines in middle school, my favorite donut quickly became the small six-pack of Hostess white powdered donuts. Back then, we didn't have the great healthy snacks in the vending machines like the kids do now. We had the real stuff: soda, candy, and my favorite — the white powdered donut. I couldn't wait to sit down for lunch with my friends on that hard lunch bench. I'd eat my pizza with the square pepperoni, whatever fruit they'd plopped onto our trays, and my prized possession, the donuts. My favorite memory was when they'd get stuck to the roof of my mouth and I had to take my finger and claw it out. Real attractive! I remember one day I was sitting with my friends doing the regular routine at lunch, eating my donuts, when I had to use the bathroom. I got up, glared at all my friends, counted my donuts — one, two, three, four — and headed out. As I skipped back to the table from the bathroom, I squinted at the plastic pack of white delicacies, "One... two... three." Someone had eaten one of my white powdered donuts. I lost it. I mean I really lost it. I started yelling at my friends. "Who ate my donut? Who ate my donut?!" My anger turned into yelling that turned into a wild scream that only rage and hurt could produce. Things escalated and I found myself standing on that lunch bench, yelling at my group of friends to 'fess up and tell me who ate my donut. And then I locked eyes with one of my best friends who hadn't said a word and whose mouth had been weirdly sealed shut. I looked over at her and asked, "Nicole, did you eat my white powdered donut?" She burst out laughing and white powder spewed all over the table. I lost it. Again. I screamed at her and told her to take her finger and scrape my donut off the roof of her mouth. Seconds later the vice principal, a slender African American woman who knew me well, tapped on my shoulder and asked me to come to her office. The table filled up with "Ooohs" as I stepped one foot after the other and walked through the cafeteria looking down at the tile floor until it turned into the carpet that welcomed me into the vice principal's office. As soon as we sat down, the unraveling of the white powdered donut saga began. "Antoinee', you're a great student. What's going on?" she asked gently. (Antoinee' is my legal name.) "Nothing," I replied. Giving the typical preteen answer that translates to I'm lying and don't want to tell you. She was unfazed. "You're captain of the cheerleading team, you're on student council, you're a part of the drama team's Thespian Society, and you work here in my office on your off period. I know you and you're a good student. Can you share with me why you were yelling and standing on the cafeteria table?" "Nicole ate my white powdered donut!" I blurted out. "And that's why you were yelling and crying? And standing on Harris County property? One white powdered donut?" she asked, knowing there was more. "Well, it was my white powdered donut, and she didn't even ask and—" She cut me off. "Antoinee', I would love for you to share what's really going on," she said as she placed her hand on my shoulder. - It seems like every time someone does the sentimental touch on the shoulder, the real stuff comes out, doesn't it?
I burst into tears and sobbed. My head bowed down low; my shoulders were shaking. And even though I could've told her everything that was going on, I lied and told her I'd just gone through a bad breakup. The truth was that my mom had been in and out of the hospital, and there I was, balancing her health and school and seeking validation from my dad. |
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If we're going to heal from it, we've got to name it. |
If we're going to heal from it, we've got to name it. |
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After my mom's first stroke when I was in the third grade, sickness had plagued her body. One massive stroke was followed by three ministrokes, blood clots in her legs, her large intestine failing, carpal tunnel surgery in both hands, seizures, and so much more. I'd helped her get to doctors' appointments, held her hair and made sure she didn't swallow her tongue during bad seizures. I'd spent nights in the hospital feeding her and making sure the doctors did what they were supposed to. And I was scared. I was scared every night that I would wake up without a mom. That she would be taken from me. So when Nicole took my white powdered donuts, it triggered me. Those were my white powdered donuts. And with the threat of the most important person being taken away from me being a daily fear, I was deeply attached to the things I could control. The things that I held close, big or small. If you know what it feels like to be stuck in a cycle of trauma, to be "bossed around" by old pain, perhaps you're feeling like little Antoinee' right now. The way I coped was by trying to control what I could. What were the ways you struggled to survive? Maybe you retreated into a safe space. Maybe you turned your anger toward others. Maybe you bit your nails. Or cut yourself. Maybe today you're shopping and spending to soothe that pain. Whatever your coping mechanism of choice, believe me, I get it. In fact, I understand exactly why you'd want to keep your pain hidden — from others and maybe even from yourself. As a girl, you were smart about what you needed. And you figured out how to soothe yourself. But as you matured, those little girl–sized defenses didn't fit anymore. The ones you thought would help you might now be hindering you, keeping you from a healed and whole life. But this book wasn't written to shame you about the decisions you've made to survive the pain you've been through. Rather, I want to encourage you to bring all your pain to light. - We need to bring our pain into the light because it's in the light where healing and hope are found. The truth is that unhealed trauma will keep impacting us. We can't run from it. Our minds, hearts, and bodies weren't made for it, and so we are consciously and unconsciously clawing our way to relief and refuge.
Our bodies want freedom and true hope. And when we don't find that, the very things we use to numb the pain become the choices that can harm us. At some point our bodies will give out. When we haven't learned healthy ways to heal from our pain, we end up medicating ourselves to an internal death. I remember the moment young Toni started to die inside. When she lost her awe and wonder for the world and stopped playing. When even her longtime friends who used to call her a "Teletubby" because she was so consistently joyful, saw her light start to dim. It was a distinct and dark turn that took me years to recognize. I was thirteen. It was the last day of my freshman year in high school. My parents had gone to Louisiana to visit family and were still driving back home when I got out of school. I invited my secret boyfriend, who was way too old for me, over to our house. We'd been trying to have sex all year, but it wasn't working. The pain was too great. I didn't want to be a virgin anymore because I thought if it happened, he would stay with me — that he would show me the affection that I sought desperately. I needed to feel a sense of accomplishment too, and I thought maybe he'd show me that he was proud of me. Then on the last day of school we were in my bedroom trying again as his best friend sat in our living room, and that day it worked. I remember being so happy, so pleased with myself. We kissed one last time before he left. Then I closed the door and locked it. I also closed the door on young Toni. Her childhood innocence, her awe and wonder, were now locked out. My desire to be noticed and seen turned into twerking at parties so all the boys would dance with me and all the girls would be jealous. I turned to drugs and getting drunk until I couldn't remember the nights of partying. My rage leaked out as I punched walls and defied my parents. My longing to be beautiful and skinny turned into bulimia, so I could eat what I wanted without keeping it down long enough to absorb too many calories. Still today, I sometimes get mad that no one saw how much I was hurting or offered to help. And then I get upset with myself about shaking off my tears and lying to the vice principal about where my pain was coming from. Maybe she would have helped me start a healing process the day of the white powdered donut saga and I wouldn't have sunk even further into a shame cycle, winding deeper and deeper down into a lifestyle of coping that I didn't think I could escape from. I became the party girl, but really I was the broken girl trying to escape the realities of her life. I was on social media pretending that life was good so often that I inadvertently convinced my own heart of the same. My dangerous and damaging coping tactics numbed me. I had bought into what the Enemy often tries to plant in our hearts: You're too broken to be fixed. You're too blemished to start over. You're already canceled. The Enemy had his eye on me even before I accepted Jesus into my heart. He thought if he could plant these lies into my heart at an early age, I'd never feel worthy enough for refuge and redemption. Boy, was he wrong. READ MORE ON THE BLOG… |
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Are you stuck in a cycle of trauma and being "bossed around" by old pain? Bring all your pain to light. Bring it to Jesus and don't hide anything. You're not too broken. The work of healing is worth it! God can and will heal your trauma. ~ Devotionals Daily |
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None of us are perfect. And that is okay! |
Brave Enough to Be Broken: How to Embrace Your Pain and Discover Hope and Healing |
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+ FREE shipping on all orders $35 and more | Trauma, abuse, childhood wounds, and toxic relationships have broken us. But there is no shame in brokenness. In fact, it's in our brokenness where the healing power of Jesus comes to find us. Brave Enough to Be Broken is a biblical road map you can use to heal from the pain, the shame, and the regrets that have tried to steal your joy, so you can rest in the unconditional love, healing, and hope of Jesus. From Toni Collier, founder of the international women's ministry Broken Crayons Still Color, Brave Enough to Be Broken will show you how to bravely process your brokenness so that you can experience the fullness of God's restoration power. Many of us feel the pressure to be perfect, but what we really want is the freedom to be broken. We long to hear that our brokenness doesn't discount us, and we want a way out of the pain that threatens to overwhelm us. |
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What Our Readers Are Saying |
"Such a great book written by such an amazing author!!" — Avery N. |
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Toni shares practical steps and biblical wisdom to help you stand in your brokenness and experience healing. No perfection required. You'll learn how to - Overcome shame and other inner obstacles blocking you from healing
- Recognize the harmful effects of trauma and toxic relationships on your mental health
- Embrace your brokenness so you can help others do the same
- Hear the voice of Jesus saying "you ARE worthy" when you don't feel it
- Accept the unconditional love of Jesus when you surrender your brokenness
Brave Enough to Be Broken will guide you to the hope that is found in pain and the beauty that exists in brokenness. It's an invitation to reclaim the wholeness and freedom waiting for you in the fullness of God's purpose for your life. |
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Assuring kids God is making a beautiful masterpiece out of things they thought were broken |
Broken Crayons Still Color |
Help your kids process big feelings, build a social-emotional tool kit, and find beauty in life's challenges with this creative story that expresses the hope of the gospel from podcast host, speaker, and mom Toni Collier. Avery has big emotions and bubbling anxieties about changes in her life. When her crayons break as she scribbles furiously, she discovers that they have personalities and feelings too! And they can show her how to use her love of coloring to manage scary, overwhelming feelings and embrace curiosity and joy. As Avery follows the crayons' advice, gets creative, and chooses bravery and positive thinking, she discovers that God can use her to make beautiful things, even with broken crayons. | |
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Building a Resilient Life Online Bible Study |
Building a Resilient Life Online Bible Study |
"Adversity awakens. It awakens us from our comfort and our numbing. It awakens us to what we are capable of. It awakens us to what's worth fighting for. It awakens us to what it means to follow Christ." - Rebekah Join the free Building a Resilient Life Online Bible Study by Rebekah Lyons and get access to 5 weeks of study videos, plus some other great free resources to help you build a resilient and flourishing life, no matter what form of adversity comes your way. See you there? |
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this devotion with someone who needs it today |
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