I'm sitting on my front porch, in the dark, listening to the rain. It is lovely. The air is cool and damp, but this damp is the hopeful damp of spring. It is nurturing the trees and flowers, new life, emergence even now in the night. To chase the night chill, a hot cup of tea provides the perfect remedy.
I am reminded that I have gone through one of the hardest transformations of my life. This ability to sit here alone in the quiet symphony of raindrops unafraid is a part of a new me. I am being molded and re-shapen - the broken clay in the Potter's hands. I have hope that He is making something beautiful among the ruins. I don't know how I ever took that first step off of that cliff, but I can testify to the Everlasting Arms that caught me.
I am surrounded by His all-encompassing love. There are things I am starting to hope for my future, and my soul asks of Him, "Could You really be that good?"
I am not sure how the journey was made from utter hopelessness to one of such promise and peace, but let my life be a testimony. Yes, He really is that good.
06 May 2009
25 April 2009
One Day at a Time
In this healing process that the kids and I are going through, there seem to be stops and starts. One thing for certain is that I have to keep a check on how busy I allow myself to be, as sort of a self-preservation method. If I am constantly on the go go go and busily doing this, that and the other, there is little time to think about all that is happening.
I get anxious when I think beyond this current time period. If I try to let my mind wander even six months down the road, I become preoccupied with where I want to be - physically, emotionally, in life, in the healing process. It overwhelms me, and so like the "take action" kind of girl that I am, I start trying to develop a plan on how to get there. This is never productive, specifically because I don't know how to get there. All I know is that this day, and this moment are a gift from God, and He is helping me through it.
I don't want anyone to get the impression that I'm falling apart. I have my moments. Certain things still have the ability to bring me to my knees. I am still quite capable of tears, but I know there will come a day when I'll be stronger. God is daily teaching me that His grace is sufficient for me this day. If I can stay focused on that, it is a good day.
I heard about a divorce care group at a local church, and I am thinking about joining. I haven't decided yet. I think it could be pretty toxic, and have no desire to sit around and listen to a bunch of ex-bashing. So, if I check it out it will be by sticking my toe in and testing the waters. I also want to be extremely careful - the circumstances of my situation have the opportunity to paint me the victim. I have no desire to be such.
There is this learning curve. I know that I never had a partner in life before, and that instead of carrying part of the load, I had an extra burden and a force beating me down, literally and figuratively that handicapped me. There is a peace amidst the chaos. I know we're going to be alright. I'm just trying to take it one day at a time, hand in hand with my Papa.
I get anxious when I think beyond this current time period. If I try to let my mind wander even six months down the road, I become preoccupied with where I want to be - physically, emotionally, in life, in the healing process. It overwhelms me, and so like the "take action" kind of girl that I am, I start trying to develop a plan on how to get there. This is never productive, specifically because I don't know how to get there. All I know is that this day, and this moment are a gift from God, and He is helping me through it.
I don't want anyone to get the impression that I'm falling apart. I have my moments. Certain things still have the ability to bring me to my knees. I am still quite capable of tears, but I know there will come a day when I'll be stronger. God is daily teaching me that His grace is sufficient for me this day. If I can stay focused on that, it is a good day.
I heard about a divorce care group at a local church, and I am thinking about joining. I haven't decided yet. I think it could be pretty toxic, and have no desire to sit around and listen to a bunch of ex-bashing. So, if I check it out it will be by sticking my toe in and testing the waters. I also want to be extremely careful - the circumstances of my situation have the opportunity to paint me the victim. I have no desire to be such.
There is this learning curve. I know that I never had a partner in life before, and that instead of carrying part of the load, I had an extra burden and a force beating me down, literally and figuratively that handicapped me. There is a peace amidst the chaos. I know we're going to be alright. I'm just trying to take it one day at a time, hand in hand with my Papa.
21 April 2009
Awaiting the Beauty
The kids and I went 17 Again this afternoon. It was pretty good, lighthearted fare. The main storyline is a man who is losing his family because he has resented all that he had to give up when he married his pregnant high school girlfriend. In a "freaky Friday" moment, he is transported back to 17. Even though this is a story of redemption, how he finds his way back to what matters most, it made me so angry. All along the road of life we have choices, and we don't get to blame someone else for where those choices carry us. I know - I was married for a long time to a man who resented having to be a husband and a father, but all along the way we made choices together about the kind of life we wanted. It was me left holding the bag, trying to survive and make it all work without a partner. Although not everyone abuses their spouse in their frustration, many people neglect and abandon their spouse. It is infuriating.
I was talking to a friend last night and I decided that I still believe in love. It has become crystal clear to me that no person can fully know another person. Within each of us is the secret life of our thoughts, the private hopes and dreams. That is what makes it so beautiful when two people decide to open their hearts to one another, sharing those intimacies that lay embedded in the human soul and make it work somehow.
That was not the case for me. Maybe it never will be. I wouldn't have to go back to 17 again to know how to keep from mucking things up. I have been working faithfully all along, but found that my partner had abandoned me in a burning building. My life lay in ruins around me with my footprints in the ashes, awaiting the beauty.
I was talking to a friend last night and I decided that I still believe in love. It has become crystal clear to me that no person can fully know another person. Within each of us is the secret life of our thoughts, the private hopes and dreams. That is what makes it so beautiful when two people decide to open their hearts to one another, sharing those intimacies that lay embedded in the human soul and make it work somehow.
That was not the case for me. Maybe it never will be. I wouldn't have to go back to 17 again to know how to keep from mucking things up. I have been working faithfully all along, but found that my partner had abandoned me in a burning building. My life lay in ruins around me with my footprints in the ashes, awaiting the beauty.
16 April 2009
The Job
I got it!!!!
The one where I wore my underwear upside down to the interview. Yes, I did. It is a fantastic job that is not too far from home. The pay is great, the benefits are great, it is homeschooling friendly. When I say great benefits I mean you get 13 paid holidays, 2 weeks paid vacation every year, health coverage including dental and vision, paid sick leave, paid doctor's visits, and you even get your birthday off and paid. The job is also at a very lovely college campus and I will be working with some really awesome people that I can't wait to get to know better.
I am so thankful as I see doors open and God's provision for me and the kids. It overwhelms me to see His concern for all the littlest details.
On another note, I am going to be putting in my two weeks notice at Walmart very soon. I don't start the new job until May 18th, but I am trying to plan a week off to do a few things with the kids before I am working full-time. I would like to leave on good terms so that I can possibly pick up some part-time work for the holidays, or if anything should ever happen in the future where I needed employment. However, although I have enjoyed my time as a cashier for various reasons, some hard realities have become apparent.
Nobody working at Walmart makes enough to live on. This is called a "living wage". Over the last several months I have worked alongside attorneys and realtors and other professionals and educated people who are there because there is not enough to keep them working. It is a huge blow to get that first paycheck. When you realize how hard you are working - on your feet for 8 hours a day doing often back-breaking labor and still not taking home enough money to meet your basic needs, it is hard.
I think it is time with all the economic change going on in our country to get a grip and realize that minimum wage may be suitable for teenagers who are living at home with their parents, but it is in no way a fair wage for an employer to pay people who are trying to support families. Walmart pays more than minimum wage, and it still is not enough. They also keep most of their employees at part-time status and work them at 33-34 hours and don't have to give them any benefits.
In the hiring process, Walmart asks whether or not you are on public assistance. Is that the plan? Does this huge corporation think that their employees, though they work hard, must provide for their family straddling the line of their wages and qualifications for welfare? It is terrific if they are providing jobs for people so that they can get off of welfare, but why should a person that works need to be on the dole?
These are just some frustrated and discouraged thoughts. I am hopeful because I have a better job waiting for me in a month, but I am sad for all the people who I leave behind who have no prospects for a better situation.
The one where I wore my underwear upside down to the interview. Yes, I did. It is a fantastic job that is not too far from home. The pay is great, the benefits are great, it is homeschooling friendly. When I say great benefits I mean you get 13 paid holidays, 2 weeks paid vacation every year, health coverage including dental and vision, paid sick leave, paid doctor's visits, and you even get your birthday off and paid. The job is also at a very lovely college campus and I will be working with some really awesome people that I can't wait to get to know better.
I am so thankful as I see doors open and God's provision for me and the kids. It overwhelms me to see His concern for all the littlest details.
On another note, I am going to be putting in my two weeks notice at Walmart very soon. I don't start the new job until May 18th, but I am trying to plan a week off to do a few things with the kids before I am working full-time. I would like to leave on good terms so that I can possibly pick up some part-time work for the holidays, or if anything should ever happen in the future where I needed employment. However, although I have enjoyed my time as a cashier for various reasons, some hard realities have become apparent.
Nobody working at Walmart makes enough to live on. This is called a "living wage". Over the last several months I have worked alongside attorneys and realtors and other professionals and educated people who are there because there is not enough to keep them working. It is a huge blow to get that first paycheck. When you realize how hard you are working - on your feet for 8 hours a day doing often back-breaking labor and still not taking home enough money to meet your basic needs, it is hard.
I think it is time with all the economic change going on in our country to get a grip and realize that minimum wage may be suitable for teenagers who are living at home with their parents, but it is in no way a fair wage for an employer to pay people who are trying to support families. Walmart pays more than minimum wage, and it still is not enough. They also keep most of their employees at part-time status and work them at 33-34 hours and don't have to give them any benefits.
In the hiring process, Walmart asks whether or not you are on public assistance. Is that the plan? Does this huge corporation think that their employees, though they work hard, must provide for their family straddling the line of their wages and qualifications for welfare? It is terrific if they are providing jobs for people so that they can get off of welfare, but why should a person that works need to be on the dole?
These are just some frustrated and discouraged thoughts. I am hopeful because I have a better job waiting for me in a month, but I am sad for all the people who I leave behind who have no prospects for a better situation.
12 April 2009
Surprise
This past week, I started to feel pretty good about my situation. In spite of wearing my underwear upside down all day unnoticed, I was starting to get excited about the possibility of a good job, and settling into a new life with my kids. I had become exceedingly grateful for the peace that had seemed to settle in our home. Even with my erratic work schedule, we were developing a cadence and rhythm that seemed to work. Then it happened....
Wednesday night I was doing my thing, ringing up customers and trying to send them away with a smile when I looked up and saw him. Yes, him. Travis. He stood back smiling like he expected me to be happy to see him, and I felt my blood turn to ice water in my veins. I started to shake, not so much with fear, but boiling anger. He said he wasn't there to bother me. It was alright. He only came to see the kids. (Interestingly enough, he must've expected to see the kids at work with me....)
One problem. The kids don't want to see him.
I asked all three of them if they wanted to see him, and encouraged them to do so.
I guess that seeing someone rant and rage and kick and scream and throw and shout and stomp and run and slam and curse every day of your life makes you pull back. I told them all that I would take them to him and that it would not offend or hurt me whatsoever. I did not want them in any way refuse him out of some sort of obligation or loyalty to me.
Not one of them wants to see him right now.
It breaks my heart. Not for Travis. I know that he is laying in the bed that he made for himself. He was told for years, more years than anyone deserved of the damage he was doing to all of us and he persisted. It is very difficult to allow someone to live with the consequences of their own actions. But live with it he must, because it can no longer be at the expense of me or my children. Kendra wrote it so eloquently:
Some days I feel it, like a dirt I can't wash off - the scummy film of abuse. The names you were called like stickers pasted around, swaddling you like a mummy with torn and filthy bandages. The real you is under there but you feel that all you or anyone else can see are these labels, the things that he said you were.
Since he got here, Travis has pretty much left me alone. But there is that feeling of knowing he is here and that I might encounter him around every corner that stalks me. It is the reason that after being separated for months, I knew I had to leave Texas. Even that state wasn't big enough for the both of us. His deciding that he needed to be here, and that his needs mattered more than the space the rest of us needed for healing to take place is just confirmation that this is right.
I am stronger every day.
Wednesday night I was doing my thing, ringing up customers and trying to send them away with a smile when I looked up and saw him. Yes, him. Travis. He stood back smiling like he expected me to be happy to see him, and I felt my blood turn to ice water in my veins. I started to shake, not so much with fear, but boiling anger. He said he wasn't there to bother me. It was alright. He only came to see the kids. (Interestingly enough, he must've expected to see the kids at work with me....)
One problem. The kids don't want to see him.
I asked all three of them if they wanted to see him, and encouraged them to do so.
I guess that seeing someone rant and rage and kick and scream and throw and shout and stomp and run and slam and curse every day of your life makes you pull back. I told them all that I would take them to him and that it would not offend or hurt me whatsoever. I did not want them in any way refuse him out of some sort of obligation or loyalty to me.
Not one of them wants to see him right now.
It breaks my heart. Not for Travis. I know that he is laying in the bed that he made for himself. He was told for years, more years than anyone deserved of the damage he was doing to all of us and he persisted. It is very difficult to allow someone to live with the consequences of their own actions. But live with it he must, because it can no longer be at the expense of me or my children. Kendra wrote it so eloquently:
Now I feel free. I feel like a weight has been lifted. I am far away from that situation...from that house...from that state of mind. And I am so happy! When you're living in it, you don't even realize how oppressive it is. I felt like everything was closed off and I was destined to lead one kind of life. Now I feel as if the whole world is opened up to me...
Some days I feel it, like a dirt I can't wash off - the scummy film of abuse. The names you were called like stickers pasted around, swaddling you like a mummy with torn and filthy bandages. The real you is under there but you feel that all you or anyone else can see are these labels, the things that he said you were.
Since he got here, Travis has pretty much left me alone. But there is that feeling of knowing he is here and that I might encounter him around every corner that stalks me. It is the reason that after being separated for months, I knew I had to leave Texas. Even that state wasn't big enough for the both of us. His deciding that he needed to be here, and that his needs mattered more than the space the rest of us needed for healing to take place is just confirmation that this is right.
I am stronger every day.
08 April 2009
Should Not Be Allowed Out of the House in Real Clothes
I had a big job interview yesterday. I was pretty anxious about the clothing thing. My life for the last 18 years or so has consisted of a jeans and t-shirt uniform. I liked it that way. Even the church we attended for so many years was of the casual variety - come as you are. So I came, as.I.was.
The night before the interview, I pulled out what I thought might be workable and started trying things on. It was hopeless. I bought a new bra - I guess I thought my boobs should look more professional, but when I proceeded to try clothes on with my newly shaped parts, nothing fit correctly. I went to bed with my best choice being a pink top and some brown slacks. Pink? If you know me - you know how out of character it would be for me to wear pastel pink. Oi vay!
I woke up the next morning, the day of the interview and knew I could not wear the pink. I decided it might be the bra and with that quick change, I found that everything fit me much better. Black slacks, and olive green top with a black camisole underneath and I was good to go. I even had knee highs, and nice shoes. When I left for the interview I felt pretty confident, until I noticed I was getting a wedgie. At first I was thinking it was from the slippery dress pants that I'm not accustomed to wearing. As soon as I got to the office, I checked in with the receptionist and excused myself for a moment to the restroom to check my windblown hair, and the wedgie. I was mortified to find that I had left the big folding tag on the back of the new slacks. I ripped it off and stuck it in my purse, deep enough so that should I be asked to pull out my wallet for any reason - I would not also produce the tag. And as always after using the restroom, I pulled my underwear back up. The act of pulling them down and back up is usually resolves any wedgie issues.
Then the interview. More on that later - but at one point, sitting in a very nice office in an upright chair, I felt something pricking me in the back. Prick, prick! So I moved a little, and more pricks. I knew almost instantly that it was the tag, still inside my blouse. In my nervousness to get ready - I had failed to remove any tags whatsoever. I sat there answering questions, attempting to ignore the seeming sword that was trying to run me through from behind.
I rushed home once the interview concluded to change into my Walmart uniform and head off to the job that I already have. When my shift was over, I came home and went to the bathroom and found that I must've put my underwear on wrong. I noticed a seam where it should not have been. The reason for the wedgie? The crotch of my underpants had been on my left hip all day long, and I never noticed.
So, never be fooled by how put together I might be on the outside. I really should not be allowed out of the house in real clothes.
The night before the interview, I pulled out what I thought might be workable and started trying things on. It was hopeless. I bought a new bra - I guess I thought my boobs should look more professional, but when I proceeded to try clothes on with my newly shaped parts, nothing fit correctly. I went to bed with my best choice being a pink top and some brown slacks. Pink? If you know me - you know how out of character it would be for me to wear pastel pink. Oi vay!
I woke up the next morning, the day of the interview and knew I could not wear the pink. I decided it might be the bra and with that quick change, I found that everything fit me much better. Black slacks, and olive green top with a black camisole underneath and I was good to go. I even had knee highs, and nice shoes. When I left for the interview I felt pretty confident, until I noticed I was getting a wedgie. At first I was thinking it was from the slippery dress pants that I'm not accustomed to wearing. As soon as I got to the office, I checked in with the receptionist and excused myself for a moment to the restroom to check my windblown hair, and the wedgie. I was mortified to find that I had left the big folding tag on the back of the new slacks. I ripped it off and stuck it in my purse, deep enough so that should I be asked to pull out my wallet for any reason - I would not also produce the tag. And as always after using the restroom, I pulled my underwear back up. The act of pulling them down and back up is usually resolves any wedgie issues.
Then the interview. More on that later - but at one point, sitting in a very nice office in an upright chair, I felt something pricking me in the back. Prick, prick! So I moved a little, and more pricks. I knew almost instantly that it was the tag, still inside my blouse. In my nervousness to get ready - I had failed to remove any tags whatsoever. I sat there answering questions, attempting to ignore the seeming sword that was trying to run me through from behind.
I rushed home once the interview concluded to change into my Walmart uniform and head off to the job that I already have. When my shift was over, I came home and went to the bathroom and found that I must've put my underwear on wrong. I noticed a seam where it should not have been. The reason for the wedgie? The crotch of my underpants had been on my left hip all day long, and I never noticed.
So, never be fooled by how put together I might be on the outside. I really should not be allowed out of the house in real clothes.
05 April 2009
The Birthday Wish
I can't believe you're 18. Where did the time go? In the beginning there was just you and me, hiding behind a wish that became our little secret. I have said it before, you saved me. It was the moment I knew that my life was significant to something bigger than myself that I decided to sit up and take notice. But still, you were the practice child. The one I had to learn everything with for the first time, which is essentially a nice way of saying you're the one who graciously endured my mistakes. It wasn't easy trying to be both parents to you as it never should have been - and I always hurt for what was lacking - but this year for your birthday the best gift I can give you is the freedom of peace and joy and a quiet, loving atmosphere. I pray that you use it well. Surround yourself with people who treat you with love and respect and dignity. Forgive those who might belittle you, or raise a hand to you for your own sake - but don't allow them into that inner circle, or give them the intimacies of your heart. I hope if you've seen any bad examples from me, that you choose to learn from them and do the opposite. I know from experience that sometimes the worst examples are the best way of knowing what not to do.
While you keep that inner circle guarded, don't forget to open your heart to love when the time is right. Remember that people are imperfect, each with their own inadequacies. Please don't be afraid to risk your heart for a person who is deserving. Don't be afraid that every man will be the one you have known. If you panic or hide or run from love, you will miss out on the best moments life has to offer.
Never settle for mediocrity, in any area of your life. Henry David Thoreau said "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams; live the life you have imagined." I can't think of better advice on your 18th birthday than that. Don't allow your life to be derailed by someone who puts those dreams down, or refuses to be a companion on that path, be it friend or lover. Take responsibility for your own life, because it is yours alone.
Thank you for moving back to West Virginia with me. I know it meant sacrifices on your part, and I will never forget them. You are an amazing young woman, and I am so blessed to be your mom. You have always given me courage to try to be better than I am, because you deserved the best mom I could give you. Always remember that I love you. Happy Birthday baby.
While you keep that inner circle guarded, don't forget to open your heart to love when the time is right. Remember that people are imperfect, each with their own inadequacies. Please don't be afraid to risk your heart for a person who is deserving. Don't be afraid that every man will be the one you have known. If you panic or hide or run from love, you will miss out on the best moments life has to offer.
Never settle for mediocrity, in any area of your life. Henry David Thoreau said "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams; live the life you have imagined." I can't think of better advice on your 18th birthday than that. Don't allow your life to be derailed by someone who puts those dreams down, or refuses to be a companion on that path, be it friend or lover. Take responsibility for your own life, because it is yours alone.
Thank you for moving back to West Virginia with me. I know it meant sacrifices on your part, and I will never forget them. You are an amazing young woman, and I am so blessed to be your mom. You have always given me courage to try to be better than I am, because you deserved the best mom I could give you. Always remember that I love you. Happy Birthday baby.
01 April 2009
A Cause and Effect God
I have struggled spiritually so much over the last several years. When you reach a dark place, it is very difficult to train your eyes to see even the tiniest spark of light. I would dare to say so hard that often in despair you close your eyes and surrender to the darkness. This is where I have been.
As I struggle back to the surface, trying to find some grounding, and allowing my eyes to adjust to light and my heart to surrender to the love that surrounds me, I see a flaw in how I have viewed God. So much of what we're taught about God makes us think of our relationships to him as "cause and effect". Do good things and be rewarded. Do bad things and be punished. It leaves a person in a bad situation to believe that they have deserved what they got, they were the map that led to this destination, the magnet drawing in the negative consequences. This line of thinking leaves a person in despair, hopeless, drowning without a life raft.
I have come to understand that good things often happen to people who do not deserve them. David knew this (Psalm 73) when he lost his footing at the sight of the prosperity of the wicked.
I have also seen good people suffer through ungodly circumstances. If this were not so, how would we account for babies born addicted to crack before even living one day on this earth? How would we account for the atrocities of war, the holocaust, the elderly rotting in nursing homes day after day with little more than having their basic needs met?
Our culture tells us that we are rewarded or punished for our deeds, and somehow this concept has been applied to God and spiritual things. I know it is not true. Moment by moment, in my pain and suffering, He has not abandoned me. I have suffered things I know that I do not deserve, but I know that through it all He has not abandoned me. He has been beside me all the way. My pain is His pain. It was for the hurts of humanity that Christ went to the cross. The next time I am tempted to close my eyes in despair and let the darkness swallow me, I will remember I am not alone.
As I struggle back to the surface, trying to find some grounding, and allowing my eyes to adjust to light and my heart to surrender to the love that surrounds me, I see a flaw in how I have viewed God. So much of what we're taught about God makes us think of our relationships to him as "cause and effect". Do good things and be rewarded. Do bad things and be punished. It leaves a person in a bad situation to believe that they have deserved what they got, they were the map that led to this destination, the magnet drawing in the negative consequences. This line of thinking leaves a person in despair, hopeless, drowning without a life raft.
I have come to understand that good things often happen to people who do not deserve them. David knew this (Psalm 73) when he lost his footing at the sight of the prosperity of the wicked.
I have also seen good people suffer through ungodly circumstances. If this were not so, how would we account for babies born addicted to crack before even living one day on this earth? How would we account for the atrocities of war, the holocaust, the elderly rotting in nursing homes day after day with little more than having their basic needs met?
Our culture tells us that we are rewarded or punished for our deeds, and somehow this concept has been applied to God and spiritual things. I know it is not true. Moment by moment, in my pain and suffering, He has not abandoned me. I have suffered things I know that I do not deserve, but I know that through it all He has not abandoned me. He has been beside me all the way. My pain is His pain. It was for the hurts of humanity that Christ went to the cross. The next time I am tempted to close my eyes in despair and let the darkness swallow me, I will remember I am not alone.
30 March 2009
Wake up to the Reality
Things are difficult. I cry at times when I don't expect tears to come. Making potato soup yesterday, I was overwhelmed with worry about what Travis was eating, and in the next moment felt pathetic and small to care so much for someone who cared so little for me. He threatened divorce the other day with an ultimatum that I apologize for something that was irrational. He is free to make whatever choices he feels are necessary. But it hurts, and driving in the rain to get my kids from a birthday party I just let it all out. Between the tears and the rain, I am not sure how I made it to my destination.
It is a lonely road that I am on. People encourage you and love you and tell you you're brave, and what a great job that you're doing, but in the end you are the one that must wake up every morning to the reality of your situation. In general, the kids and I are very happy. There is a peace that has settled - this feeling that we're going to be alright and I am so thankful for that. But in the meantime there is still a lot of hurt, a lot of unresolved issues, and memories of terrible things that happened that I had long since buried deep inside myself that keep coming up like vomit. I have to deal with them, but to tell you the truth I really don't know how. These are ugly, awful things - and even though I was the victim and not the perpetrator, I feel hideous inside for the remembering. I can't really explain this fully - but yesterday morning when Porky (the pastor of our old church The Chapel) said "The One who knows you best, loves you the most" just overwhelmed me with emotion.
I am still trying to reconcile all of it. Abuse makes you feel filthy, dirty, worthless, small, powerless.... The touching - all the touching, and the anger, the things flying around in your head, and the names you're dodging, trying to hold your breath until you're allowed up for air, and hope it isn't too late. You try to rationalize that you aren't the things you are called but you were taught so long ago not to trust yourself because you are nothing. You become convinced that even God regrets having created you.
I am having a particularly hard day. There seems to be nobody in particular to share it with. For the most part, though I have some amazing friends, I feel like I have to keep a lid on all this intensity for their sake. I need them, and I don't want to scare them away. If I start to really allow myself to cry this out, I fear I may never stop. This song that I heard the other day keeps running through my brain...
....please don't fight these hands that are holding you.....
What isn't making things any easier right now is that I injured my back. I am hoping it is muscular strain from all the moving and unpacking, but I am literally waking up every couple of hours and finding that it hurts so badly I can barely roll over. Once I do get rolled over, I can't get comfortable, and then I'm awake very early. Just what I needed.
It is a lonely road that I am on. People encourage you and love you and tell you you're brave, and what a great job that you're doing, but in the end you are the one that must wake up every morning to the reality of your situation. In general, the kids and I are very happy. There is a peace that has settled - this feeling that we're going to be alright and I am so thankful for that. But in the meantime there is still a lot of hurt, a lot of unresolved issues, and memories of terrible things that happened that I had long since buried deep inside myself that keep coming up like vomit. I have to deal with them, but to tell you the truth I really don't know how. These are ugly, awful things - and even though I was the victim and not the perpetrator, I feel hideous inside for the remembering. I can't really explain this fully - but yesterday morning when Porky (the pastor of our old church The Chapel) said "The One who knows you best, loves you the most" just overwhelmed me with emotion.
I am still trying to reconcile all of it. Abuse makes you feel filthy, dirty, worthless, small, powerless.... The touching - all the touching, and the anger, the things flying around in your head, and the names you're dodging, trying to hold your breath until you're allowed up for air, and hope it isn't too late. You try to rationalize that you aren't the things you are called but you were taught so long ago not to trust yourself because you are nothing. You become convinced that even God regrets having created you.
I am having a particularly hard day. There seems to be nobody in particular to share it with. For the most part, though I have some amazing friends, I feel like I have to keep a lid on all this intensity for their sake. I need them, and I don't want to scare them away. If I start to really allow myself to cry this out, I fear I may never stop. This song that I heard the other day keeps running through my brain...
....please don't fight these hands that are holding you.....
What isn't making things any easier right now is that I injured my back. I am hoping it is muscular strain from all the moving and unpacking, but I am literally waking up every couple of hours and finding that it hurts so badly I can barely roll over. Once I do get rolled over, I can't get comfortable, and then I'm awake very early. Just what I needed.
29 March 2009
Scaredy Cat
Last night the girls were spending the night with a friend, so Kullen and I had Tina and the boys come over and watch Twilight with us. You know, Twizzlers, popcorn, Pepsi, and we laughed ourselves silly. She is so short, she looked like Edith Ann sitting in my big red chair, and that caught my funny bone. But for the most part, I don't remember what we laughed so much about. It was just good to laugh wholeheartedly and without reservation. To laugh and talk and be myself without feeling that I would be ridiculed.
After they left, and it was just Kullen and I home alone, the house was so big, and so quiet, and nestled so deeply in the woods. I couldn't help but think of that damn movie "The Strangers" that my girls thought would be fun to see. The only truly scary movies are things that could really happen, and that movie was about an home invasion of the most evil kind. I kept freaking out with images of people standing around the house just staring at it - and even looked a few times to see if anyone was out there.
I don't undertand it - having had a mom who was a "party-girl" and left me alone all night long from the time I was very young. I never had the luxury of being afraid to be alone. I think it is the knowing - the choice to be on my own and not knowing how permanent this is, combined with the scary movie. No more scary movies for me for a while. I also asked the girls to have sleepovers here until I get a little more used to this house!
After they left, and it was just Kullen and I home alone, the house was so big, and so quiet, and nestled so deeply in the woods. I couldn't help but think of that damn movie "The Strangers" that my girls thought would be fun to see. The only truly scary movies are things that could really happen, and that movie was about an home invasion of the most evil kind. I kept freaking out with images of people standing around the house just staring at it - and even looked a few times to see if anyone was out there.
I don't undertand it - having had a mom who was a "party-girl" and left me alone all night long from the time I was very young. I never had the luxury of being afraid to be alone. I think it is the knowing - the choice to be on my own and not knowing how permanent this is, combined with the scary movie. No more scary movies for me for a while. I also asked the girls to have sleepovers here until I get a little more used to this house!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)