Rebuilding the Broken Pieces: Acknowledging the Darkness
Little Kassie believed the world was dark.
At five years old, I lost my father, and though I didn’t fully understand what it meant at the time, I knew something was terribly wrong. The world I once saw as safe and full of love now felt unfamiliar and threatening. That loss was the first crack in the foundation of my life, and as the years passed, those cracks grew deeper.
I carried that brokenness with me, though I didn’t know it yet. Grief, left unspoken, doesn’t fade away—it grows, silently shaping the way you see yourself and the world. For years, I believed lies that whispered from my pain, lies that limited my ability to move forward. Lies like:
You’re not worthy of love.
God doesn’t care about your suffering.
Your past defines your future.
Little Kassie accepted these as truth because the darkness seemed so overwhelming, so absolute. I couldn’t see a way out.
Grief doesn’t just hurt; it distorts.
For me, the loss of my father planted a belief deep within me: Love is temporary. People leave. Every rejection or disappointment I experienced after that seemed to confirm this. It became a lens through which I saw the world, shaping my relationships, my decisions, and my self-worth.
I thought I was protecting myself by holding onto these beliefs. If I expected abandonment, I couldn’t be blindsided by it. If I believed I wasn’t enough, I couldn’t be hurt when others treated me that way. But the truth is, those lies weren’t protecting me—they were imprisoning me.
One of the most painful lies I believed was that God didn’t care about my pain. I grew up in a faith-based environment, going to church, confessing my sins, and serving. Yet, my grief made me feel unseen by God. I thought, If He really loved me, why would He let me hurt like this? Why did He take my father?
I carried those questions and that pain well into my teenage years, never realizing how much it was weighing me down. It wasn’t until I was 18, standing at my father’s grave for the first time, that I began to confront the lies I had been living with.
Seeing his name etched in stone brought back every unspoken feeling of loss. I couldn’t escape it anymore. I had spent so long running from my grief, pretending it didn’t affect me, that I didn’t realize how much space it was taking up in my heart.
That moment at his grave was a turning point. It didn’t heal me instantly, but it made me realize something crucial: I couldn’t rebuild my life if I didn’t first confront the broken pieces.
In Your Best Year Ever, Michael Hyatt talks about the importance of completing the past—acknowledging what’s happened, accepting its impact, and letting it go to create space for healing. This is the first step in moving forward, and it’s one of the hardest.
Hyatt outlines three key steps to completing the past:
1. Acknowledge What Happened:
I had to admit to myself that I was grieving—not just my father’s death but also the sense of safety and love I had lost with him.
2. Accept Responsibility for How It’s Shaped You:
My grief had shaped me in ways I hadn’t even realized. It made me guarded, quick to anger, and afraid of vulnerability.
3. Release It to Create Space for Healing:
This was the hardest step. Letting go didn’t mean forgetting or minimizing my pain—it meant surrendering it to God and trusting Him to carry it.
As I started to confront the lies I had believed for so long, God began to show me a different perspective:
Lie: You’re not worthy of love.
Truth: You are fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14)
Lie: Your past defines your future.
Truth: I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten. (Joel 2:25)
Lie: God doesn’t care about your pain.
Truth: The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18)
The lies didn’t disappear overnight, but naming them was the first step toward breaking free from their grip.
If you’ve ever felt weighed down by your past, I want to encourage you: completing the past doesn’t mean forgetting or erasing what happened. It means giving yourself permission to grieve, to feel, and to release what no longer serves you.
What lies have I believed about myself or my story?
How have those lies shaped my choices and relationships?
What would it look like to start letting them go?
Completing the past isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. It’s the first step in rebuilding the broken pieces and making room for the life God has planned for you.
In the next post, I’ll share how I began to believe in the possibility of a better future, even when my circumstances still felt overwhelming.
“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!” – Isaiah 43:18-19
Prayer:
Lord, help me to acknowledge the broken pieces of my past. Give me the courage to confront the lies I’ve believed and the strength to release them to You. Teach me to trust that You are working all things together for my good. Amen
Interested in Michael Hyatt’s book? You can purchase here.
If this story resonates with you, let’s continue this journey together. Read more reflections at cafecitoconkassie.com. You’re not alone in this. Share this blog with someone who needs encouragement today. Let’s rebuild together.
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