Attention Facebook: I am leaving the women's group (of a place that will remain unnamed), because
1) I know bunkus about "Bunco"
And
2) I have a fear of intimacy with other women.
Recently, I was invited to a Women's Retreat that our congregation is promoting. Last year, I didn't go because of the cost of the trip. But after being comfronted about the possibility of going to this years, I remembered that money was never the real issue; Fear was.
What am I scared of?
When it comes to emotions like fear or surprise, you feel it first and experience the sensation in your body before you understand what it is that made you feel that way. This is no different. I wasn't sure why I was so hesitant, but then every time the cost would be mentioned for the trip, I would automatically tense up. Ir's because, I knew that the conference alone was not costing nearly a hundred dollars. The women speakers would only charge close to half that. The gas and hotel stay would take up the rest. And suddenly there it was again - the fear inside me. I was scared of staying in the hotel room with the other women.
When I realized the source of my reluctance to go, it didn't make very much sense to me. I've been to countless sleep overs and slumber parties...all-nighters, you name it! And I remember feeling cautious about myself, because I had been labeled certain ways before, but I'd never felt this terrified.
I don't want any of you to misunderstand me. I'm not saying that I'm scared of feeling tempted to have dirty or lustful thoughts. That is always a concern for me in my present mental and emotional state, but that is not what scares me. Even after coming all this way: from believing I was born to be a man; to embracing motherhood with the ability to be a good wife, knowing that God has fashioned me in that way. I still feel like an outsider when I'm in close-quarters with other ladies my age and older. And there is nothing more intimate in our daily schedules than to sleep within the same room with one another.
I don't have an answer to this one....
I'm open to hear YOUR thoughts on how to better understand this.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Memoirs of a suicide victim
What time can't do, love will.
Remember the expression, "There's not enough time in the world"? There's never enough time in a day, in a week, month, or year; it seems, to get done what you want to accomplish and still have those moments to breathe in deep. And yet sometimes you enter a period of life when the days seem eternal, keeping you prisoner to the skin you're living in.
I had an uncle David. The memory will forever be imprinted inside my head. The feelings of hurt, helplessness, and hatred toward his actions have left their scars on my heart.
I'd like to say I knew him well, but I didn't. Most of my memories of my uncle consist of him sitting on my grandma's couch and smoking a cigarette before heading off to work at the hospital. My mom had talked about him while I was growing up, and that is where most of my knowledge of uncle David stems from -hearsay. What I heard was eye-opening.
David's dad (my grandfather) died while he was still in high school from a heart attack. David complained to my mom many times that his dad had been abusive in his anger to him. My mom, of course, denies that anything horrible ever happened inside that home. She remembers her father to be a respectable and loving man. My mom also let it slip to me later on that my uncle had thought himself a homosexual at one time, possibly having male lovers...no one would know for sure. David grew up in the church, but it had been over 20 years since he stepped inside a church building. He had tried to find help, to find counsel with the minister of the congregation when he was a teen and confided in this man about his emotions and homosexual attraction. My mother tells me that things seemed to be looking up for him after that. David was becoming more involved in the youth group and appeared genuinely interested in conquering these "obstacles" in his life, until... he was betrayed.
David signed up to be a part of a routine mission trip to another country. A mission trip that all other three of his siblings had taken before him, but one thing would stand in his way. The preacher (his confidant) was listed as one of his three references on his application. He ended up writing a letter that not only "outed" David as a struggling homosexual, but also strongly recommended that he should NOT be allowed to go on this trip. David somehow got wind of this letter and what had been said, and immediately closed the door on the church forever. Later, he would have a fiance' and she would end up leaving him because he didn't engage in sex with her before marriage. It was told to me that all she really wanted was a baby from him anyway. But all this happened before my time. Still, my mom had no idea just what kind of connection she was personally orchestrating between my uncle and I through her gossip-like stories.
I would never have the guts to approach him about these stories until I was well into my third year in college.
Every year at the Christian college that I attended, they would have a break in the spring that would not be called Spring Break. They called it Week of Evangelism (aka Week of E.). Many students would just go home or do their "own thing" just like any other school break. But some would go on various student lead or sometimes professor lead trips to help out other churches in other countries or in other states inside our own. My grandmother was sick, and had been spending a lot of time in the hospital, so I decided to go see her. Knowing that my uncle David lived with her, I considered using this opportunity to open up those doors of conversation that no one in my family had dared to. I wanted to help. I wanted to tell him that I understood. I wanted to express the connection that I felt that I shared with him all these years. Mostly, I wanted him to know that he was loved, because I always got the distinct feeling that he never felt that from anyone else in his life. My heart was in torment to talk to him. I needed to go. So I did, and I took a friend with me (Drew).
Uncle David had been threatening suicide for a couple of years. My mom would cry on the phone to him not to talk like that, but I doubted that anyone by this time was taking his words very seriously. When I arrived at my uncle's doorstep to spend the night, he greeted me at the door by saying that my grandma had passed away while I'd been traveling to get there. My heart felt crushed in that moment. All these thoughts of regret of time lost and opportunities to call or write to her that I had passed up, felt suffocating.
My uncle David snapped me out of my grief, by telling me that he would understand if I wanted to turn around and head back now, or to stay with my uncle Steve instead of him.
I wanted to say, "Oh you silly man, don't you know? I'm here to see you. God sent me to you."
No, I really wanted to laugh hysterically (because I was feeling a little hysterical). Instead, I smiled and said, "Of course not. I'm here to spend time with you too."
I spent the whole week at his tiny apartment. We went to the funeral together. We went to the grave site together, and all of the special arranged family events, but none of it seemed like a good opportunity to approach him about his life or mine. I don't know what I was waiting for. Perhaps a sunbeam from heaven, or a dove landing on his shoulder. I was scared. What if the stories were just stories? What if he denied it? What if he got mad?
I knew something was wrong. He kept wanting to go back to her grave over and over again. It was more than just grief and tears that needed to be released. I think he was envious of her. We finally shared a moment in his car together one night before I had to leave. I told him that it was ok to be mad at God for letting his mom die. I wanted him to know that it was alright and normal to feel that way. He told me that God doesn't control these sort of things. He said that these things just happen and God can't do anything about it, so why would he be angry with Him? I shook my head, because I knew that was not true. I said, "Nothing is impossible with God." Then I got more out of my comfort zone by singing a special song to him that I wanted to share.
I'm not sure if anything I did or said meant anything. I left that Texas town feeling confident that God had a purpose for it all. He had sent me there, and I had followed his leading.
Three days later, my phone is ringing off the hook and I just want to take a nap in between classes. but the message finally got to me that day. It was a Wednesday; I'll never forget it. They told me he shot himself not in the head, but with the barrel pointed straight at his heart. I remember thinking, how poetic of him, and then how bastardly selfish of him. Then that frustration turned toward God saying, "What the heck, God?! What was the point??" My feelings for my uncle continued to go south. I felt like I wanted to kill him (if he wasn't already dead). So many swear words come to mind, but I won't list them here.
I was so angry with him, and I still am a little. But those claws started to retract a bit when I heard of the lack of care and respect that his family was showing him. Even in death, he was receiving second-hand love. Even in death, they gave him little if any respect. The comments that were made were mostly about his debts that he left behind. And I can't even imagine what his life was like. Is it really any wonder that he felt so motivated to take it? Is it really?
I've felt suicidal before, but only in the heat of the moment. I can only imagine (thank God) what it must be like to live in that moment all day, every day. And I don't know what else to say about all of this.
Except love heals. No one is to blame for anybody's suicide, but just because we are not to blame doesn't keep us from falling victim to its destruction. Love can be the prevention.
Sincerity of that love can mend what time of constant wear and tear has made broken. Notice I said "can". But if there's something that can be done....
For those that want it, here's a special challenge (I am challenging myself too) make a list of people, write it down, those close to you and those not so much, who are way over due for some attention from you or from anyone. If you are having trouble then just think of someone who is angry all the time. People tend to be grumpy for a reason. Think of those people in your life that might as well be the hanging on the wall or the doorstop, because they seem so unimportant. I understand we all need to be loved, but I think what you and I forget is that many of us have our sources of love, while many others have their many sources of heartache and affliction.
If you are that person, and your life feels like a prison. I can assure you that there is more than just help out there for you.
There is love.
Back to the challenge: You've got your list. Memorize it, pray over it, sleep with it ....Invest yourself in these people. Before anyone will believe that they are important in your life, you must believe it yourself.
The next part is simple but not easy, because we all have our busy lives with our busy schedules...families, work, etc. But remember how important that love is to you in your own life and maybe that will help.
Last Step: Plan out time each week to show that love to someone on your list. This could mean a phone call, an email or special text ( written letters tend to last longer though -Hint Hint) a hug, a talk at lunch, ..be creative/ but be real. If you are stumped on what to do, than I would suggest you think about what would mean the most to you. What would brighten your day? Yeah, do that.
Love heals.
Let the love begin.
(If anyone would like to contact me: kaytmasterson@gmail.com) Also, for info on suicide prevention or causes you might be interested in visiting http://www.twloha.com/ .
Remember the expression, "There's not enough time in the world"? There's never enough time in a day, in a week, month, or year; it seems, to get done what you want to accomplish and still have those moments to breathe in deep. And yet sometimes you enter a period of life when the days seem eternal, keeping you prisoner to the skin you're living in.
I had an uncle David. The memory will forever be imprinted inside my head. The feelings of hurt, helplessness, and hatred toward his actions have left their scars on my heart.
I'd like to say I knew him well, but I didn't. Most of my memories of my uncle consist of him sitting on my grandma's couch and smoking a cigarette before heading off to work at the hospital. My mom had talked about him while I was growing up, and that is where most of my knowledge of uncle David stems from -hearsay. What I heard was eye-opening.
David's dad (my grandfather) died while he was still in high school from a heart attack. David complained to my mom many times that his dad had been abusive in his anger to him. My mom, of course, denies that anything horrible ever happened inside that home. She remembers her father to be a respectable and loving man. My mom also let it slip to me later on that my uncle had thought himself a homosexual at one time, possibly having male lovers...no one would know for sure. David grew up in the church, but it had been over 20 years since he stepped inside a church building. He had tried to find help, to find counsel with the minister of the congregation when he was a teen and confided in this man about his emotions and homosexual attraction. My mother tells me that things seemed to be looking up for him after that. David was becoming more involved in the youth group and appeared genuinely interested in conquering these "obstacles" in his life, until... he was betrayed.
David signed up to be a part of a routine mission trip to another country. A mission trip that all other three of his siblings had taken before him, but one thing would stand in his way. The preacher (his confidant) was listed as one of his three references on his application. He ended up writing a letter that not only "outed" David as a struggling homosexual, but also strongly recommended that he should NOT be allowed to go on this trip. David somehow got wind of this letter and what had been said, and immediately closed the door on the church forever. Later, he would have a fiance' and she would end up leaving him because he didn't engage in sex with her before marriage. It was told to me that all she really wanted was a baby from him anyway. But all this happened before my time. Still, my mom had no idea just what kind of connection she was personally orchestrating between my uncle and I through her gossip-like stories.
I would never have the guts to approach him about these stories until I was well into my third year in college.
Every year at the Christian college that I attended, they would have a break in the spring that would not be called Spring Break. They called it Week of Evangelism (aka Week of E.). Many students would just go home or do their "own thing" just like any other school break. But some would go on various student lead or sometimes professor lead trips to help out other churches in other countries or in other states inside our own. My grandmother was sick, and had been spending a lot of time in the hospital, so I decided to go see her. Knowing that my uncle David lived with her, I considered using this opportunity to open up those doors of conversation that no one in my family had dared to. I wanted to help. I wanted to tell him that I understood. I wanted to express the connection that I felt that I shared with him all these years. Mostly, I wanted him to know that he was loved, because I always got the distinct feeling that he never felt that from anyone else in his life. My heart was in torment to talk to him. I needed to go. So I did, and I took a friend with me (Drew).
Uncle David had been threatening suicide for a couple of years. My mom would cry on the phone to him not to talk like that, but I doubted that anyone by this time was taking his words very seriously. When I arrived at my uncle's doorstep to spend the night, he greeted me at the door by saying that my grandma had passed away while I'd been traveling to get there. My heart felt crushed in that moment. All these thoughts of regret of time lost and opportunities to call or write to her that I had passed up, felt suffocating.
My uncle David snapped me out of my grief, by telling me that he would understand if I wanted to turn around and head back now, or to stay with my uncle Steve instead of him.
I wanted to say, "Oh you silly man, don't you know? I'm here to see you. God sent me to you."
No, I really wanted to laugh hysterically (because I was feeling a little hysterical). Instead, I smiled and said, "Of course not. I'm here to spend time with you too."
I spent the whole week at his tiny apartment. We went to the funeral together. We went to the grave site together, and all of the special arranged family events, but none of it seemed like a good opportunity to approach him about his life or mine. I don't know what I was waiting for. Perhaps a sunbeam from heaven, or a dove landing on his shoulder. I was scared. What if the stories were just stories? What if he denied it? What if he got mad?
I knew something was wrong. He kept wanting to go back to her grave over and over again. It was more than just grief and tears that needed to be released. I think he was envious of her. We finally shared a moment in his car together one night before I had to leave. I told him that it was ok to be mad at God for letting his mom die. I wanted him to know that it was alright and normal to feel that way. He told me that God doesn't control these sort of things. He said that these things just happen and God can't do anything about it, so why would he be angry with Him? I shook my head, because I knew that was not true. I said, "Nothing is impossible with God." Then I got more out of my comfort zone by singing a special song to him that I wanted to share.
I'm not sure if anything I did or said meant anything. I left that Texas town feeling confident that God had a purpose for it all. He had sent me there, and I had followed his leading.
Three days later, my phone is ringing off the hook and I just want to take a nap in between classes. but the message finally got to me that day. It was a Wednesday; I'll never forget it. They told me he shot himself not in the head, but with the barrel pointed straight at his heart. I remember thinking, how poetic of him, and then how bastardly selfish of him. Then that frustration turned toward God saying, "What the heck, God?! What was the point??" My feelings for my uncle continued to go south. I felt like I wanted to kill him (if he wasn't already dead). So many swear words come to mind, but I won't list them here.
I was so angry with him, and I still am a little. But those claws started to retract a bit when I heard of the lack of care and respect that his family was showing him. Even in death, he was receiving second-hand love. Even in death, they gave him little if any respect. The comments that were made were mostly about his debts that he left behind. And I can't even imagine what his life was like. Is it really any wonder that he felt so motivated to take it? Is it really?
I've felt suicidal before, but only in the heat of the moment. I can only imagine (thank God) what it must be like to live in that moment all day, every day. And I don't know what else to say about all of this.
Except love heals. No one is to blame for anybody's suicide, but just because we are not to blame doesn't keep us from falling victim to its destruction. Love can be the prevention.
Sincerity of that love can mend what time of constant wear and tear has made broken. Notice I said "can". But if there's something that can be done....
For those that want it, here's a special challenge (I am challenging myself too) make a list of people, write it down, those close to you and those not so much, who are way over due for some attention from you or from anyone. If you are having trouble then just think of someone who is angry all the time. People tend to be grumpy for a reason. Think of those people in your life that might as well be the hanging on the wall or the doorstop, because they seem so unimportant. I understand we all need to be loved, but I think what you and I forget is that many of us have our sources of love, while many others have their many sources of heartache and affliction.
If you are that person, and your life feels like a prison. I can assure you that there is more than just help out there for you.
There is love.
Back to the challenge: You've got your list. Memorize it, pray over it, sleep with it ....Invest yourself in these people. Before anyone will believe that they are important in your life, you must believe it yourself.
The next part is simple but not easy, because we all have our busy lives with our busy schedules...families, work, etc. But remember how important that love is to you in your own life and maybe that will help.
Last Step: Plan out time each week to show that love to someone on your list. This could mean a phone call, an email or special text ( written letters tend to last longer though -Hint Hint) a hug, a talk at lunch, ..be creative/ but be real. If you are stumped on what to do, than I would suggest you think about what would mean the most to you. What would brighten your day? Yeah, do that.
Love heals.
Let the love begin.
(If anyone would like to contact me: kaytmasterson@gmail.com) Also, for info on suicide prevention or causes you might be interested in visiting http://www.twloha.com/ .
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