When you throw your back out it is often because the muscles around your spine have moved out of place. Sort of.
Your spine has been tweaked out of place but you don't know it immediately because the muscles will move and compensate for the pain by moving to a place where the pain is tolerable.
Eventually, no amount of movement, no amount of compensation, will make the pain tolerable. Usually this is when my back officially goes out and I can't walk upright anymore. This is when I'm forced to go to the chiropractor and get my back adjusted into the correct places...again.
This morning, standing in the dark shower I said to God...sometimes it is easier to stay broken.
I don't know the moments when my back goes out. I only know the moments when the muscles around my spine give up the fight and say enough is enough this has to be fixed and we can't do that anymore.
Even then, bent over and hobbling around I think...this will get better soon. I just have to push through. My back will take care of it, it will be fine. I will be fine.
Fine is my F word.
I just want everything to be fine. If I don't look directly at being broken it's fine. It's ok. It's no big deal. I can manage. I'll just move some muscle around and compensate for the pain.
Don't look at how you spend money and why you place value on bank account balances. It's fine. Just leave it alone.
Don't look at what you eat, Jesus loves you anyway even if no one else does. It's fine. Just let it be.
Don't look at friendships. If you do you might be clingy and scare people away from being your friend. Just be cool. No one loves a needy girl.
Don't look at relationships. Don't ask why, the answer is probably something that requires change from you and that's not what we're going to do.
Don't look at touch. It has no easy answers and complicated is just too messy.
So I compensate. I mold myself around the pain instead of trying to clear it up. Because sometimes it's just easier to stay broken.
But now I can't walk. I'm hobbled over and unable to push through.
God is whispering that it's time to get adjusted. It's time to stop compensating and avoiding and look directly at some things.
I tell Him I hate it.
I tell Him I don't want to.
I tell Him that HE made me this way. (The blaming always seems to help)
Again he has to tell me, again he has to take my heart into his hands and remind me that he did make me. But not for this. Not for a sort of half life hiding and fearful of looking directly at the broken places.
He reminds me that he is already in those broken places waiting to meet me there. I just have to look directly at them and I'll see him there.
I don't know the moments these places were broken. I only know that in one of the places specifically, I'm giving up the fight. I still tell him I hate it. I still tell him I don't want to.
But now it's by looking over at him, beside me in the broken place.