The me that survived being abused daily by my daddy ended up being broken in more ways than I could imagine while in the midst of my darkest days. It was as if the pain I felt during those times of abuse kept me alive, and once that pain was gone, all I had was broken pieces of myself to look at; like memories of a friend I was once fond of but would never see again.

I would see happy people, loving people, people who didn’t live in constant poverty, people who wore nice clothes and acquired nice things for themselves. Beautiful people. People I aspired deeply to live like; I wanted to be a beautiful person, too. This abuse had left me feeling ugly, isolated, and as if I were nothing but damaged goods whose best days were long gone.

My self-worth diminished to something practically invisible, and like the damaged goods I thought I was, I resorted to giving myself away as if I were placed on a clearance shelf for misfit people. I wondered why I wasn’t like everyone else. I looked the same; physically I knew I was attractive, but I always felt insufficient and dirty, as if the beauty I had been given was blemished and not comparable to the wholeness of other women who had been nurtured and spoiled with love.

Seeing romance movies or real-life couples in love made my stomach turn with sourness; I felt deeply jealous, envious, and non-understanding of why I couldn’t have what my heart desired the most: unconditional love. I wanted love in my life to make me beautiful to the world. I wanted to know and be acknowledged as having a proper place in this world, a value, a worth, and an importance in people’s hearts. 

I had never met anyone as broken as I was. I had only met people who were running away from their brokenness, trying to hide it, pretending as if it wasn’t there, and all I could do was sit there and wallow in it. I was unable to cover it up, leave it behind, or pretend as if it didn’t exist. This brokenness was the only identity I had ever known, and I despised it. I longed for riches, wealth in relationships, and comfort. I longed for the things I saw other people who I thought were happy and fulfilled having in their lives. I mistook my brokenness as something that was ugly and despicable. 

It wasn’t until my husband fell in love with me and confessed that love to me that I realized how my brokenness had already wrapped me in a beauty that only others could see; when I looked in the mirror all I saw were flaws and failures, but when others looked at me what they saw was a radiance of grace and joy that came from my brokenness. It was from the utterly busted up parts of me where I was trying to stitch myself back together that others saw the lighting shining through me.

If you’re feeling broken today, remember this: brokenness is beauty. There is a beauty of humility, wisdom, and understanding that can only come through brokenness; the lack of beauty, humility, and wisdom in the world today comes from the lack of brokenness within the human soul. If you’re feeling broken, realize and recognize that you are experiencing something that others fail to grasp, and you’re adding the kind of beauty to this world that has long since expired: the beauty of brokenness, which literally attracts the presence of God. 

Ever since I was a little girl, I have had deep aspirations of becoming someone important. Having clout. Authority. Being someone that other people would look up to, but more importantly, listen to. This desire was fueled by my daddy, who, in the earliest days of my life, was my biggest source of encouragement and motivation.

Becoming a teenager and shifting from a daddy’s girl to an emotionally neglected, late blooming young woman burned the passionate desire to become someone important even deeper within my heart. Instead of having my eyes set on merely pleasing my daddy, my eyes were set to captivate the world. The emptiness within me hungered for something to satiate the constant yearning for attention and love that all humans are born with in their soul. In the latter days of what was my young life, my daddy had become my biggest source of pain and heartache.

With every black eye, bitter tear, and fetal-position comfort in a dark corner, the fire of this desire burned brighter, deeper, and hotter. The coldness of my daddy’s drunken hands around my throat couldn’t snuff out what my soul knew as truth. What my soul thought was truth, anyway.

As it turns out, that someone important that I had desired and burned to become had always been there. She was me. The broken, battered, bruised, confused me. The me with pigtails and crocodile tears, the me with black fingernail polish and running mascara. She had always been me. I had always been someone important, because everybody is a somebody.

Today, no matter what kind of pain or loneliness you are feeling, and no matter the cause, take the time to remember this about yourself: you are somebody. You are important. Regardless of what Jim Carrey says, YOU MATTER. You are the puzzle piece that fits someone else’s hole. You are the answer to someone’s prayer.

You never stop being somebody until the day you choose to give up. Hopelessness is death to the soul. Do not allow the pain you are going through right now determine the worth you place on yourself; allow that pain to determine the proportion of the promise you will receive as you gird yourself and wake up the warrior within. Abuse can happen to anybody. I was abused, and I am somebody. I am the somebody that took the power away from my abuser and wants to help you take the power away from yours! Throw away the identity of a nobody and accept the identity of a somebody.

Understand what the Bible says about your brokenness. God is attracted to your brokenness. He desires to heal and reveal: heal you from your pains and reveal to you His promises.

Psalm 34:18, “The Lord (YHWH/God) is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”