It is no secret that the impending 10 days will be difficult for me, nor why. But this morning, I was hit with another harsh reality that myself and my husband's family will be facing this holiday.
My sister-in-law is notoriously hard to shop for and she never appears to be happy with anything. Really, she's just not an overtly happy person. As I have done many times in the past, I hopped on my cell phone while I strolled through Macy's. I called my mother-in-law knowing she is my only solid resource when shopping for the family.
Upon answering, I said hello, how are you? and proceeded with small talk. After I explained what I was calling for and asked for suggestions, I was hit with a return question that instantly broke my heart. She said, "Who is this?" Reduced to a blubbering mess, fighting with everything I had to not burst into tears, I answered. "It's me, Monica." The dead silenced prompted me to explain further who I was.
A deep breath from me and I patiently waited while she "searched her brain" to assimilate who I was and remember her daughter's name. The next few minutes of her trying to get through the conversation felt like hours. A return phone call from her about 15 minutes later was much better, but she was still confusing her daughter and granddaughter.
The relationship with my mother-in-law has always been tense, but we can always manage to have kind and even sweet conversations. I have been in and around the family for over 17 years now. This was the first time I had ever had this experience. Before they had caller ID, she always knew who I was. Regardless of the tension, she has always called me one of her kids (even if her actions haven't made me feel like one).
It was a couple months ago, my husband and his brother began talking about how forgetful their mother was becoming. Not only was she becoming more forgetful, but she was beginning to over compensate for something amiss in her life by being incredibly sweet and needy. At Thanksgiving, my husband had to tell her repeatedly what our plans were and often multiple times in the same phone call.
Conversations between my husband, his dad and all his siblings brought us to the consensus that yes...something was wrong. That something has continued to get worse over the past month. And, I certainly wasn't thinking about that when I called her this morning.
I refer to her problem as "something" because there hasn't been any attempts to medically diagnose the problem. The problem could be a multitude of things, but it's looking more and more like Alzheimer's. But there's a general sense of denial about the problem.
After the phone call today, I don't think I can deny it. My heart is breaking over it. I'm not sure I'm ready to witness this firsthand through Christmas. I'm not sure my husband is ready for one more thing right now.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
The First Step
When you have a problem, do you go right to the fixing stage or do you spend time trying to understand why the problem exists before the fixing stage?
My first step is understanding the problem fully. One of my biggest problems lately has been with prayer. I have failed to understand why we do it if God is truly sovereign. If God already knows, why bother discussing it? Much to my surprise, I woke up this morning to a full understanding of why I struggle with this. It's not the solution, but it the first step.
By being in church, this is what I learned by example about prayer:
1. You ask for what you want and if you don't get it immediately, you just keeping asking.
2. The more people you have asking for this specific thing, the more likely it would happen. If enough people weren't asking on your behalf, it might not ever happen.
3. It was ok to ask for whatever you wanted, no matter how outlandish the request might seem...even miracle size.
4. Occasionally, someone might be thankful that one of their requests was fulfilled.
5. The most important request was the first one you made, the request to be forgiven and accepted as a new creation.
Gosh, reading it now...it almost looks like the same thing I've learned from hearing fairy tales of genies that pop out of magic lamps. No wonder I was confused!
A few weeks ago, a very wise woman explained prayer to me in a different way. Ok, it's not genie-esk. Her explanation was that prayer is the relationship with have with God. My interpretation; prayer is a fancy word for just good ole' conversation.
That was easy enough to understand. But why was it still hard to get? Why was a conversation or relationship with God so difficult for me to grasp? And that's what I woke up understanding this morning.
Without a doubt, there are two things I have always struggled with my entire life.
The first is believing the intangible. To me, intangible is make believe and make believe is bad. I wasn't allowed to play as a child, leaving me with an impeded ability to believe what I cannot see, hear, touch, smell or taste. I missed out on those developmental years where creative play, making it almost impossible for me to be ok with the intangible.
The second is relationships. I attribute this problem solely to my childhood. For obvious reasons, my parents didn't foster or encourage relationships with anyone. I think what's worse is that they didn't have a relationship with me, at least not one which would be considered anything close to ok to mimic with others.
It isn't that I haven't ever had relationships with anyone, I have. I have been with my husband for 17 years. I have one friend that I have been close to for 13 years. I now have several friendships that have been established since I've been in church. Honestly, I attribute the success of those relationships to the other person. If they hadn't given me patience, understanding and an enormous amount of unreciprocated love, I doubt they would have lasted.
Through trials and time, I have learned that I can have conversations with each of these people. I know most of the time, I hold back. I still have the fear that if I share everything or the really ugly, they will surely leave or judge me. It's just my natural instinct to withhold some information or not allow myself to be fully vulnerable. My husband, who has been with me the longest, would even tell you that getting me to open up to him fully is nearly impossible.
So, I finally understand why I am struggling so much with prayer. From beginning perception to not being ok with the intangible and dysfunctional relationship skills, I understand why it's so difficult for me.
Whew...that was a big first step that took a while to take. Now, how to fix the problem. I think that's going to be more difficult. The comfort of understanding the problem only gets me so far and I don't know what to do next.
My first step is understanding the problem fully. One of my biggest problems lately has been with prayer. I have failed to understand why we do it if God is truly sovereign. If God already knows, why bother discussing it? Much to my surprise, I woke up this morning to a full understanding of why I struggle with this. It's not the solution, but it the first step.
By being in church, this is what I learned by example about prayer:
1. You ask for what you want and if you don't get it immediately, you just keeping asking.
2. The more people you have asking for this specific thing, the more likely it would happen. If enough people weren't asking on your behalf, it might not ever happen.
3. It was ok to ask for whatever you wanted, no matter how outlandish the request might seem...even miracle size.
4. Occasionally, someone might be thankful that one of their requests was fulfilled.
5. The most important request was the first one you made, the request to be forgiven and accepted as a new creation.
Gosh, reading it now...it almost looks like the same thing I've learned from hearing fairy tales of genies that pop out of magic lamps. No wonder I was confused!
A few weeks ago, a very wise woman explained prayer to me in a different way. Ok, it's not genie-esk. Her explanation was that prayer is the relationship with have with God. My interpretation; prayer is a fancy word for just good ole' conversation.
That was easy enough to understand. But why was it still hard to get? Why was a conversation or relationship with God so difficult for me to grasp? And that's what I woke up understanding this morning.
Without a doubt, there are two things I have always struggled with my entire life.
The first is believing the intangible. To me, intangible is make believe and make believe is bad. I wasn't allowed to play as a child, leaving me with an impeded ability to believe what I cannot see, hear, touch, smell or taste. I missed out on those developmental years where creative play, making it almost impossible for me to be ok with the intangible.
The second is relationships. I attribute this problem solely to my childhood. For obvious reasons, my parents didn't foster or encourage relationships with anyone. I think what's worse is that they didn't have a relationship with me, at least not one which would be considered anything close to ok to mimic with others.
It isn't that I haven't ever had relationships with anyone, I have. I have been with my husband for 17 years. I have one friend that I have been close to for 13 years. I now have several friendships that have been established since I've been in church. Honestly, I attribute the success of those relationships to the other person. If they hadn't given me patience, understanding and an enormous amount of unreciprocated love, I doubt they would have lasted.
Through trials and time, I have learned that I can have conversations with each of these people. I know most of the time, I hold back. I still have the fear that if I share everything or the really ugly, they will surely leave or judge me. It's just my natural instinct to withhold some information or not allow myself to be fully vulnerable. My husband, who has been with me the longest, would even tell you that getting me to open up to him fully is nearly impossible.
So, I finally understand why I am struggling so much with prayer. From beginning perception to not being ok with the intangible and dysfunctional relationship skills, I understand why it's so difficult for me.
Whew...that was a big first step that took a while to take. Now, how to fix the problem. I think that's going to be more difficult. The comfort of understanding the problem only gets me so far and I don't know what to do next.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Delayed Reaction
My life seems to always have obscure, off-the-wall things happening. I have learned to just accept it and rarely get too upset. Actually, I think my husband and I both have just accepted that strangeness is part of our unique lives.
There have been times my husband has gotten up to find a goopy mess of sugar, syrup and mustard on the stove. We often go to bed with the house nice and tidy, only to wake up with half of the decorations on the floor and books stacked three foot high in front of the back door. That's just a few of the silly little things that are our normal. Yes, there are some more bizarre rituals but I'll save those for another time.
Tonight I was sharing an experience from last week with a friend. I realized I've become so conditioned to accept the oddities that I forget to be upset when appropriate.
Last week, my husband had left to go work out and I was vegging. I heard the garage door open and possibly close. It wasn't uncommon for my husband to close the door before he walked into the house. He loves to let the dogs run into the garage. Half paying attention and half zoned out, I expected my husband to walk in any time.
The dogs were barking and prancing in circles, just like they would any other time my husband came home. I heard the door open to the kitchen, a very distinctive, squeaky metal turn. Again, the dogs barked and pranced excited. They never growled or acted any differently than normal. I heard the door close and assumed he had gotten sidetracked by something in the garage, still not uncommon.
I thought I heard the garage door once again and was now a bit curious. Instead of getting up, I called my husband. The voices in the background didn't phase me as I asked why he was in the garage. He said he wasn't in the garage, he was still at a friend's house and was five minutes away.
Without hesitation, I went outside the front door and stayed on the phone with my husband until he got home. My thought was at least outside I wouldn't be trapped in a sealed house with a stranger. With no shoes or coat, I could still run to a neighbors house.
My husband was home in minutes and searched every inch of the house. Once he was home, I was calm and had once again chalked up my experience to our bizarre life.
When I told my friend what happened, she reacted with such fear. She said it was scary and was scared for me.
I hadn't thought much about it after walking through the house and finding nobody. But, wow! Truly, it was scary. The idea that someone had nearly walked in my house while I was home alone was scary. Maybe my husband had left the garage door open and maybe it was a neighbor, but I don't think so. Some stranger had opened the door of my little home and threatened my security. Wow! I hadn't really thought about it like that.
Had I felt that fear the night it happened, I would have probably gone straight into anxiety attacks. Since it's been about 10 days, I don't feel that intense anxiety. However, I am re-evaluating my response or lack of to the strange things in my life.
There have been times my husband has gotten up to find a goopy mess of sugar, syrup and mustard on the stove. We often go to bed with the house nice and tidy, only to wake up with half of the decorations on the floor and books stacked three foot high in front of the back door. That's just a few of the silly little things that are our normal. Yes, there are some more bizarre rituals but I'll save those for another time.
Tonight I was sharing an experience from last week with a friend. I realized I've become so conditioned to accept the oddities that I forget to be upset when appropriate.
Last week, my husband had left to go work out and I was vegging. I heard the garage door open and possibly close. It wasn't uncommon for my husband to close the door before he walked into the house. He loves to let the dogs run into the garage. Half paying attention and half zoned out, I expected my husband to walk in any time.
The dogs were barking and prancing in circles, just like they would any other time my husband came home. I heard the door open to the kitchen, a very distinctive, squeaky metal turn. Again, the dogs barked and pranced excited. They never growled or acted any differently than normal. I heard the door close and assumed he had gotten sidetracked by something in the garage, still not uncommon.
I thought I heard the garage door once again and was now a bit curious. Instead of getting up, I called my husband. The voices in the background didn't phase me as I asked why he was in the garage. He said he wasn't in the garage, he was still at a friend's house and was five minutes away.
Without hesitation, I went outside the front door and stayed on the phone with my husband until he got home. My thought was at least outside I wouldn't be trapped in a sealed house with a stranger. With no shoes or coat, I could still run to a neighbors house.
My husband was home in minutes and searched every inch of the house. Once he was home, I was calm and had once again chalked up my experience to our bizarre life.
When I told my friend what happened, she reacted with such fear. She said it was scary and was scared for me.
I hadn't thought much about it after walking through the house and finding nobody. But, wow! Truly, it was scary. The idea that someone had nearly walked in my house while I was home alone was scary. Maybe my husband had left the garage door open and maybe it was a neighbor, but I don't think so. Some stranger had opened the door of my little home and threatened my security. Wow! I hadn't really thought about it like that.
Had I felt that fear the night it happened, I would have probably gone straight into anxiety attacks. Since it's been about 10 days, I don't feel that intense anxiety. However, I am re-evaluating my response or lack of to the strange things in my life.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Tis the Season
I think my fingers needed a vacation from typing the funk of my life. It's not my fingers, it's just the way it is. As the months of the year pass by, I can look at this time of year with full anticipation that it will be hard and that is just the way it is.
My adult life seems to echo a similar theme of disappointment that was so evident as a child.
As a child, you might think the disappointment was concentrated on the gifts or lack of but it wasn't. Even as a child, I knew I desired something more than a trinket wrapped in shiny paper.
Don't get me wrong, not having special memories of Christmas gifts is a part of it. What child, what person doesn't enjoy receiving gifts? When I think about a small child opening empty packages or having nothing under the tree on Christmas morning, my heart breaks. So yes, my heart still breaks for the little me who was deeply scarred by the torment of Christmas.
What's the best part about receiving a gift? For me, it's the unspoken reality that the person giving the gift cares about me. Receiving nothing as a child was a chance for my parents to show me in a very real way that they indeed did not care about me. They said it throughout the year and proved it in big ways during the holidays.
As an adult, the same kind of disappointment settles deep in my heart during the holidays. I've said it before, but it's the time of year that makes me feel most isolated. The disappointment isn't in gifts or even in people. The disappointment is my life.
I watch friends plan and prep for parties with co-workers and friends. Now that I no longer have a job, there's no Christmas party. We (really me) have been unsuccessful in finding a place in any social circle, so there's no party with friends either. I'm also reminded of just how much my previous job filled the void left by my family.
I watch people plan for their children to come home from college or plan every last detail to make their child's Christmas wonderful. People I know are feverishly making plans to go from one celebration to the next, making the most of every minute with family. Even my husband is looking forward to the trip to his parent's house. There's none of that for me.
Literally, everyone around me has something to look forward to as Christmas approaches. Why can't it be that way for me? When will my heart ever be filled with something besides disappointment during Christmas?
I know Christmas is truly about the celebration of the birth of Christ. Most Christians will tell you that the birth of their Savior should be sufficient and there should be no disappointment. I'd say those same people have never gone through a Christmas without a family or knowing that their family doesn't care about them.
My adult life seems to echo a similar theme of disappointment that was so evident as a child.
As a child, you might think the disappointment was concentrated on the gifts or lack of but it wasn't. Even as a child, I knew I desired something more than a trinket wrapped in shiny paper.
Don't get me wrong, not having special memories of Christmas gifts is a part of it. What child, what person doesn't enjoy receiving gifts? When I think about a small child opening empty packages or having nothing under the tree on Christmas morning, my heart breaks. So yes, my heart still breaks for the little me who was deeply scarred by the torment of Christmas.
What's the best part about receiving a gift? For me, it's the unspoken reality that the person giving the gift cares about me. Receiving nothing as a child was a chance for my parents to show me in a very real way that they indeed did not care about me. They said it throughout the year and proved it in big ways during the holidays.
As an adult, the same kind of disappointment settles deep in my heart during the holidays. I've said it before, but it's the time of year that makes me feel most isolated. The disappointment isn't in gifts or even in people. The disappointment is my life.
I watch friends plan and prep for parties with co-workers and friends. Now that I no longer have a job, there's no Christmas party. We (really me) have been unsuccessful in finding a place in any social circle, so there's no party with friends either. I'm also reminded of just how much my previous job filled the void left by my family.
I watch people plan for their children to come home from college or plan every last detail to make their child's Christmas wonderful. People I know are feverishly making plans to go from one celebration to the next, making the most of every minute with family. Even my husband is looking forward to the trip to his parent's house. There's none of that for me.
Literally, everyone around me has something to look forward to as Christmas approaches. Why can't it be that way for me? When will my heart ever be filled with something besides disappointment during Christmas?
I know Christmas is truly about the celebration of the birth of Christ. Most Christians will tell you that the birth of their Savior should be sufficient and there should be no disappointment. I'd say those same people have never gone through a Christmas without a family or knowing that their family doesn't care about them.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Junk Drawer
Let's face it, we all have them and they typically look like this:
The good thing is that the drawer stays closed unless you reach that point of desperation. Out of sight, out of mind...right?
This is much what it's like inside my head most days and probably what I look like to the people around me too. There's an array of stuff in there all the time and it would probably scare anyone to step inside. I can get what I need, when I need it most of the time. It might not always come out exactly when or how I would like it to, but I can usually make myself functional. In fact, most of the time I can make myself look so functional that people would never know I have a problem.
There is one upside to the specific illness I deal with. There is something inside me that puts it all together and allows me to look functional on the surface.
The truth is that mental illness has little to do with intelligence in my case. Those close to me might forget that sometimes, especially when they see the less functional sides of me. Even in a diminished mental state, my organized system is still functional and capable of maintaining. An outburst, misunderstood action or just not seeming like myself isn't a reflection of my inability but of my ability.
When there's so much junk in the drawer, it's hard to remember that it's all very organized in there somewhere. So when I look like this:
...it's just me, my humanness, my brokenness, in my pain and striving to understand myself and accept myself.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Christmas Cards from Hell
Admittedly, today was a little stressful but I wasn't feeling overly depressed or anxious. That is until I got home and opened the mail.
Amid the ads and propaganda was a small Christmas card. The return address from my hometown, which I understandably refer to as "Hell." My heart pounding and tears filling my eyes, I opened the envelope.
The envelope contained a small, innocent Christmas card. "To wish you all the joys of a MERRY CHRISTMAS Season" was printed on the inside, followed by an impersonal signature..."Grandmother Grandfather H-----d.
Christmas cards from my family had tapered off over the past few years and last year, I received none. This card reduced me to an angry mess almost immediately.
It wasn't the cold, impersonal signature that made me angry. This set of grandparents has never been overly loving or warm. My grandma is an incredibly submissive wife to my overbearing, berating grandpa. While I've never seen him be physically aggressive with her, I have seen him abuse her emotionally at family gatherings. Not a huge stretch of the imagination considering what my dad is like.
Some of the past cards have included an invitation to Christmas dinner, but this one did not. It is truly one of those cards you get knowing you are just on "the list."
What angered me was that stabbing reminder that I do have family members. Even more aggravating was that their beloved first born child is the reason why I cannot have any contact with any of that family. Their son!
That ignites a whole string of thinking and emotions for me. Do they know their son is the reason I cannot be near my family? Why do they think it's been five years since they have seen their oldest grandchild? Do they even wonder how life is for me, do they even care?
Why have they never been loving or showed really any sense of genuine care for me? They have grandchildren they have shown genuine interest in, but not in my brothers or myself. Was that because my dad didn't allow them close to us? My mom never liked them, but I never understood why. Was it her that didn't allow them close?
It's easy to consider my hometown as a place similar to my perception of hell when I think about the evil I faced in my childhood. The face of evil took several forms in my life, but notably in the face of my dad. My dad who was the product of these two people.
Do they have any idea just how evil their own son is? Do they have any clue about all the things he did to his children? Do they know he beat his children, raped them, forced them into prostitution, forced drug use on them or haunt them as adults?
My heart can't fathom it, but my mind has to ask....Are they the reason he is evil? Do they bare some responsibility for what he became as an adult? My life is severely altered as an adult because of how I grew up. Is that his story too?
Do NOT for one second think that I am somehow searching for a reason to excuse his behavior. I have NEVER stepped into that depth of dysfunction just because it was done to me. But I have to wonder. Could the Christmas card I'm holding look innocent, but come from the origin of where my life went wrong?
I really do hate that a Christmas card can kick me back down into my out of control emotional spiral. Please bottom, hurry fast!
Amid the ads and propaganda was a small Christmas card. The return address from my hometown, which I understandably refer to as "Hell." My heart pounding and tears filling my eyes, I opened the envelope.
The envelope contained a small, innocent Christmas card. "To wish you all the joys of a MERRY CHRISTMAS Season" was printed on the inside, followed by an impersonal signature..."Grandmother Grandfather H-----d.
Christmas cards from my family had tapered off over the past few years and last year, I received none. This card reduced me to an angry mess almost immediately.
It wasn't the cold, impersonal signature that made me angry. This set of grandparents has never been overly loving or warm. My grandma is an incredibly submissive wife to my overbearing, berating grandpa. While I've never seen him be physically aggressive with her, I have seen him abuse her emotionally at family gatherings. Not a huge stretch of the imagination considering what my dad is like.
Some of the past cards have included an invitation to Christmas dinner, but this one did not. It is truly one of those cards you get knowing you are just on "the list."
What angered me was that stabbing reminder that I do have family members. Even more aggravating was that their beloved first born child is the reason why I cannot have any contact with any of that family. Their son!
That ignites a whole string of thinking and emotions for me. Do they know their son is the reason I cannot be near my family? Why do they think it's been five years since they have seen their oldest grandchild? Do they even wonder how life is for me, do they even care?
Why have they never been loving or showed really any sense of genuine care for me? They have grandchildren they have shown genuine interest in, but not in my brothers or myself. Was that because my dad didn't allow them close to us? My mom never liked them, but I never understood why. Was it her that didn't allow them close?
It's easy to consider my hometown as a place similar to my perception of hell when I think about the evil I faced in my childhood. The face of evil took several forms in my life, but notably in the face of my dad. My dad who was the product of these two people.
Do they have any idea just how evil their own son is? Do they have any clue about all the things he did to his children? Do they know he beat his children, raped them, forced them into prostitution, forced drug use on them or haunt them as adults?
My heart can't fathom it, but my mind has to ask....Are they the reason he is evil? Do they bare some responsibility for what he became as an adult? My life is severely altered as an adult because of how I grew up. Is that his story too?
Do NOT for one second think that I am somehow searching for a reason to excuse his behavior. I have NEVER stepped into that depth of dysfunction just because it was done to me. But I have to wonder. Could the Christmas card I'm holding look innocent, but come from the origin of where my life went wrong?
I really do hate that a Christmas card can kick me back down into my out of control emotional spiral. Please bottom, hurry fast!
Monday, December 5, 2011
Hidden in a Snow Globe
This morning I was reminded of a conversation I recently had with a friend. She couldn't fathom how a true Christian could get depressed when all they needed was Jesus. I understand her argument that God should be enough no matter what the situation. Living as if that is absolute truth is more difficult than it is to let those words fall from your lips. In fact, I have come up against many Christians who don't believe depression should ever be an ailment of other Christians. So NOT true!
Thinking through that this morning, I had the little voice inside me reminding me that there are real reasons for the way I feel. Becoming a Christian only made things like Christmas more difficult. Becoming a Christian meant I had to look at everything in truth and stop hiding in the dark. Christmas time is one of those things that had to be kept in the dark, so that it didn't threaten to bring me down like it is doing now.
I know I've mentioned a little bit in the past about what Christmas was like for me as a child and to summarize, it was never good. It was always a time of pain, physically and emotionally.
Someone asked me the other day if there were things from my childhood that I remembered about Christmas that were good. Yes, but no was my answer.
I went several years with some extended family to the Christmas Eve Midnight Mass at their church. I absolutely loved the warm, decorated church. My favorite part was the music. It was my chance to sing the Christmas music that I knew from school. Obviously this was back in the day when it was still ok in a small town school to sing about Christ.
It was still impossible to hold onto that joy for longer than the 60 minute service. The priest was the one who had witnessed my cousin molesting me and failed to stop it. The other downside was that the same cousin would always find a way to molest me shortly after arriving home from the service.
Somewhere along the way, I received a gift of a snow globe. In the glittery snow sat a manger scene and it played O' Little Town of Bethlehem. At the time, it was just a song I knew and knew I liked. The manger scene inside wasn't about baby Jesus at all. To me, this was a very real picture of a mother and father who loved their baby so much that they could do nothing more than stare intently. Because of the song, I knew it was somehow associated with Christmas.
Whether my heart was broken or I had been beaten and assaulted on one my dad's rampages, I could look into my snow globe and see what it would be like if my parents had loved me. My dad tried many times to take that snow globe away from me, causing me to learn to hide it well. I used to think he didn't want me to think parents were supposed to care like that. However, now I think it represented a God that he hates.
The last time I saw the snow globe was one night over Christmas break as a teen when I had been savagely beaten and raped. I desperately stared at the baby, wishing to be in the presence of two parents who loved me. Without any warning and in the blink of an eye, my dad grabbed the snow globe from my hands. He took it to the front steps and smashed it onto the sidewalk.
It's not an exaggeration to say I was devastated. It's also not a stretch to understand how the constant evil in my life could possibly be wreaking havoc with me today.
It's easy when you aren't a Christian to keep everything in the dark pit, locked up and unexposed. But being a Christian has forced me to crawl in that pit and expose myself to what is really true. I know that the end goal is to emerge from the pit, living with a new truth...exposed and unashamed of what was, looking forward to what is and will forever be.
Until that day, it's a constant fight in that pit. I believe it's a battle, a spiritual battle. Either give up and walk away from the truth or stay in the pit and fight it out until I can get out. Do what's easy or do what's hard. It's getting harder to do the hard thing. I said it last night and I'm learning it's more true everyday. I cannot do this by myself. By myself, I will lose the battle.
Thinking through that this morning, I had the little voice inside me reminding me that there are real reasons for the way I feel. Becoming a Christian only made things like Christmas more difficult. Becoming a Christian meant I had to look at everything in truth and stop hiding in the dark. Christmas time is one of those things that had to be kept in the dark, so that it didn't threaten to bring me down like it is doing now.
I know I've mentioned a little bit in the past about what Christmas was like for me as a child and to summarize, it was never good. It was always a time of pain, physically and emotionally.
Someone asked me the other day if there were things from my childhood that I remembered about Christmas that were good. Yes, but no was my answer.
I went several years with some extended family to the Christmas Eve Midnight Mass at their church. I absolutely loved the warm, decorated church. My favorite part was the music. It was my chance to sing the Christmas music that I knew from school. Obviously this was back in the day when it was still ok in a small town school to sing about Christ.
It was still impossible to hold onto that joy for longer than the 60 minute service. The priest was the one who had witnessed my cousin molesting me and failed to stop it. The other downside was that the same cousin would always find a way to molest me shortly after arriving home from the service.
Somewhere along the way, I received a gift of a snow globe. In the glittery snow sat a manger scene and it played O' Little Town of Bethlehem. At the time, it was just a song I knew and knew I liked. The manger scene inside wasn't about baby Jesus at all. To me, this was a very real picture of a mother and father who loved their baby so much that they could do nothing more than stare intently. Because of the song, I knew it was somehow associated with Christmas.
Whether my heart was broken or I had been beaten and assaulted on one my dad's rampages, I could look into my snow globe and see what it would be like if my parents had loved me. My dad tried many times to take that snow globe away from me, causing me to learn to hide it well. I used to think he didn't want me to think parents were supposed to care like that. However, now I think it represented a God that he hates.
The last time I saw the snow globe was one night over Christmas break as a teen when I had been savagely beaten and raped. I desperately stared at the baby, wishing to be in the presence of two parents who loved me. Without any warning and in the blink of an eye, my dad grabbed the snow globe from my hands. He took it to the front steps and smashed it onto the sidewalk.
It's not an exaggeration to say I was devastated. It's also not a stretch to understand how the constant evil in my life could possibly be wreaking havoc with me today.
It's easy when you aren't a Christian to keep everything in the dark pit, locked up and unexposed. But being a Christian has forced me to crawl in that pit and expose myself to what is really true. I know that the end goal is to emerge from the pit, living with a new truth...exposed and unashamed of what was, looking forward to what is and will forever be.
Until that day, it's a constant fight in that pit. I believe it's a battle, a spiritual battle. Either give up and walk away from the truth or stay in the pit and fight it out until I can get out. Do what's easy or do what's hard. It's getting harder to do the hard thing. I said it last night and I'm learning it's more true everyday. I cannot do this by myself. By myself, I will lose the battle.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
My Road Block
While looking at Christmas lights tonight, I realized something very important. Just because I am struggling to put one foot in front of the other right now, there are people who are not. There are people who solidly place faith in prayer and are not currently wrestling through what they believe.
I know some amazing prayer warriors. They will be on their face in prayer over every request brought to them and over things they've yet to know.
It seems almost hypocritical to ask anyone for prayer when I'm struggling with the act of it myself. Not only that, but I'm such a mess that I don't know how to summarize what I need right now.
You know that feeling you get when someone taps your shoulder because you are standing in their way? That's exactly what I was feeling tonight as I thought about all of this.
The truth is that I'm living day to day in a pretty dark world right now, emotionally and mentally. I physically don't feel well with some inner ear problems going on and my adnomyosis acting up. I crawl into bed every night with a fairly grim outlook on life.
Drudging through day after day without having anything hopeful to hang onto is tiresome. But am I just standing in the way? I don't necessarily mean am I just a roadblock that needs to be removed from life...or maybe I do. In keeping this mostly to myself, putting a smile on my face when I'm anywhere near most other people, am I standing in the way of truly allowing people to help?
Outside of trying to talk through some of what is going on with me, what could anyone really do to help? Aren't I just another waste of time that never gets any better? Or is the very thing I struggle with really the answer?
Can the thing I need the most to save me from this awful dark place be found in prayer? Not prayer from me, but prayer from others. Am I being a roadblock by not pursuing help in this spiritual battle? How do I hold onto something I struggle to believe if I don't have a firm grip on those who do?
I don't have the answer to any of those questions. However I rest firmly in knowing this...I cannot do this alone. Without help, I will never be able to merge from this darkness.
I know some amazing prayer warriors. They will be on their face in prayer over every request brought to them and over things they've yet to know.
It seems almost hypocritical to ask anyone for prayer when I'm struggling with the act of it myself. Not only that, but I'm such a mess that I don't know how to summarize what I need right now.
You know that feeling you get when someone taps your shoulder because you are standing in their way? That's exactly what I was feeling tonight as I thought about all of this.
The truth is that I'm living day to day in a pretty dark world right now, emotionally and mentally. I physically don't feel well with some inner ear problems going on and my adnomyosis acting up. I crawl into bed every night with a fairly grim outlook on life.
Drudging through day after day without having anything hopeful to hang onto is tiresome. But am I just standing in the way? I don't necessarily mean am I just a roadblock that needs to be removed from life...or maybe I do. In keeping this mostly to myself, putting a smile on my face when I'm anywhere near most other people, am I standing in the way of truly allowing people to help?
Outside of trying to talk through some of what is going on with me, what could anyone really do to help? Aren't I just another waste of time that never gets any better? Or is the very thing I struggle with really the answer?
Can the thing I need the most to save me from this awful dark place be found in prayer? Not prayer from me, but prayer from others. Am I being a roadblock by not pursuing help in this spiritual battle? How do I hold onto something I struggle to believe if I don't have a firm grip on those who do?
I don't have the answer to any of those questions. However I rest firmly in knowing this...I cannot do this alone. Without help, I will never be able to merge from this darkness.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
I think I can, I think I can...
Nope...my little train can't.
I might be reaching the point of desparation in the daunting task of pulling my butt off this downward spiral I am in currently. It isn't that I'm afraid of being depressed or that this is something new to me.
Most years, I'm standing on the other side of January 1st thinking, "whew I made it." The holidays are always difficult. With the exception of last year, I don't remember ever having an ok Christmas for as long as I can remember.
Last year was unique, which I think could be making this year even more difficult. This time last year, I was wrapped up in a friendship that offered me something I had never had. The whirlwind activities of November and December filled my mind and heart with a block from the normal slope of emotions.
This year there is no buffer and now I also am left to grieve what was lost with the end of that same relationship, adding even more emotion.
I am TRYING, I really am. I feel like I have to reassure myself that yes, I am doing everything I can.
Even music isn't working right now. I have tried to listen, but the words can't seem to wiggle around the walls that keep them from penetrating my head and heart. Listening intently to songs which have taught me or spoke deeply to me at one time only bring me to tears now as I can't register one bit of it.
One of the songs I go to in the worst of times is Third Day's "Cry Out to Jesus." Because I'm struggling to understand or believe in prayer, even my go to song isn't working. There's nobody to cry out to when you don't believe anybody is listening. So, I just cry.
I absolutely hate feeling this way. I hate being a depressed, anxiety filled mess going into each night, wondering if daylight will come or if I'll step into another day of darkness.
I might be reaching the point of desparation in the daunting task of pulling my butt off this downward spiral I am in currently. It isn't that I'm afraid of being depressed or that this is something new to me.
Most years, I'm standing on the other side of January 1st thinking, "whew I made it." The holidays are always difficult. With the exception of last year, I don't remember ever having an ok Christmas for as long as I can remember.
Last year was unique, which I think could be making this year even more difficult. This time last year, I was wrapped up in a friendship that offered me something I had never had. The whirlwind activities of November and December filled my mind and heart with a block from the normal slope of emotions.
This year there is no buffer and now I also am left to grieve what was lost with the end of that same relationship, adding even more emotion.
I am TRYING, I really am. I feel like I have to reassure myself that yes, I am doing everything I can.
Even music isn't working right now. I have tried to listen, but the words can't seem to wiggle around the walls that keep them from penetrating my head and heart. Listening intently to songs which have taught me or spoke deeply to me at one time only bring me to tears now as I can't register one bit of it.
One of the songs I go to in the worst of times is Third Day's "Cry Out to Jesus." Because I'm struggling to understand or believe in prayer, even my go to song isn't working. There's nobody to cry out to when you don't believe anybody is listening. So, I just cry.
I absolutely hate feeling this way. I hate being a depressed, anxiety filled mess going into each night, wondering if daylight will come or if I'll step into another day of darkness.
Friday, December 2, 2011
For Me
The title simply put is exactly why I have continued to write, even though it wasn't my goal when I started. I wanted a place to come to see the ups and downs of my life. A place to easily find the best of times to hang onto while wading through the worst of times.
That's still the case, but even with all I have written I can't seem to dig myself out of the current downhill slide. Wrestling with all things bible based is not a new thing for me. In fact, it's usually where I've learned the most about myself and about God. But this time is different.
This time there is an internal battle brewing inside me like a civil war in my gut and far different than what I've experienced in the past. In the past, I might struggle through a particular time, subject or hurt for a short amount of time, bouncing back after some time to calm down or think clearly.
Not this time. There might as well be a double solid brick wall between me and the bible, the church and especially God.
I don't want life to be like this. I truly do have enough to struggle through. I wish someone could tell me how to fix this mess so that the distance between me and all that is right can be closed again.
That's still the case, but even with all I have written I can't seem to dig myself out of the current downhill slide. Wrestling with all things bible based is not a new thing for me. In fact, it's usually where I've learned the most about myself and about God. But this time is different.
This time there is an internal battle brewing inside me like a civil war in my gut and far different than what I've experienced in the past. In the past, I might struggle through a particular time, subject or hurt for a short amount of time, bouncing back after some time to calm down or think clearly.
Not this time. There might as well be a double solid brick wall between me and the bible, the church and especially God.
I don't want life to be like this. I truly do have enough to struggle through. I wish someone could tell me how to fix this mess so that the distance between me and all that is right can be closed again.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Slipping Away Again
Now is the first day of December and I can already feel another Christmas slipping away from me. My string of A-Z problems are once again threatening to let all the holidays fly past without being able to see experience any joy.
It's been several years since I've been able to decorate my house. I start with every good intention, but quickly get sidetracked. Most years I'm barely able to throw a wreath on the wall and the stockings on the mantle. As I covered before, I don't even have a mantle this year.
Yes, the little holiday bug has burrowed into my heart. Not in a Scrooge-like way, but in a way throws me into the depths of depression.
My husband has tried for many years to change the holidays for me. But, I've decided that might be too big of a job for one person.
Watch the movies or listen to the music...holidays are times of joining together with family and friends. Historically, neither as been true for us. It's a time when we find ourselves more isolated because everyone around us is celebrating in their realms of tradition.
Christmas time for me is void of all warm-fuzzy memories with family. But the older I get, the more I realize how many pieces of my tattered heart still break over what never was and what can never be. I will never have a mother who anxiously awaits my return for the holidays.
Not that it's perfect, but my husband has a family who loves him and cannot wait for him to visit during the holidays. I know how badly he wants for me to have that with his family, but it's just not so. It is such a bittersweet time to be with his family at Christmas. The love they share, even in their own dysfunction, is amazing. I love seeing them all together and the love they show to each other. It makes me smile while tears threaten to drown me inside. It's not my family. Although some have tried to include me, the tight knit family makes it impossible to ever feel fully included.
Since it is only the first day of December, there's still time. But, I know part of what lies in the days ahead and I fully expect the whole month to pass me by. Given the spiritual state of my life, there's not even a shred of hope that things will somehow end differently than I suspect.
It's a dark place to rest when the world around you is moving at a steady pace amongst twinkling lights and even the true reason for celebrating escapes from your heart.
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