JJ Heller's latest song is entitled Control:
"The cut is deep, but never deep enough for me
It doesn’t hurt enough to make me forget
One moment of relief is never long enough
To keep the voices in my head from stealing my peace
Oh, control
It’s time, time to let you go
Perfection has a price, but I cannot afford to live that life
It always ends the same; a fight I never win
I’m letting go of the illusion
I’m letting go of the confusion
I can’t carry it another step
I close my eyes and take a breath
I’m letting go …
There were scars before my scars
Love written on the hands that hung the stars
Hope living in the blood that was spilled for me."
JJ Heller’s lyrical creations almost always hit home for me. This song touches a place most people do not know existed for me.
I have always desired to be in control over my life and those who directly affect it. That fact should not be a shock to anyone who has spent more than 10 minutes with me. Throughout my childhood, I was deemed bossy. Bossiness evolved into a stark independence as I realized I did not have an ounce of control over the people in my life or their decisions that would ultimately scar and shape me. Independence manifested itself into becoming my way of maintaining power over who I was and who I would become. Obviously, the ultimate theme here is: control was and is my burden, but it reaches so much farther than the independent and brave façade I crafted. At twelve I took “control” to a new level and partook in self-mutilation. Now, I would love to cast all blame on the awkward tension of junior high and the attitudes of the girls I chose to serve, but that would be immature and irresponsible. My discontentedness with the lack of control I had over my appearance, the clothes I wore, my peer relation status, the abuse I suffered, and the condition of my family actually caused me to desire physical pain. My mindset developed into: Why should I not have wounds on my physical body to match the pain I am suffering mentally? Why should I not be in control of at least one aspect of my pain?
My trust and faith had been placed in myself, and ultimately I lost all control. I could not harness my emotions, and causing myself physical pain did nothing for the mental abuse I was inflicting upon myself or suffering from.
Cutting my wrists did not cause me to feel more desired or lovely.
Having my own little self-abusive secret did not stop the negativity from flooding my impressionable mind.
Passivity had taken charge over my self-worth. I feared the opinions of those I surrounded myself with. What was life worth living if I could not live up to the standards of the pubescent pre teens surrounding me? I was desperate for independence and desperate for control of one thing in my life.
Selfish control is not a remedy for brokenness or fear. True control over my physical and mental abuse could only be put into my Father's hands. My self-inflicted pain was not only hurting me, it was breaking my Father’s heart. I was openly rejecting the scars on His wrists for my own. My spilt tears wailed out, "You do not understand. I do not look like the other girls. I am not lovely enough. I am insignificant. I am hurting. I am broken. Your sacrifice is not good enough. Where are you?" In complete compassion, He stood before me whispering: "I am here! You are beautiful! Let me drown out the words of all those insignificant mockers. This pain has already been endured for your sake. Let Me show you the life I want to live with you!"
I was so uncertain. I loved my Savior, but how could I let Him carry the shame I found in an act I had willingly done to myself? I did not even believe it possible for someone else to be in control of my life without abusing me or causing me pain.
God brought hope to me that summer during a bible study entitled Girls of Grace; He saturated my heart with the knowledge of something more. I was released from the chains of fear and insignificance that bound me. My sights were no longer set on pleasing the girls around me, but on serving my heavenly Father and bettering my heart for Him. I knew I was worthwhile and beautiful, and it was all because He was in control.
The summer straddling 7th and 8th grade was my first step in letting go. I chose to no longer live for her, him, them, or myself. Relinquishing control to my Savior allowed me to trade the lies of this world in for the Truth of His Kingdom. In my brokenness I was made beautiful.
I am confronted with the choice between control and letting go each day; I choose to give my life away, because He gave it all for my sake. I may still be an independence seeking mess, but muddled amongst all my confusion I am comforted with the knowledge of my significance and value in Christ.
And even though my scars still remain today, they remind me of who is now in control of my life.
“There were scars before my scars
Love written on the hands that hung the stars
Hope living in the blood that was spilled for me."
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