I had been agitated since my previous session because of things being stirred up and talked about that I had learned to not speak about for decades and there were also technical issues that ate up the first 15 minutes of my session (although the therapist did stay 15 minutes over because she said it was the office staff's issue and she wasn't going to take my time away from me because of their communication issues)
I talked a bit about the first few times I allowed myself to share with people things that were said and things that happened around me as a kid. The first time I shared them seriously and not in a joking around sarcastic kind of way.
I talked about how the people were angry that I never told them. How the conversation turned into me reassuring them that it was ok and it was fine and no big deal. How the conversation turned into how we could protect this other person from finding out because they were to fragile to bear the brunt of this information.
As I talked about it I became very upset and essentially whimpered, "I just wish I was chosen"
Because I understand through my adult eyes what these grown ups meant when they got mad that I didn't tell them. I see their baggage and brokenness and can sympathize with their thought process. But even though I was mostly an adult when these conversations happened I was still seeing things through the lens of this abuse and the kid brain I experienced it through, so I just felt....un-chosen.
Back in September when I returned to that town and broke again from the weight of the words layered on my kid heart I also felt un-chosen. I had a handful of interactions in the same period of time where things, events and other people (however appropriate or inappropriate) were ranked higher than I and I wondered if I would ever be the one chosen.
Because I just want to be chosen. I want to feel prioritized and cared for and that I might come in at least 2nd or 3rd for somethings.
I want to not feel like that's a ridiculously petulant thing to want.
Even before I could finish this thought process and even louder as I drove home I heard a whisper that I was chosen.
That I was chosen before I was even born, before my parents, their parents and their parents were born. Before the very sands of time.
I was chosen as the daughter of a King that sent his Son to die on a Cross for me. That even if it was just me He would have Saved He would have done it.
Because I'm a damaged and broken person sometimes that doesn't feel like enough. Sometimes I forget that it's true even if it doesn't feel like enough.
Cries in the desert, my child I hear them
Tears in the valley, my lovely I count them
You're so precious, you were on my mind as I died
Here I am so close to you
Know my voice, I'll never leave you
For I have loved you since before
The sands of time were made
I love you still and always will
You're chosen as mine
-Hillsong "Chosen as Mine"