If you think faith means faking a smile over your pain, you haven't read about Princess Tamar.
She didn't leave the palace crying; she left with a handful of dirt in her hair and her royal clothes torn to shreds.
We love the quick miracle. We want the simple breakthrough, the immediate relief, and the neat little bow at the end of the testimony.
Maybe that’s why you feel so incredibly isolated in your own pain right now. You look at your feed, you listen to people talk, and everyone seems to have their recovery perfectly mapped out. You start wondering why your own healing process feels so incredibly messy and slow by comparison.
But the scriptures don't hide the ugly timelines of trauma.
Tamar was a princess. She was vibrant, innocent, and full of life. But she was betrayed by her own half-brother. Someone who should have been her protector.
Anyone who has ever been hurt by a family member, a close friend, or a partner knows this exact type of agony. The deepest violations rarely come from strangers in dark alleys. They happen in private rooms, under the guise of love and trust, by the very people you let into your inner circle.
In a matter of minutes, her boundaries were smashed. Her dignity was torn away.
And the aftermath was even worse.
She didn't get immediate justice. She didn't even get an apology. Instead, her own family told her to just be quiet about it. They told her to sweep it under the rug and act like nothing happened, just to keep the peace and avoid a scandal.
How many times have you been forced to do the exact same thing? You are told to downplay your trauma so you don't make the people around you uncomfortable. You carry the bleeding silently because speaking up disrupts the status quo.
The Bible says Tamar put ashes on her head, tore her royal robe, and spent the rest of her days living in isolation. She became a desolated woman in her brother’s house.
Even though her brother Absalom went on a revenge and rebellious journey years later, she had to live with this Trauma for that long.
That is the heaviest weight of abuse. It’s not just what happened in the moment. It’s the suffocating silence that follows. It's that quiet, cruel voice in your head whispering that you are permanently ruined, dirty, and forced to carry a shame that was never yours to begin with.
You carry that secret like a physical knot in your chest. You watch the rest of the world move on while you feel completely stuck in the wreckage. You look at the ceiling at 2:00 AM and wonder if God was even looking when your world fell apart.
If you are reading this with that same heavy ache, you need to know something.
What they did to you changed your history, but it did not change your worth.
You are not damaged goods. You are not defined by the worst thing that happened to you in the dark.
People might have ignored your pain, or told you to just get over it, but God never blinked. He doesn't expect you to put on a fake smile or pretend you aren't hurting. He meets you right there in the quiet, messy, isolated spaces where you are trying to rebuild your life piece by piece.
If your trust was weaponised against you by someone who was supposed to care for you, why are you letting the ghost of their cruelty convince you that your story is over?
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18
Ref: 2 Samuel 13,14
Ellis Enobun
She didn't leave the palace crying; she left with a handful of dirt in her hair and her royal clothes torn to shreds.
We love the quick miracle. We want the simple breakthrough, the immediate relief, and the neat little bow at the end of the testimony.
Maybe that’s why you feel so incredibly isolated in your own pain right now. You look at your feed, you listen to people talk, and everyone seems to have their recovery perfectly mapped out. You start wondering why your own healing process feels so incredibly messy and slow by comparison.
But the scriptures don't hide the ugly timelines of trauma.
Tamar was a princess. She was vibrant, innocent, and full of life. But she was betrayed by her own half-brother. Someone who should have been her protector.
Anyone who has ever been hurt by a family member, a close friend, or a partner knows this exact type of agony. The deepest violations rarely come from strangers in dark alleys. They happen in private rooms, under the guise of love and trust, by the very people you let into your inner circle.
In a matter of minutes, her boundaries were smashed. Her dignity was torn away.
And the aftermath was even worse.
She didn't get immediate justice. She didn't even get an apology. Instead, her own family told her to just be quiet about it. They told her to sweep it under the rug and act like nothing happened, just to keep the peace and avoid a scandal.
How many times have you been forced to do the exact same thing? You are told to downplay your trauma so you don't make the people around you uncomfortable. You carry the bleeding silently because speaking up disrupts the status quo.
The Bible says Tamar put ashes on her head, tore her royal robe, and spent the rest of her days living in isolation. She became a desolated woman in her brother’s house.
Even though her brother Absalom went on a revenge and rebellious journey years later, she had to live with this Trauma for that long.
That is the heaviest weight of abuse. It’s not just what happened in the moment. It’s the suffocating silence that follows. It's that quiet, cruel voice in your head whispering that you are permanently ruined, dirty, and forced to carry a shame that was never yours to begin with.
You carry that secret like a physical knot in your chest. You watch the rest of the world move on while you feel completely stuck in the wreckage. You look at the ceiling at 2:00 AM and wonder if God was even looking when your world fell apart.
If you are reading this with that same heavy ache, you need to know something.
What they did to you changed your history, but it did not change your worth.
You are not damaged goods. You are not defined by the worst thing that happened to you in the dark.
People might have ignored your pain, or told you to just get over it, but God never blinked. He doesn't expect you to put on a fake smile or pretend you aren't hurting. He meets you right there in the quiet, messy, isolated spaces where you are trying to rebuild your life piece by piece.
If your trust was weaponised against you by someone who was supposed to care for you, why are you letting the ghost of their cruelty convince you that your story is over?
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18
Ref: 2 Samuel 13,14
Ellis Enobun
If you think faith means faking a smile over your pain, you haven't read about Princess Tamar.
She didn't leave the palace crying; she left with a handful of dirt in her hair and her royal clothes torn to shreds.
We love the quick miracle. We want the simple breakthrough, the immediate relief, and the neat little bow at the end of the testimony.
Maybe that’s why you feel so incredibly isolated in your own pain right now. You look at your feed, you listen to people talk, and everyone seems to have their recovery perfectly mapped out. You start wondering why your own healing process feels so incredibly messy and slow by comparison.
But the scriptures don't hide the ugly timelines of trauma.
Tamar was a princess. She was vibrant, innocent, and full of life. But she was betrayed by her own half-brother. Someone who should have been her protector.
Anyone who has ever been hurt by a family member, a close friend, or a partner knows this exact type of agony. The deepest violations rarely come from strangers in dark alleys. They happen in private rooms, under the guise of love and trust, by the very people you let into your inner circle.
In a matter of minutes, her boundaries were smashed. Her dignity was torn away.
And the aftermath was even worse.
She didn't get immediate justice. She didn't even get an apology. Instead, her own family told her to just be quiet about it. They told her to sweep it under the rug and act like nothing happened, just to keep the peace and avoid a scandal.
How many times have you been forced to do the exact same thing? You are told to downplay your trauma so you don't make the people around you uncomfortable. You carry the bleeding silently because speaking up disrupts the status quo.
The Bible says Tamar put ashes on her head, tore her royal robe, and spent the rest of her days living in isolation. She became a desolated woman in her brother’s house.
Even though her brother Absalom went on a revenge and rebellious journey years later, she had to live with this Trauma for that long.
That is the heaviest weight of abuse. It’s not just what happened in the moment. It’s the suffocating silence that follows. It's that quiet, cruel voice in your head whispering that you are permanently ruined, dirty, and forced to carry a shame that was never yours to begin with.
You carry that secret like a physical knot in your chest. You watch the rest of the world move on while you feel completely stuck in the wreckage. You look at the ceiling at 2:00 AM and wonder if God was even looking when your world fell apart.
If you are reading this with that same heavy ache, you need to know something.
What they did to you changed your history, but it did not change your worth.
You are not damaged goods. You are not defined by the worst thing that happened to you in the dark.
People might have ignored your pain, or told you to just get over it, but God never blinked. He doesn't expect you to put on a fake smile or pretend you aren't hurting. He meets you right there in the quiet, messy, isolated spaces where you are trying to rebuild your life piece by piece.
If your trust was weaponised against you by someone who was supposed to care for you, why are you letting the ghost of their cruelty convince you that your story is over?
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18
Ref: 2 Samuel 13,14
Ellis Enobun
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