Currently listening to:
As I've continued reading on in Desmond Tutu's, "Book of Forgiving," I've made a conscious effort to highlight the word "free" every time it pops up.
Free, freedom, freeing -beautiful words. Words I want in my life.
About a year ago, I was aching over some family stuff -hurting over the choices a loved one was making. I love them so much, and I was watching them make some crazy choices... I think what hurt most of all was knowing that the choices they were making were pulling them farther from me. They'd already been pulling away, and I was missing them as it was.
They were actively pulling away.
One night, it was hitting me hard. The ache hit hard. I couldn't sleep, and I just started praying. Tears flowed. I can't say whether I cried or prayed myself to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up and rolled out my yoga mat. I sat in silence, my eyes closed. I created some space in my mind, and as I did, I felt God speak.
"That which we seek, we shall find."
Yes.
Simple.
God always speaks to me like that.
My loved one was finding the life he was seeking, and I have the power to seek my own truth and stand in it, even if I sometimes shake, even if I sometimes fall, even if I scare others.
Benjamin Franklin said he spent his life seeking truth, and I feel like most of us are out there doing the same thing.
John Jaques penned what became the lyrics to "Oh Say, What Is Truth":
Oh say, what is truth? 'Tis the fairest gem
That the riches of worlds can produce,
And priceless the value of truth will be when
The proud monarch's costliest diadem
Is counted but dross and refuse. ...
Then say, what is truth? 'Tis the last and the first,
For the limits of time it steps o'er.
Though the heavens depart and the earth's fountains burst,
Truth, the sum of existence, will weather the worst,
Eternal, unchanged, evermore.
Truth and freedom seem -to me -to be synonymous. Freedom is truth, Truth is freedom.
Forgiveness pals around the same block.
As I've delved deeper into Tutu's recommended meditations, journaling exercises and stone rituals, I've found forgiveness and some miraculous healing.
A dear friend of mine recently said she feels like having a relationship with Christ reminds her of the "kissing scene" in Hitch where Hitch tells his buddy, "you go 90%, let her go 10%."
God goes 90%.
The work I've been doing has been my 10% and over the weekend, God showed up 90%.
It was breathtaking.
I was able to release pain I didn't even know I was holding. Was it while I was journaling? Or meditating?
No.
Though I believe both practices are key healing tools.
It was because I was seeking.
I was journaling, praying, meditating, seeking. And then I was living. Showing up for life, for my messy house and busy kids. Showing up for my health as best as I could.
And in the middle of the showing up, a miracle happened.
An unplanned, unscheduled organic miracle.
And today, I feel the serenity of freedom.
Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Works When I Work It
On Sunday, I went to a class with a lot of ladies.
Did your teeth just clench a little? Mine did. A lot of ladies can sometimes feel very, very daunting. I usually come away going, "I'm so glad I did that" but there have been a few times where I've walked away going, "NEVER AGAIN." Those few bad experiences seem to have a pretty strong effect, unfortunately.
As I listened to the teacher talk about how prone women are to comparing themselves to each other, I felt a question creep up. I didn't want to ask it for several reasons.
#1) In the past, I have worked hard to SAY THE RIGHT THINGS... not to enrich but to show how good I was. I wanted people to think I was a good person because if they thought I was, then I was. The opinions of others were my God, of sorts. I was a slave, self-made.
#2) I didn't want to hi-jack the lesson. I know what it's like to teach and have a lesson derailed by a questions.
#3) It was vulnerable.
I prayed and checked my motivations, asking God if I should ask... I felt that I should, so I did.
"A few weeks ago, I had a friend visit. Our personalities were different and our gifts are different, and for the first time in my life I felt enriched and inspired by her. Usually, I feel threatened when other women shine in their gifts, as if something is wrong with me. I'd love to hear from some more experienced sisters what helps them? What tools they employ in situations where another woman is shining and they start to feel threatened or worthless?"
Immediately, the woman sitting in front of me reached back and touched my knee, lending sweet support which I really appreciated. I think I know the answer here, but I felt I should ask. Being teachable is important to me, and I'm not very good at it.
One woman shared her experience studying different personality types, how understanding HOW and WHY people are different helps her when people who are different from her rub her wrong.
I have found a lot of help studying this as well -I don't want to work Step 4 for others, but it has been VERY helpful to study the strengths and weaknesses of different personality types. I often find myself nodding at God and going, "This all makes sense. You put all kinds of people together to life and strengthen each other... it's perfect and beautiful. We're all one, but we are all different. Amazing."
Then came the *zing*.
One woman shared her own experience and while I can't remember the exact words, I do remember the exact feeling. She said it hadn't been her experience to feel threatened or intimidated by other women shining... ever. She only ever felt inspired by other woman as they shone.
As she spoke I felt pretty, well, dumb. Broken. Not enough. Very, very dumb.
The woman sitting next to me sat up straighter, as if in a sort of panic and immediately reached for my back, holding it. Maybe she was hoping to shield me? I don't know. I do know that she felt the blow with me.
Another woman shared, through tears, how finding her own divinity -her own self-worth -was vital in her journey... that comparing herself and feeling not enough was something she struggled heavily with, but when she focused only on her own stuff, everything else fell into place.
A fourth woman shared how she employs gratitude, how grateful she is for women who help her teach her children... some women can reach her children in ways she can't, and how grateful she is for them.
A few minutes later, I had to leave the class. It hadn't ended yet, but I had something at my house that needed attention. I wasn't too sad about leaving. The brave thing would have been to STAY and FACE it all, but I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked down the empty hallway toward the parking lot.
In my truck, I reached for my phone. Who could I call? Who? I needed to vent. I stopped my hand in mid-air. Another thing I struggle with is relying on others instead of God. I pulled my hand back and started praying out loud.
"God, that hurt. Not lethal. But it hurt. Am I just thoroughly broken? Unworthy of JUST GETTING OVER IT? I even wish I was above being hurt by something so petty. Am I just not resilient? Okay, okay, okay... even now, I comparing myself. The ladies all had so much to share, and if I take what they say... studying personality types, finding inspiration, finding gratitude, practicing developing my self-worth and cultivating divinity... okay, okay... There's a sort of path in all that, right? There's something..."
I tapped my steering wheel as I turned onto my road, "If I find self-worth and root myself in my identity as a Daughter of God, then I can practice gratitude for the gifts of others. With that gratitude I can move into curiosity and begin to study others as they shine, appreciate what their gifts contribute to the whole, to the community, see them as children of God as well. Then I could see inspiration coming."
Everything fell into place.
I still felt pain, but the sting of it had eased substantially. I continued to pray, to lay my pain on God.
A few minutes later, I was eating a beautiful Sunday lunch with my family and I was PRESENT.
I wasn't obsessing or angry or seeking vindication or validation. I was okay, really okay... not pretending okay.
I still wish I was the kind of person who wasn't HIT by comments like that. What she said really had nothing to do with me at all, AT ALL. It wasn't a direct or malicious comment.
That evening, I checked my phone and saw two facebook messages and one text -all from women who had been there. None of the messages were filled with hate or gossip, only appreciation.
One simply said, "Thanks for your vulnerable question today."
I checked when it had been sent -it was sent in the middle of class. Like the woman next to me who held my back, this sweet woman "held my back" by reaching out and sending me a message as fast as she possibly could.
I smiled at her message and went to my step 4 inventory -something I'm looking over again. I added, "vulnerability" to my assets. What a crazy asset.
On one side of the coin, I can experience deep connections with amazing women -amazing! The women in my close life are deeply incredible women.
On facebook one day, I reached out because the day was sucky. Not horrible or the worst day ever, but just truly a dumb, dumb day. The responses I got were hilarious. Seriously.
My friends posted memes and jokes that just made me smile and laugh out loud! There was one or two "fixy" comments, but overall, my heart just burst. Someone commented, "you have the best friends."
I DO! I truly do! My friends are all ready to handle REAL, and they WANT REAL. They treasure it and place high value on things that matter (like cat memes, fur real).
The women who messaged me were all women I really admire. That fact alone validated my vulnerability -it attracts really gorgeous souls.
On the other side of the coin is this horribly painful feeling that maybe I'm walking around the earth wearing nothing. Except my weaknesses. People often say things without meaning to hurt, but because I have little armor on, I feel the full WHAM-O.
But guess what?
Guess what?
God is ready to take that WHAM-O. I can sit and lick it... and I have done that before. I probably will again sometime. But yesterday was a victory. A recovery victory.
One of the women present in the same class said, "If the work I do in my head were somehow visible... like if the work my mind does in one day was represented by a garden that people could see, I think they would be amazed."
Oh, yeah. Isn't that the truth?
Recovery is like that too. I work it, but there isn't anything visible really -I mean my house is trashed and my 3 year old daughter carts her toy phone around and whispers, "Shhhh, I'm in a meeting."
It feels defeating most days. Like, "what am I even doing?!?!"
But Sunday was a big pay off day.
I didn't camp out in victim.
I wasn't able to remember exact words I felt were aimed at me (I usually remember PERFECTLY).
I reached out to God first.
I prayed.
I LET GO.
I enjoyed the rest of the day.
I connected deeply to women I admire because of my vulnerability.
When my husband asked how my class had gone, I told him, but I struggled to remember exactly what had happened. I remembered what I'd learned... and that made me laugh.
"It works when I work it," I chuckled, quoting from the s-anon script.
I did get a text from the woman who made the *zing* comment, apologizing if she'd offended me. I told her no, that I was fine.
Then I erased it and said, "it did sting."
Because I added something else to my inventory that day: I lie to avoid confrontation sometimes.
Self-discovery is an adventure, ladies. It's a journey of owning up, of saying, "God, that wouldn't have hurt if I wasn't reacting from a place of pride... take this pain and forgive my pride."
Today in group, we read Step 3. I had never noticed that in Step 3, it refers to trying to handle everything myself as slavery.
SLAVERY!
How true that is! Self-inflicted slavery of the rottenest kind.
But God has offered me glorious freedom from the captivity of my own mind.
I need only choose it.
I don't always.
But Sunday, I did. And that is a victory worth appreciating.
Did your teeth just clench a little? Mine did. A lot of ladies can sometimes feel very, very daunting. I usually come away going, "I'm so glad I did that" but there have been a few times where I've walked away going, "NEVER AGAIN." Those few bad experiences seem to have a pretty strong effect, unfortunately.
As I listened to the teacher talk about how prone women are to comparing themselves to each other, I felt a question creep up. I didn't want to ask it for several reasons.
#1) In the past, I have worked hard to SAY THE RIGHT THINGS... not to enrich but to show how good I was. I wanted people to think I was a good person because if they thought I was, then I was. The opinions of others were my God, of sorts. I was a slave, self-made.
#2) I didn't want to hi-jack the lesson. I know what it's like to teach and have a lesson derailed by a questions.
#3) It was vulnerable.
I prayed and checked my motivations, asking God if I should ask... I felt that I should, so I did.
"A few weeks ago, I had a friend visit. Our personalities were different and our gifts are different, and for the first time in my life I felt enriched and inspired by her. Usually, I feel threatened when other women shine in their gifts, as if something is wrong with me. I'd love to hear from some more experienced sisters what helps them? What tools they employ in situations where another woman is shining and they start to feel threatened or worthless?"
Immediately, the woman sitting in front of me reached back and touched my knee, lending sweet support which I really appreciated. I think I know the answer here, but I felt I should ask. Being teachable is important to me, and I'm not very good at it.
One woman shared her experience studying different personality types, how understanding HOW and WHY people are different helps her when people who are different from her rub her wrong.
I have found a lot of help studying this as well -I don't want to work Step 4 for others, but it has been VERY helpful to study the strengths and weaknesses of different personality types. I often find myself nodding at God and going, "This all makes sense. You put all kinds of people together to life and strengthen each other... it's perfect and beautiful. We're all one, but we are all different. Amazing."
Then came the *zing*.
One woman shared her own experience and while I can't remember the exact words, I do remember the exact feeling. She said it hadn't been her experience to feel threatened or intimidated by other women shining... ever. She only ever felt inspired by other woman as they shone.
As she spoke I felt pretty, well, dumb. Broken. Not enough. Very, very dumb.
The woman sitting next to me sat up straighter, as if in a sort of panic and immediately reached for my back, holding it. Maybe she was hoping to shield me? I don't know. I do know that she felt the blow with me.
Another woman shared, through tears, how finding her own divinity -her own self-worth -was vital in her journey... that comparing herself and feeling not enough was something she struggled heavily with, but when she focused only on her own stuff, everything else fell into place.
A fourth woman shared how she employs gratitude, how grateful she is for women who help her teach her children... some women can reach her children in ways she can't, and how grateful she is for them.
A few minutes later, I had to leave the class. It hadn't ended yet, but I had something at my house that needed attention. I wasn't too sad about leaving. The brave thing would have been to STAY and FACE it all, but I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked down the empty hallway toward the parking lot.
In my truck, I reached for my phone. Who could I call? Who? I needed to vent. I stopped my hand in mid-air. Another thing I struggle with is relying on others instead of God. I pulled my hand back and started praying out loud.
"God, that hurt. Not lethal. But it hurt. Am I just thoroughly broken? Unworthy of JUST GETTING OVER IT? I even wish I was above being hurt by something so petty. Am I just not resilient? Okay, okay, okay... even now, I comparing myself. The ladies all had so much to share, and if I take what they say... studying personality types, finding inspiration, finding gratitude, practicing developing my self-worth and cultivating divinity... okay, okay... There's a sort of path in all that, right? There's something..."
I tapped my steering wheel as I turned onto my road, "If I find self-worth and root myself in my identity as a Daughter of God, then I can practice gratitude for the gifts of others. With that gratitude I can move into curiosity and begin to study others as they shine, appreciate what their gifts contribute to the whole, to the community, see them as children of God as well. Then I could see inspiration coming."
Everything fell into place.
I still felt pain, but the sting of it had eased substantially. I continued to pray, to lay my pain on God.
A few minutes later, I was eating a beautiful Sunday lunch with my family and I was PRESENT.
I wasn't obsessing or angry or seeking vindication or validation. I was okay, really okay... not pretending okay.
I still wish I was the kind of person who wasn't HIT by comments like that. What she said really had nothing to do with me at all, AT ALL. It wasn't a direct or malicious comment.
That evening, I checked my phone and saw two facebook messages and one text -all from women who had been there. None of the messages were filled with hate or gossip, only appreciation.
One simply said, "Thanks for your vulnerable question today."
I checked when it had been sent -it was sent in the middle of class. Like the woman next to me who held my back, this sweet woman "held my back" by reaching out and sending me a message as fast as she possibly could.
I smiled at her message and went to my step 4 inventory -something I'm looking over again. I added, "vulnerability" to my assets. What a crazy asset.
On one side of the coin, I can experience deep connections with amazing women -amazing! The women in my close life are deeply incredible women.
On facebook one day, I reached out because the day was sucky. Not horrible or the worst day ever, but just truly a dumb, dumb day. The responses I got were hilarious. Seriously.
My friends posted memes and jokes that just made me smile and laugh out loud! There was one or two "fixy" comments, but overall, my heart just burst. Someone commented, "you have the best friends."
I DO! I truly do! My friends are all ready to handle REAL, and they WANT REAL. They treasure it and place high value on things that matter (like cat memes, fur real).
The women who messaged me were all women I really admire. That fact alone validated my vulnerability -it attracts really gorgeous souls.
On the other side of the coin is this horribly painful feeling that maybe I'm walking around the earth wearing nothing. Except my weaknesses. People often say things without meaning to hurt, but because I have little armor on, I feel the full WHAM-O.
But guess what?
Guess what?
God is ready to take that WHAM-O. I can sit and lick it... and I have done that before. I probably will again sometime. But yesterday was a victory. A recovery victory.
One of the women present in the same class said, "If the work I do in my head were somehow visible... like if the work my mind does in one day was represented by a garden that people could see, I think they would be amazed."
Oh, yeah. Isn't that the truth?
Recovery is like that too. I work it, but there isn't anything visible really -I mean my house is trashed and my 3 year old daughter carts her toy phone around and whispers, "Shhhh, I'm in a meeting."
It feels defeating most days. Like, "what am I even doing?!?!"
But Sunday was a big pay off day.
I didn't camp out in victim.
I wasn't able to remember exact words I felt were aimed at me (I usually remember PERFECTLY).
I reached out to God first.
I prayed.
I LET GO.
I enjoyed the rest of the day.
I connected deeply to women I admire because of my vulnerability.
When my husband asked how my class had gone, I told him, but I struggled to remember exactly what had happened. I remembered what I'd learned... and that made me laugh.
"It works when I work it," I chuckled, quoting from the s-anon script.
I did get a text from the woman who made the *zing* comment, apologizing if she'd offended me. I told her no, that I was fine.
Then I erased it and said, "it did sting."
Because I added something else to my inventory that day: I lie to avoid confrontation sometimes.
Self-discovery is an adventure, ladies. It's a journey of owning up, of saying, "God, that wouldn't have hurt if I wasn't reacting from a place of pride... take this pain and forgive my pride."
Today in group, we read Step 3. I had never noticed that in Step 3, it refers to trying to handle everything myself as slavery.
SLAVERY!
How true that is! Self-inflicted slavery of the rottenest kind.
But God has offered me glorious freedom from the captivity of my own mind.
I need only choose it.
I don't always.
But Sunday, I did. And that is a victory worth appreciating.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Return to Sanity
In our online group meeting this week, we read Step 2. One of the questions that follows reads:
The opposite of sanity is, in my own world, the place I go to where every other thought is the thought every spouse of an addict is familiar with:
In that place, I am blocked. I can not hear my own gut -my put-there-by-God-and-filled-with-His-truth-and-light Intelligence -and everything begins to blur and swirl. I short, everything feels like the way life looks when I take my contacts out and lose all sense of sight (except colors!) and depth perception.
Without the aid and help of lenses, I am legally blind my friends.
I went there this last week. In that place, I was triggered more frequently and powerfully. I was emotionally edgy, physically tense. It occurred to me at one point that this state used to be my NORMALCY.
And I felt a little hope in that -as if what used to be my Standard Mode of Operations was now a sort of Lights Flashing, Sirens Blaring State of Emergency.
That's a sign of healing, right?
I know I'm in that painful place when I can not hear what I need. I'm indecisive, scared, and anxious.
I recently finished reading a James Allen book, and I found therein a gem that has become a sort of imagery mantra for me (is that a thing? Imagery mantra?... Something I picture in my mind when I feel like I'm crazy?)
A return to sanity is, for me, being able to hear myself.
It's finding and tapping into that depth Allen speaks of -it's a vibrant canyon for me, filled with everything God created to give me... in his own words from D&C 59:
Walking in that canyon at peace with God, climbing and hiking the up and the downs while the world above whirls with drama, intrigue, and dark storms of every kind.
It's my figurative happy place. I can tap into it now and then, and I hope to someday set up camp there.
I hope to live within it eventually, as Frankl once found freedom from outer bondage within. This life feels so binding, doesn't it?
I feel so limited in what I can do with the little knowledge I have... I feel the world beyond is filled with rich treasures of knowledge and wisdom. This life is a life of bondage where we are called on to tap into the freedom that abides in the one place that carries heaven with it: our intelligence within.
It is our safe haven, and it can not be taken from us from any outward perpetrator unless we grant access.
Or unless we've been blessed with PTSD (or other mental illnesses) in which case, we've become victims of thievery of the absolute worst kind: Thievery of our inner selves.
The good news is we can reclaimed or be reclaimed through God.
And THAT, to me, is what a return to sanity to looks like... it's the return of what's been taken -my peace, my serenity, my voice, my worth, my ability to see myself and hear myself and honor that which manifests itself within.
I bring that manifestation going on within... WITH-OUT and THAT. THAT is my return to sanity.
I speak up for my safety, set a boundary, remind myself that I am worthy of other people's time (a nod here to a great friend who spoke this truth to me and changed my perspective -you know who you are!) and SO REACH OUT. I pray before, during and after. I take any glimmer of voice coming from within and obey what it tells me: a walk, a yoga session, a few more hours without my contacts in, moving a picture in the house, taking off the pants that don't fit right, eating something that came from God's Good Earth (My Playground), taking time to put my bare feet in the grass, taking time to rehearse an affirmation:
I am confident.
I walk with my back straight.
I look others in the eye.
I am enough.
I have nothing to hide.
I do not fear my story being uncovered.
I walk with God.
I am light.
I am joy.
I am truth unfurled.
Without God, this is not possible, for it IS God who speaks to me from within.
What does it mean to be restored to sanity?
The opposite of sanity is, in my own world, the place I go to where every other thought is the thought every spouse of an addict is familiar with:
Am I crazy?
In that place, I am blocked. I can not hear my own gut -my put-there-by-God-and-filled-with-His-truth-and-light Intelligence -and everything begins to blur and swirl. I short, everything feels like the way life looks when I take my contacts out and lose all sense of sight (except colors!) and depth perception.
Without the aid and help of lenses, I am legally blind my friends.
I went there this last week. In that place, I was triggered more frequently and powerfully. I was emotionally edgy, physically tense. It occurred to me at one point that this state used to be my NORMALCY.
And I felt a little hope in that -as if what used to be my Standard Mode of Operations was now a sort of Lights Flashing, Sirens Blaring State of Emergency.
That's a sign of healing, right?
I know I'm in that painful place when I can not hear what I need. I'm indecisive, scared, and anxious.
I recently finished reading a James Allen book, and I found therein a gem that has become a sort of imagery mantra for me (is that a thing? Imagery mantra?... Something I picture in my mind when I feel like I'm crazy?)
It's finding and tapping into that depth Allen speaks of -it's a vibrant canyon for me, filled with everything God created to give me... in his own words from D&C 59:
18)Yea, all things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please the eye and to gladden the heart;
19) Yea, for food and for raiment, for taste and for smell, to strengthen the body and to enliven the soul.
Walking in that canyon at peace with God, climbing and hiking the up and the downs while the world above whirls with drama, intrigue, and dark storms of every kind.
It's my figurative happy place. I can tap into it now and then, and I hope to someday set up camp there.
I hope to live within it eventually, as Frankl once found freedom from outer bondage within. This life feels so binding, doesn't it?
It is our safe haven, and it can not be taken from us from any outward perpetrator unless we grant access.
Or unless we've been blessed with PTSD (or other mental illnesses) in which case, we've become victims of thievery of the absolute worst kind: Thievery of our inner selves.
The good news is we can reclaimed or be reclaimed through God.
And THAT, to me, is what a return to sanity to looks like... it's the return of what's been taken -my peace, my serenity, my voice, my worth, my ability to see myself and hear myself and honor that which manifests itself within.
I bring that manifestation going on within... WITH-OUT and THAT. THAT is my return to sanity.
I speak up for my safety, set a boundary, remind myself that I am worthy of other people's time (a nod here to a great friend who spoke this truth to me and changed my perspective -you know who you are!) and SO REACH OUT. I pray before, during and after. I take any glimmer of voice coming from within and obey what it tells me: a walk, a yoga session, a few more hours without my contacts in, moving a picture in the house, taking off the pants that don't fit right, eating something that came from God's Good Earth (My Playground), taking time to put my bare feet in the grass, taking time to rehearse an affirmation:
I am confident.
I walk with my back straight.
I look others in the eye.
I am enough.
I have nothing to hide.
I do not fear my story being uncovered.
I walk with God.
I am light.
I am joy.
I am truth unfurled.
Without God, this is not possible, for it IS God who speaks to me from within.
God is my sanity, and I am his treasure.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
The Third Person
Inside of my marriage there is a personage, and that personage IS the marriage.
When I was first married, I was smitten with it. I'd spent months in preparation -reading magazines (because there was no Pinterest in '04) and dreaming up JUST WHAT KIND OF MARRIAGE I WOULD HAVE. My wedding seemed so far away and so close, my emotions climbed all sorts of scales I didn't know existed. Suddenly everyone around me looked married or engaged and all the world existed ONLY for that purpose.
Those early days were bliss and laughter, movies and sleeping in.
But the older the marriage got, I started noticing a few things that were off. I wondered if other marriages were off too, if maybe my marriage was actually completely normal.
I sometimes fantasized about asking other newlyweds about the hidden, intimate parts of their marriage, just so I could know if my marriage was okay. I WANTED to believe it was okay... but I had nothing to compare it to.
I read books about marriage. I held my marriage up to the marital situations in the books and wondered if my marriage needed more books? or less books?
Surely not counseling. Because only REALLY SICK MARRIAGES need counseling. And ours -though maybe MAYBE off a little LITTLE -was most definitely not grouped into the "really sick" category. In that, I was certain. Stiffed, starched collar certain.
The years paced on, and as they did I found out that our marriage was most definitely off. I found I had no voice, or maybe I did and was petrified to use it? The capable young woman I once was became replaced with a fear-ridden woman who asked for permission about most everything.
I watched other marriages around me and realized that the women had these incredible voices that they used to spend money on household things without asking permission and their husbands were okay with it -proud of them, even! I watched them buy clothes for their family and make decisions like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Watching it all go down around me, I realized -YES -the problem was ME. I needed to make decisions more and better! I needed to be more and better! I bought MORE BOOKS!
And when the books failed me and when my advice-sources failed me (I'm looking at you, Google), I grabbed my marriage and I took it to the hospital. I put it in bed. I cared for it carefully, worried about it by night.
When I'd ask my husband if he were interested in coming to the hospital with me, he insisted that our marriage didn't need THAT kind of help. So I'd watch him from the window of the hospital room.
No one knew how sick the marriage was.
I had a few healthy friends who I allowed in the hospital room. In a hushed voice, I'd tell them the truth. I'd tell them honestly about my marriage.
My therapist assured me that I was in the right place. I was definitely in the right place.
My sponsor assured me that I was in the right place.
But it felt REALLY wrong without Danny.
What a watch-keep I kept, ever lonely, ever longing. I couldn't listen to music without wanting to break something. I felt beauty and beautiful things were made for happier, healthier people and white, sterilized life was all I deserved.
I existed in that life for my marriage. It didn't respond to treatment. If anything, it only became worse.
I held out hope, as I'd always been taught.
Those who were allowed into my room said the same thing, "It's going to get worse before it gets better. I'm so sorry."
I felt deflated but strappingly hopeful. I was capable of hard things. I grit my teeth. I oiled my knuckles.
But just as my external environment had let me down, so did my own capabilities. My books let me down easy. It was easy to blame them and hate them for not giving desired results. But when I couldn't give me desired results? THAT IS PAIN.
I left the hospital and went to the prettiest place I know of: the graveyard. I sat on a bench that somehow landed in view of BOTH my great-grandmothers' graves and I cried.
WHAT NOW?
WHERE NOW?
WHY? WHY NOW?
I didn't walk back into the hospital room with my marriage. I couldn't. The entire room reeked of stale hope, fool-hearty aspirations.
I simply went to my husband and told him, "I'm done." It wasn't within me to sit with a dying patient anymore. I had taken all I could.
To my utter and complete surprise, he panicked, turned and RAN to the hospital. I was at an utter loss -I had assumed he wasn't invested in the marriage. But he took my place. He breathed in the stale hope while I built an ice castle on the side of a hill and uncovered my super powers... and let them go.
I took my wedding ring off. I meditated. I wrote. I ate a lot of stuff I shouldn't have. I cried. I prayed. I burned. I redecorated. I laughed. I talked a lot. I made new friends. I connected with old friends. I ordered a ukulele.
My husband would visit sometimes. He kept me updated on the marriage, though I had lost interest. At times, a spark of hope would bounce around in my chest cavity just long enough for me to detect and wreck it.
No hope.
Hope is not safe.
"Walls," I would tell my chest cavity as I set plaster in the hole the spark left, "Walls are safe."
Still. Every visit from my husband brought more sparks, and my plaster supply ran lower all the time.
Still. Hope proved to be a strong-willed invisible creature with the power to overwhelm cynicism. It was -as it's sparks so easily proved -downright fiery.
In my castle on the hill, I found Jesus. At first, Jesus was all mush and cush -total and complete and unconditional love. But I noticed He came with a few rules that weren't totally mush. And as I read about Him and walked with Him, I realized that Jesus is a little scary because He is assertive about my salvation and I have NO IDEA how to handle assertive people. They scare me. And Jesus was very scary.
I found hope to be exactly like Jesus -because really? Hope and Jesus are one in the same.
And they are -in a word -fierce.
Jesus walked with me as I left the ice castle. He walked with me down the hill. He walked with me into the hospital room.
I was glad He was there. I needed Him for the shock.
THE PATIENT I LEFT WASN'T THERE.
I mean, my marriage WAS THERE. But it looked all... different.
I decided to stick around and discover what the different meant, but I resolved that if the patient were different than so ought the room to be.
Windows were flung open, color was added to every white wall. I opened the door and banned any hushed voicing.
And that's where I am right now.
In that room, trying to reacquaint myself with my marriage.
Some people stop by to visit who don't understand how sick the marriage is or what it's been through and they have all the answers.
"Don't torture yourself," they say, "take it off life support or take it home but STOP torturing yourself."
Those people don't get to come back and visit.
"I've been in this room," some guests will say, "Just remember who you are. Be as gentle to yourself as you are true." Those people get VIP treatment.
Jesus comes every time I ask Him to.
He is still fierce and loving, still the most masculine man I've ever met -still the most fascinating. Still my favorite guest.
Some professionals come. Some neighbors come. The kids come, the eldest aware of the sick patient. The middle child aware of the snacks on the table. The toddler a bundle of bliss and energy to every guest she touches -including the patient.
Some well-meaning guest try to shuffle visitors past our door, telling them it's none of their business, it's a "behind closed doors" situation... they take our pain personally and try -in a way they view as compassionate and a way I understand well because I've been there -to control what they can.
I have to ask them to leave. I point to #5 on the board where I've written the rules.
1) Be honest
2) Be loving
3) Be true
4) Hug
5) No hushed voices
My patient is healing.
Because I am healing.
Because Danny is healing.
But not before.
It really IS The Third Person, saddled with hopes, dreams and love. I mourn for it, as I have departed friends. I sacrifice for it. I pray for it, fast for it, invest in it, cry myself to sleep over it.
It is as real to me. It is almost tangible.
Even Jesus died for it as He did for me, as He did for Danny.
And if I hold Christ close WHILE Danny holds Christ close, there is hope for the marriage.
And just as a mother sits over the bed of her sick child, just as a husband refuses to leave the room of his comatose wife, SO WILL WE STAY.
Why?
Because hope.
With our hands enfolded in Christ's, hope springs forth -lighting the entire room aflame.
Take THAT off life support? You must be mad.
This refining fire is MINE.
With Christ, I will stride forward each day -one day at a time -and I will stay the course, knowing that Christ will never fail me.
Never, no never.
Should Danny choose to let go, I know Christ never shall.
Corrie Ten Boom says, "I have learned to hold all things loosely, so God will not have to pry them out of my hand."
So I endevour daily to hand my will, my husband and my marriage to Christ. They are safer there.
I am safer there too.
The flames of Christ's hope encircle me, and I am secure.
When I was first married, I was smitten with it. I'd spent months in preparation -reading magazines (because there was no Pinterest in '04) and dreaming up JUST WHAT KIND OF MARRIAGE I WOULD HAVE. My wedding seemed so far away and so close, my emotions climbed all sorts of scales I didn't know existed. Suddenly everyone around me looked married or engaged and all the world existed ONLY for that purpose.
Those early days were bliss and laughter, movies and sleeping in.
But the older the marriage got, I started noticing a few things that were off. I wondered if other marriages were off too, if maybe my marriage was actually completely normal.
I sometimes fantasized about asking other newlyweds about the hidden, intimate parts of their marriage, just so I could know if my marriage was okay. I WANTED to believe it was okay... but I had nothing to compare it to.
I read books about marriage. I held my marriage up to the marital situations in the books and wondered if my marriage needed more books? or less books?
Surely not counseling. Because only REALLY SICK MARRIAGES need counseling. And ours -though maybe MAYBE off a little LITTLE -was most definitely not grouped into the "really sick" category. In that, I was certain. Stiffed, starched collar certain.
The years paced on, and as they did I found out that our marriage was most definitely off. I found I had no voice, or maybe I did and was petrified to use it? The capable young woman I once was became replaced with a fear-ridden woman who asked for permission about most everything.
I watched other marriages around me and realized that the women had these incredible voices that they used to spend money on household things without asking permission and their husbands were okay with it -proud of them, even! I watched them buy clothes for their family and make decisions like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Watching it all go down around me, I realized -YES -the problem was ME. I needed to make decisions more and better! I needed to be more and better! I bought MORE BOOKS!
And when the books failed me and when my advice-sources failed me (I'm looking at you, Google), I grabbed my marriage and I took it to the hospital. I put it in bed. I cared for it carefully, worried about it by night.
When I'd ask my husband if he were interested in coming to the hospital with me, he insisted that our marriage didn't need THAT kind of help. So I'd watch him from the window of the hospital room.
No one knew how sick the marriage was.
I had a few healthy friends who I allowed in the hospital room. In a hushed voice, I'd tell them the truth. I'd tell them honestly about my marriage.
My therapist assured me that I was in the right place. I was definitely in the right place.
My sponsor assured me that I was in the right place.
But it felt REALLY wrong without Danny.
What a watch-keep I kept, ever lonely, ever longing. I couldn't listen to music without wanting to break something. I felt beauty and beautiful things were made for happier, healthier people and white, sterilized life was all I deserved.
I existed in that life for my marriage. It didn't respond to treatment. If anything, it only became worse.
I held out hope, as I'd always been taught.
Those who were allowed into my room said the same thing, "It's going to get worse before it gets better. I'm so sorry."
I felt deflated but strappingly hopeful. I was capable of hard things. I grit my teeth. I oiled my knuckles.
But just as my external environment had let me down, so did my own capabilities. My books let me down easy. It was easy to blame them and hate them for not giving desired results. But when I couldn't give me desired results? THAT IS PAIN.
I left the hospital and went to the prettiest place I know of: the graveyard. I sat on a bench that somehow landed in view of BOTH my great-grandmothers' graves and I cried.
WHAT NOW?
WHERE NOW?
WHY? WHY NOW?
I didn't walk back into the hospital room with my marriage. I couldn't. The entire room reeked of stale hope, fool-hearty aspirations.
I simply went to my husband and told him, "I'm done." It wasn't within me to sit with a dying patient anymore. I had taken all I could.
To my utter and complete surprise, he panicked, turned and RAN to the hospital. I was at an utter loss -I had assumed he wasn't invested in the marriage. But he took my place. He breathed in the stale hope while I built an ice castle on the side of a hill and uncovered my super powers... and let them go.
I took my wedding ring off. I meditated. I wrote. I ate a lot of stuff I shouldn't have. I cried. I prayed. I burned. I redecorated. I laughed. I talked a lot. I made new friends. I connected with old friends. I ordered a ukulele.
My husband would visit sometimes. He kept me updated on the marriage, though I had lost interest. At times, a spark of hope would bounce around in my chest cavity just long enough for me to detect and wreck it.
No hope.
Hope is not safe.
"Walls," I would tell my chest cavity as I set plaster in the hole the spark left, "Walls are safe."
Still. Every visit from my husband brought more sparks, and my plaster supply ran lower all the time.
Still. Hope proved to be a strong-willed invisible creature with the power to overwhelm cynicism. It was -as it's sparks so easily proved -downright fiery.
In my castle on the hill, I found Jesus. At first, Jesus was all mush and cush -total and complete and unconditional love. But I noticed He came with a few rules that weren't totally mush. And as I read about Him and walked with Him, I realized that Jesus is a little scary because He is assertive about my salvation and I have NO IDEA how to handle assertive people. They scare me. And Jesus was very scary.
I found hope to be exactly like Jesus -because really? Hope and Jesus are one in the same.
And they are -in a word -fierce.
Jesus walked with me as I left the ice castle. He walked with me down the hill. He walked with me into the hospital room.
I was glad He was there. I needed Him for the shock.
THE PATIENT I LEFT WASN'T THERE.
I mean, my marriage WAS THERE. But it looked all... different.
I decided to stick around and discover what the different meant, but I resolved that if the patient were different than so ought the room to be.
Windows were flung open, color was added to every white wall. I opened the door and banned any hushed voicing.
And that's where I am right now.
In that room, trying to reacquaint myself with my marriage.
Some people stop by to visit who don't understand how sick the marriage is or what it's been through and they have all the answers.
"Don't torture yourself," they say, "take it off life support or take it home but STOP torturing yourself."
Those people don't get to come back and visit.
"I've been in this room," some guests will say, "Just remember who you are. Be as gentle to yourself as you are true." Those people get VIP treatment.
Jesus comes every time I ask Him to.
He is still fierce and loving, still the most masculine man I've ever met -still the most fascinating. Still my favorite guest.
Some professionals come. Some neighbors come. The kids come, the eldest aware of the sick patient. The middle child aware of the snacks on the table. The toddler a bundle of bliss and energy to every guest she touches -including the patient.
Some well-meaning guest try to shuffle visitors past our door, telling them it's none of their business, it's a "behind closed doors" situation... they take our pain personally and try -in a way they view as compassionate and a way I understand well because I've been there -to control what they can.
I have to ask them to leave. I point to #5 on the board where I've written the rules.
1) Be honest
2) Be loving
3) Be true
4) Hug
5) No hushed voices
My patient is healing.
Because I am healing.
Because Danny is healing.
But not before.
It really IS The Third Person, saddled with hopes, dreams and love. I mourn for it, as I have departed friends. I sacrifice for it. I pray for it, fast for it, invest in it, cry myself to sleep over it.
It is as real to me. It is almost tangible.
Even Jesus died for it as He did for me, as He did for Danny.
And if I hold Christ close WHILE Danny holds Christ close, there is hope for the marriage.
And just as a mother sits over the bed of her sick child, just as a husband refuses to leave the room of his comatose wife, SO WILL WE STAY.
Why?
Because hope.
With our hands enfolded in Christ's, hope springs forth -lighting the entire room aflame.
Take THAT off life support? You must be mad.
This refining fire is MINE.
With Christ, I will stride forward each day -one day at a time -and I will stay the course, knowing that Christ will never fail me.
Never, no never.
Should Danny choose to let go, I know Christ never shall.
Corrie Ten Boom says, "I have learned to hold all things loosely, so God will not have to pry them out of my hand."
So I endevour daily to hand my will, my husband and my marriage to Christ. They are safer there.
I am safer there too.
The flames of Christ's hope encircle me, and I am secure.
Monday, March 9, 2015
From Within
Everything came from without during those dark, star-guided days. My circumstances were my master, others were my Gods.
Any strong answer I had well up from inside was only accepted if my Gods stamped their approval on it.
"Don't have sex right now," my insides would scream, "Please, please stop." So to counseling I would go, to the phone, to the masses!
Is it okay for me NOT to have sex right now? I'd ask.
Fear was my constant companion, my guiding star.
Through it all, I was terrified that I would lose my husband.
I was terrified of losing the person who had hurt me, broken my heart and trust, betrayed me and abused me.
So why? Why was I scared?
Because Danny was God. Losing Danny meant -in my life and mind -that I would lose the one thing in my life that mattered most. Danny had my heart fully. I thought about him everyday. I wanted -above all -to please him, to make sure he was happy and do his will... even if it meant giving up my own.
I couldn't fathom a world without Danny, without having a marriage with him intact.
But God is a jealous God. He desires Alicia.
Today, boys and girls, I have NO CLUE if my marriage will last. I don't know if I will get divorced. I don't know if someone else will raise my children. I don't know if Danny will relapse or cheat on me or die in the line of duty. I have no clue when it comes to my relationship with any mortal human.
I
Will
Be
Okay.
I have taken a stand I didn't believe I was allowed to take -I stood up to Danny and told him I could not live with him if there was no recovery. That was risky. I put my marriage on the line FOR MYSELF. I realized after one harrowing day of mistreatment that Danny -though important and worthy of love -WAS NOT MY GOD.
My God Hunger had tried for years be filled with Danny which isn't fair to God, Danny or Alicia. When I began taking my soul appetite to righteousness (it's all very "Blessed are those who do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled") and filling it with GOD HIMSELF, I began to bask in the freedom that comes with leaving the past with the Savior and the future in the hands of God.
Will my marriage be okay?
Who knows.
Will I be okay?
Definitely.
My God is loving, constant, aware, prepared, all-knowing and He WILL NOT FAIL ME. He will not leave me. He will not betray me, control or manipulate me.
God did not want me in my marriage as it was. He was NOT okay with the conditions, the absence of safety and the dysfunction because both Danny and I are better than what we were perpetuating.
Danny rationalized his addiction just as much as I rationalized his behavior.
God desired me -He wanted me to see myself, to start me on the path of living, of becoming who I would be.
I am His. We are intimately connected in a way no mortal can play-out. Ours is a transcendent love -ratting the cages of fear and glaring light into the darkest corners of shame.
God touches my center, and I can do all things. I learn, I seek. Calmness settles on me, and I become sensitive to it's absence. My anxiety is quieted.
I am free from abuse.
I have the answers to my life's questions within.
I have the capacity to change.
I am an agent unto myself.
And so I row into the Sun today, and we talk about life's daily duties. We talk about my failures and we talk about my victories and in the calm chapel of nature, God's presence envelopes me.
He desires YOU.
He will not fail.
If Fear is your guiding star, remember The Sun -don't sacrifice an internal, eternal summer for starry darkness.
Any strong answer I had well up from inside was only accepted if my Gods stamped their approval on it.
"Don't have sex right now," my insides would scream, "Please, please stop." So to counseling I would go, to the phone, to the masses!
Is it okay for me NOT to have sex right now? I'd ask.
Fear was my constant companion, my guiding star.
Through it all, I was terrified that I would lose my husband.
I was terrified of losing the person who had hurt me, broken my heart and trust, betrayed me and abused me.
So why? Why was I scared?
Because Danny was God. Losing Danny meant -in my life and mind -that I would lose the one thing in my life that mattered most. Danny had my heart fully. I thought about him everyday. I wanted -above all -to please him, to make sure he was happy and do his will... even if it meant giving up my own.
I couldn't fathom a world without Danny, without having a marriage with him intact.
But God is a jealous God. He desires Alicia.
Today, boys and girls, I have NO CLUE if my marriage will last. I don't know if I will get divorced. I don't know if someone else will raise my children. I don't know if Danny will relapse or cheat on me or die in the line of duty. I have no clue when it comes to my relationship with any mortal human.
BUT OF MYSELF I CAN SAY FOR CERTAIN: I will be okay.
I
Will
Be
Okay.
I have taken a stand I didn't believe I was allowed to take -I stood up to Danny and told him I could not live with him if there was no recovery. That was risky. I put my marriage on the line FOR MYSELF. I realized after one harrowing day of mistreatment that Danny -though important and worthy of love -WAS NOT MY GOD.
My God Hunger had tried for years be filled with Danny which isn't fair to God, Danny or Alicia. When I began taking my soul appetite to righteousness (it's all very "Blessed are those who do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled") and filling it with GOD HIMSELF, I began to bask in the freedom that comes with leaving the past with the Savior and the future in the hands of God.
Will my marriage be okay?
Who knows.
Will I be okay?
Definitely.
My God is loving, constant, aware, prepared, all-knowing and He WILL NOT FAIL ME. He will not leave me. He will not betray me, control or manipulate me.
God did not want me in my marriage as it was. He was NOT okay with the conditions, the absence of safety and the dysfunction because both Danny and I are better than what we were perpetuating.
Danny rationalized his addiction just as much as I rationalized his behavior.
God desired me -He wanted me to see myself, to start me on the path of living, of becoming who I would be.
I am His. We are intimately connected in a way no mortal can play-out. Ours is a transcendent love -ratting the cages of fear and glaring light into the darkest corners of shame.
God touches my center, and I can do all things. I learn, I seek. Calmness settles on me, and I become sensitive to it's absence. My anxiety is quieted.
I am free from abuse.
I have the answers to my life's questions within.
I have the capacity to change.
I am an agent unto myself.
And so I row into the Sun today, and we talk about life's daily duties. We talk about my failures and we talk about my victories and in the calm chapel of nature, God's presence envelopes me.
Please, I plead, my sweet sister -the power to break free from abuse is WITHIN YOU.
God is waiting.He desires YOU.
He will not fail.
If Fear is your guiding star, remember The Sun -don't sacrifice an internal, eternal summer for starry darkness.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)