I had lost my inner peace
And my mental stability
By overdosing on the topography of life.
Trying to be all things to all men
Left me in isolation from myself.
It is a painful reality to be in need of rehabilitation
And having to seek it for yourself.
Eyes did not see
And ears did not hear
The cries that went out for help.
And If they did—-
Not many strode to my help
To my friends, I am the strong friend
As a social worker—-
To clients, I am a hero.
They wrote an “S” on my chest without my consent.
How could I have shown any weaknesses then?
Surrounded by people who ate from my wisdom
With unquenched appetite and thirst.
They floated on the back of my gifts like a lifeboat,
Forcing me to breathe underwater.
How could I have removed my cape,
With so many lives waiting on me to exhale?
Like Sia, I grew an elastic heart
But deep inside I was falling apart
Have you read “Things Fall Apart”,
A Novel by Chinua Achebe?
To Christian folks, I am a “prophet”
And they acted as if prophets are not human.
I felt like a generator,
They selfishly plug into my outlet
And they pulled from my strength
Leaving me without my spark.
Only friction remained,
Igniting a flame they could not bear
Nor put out
Like a pot on a lit stove
I became too hot to behold.
They acted differently towards me,
The flame blazed and saturated my mind
Like an arson—-
I set it off
With a RIP, I left them behind.
With bleeding wrist,
I hid in the church but still, I felt lost.
I tried to serve behind the scene
To keep me away from addictive vices
But like a rug being pulled from under my feet,
The opportunity to serve was taken from me
And I felt like the only addict being sent back to the streets.
My story drew many to me,
And my loneliness let them in.
Many assumed parental roles,
But they could not carry me.
So like Mephibosheth, I was dropped.
But I thank God that though I tore ligaments,
I was not crippled by the mishandled.
It felt like my existence depended on this fixation
My sleep, appetite, and even my smile
All relied on substances,
I was surrounded by prophetic people who did not see me.
Daily inquiries requesting me to pray for them
When I needed prayer myself—
Being obedient to my calling
I covered many in prayer while I was drowning.
Joining prayer watches and pouring out intercessions
After which, I was ambushed by withdrawal symptoms and depression.
Beyonce said pretty hurts,
But I say being strong hurts.
Beneath my addiction was an addiction,
A substance called “a broken heart and damaged soul”
I was so fixated on putting my pieces together
That I began to anesthetized my pain,
Benumbed my emotions,
Desensitized my definition of love,
And paralyzed my empathy.
I grew an icebox where my heart used to be.
I fell into the sunken place of my mind.
I checked myself into Rehab:
I drew closer to God and,
Away from the world.
I covered my outlets
They were no longer able to plug in.
In the epicenter of my nervous breakdown
I screamed, “Father hold me now”.
Locked into a corner of my living room,
Overwhelmed by anxiety,
With my dog in my lap
I cried out “Fix Me, Jesus”.
Insomnia bullied me, mercilessly
But the humming of hymns from a praying grandmother
Assured me to sleep at night
And our prayer calls in the morning kept my sanity.
She is indeed my angel,
A vessel God often uses to rescue me
She was my nurse during my rehabilitation
A reconciled relationship
And reestablished communication
With my father, after many years,
Became the growing happiness that
Slowly erased the melancholy garment
Given by those who mishandled me.
My father and I are growing together
It feels good to no longer be in the Asylum,
A place where I once found peace.
In rehabilitation, I worked out my own salvation
My eyes were fixed on Jesus for revelation
He then gave me my prescription for restoration:
Fasting- to remove the mental toxins, soul ties, and emotional pressure.
Prayer- giving my lamentation to God who can handle it.
Gratitude- thankful for each day, thankful that I survived
Word of God- a new substance, a healthy substance, a new addiction, a healthy addiction
Wisdom- discern before you deposit, using wisdom to guard my heart
Comedy- laughter is good for the soul
Therapy– a therapist who prays with me
After Rehab I can say it was good that I was afflicted
Because it is in the rehabilitation that God refined me.
It was in my rehabilitation I learned the art of forgiveness,
I will not be ashamed of any aspect of my story
Because it is not about me,
But about His glory.
Checking Out of Rehab
Isaiah 48:10 “Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction”
Romans 12:2 “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”
4 thoughts on “Rehab”
This is a really powerful testimony written in the form of a poem. Each word that you wrote, spoke to a different part of me that could relate to everything you have been through. But it is truly amazing to see how you were buried in your emotions and the turmoil of life, but you found the tenacity to grow through it, like a seed that is buried but not destroyed. Even the strongest of us need a shoulder to lean on and it’s heart rending to see that the people who you were there for could not be there for you. But you found refuge in the heavenly Father with the support of a few family members.
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Thank you Bro for your feedback and affirmation. Appreciate it and appreciate you. Definitely, definitely agree with you when you say “even the strong need shoulders to lean on”.
You write so beautifully, this is a masterpiece. You’re a conqueror and because of the crushing, you’re wiser, better and stronger to the glory of God.
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Thank you Yomi, yes! It was good that I was crushed 🙇🏾♂️