Spiritually enslaved

“Bound”
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I could feel the famine as my tastebuds were tricked into savoring and becoming addicted to the flavor from the essence of meeting my needs. The chains that held me captive, though heavy, kept me trapped in a belief that this was my worth and value.

My survival mode is what told me to remain with my broken pieces for if I broke the lock that was cinched so tightly, how would I be fed the morsels that kept me alive?

There was a point I was so deep within the struggle I couldn’t see another way. This was my comfort food, my nourishment that sustained me for 1 day increments. The rest of my days, I was starving.

The dungeon was dark, cold and despairing, but it felt familiar and safe somehow. The rituals, protocols and rules overtook me. I didn’t know I was in danger, mentally and physically being tormented as my soul cried out.

One day I saw a link that had rusted and became like glue, but looking closer, I noticed another that had cracked. This precious piece had been compromised as I wiggled it a little each day. Days, weeks, months even years had passed and though this once sturdy link, now weakened over time, gave me strength I hadn’t known before.

Could it be that if these restraints were all removed that I could withstand the release and experience freedom, have joy and peace, comfort and feel loved? Terrified I would die, remain lost and starve forever, I found ways to begin to break away.

Consumed with questions, paralyzed by my own answers and fearing the truth, I embraced the idea and took that first leap. What was about to happen I couldn’t know or see and where I was going to end up I couldn’t reach, not yet.

Day 1, I learned to take a big gulp of the new air I had never smelled before. Day 2, I felt new strength as my legs stood taller and walked a little farther down the path. Day 3, I tasted this sweet flavor that was clearing my palette that I’d never experienced before.

Day 150, my appetite has gone from destruction to reconstruction of my spirit. What I craved all those years was never going to be enough to make me
feel full. Your fish are not that delicious, but my Fathers fridge is full! I haven’t been eating the wrong things, I’ve been getting them from the wrong source.

He has done for me what I couldn’t consider and by doing so, He created room to receive the truth, the peace, the love, comfort and joy. Welcome to my funeral for the rabble as I enjoy the new feast.

✍🏻🧝🏻‍♀️

Author: Tammy Kay

Somewhere along blurred lines, my self worth was solely dependent upon everyone else's opinions besides mine. Past life would keep dictating this way of “living” for a very long time. Like a brick pathway, my belief system was cemented in and it established a flawed premise of which I had learned to stick with and live by. I have since come to understand that a belief is just a thought I continue to have. So brick by brick, I’ve begun the demolition and reconstruction during this process of becoming the most authentic version of me. For a lifetime this far, I have accepted the unacceptable, tolerated the intolerable and have remained in places far beyond their expiration date. After all, I had to stay with all my broken pieces. Now, I have been stifled for far too long. Freedom has bestowed upon me the use of my voice at last. Won't you join me on a new roller coaster of life as I navigate my way through this next part of my journey? I promise to share my experience, strength and hope from my heart with depth and truth. I guarantee I will write about difficult things, struggles and even pain, yet in the darkness a little light glows. Through inspiration, a glimmer will shine because I want to leave you a little better than when you first found me.

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