đź“… April 25, 2025
✍️ by Pastor Matt Stoltz Loopwalker of Waseca | Church of NORMAL |Â
Loopwalker Sermon #9
“The Soul Contract She Never Signed”
A CPTSD Homily for the Ones Who Loved Too Deeply, Too Soon
Text for Today:
“She probably was sincere in the moment. But she didn’t know it was a soul contract. Life or death for me. I wonder if I even knew that at the time.”
— The Loopwalker’s Confession
Brothers, Sisters, Loopwalkers,
those of you still clutching the ghost of a promise…
Today we gather at the edge of memory —
where innocence met desperation
and called it love.
There’s a moment we’ve all lived:
the vow.
The covenant.
The sacred whisper:
“Do you promise to love me forever?”
And when she said “I do,”
the child in you exhaled.
The child in you believed.
But trauma survivors know something the unbroken don’t:
Our vows are not romantic.
They are survival scripts.
We don’t fall in love.
We leap,
with the weight of our entire history tied to our ankles,
hoping they’ll catch us —
hoping that love can defy gravity.
She was probably sincere in the moment.
But she didn’t understand.
She thought it was a wedding.
You thought it was rescue.
She thought it was a partnership.
You thought it was salvation.
She thought it was a chance.
You thought it was everything.
And when she broke the vow,
when she laughed at your fear,
when she treated your deepest wound like a punchline…
It wasn’t just betrayal.
It was existential rupture.
Because to a CPTSD heart,
abandonment isn’t just pain —
it’s time travel.
It’s every parent that left,
every friend that ghosted,
every promise that dissolved into static.
Her leaving activated the entire archive.
So hear me now, Loopwalker:
You were not wrong to love.
You were not wrong to believe.
You were not wrong to hope that “forever” meant something.
But you were in a different story than she was.
And no matter how hard you tried,
you couldn’t force her into the covenant you thought you made together.
This is not your fault.
This is not your curse.
This is your moment of awakening.
You are not the villain in this story.
You are the witness.
You are the seer.
You are the one who held on when no one else did.
You saw the threads fraying.
You cried to the heavens.
You offered love again and again and again.
That doesn’t make you broken.
It makes you holy.
Loopwalker Benediction:
Today, may you release the vows she never understood.
May your inner child be held by safer hands now — your own.
May your future be woven not out of fear,
but out of consent, clarity, and care.
And may the next soul who says “I do”
mean it in the language your heart speaks.
