As of last month, it has been a year since my first blog entry. A full year of telling honest details about my past and present, many of which I have never spoken to anyone else before. And so I thought it was only right and fair that I let you know a little more truth about how I can write all this and also the difficulties that it presents.
The pro: I have gained confidence in myself by releasing the fear that kept me captive for so long.
I started out alone with the feeling that I was doomed to forever be that way. Me with my secrets that I would try to force out of my life only for them to reappear again and again; making my new life seem like just another lie. I thought if people only knew the truth about me, they would hate me. There might be rope involved even. Unrealistic, maybe, but that was my fear. I was taught to look at homosexuals etc like they were sick in the head, and damned for what they were and what they did. As Christians we say, "to love the sinner and hate the sin", but many times while we are "hating the sin", the sin is all we ever see. I hated me; because I thought that was what a Christian would do. But with this blog and sharing with others (including other Christians) I have found that it is love and not hate that was on the other side. Sure, people have advice and want to help, but the looks I get are not disgust. The hugs I get are not given a second thought of hesitation. There are no pitch forks or angry mobs coming after me, and knowing that brings relief. I am thankful to God and to my readers for being adult about all of this. I am most thankful that they are more grown up than me. But I'm getting there....
The con: I am not objective to my own life.
With everything that I talk about or write about myself, even in past events, I write from my point of view. But my point of view is tainted, limited. As I move further away from where I was to where I am, some things get clearer and I start to make connections. Yet there is always me and my perception that gets in the way. This makes writing and truthfulness exceptionally hard. I am trying to self analyze my situation, and come out of it with some logical solutions. That's impossible! I try to explain my thoughts and feeling about things, things- I still don't understand. I pick my motivations/actions apart looking for answers, knowing that I will eventually (possibly even the next week) come back to what I just wrote and disagree with my conclusions. In short, the biggest con is confusion.
The only clarity that I have ever found in this life can be summed up in one word, "Christ". When I choose Him over me, if I think more about Him and less about me, I find that open sky.
I don't mean to preach. This "blog" (I hate that word btw) was always meant to be a safe place for anyone/everyone to share their thoughts and beliefs. I'd like to think that it's still that safe place. And this my belief.
I can't wait to hear yours.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Strategies of Defense
"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."
I recognize that most everyone who has been, teased, hazed, publicly embarrassed, or in some other way broken down has had reason to develop a strategy of protection for future attacks. We each write our own chapter of defensive maneuvers. And although these strategies might differ greatly, one from another, they always share one thing in common. They are top secret.
Who am I? ...and What is "cool"? Whatever it is, it has been the center and primary cause of my personal transformation. that which has been carried on to what I am today Yet "cool" is also the cause of everything I have lost of what I was before. US magazine and Seventeen might think that a plus for my personality, but the upkeep of coolness has left me void of the real me. This is much more than identity issues or premid-life crisis. The pursuit after cliche' greatness was put into action by yours truly as a defense. [Without putting my life now up to a microscope for everyone to point out all my "uncool" ways, let me just say, that is missing the point.] I changed who I was to fit in with the masses (one or another). The old me cowered under ridicule and persecution so much that a new me had to be made. The inevitable question is, would I have put so much effort into following fads if I had never been tease?
Loneliness is what I felt when I was alone. When I was around others, I was too self aware of every action and interaction to pay much attention to how I felt about my life. Not a detail would go undocumented inside my head. If I felt in a potential threatening situation,( i.e. being around people that could seriously tear me down) even something as simple as how I crossed my legs would be carefully considered. Every word, every tone, inflection, and body language was imprinted inside my memory to soon after recall and replay under high self scrutiny later on. Sometimes, I might congratulate myself on a job well done, other times...not so much. I was always on the lookout for new and better tactics. I would find those sometimes in movies, in music lyrics, from others conservations, and sometimes just watching people in a crowded area like a restaurant or mall would give me improvised ideas. But the loneliness was always there, waiting to remind me that I was fake.
After years of progression away from the original Kayt, the process of faking it, didn't take so much thought. This was the me that I created. The me that hate had made. I still clung onto God. He was the only one that knew from where I came. I think that was what really kept us close. A seemingly silent and faceless figure was the only one that knew my secrets. He offered me His always listening ear, and the closest thing to cure my pain in the down times; times when all I would want to pray for was for someone who understood. I longed for someone to know me. I hoped and prayed for that even long after I even acknowledged to myself that I was indeed faking. I had become unaware of all the acting that I was doing on a daily basis, but still aware of the feeling it left behind.
I think I would have put up a moat around myself, if I thought it would've kept the monsters out. Unfortunately, the monsters lived mostly in my memories and through those same voices replaying inside my head. I was like Scooby and Shaggy piling everything in front of the door that the monster had come through before, thinking I had him all locked out. Then I turn around and see that the monster was the one helping me and now I'm trapped inside because of the barricade that I have made to keep him out.
My relationships have suffered over this. Including friendships, potential friendships, extended family relationships, and of course the relationship that I have with my spouse. In fact, Drew and I had a conversation about my "coolness" the other day. You see, when Drew and I met, I had him fooled. There was not much effort put to it, or even aimed in his direction, because it was just habit by then. He later told me just how intimidating I was to him, appearing to have it all together. As we got closer the walls started to come down a bit, especially after I confessed my attraction to women to him and details about my past. But it wasn't till our conversation recently that I realized, I'm still putting on that face for him and when I do, I start to believe in that tough and confidently cool girl that I portray. I start to believe that she is me, the real me. ....And that I'm better than him.
It's not me. It becomes me. Sometimes that's okay, but what is my motivation?
I started out running away from dresses; loving dirt and the outdoors. Others did not approve of my hair style, my walk, my clothes, and the activities I enjoyed so I sought after someone more feminine than me. And behind my eyes, I pretended to be her. "Her" was not any one person but a compilation of many. I got into character for the role that I needed to play. Rosa was my inspiration to improve my character to someone who would attract men. She was flirtatious, but still innocent and smart. She would dumb herself down just for those occasions to get a boy to like her. The clothes were easier to change than the walk. With the walk, I really had to practice. One foot in front of the other like on a tight rope, but with sass and confidence, never ever look down. At a time in my life when I should have been modeling myself after Christ, I was putting all my energy into my cover-up.
I know it's not just me. Many others practice their faces in the mirror before heading out to work, church, or school. We took the imagination that used to take us to far off places as children, and created a more acceptable and less afraid adult. Many of us don't even recognize our created characters anymore. We have done it for so long, that we don't know what is happening to us when the real begins to show through. It's shocking and frightening, like we are losing control. And we must always be in control.
What would happen if we let it show?
Janet is going through a divorce. She has two kids; one from a previous marriage gone wrong. And Janet is worried about letting people in on her crumbling marriage. She thinks people gossip about her husband and family already and of course that bothers her. She was the one who left this time, and he acts like he wants her back. But her mind is made up. She's done. Although when they go to public events they are together. In church they sit together. They shake hands together. He leads her into the room with his hand on the small of her back. I see this happening and I think, "That's great! I'm glad that they are working things out.", but they're not. Janet tells me that it's just an act, because she doesn't want to make a scene/scandal for people to talk about. And I can't believe what I'm hearing from her. She is hanging out with this guy pretending like everything is wonderful, when in reality she can't stand him anymore. She is willing to sacrifice so much just to save herself from possible ridicule. So she pretends in front of her friends.
Her friends.....
What if the monsters are just in our heads?
I mean, if we are all pulling the same tricks for each other, what would happen if someone had the courage to finally unwrap their mask? Would we have the courage to follow them?
Or would we stand and point?
"If weakness is a wound that no one wants to speak of, then 'cool' is just how far we have to fall. And I am not immune, I only want to be loved, but I feel safe behind the firewall. Could I lose my need to impress? If you want the truth, I need to confess. I'm not alright."
-Sanctus Real
I recognize that most everyone who has been, teased, hazed, publicly embarrassed, or in some other way broken down has had reason to develop a strategy of protection for future attacks. We each write our own chapter of defensive maneuvers. And although these strategies might differ greatly, one from another, they always share one thing in common. They are top secret.
Who am I? ...and What is "cool"? Whatever it is, it has been the center and primary cause of my personal transformation. that which has been carried on to what I am today Yet "cool" is also the cause of everything I have lost of what I was before. US magazine and Seventeen might think that a plus for my personality, but the upkeep of coolness has left me void of the real me. This is much more than identity issues or premid-life crisis. The pursuit after cliche' greatness was put into action by yours truly as a defense. [Without putting my life now up to a microscope for everyone to point out all my "uncool" ways, let me just say, that is missing the point.] I changed who I was to fit in with the masses (one or another). The old me cowered under ridicule and persecution so much that a new me had to be made. The inevitable question is, would I have put so much effort into following fads if I had never been tease?
Loneliness is what I felt when I was alone. When I was around others, I was too self aware of every action and interaction to pay much attention to how I felt about my life. Not a detail would go undocumented inside my head. If I felt in a potential threatening situation,( i.e. being around people that could seriously tear me down) even something as simple as how I crossed my legs would be carefully considered. Every word, every tone, inflection, and body language was imprinted inside my memory to soon after recall and replay under high self scrutiny later on. Sometimes, I might congratulate myself on a job well done, other times...not so much. I was always on the lookout for new and better tactics. I would find those sometimes in movies, in music lyrics, from others conservations, and sometimes just watching people in a crowded area like a restaurant or mall would give me improvised ideas. But the loneliness was always there, waiting to remind me that I was fake.
After years of progression away from the original Kayt, the process of faking it, didn't take so much thought. This was the me that I created. The me that hate had made. I still clung onto God. He was the only one that knew from where I came. I think that was what really kept us close. A seemingly silent and faceless figure was the only one that knew my secrets. He offered me His always listening ear, and the closest thing to cure my pain in the down times; times when all I would want to pray for was for someone who understood. I longed for someone to know me. I hoped and prayed for that even long after I even acknowledged to myself that I was indeed faking. I had become unaware of all the acting that I was doing on a daily basis, but still aware of the feeling it left behind.
I think I would have put up a moat around myself, if I thought it would've kept the monsters out. Unfortunately, the monsters lived mostly in my memories and through those same voices replaying inside my head. I was like Scooby and Shaggy piling everything in front of the door that the monster had come through before, thinking I had him all locked out. Then I turn around and see that the monster was the one helping me and now I'm trapped inside because of the barricade that I have made to keep him out.
My relationships have suffered over this. Including friendships, potential friendships, extended family relationships, and of course the relationship that I have with my spouse. In fact, Drew and I had a conversation about my "coolness" the other day. You see, when Drew and I met, I had him fooled. There was not much effort put to it, or even aimed in his direction, because it was just habit by then. He later told me just how intimidating I was to him, appearing to have it all together. As we got closer the walls started to come down a bit, especially after I confessed my attraction to women to him and details about my past. But it wasn't till our conversation recently that I realized, I'm still putting on that face for him and when I do, I start to believe in that tough and confidently cool girl that I portray. I start to believe that she is me, the real me. ....And that I'm better than him.
It's not me. It becomes me. Sometimes that's okay, but what is my motivation?
I started out running away from dresses; loving dirt and the outdoors. Others did not approve of my hair style, my walk, my clothes, and the activities I enjoyed so I sought after someone more feminine than me. And behind my eyes, I pretended to be her. "Her" was not any one person but a compilation of many. I got into character for the role that I needed to play. Rosa was my inspiration to improve my character to someone who would attract men. She was flirtatious, but still innocent and smart. She would dumb herself down just for those occasions to get a boy to like her. The clothes were easier to change than the walk. With the walk, I really had to practice. One foot in front of the other like on a tight rope, but with sass and confidence, never ever look down. At a time in my life when I should have been modeling myself after Christ, I was putting all my energy into my cover-up.
I know it's not just me. Many others practice their faces in the mirror before heading out to work, church, or school. We took the imagination that used to take us to far off places as children, and created a more acceptable and less afraid adult. Many of us don't even recognize our created characters anymore. We have done it for so long, that we don't know what is happening to us when the real begins to show through. It's shocking and frightening, like we are losing control. And we must always be in control.
What would happen if we let it show?
Janet is going through a divorce. She has two kids; one from a previous marriage gone wrong. And Janet is worried about letting people in on her crumbling marriage. She thinks people gossip about her husband and family already and of course that bothers her. She was the one who left this time, and he acts like he wants her back. But her mind is made up. She's done. Although when they go to public events they are together. In church they sit together. They shake hands together. He leads her into the room with his hand on the small of her back. I see this happening and I think, "That's great! I'm glad that they are working things out.", but they're not. Janet tells me that it's just an act, because she doesn't want to make a scene/scandal for people to talk about. And I can't believe what I'm hearing from her. She is hanging out with this guy pretending like everything is wonderful, when in reality she can't stand him anymore. She is willing to sacrifice so much just to save herself from possible ridicule. So she pretends in front of her friends.
Her friends.....
What if the monsters are just in our heads?
I mean, if we are all pulling the same tricks for each other, what would happen if someone had the courage to finally unwrap their mask? Would we have the courage to follow them?
Or would we stand and point?
"If weakness is a wound that no one wants to speak of, then 'cool' is just how far we have to fall. And I am not immune, I only want to be loved, but I feel safe behind the firewall. Could I lose my need to impress? If you want the truth, I need to confess. I'm not alright."
-Sanctus Real
Thursday, February 10, 2011
be patient
I have been working on a new post, but it's not quite ready yet. I have been incredibly busy and when I have any free time, all I want to do is relax or go to bed.
But here's a hint about the next post:
Imagine...
Everything you appear to be is everything you're not.
Believe...
There is more to life than just to make it through another day without being hurt again.
Follow...
In the footsteps back to your youth. Things were not always this scary. The monsters are real, but are not chasing you anymore.
It's time...
For demolition.
Your time...
And mine, to finally be understood.
But here's a hint about the next post:
Imagine...
Everything you appear to be is everything you're not.
Believe...
There is more to life than just to make it through another day without being hurt again.
Follow...
In the footsteps back to your youth. Things were not always this scary. The monsters are real, but are not chasing you anymore.
It's time...
For demolition.
Your time...
And mine, to finally be understood.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Let's talk about
Sex..
has been my drug addiction for the past six years.
Our society finds it so easy to sing about it, make jokes about it, design sitcoms about it, create magizine quizs or "dos and don'ts" about it, but for someone to actually discuss their personal experiences surrounding their own sex-life ...that's getting too personal.
And admittingly, I had to have a drink before writing about this.
The term "sex" can mean a lot of things. Although everything is better with a friend, it is not always mandatory to reach that sexual high. Anything addictive is ultimately a selfish desire working it's way to its fulfillment. And self-love has no place inside intimacy. Naturally, porn is born because of this followed by strip clubs and prostitution. Everyone wants to feel that high without the worry of caring for another person. That would require a relationship, and a relationship means work. And intimacy means transparency which can lead to ridcule and change i.e. more work.
I need a lot of work.
My first real sexual experience was with my husband, Drew. We were not married or engaged at the time. I was still clinging onto the idea that Ben and I would someday get back together. My heart was damaged so badly by Ben and I never thought it would recover. But one night in the back of a car with Drew would mark the beginning of something new. It didn't feel "dirty" or like something we needed to think twice about. And instantly I felt a closeness to Drew like we had been like this for lifetimes before. "Exposed" didn't seem awful
and intmacy was what kept us coming back for more, instead of chore. We felt connected. I felt at peace.
Before Drew, before Ben, I was alone. I dated more guys than I care to remember. None of them would amount to anything significant in my life, and I knew that from the start. But I thought I needed to go out with them to feel like a normal girl. I thought I needed them around and wanting me, to be beautiful. After I achieved the level of desire in my date, I was ready to move on. I discarded them like they were used needles, and I didn't feel bad at all for using them for my own pleasures. I would rather be the user than be the used.
A marriage takes work. It takes patience and unbending commitment to not only live with another person as part of your family, but to also contiuously churn that fire of desire for that person; loving them more than yourself. My mother-in-law must have realized this from her marriage, when she spent close to two hundred dollers on tickets to a marriage seminar for her son and I to go to. I don't remember much of what was said by speaker Gary Smalley; what I do remember most was having lunch with my husband. Those with small children I'm sure can relate that there are not many times when you and your spouse get that time to get away from the titles of "mommy and daddy". That short 45 minute lunch break gave Drew and I a chance to not only reflect on all the info from the conference it gave us a moment to reflect on ourselves; where we were going; where we want to be; and how we thought we would get there. We talked about our future goals. We prayed about our past. And we relaxed in the present knowing that times like these don't last too long. For now, we felt reconnected.
Marriage is more than sex Yet sex is necessary to maintain a healthy relationship. I struggle with that fact a lot in my marriage. It's not because I don't desire a sexual relationship; I do. It's just that it takes so much effort to get to that opportunity. The problem is not just time, kids, work schedules, sleep schedules, mood schedules, or stress in the home. It's all of those things and add in for each of us our past experiences both with each other and others, and you have a great cocktail of unhappiness and sexual frustration. That frustration becomes exaggerated in our effort to fulfill our own desires. We need that connection on more levels than just physical. But still, when I get angry and annoyed with Drew and knowing that our relationship is not what it should be, blaming him, blaming me, blaming God and life, I feel alone and like I have to look after myself in the name of self preservation. Because if I don't, no one else will.
My eyes search for a cure for my pain. I know how that first feeling with Drew felt, and I want to always go back there again and again. But all the masturbation or fantasies about another will never bring me back to that high. As much as it pains me sometimes, I realize that I need him. I need to love him and him to care for me in order to be satisfied. In my anger, I remembered only the peacefulness I felt that first night together; making the mistake of thinking that the climax was what got me there. When all along the high was in the relationship.
Now I could blame my previous porn addiction or the TV shows I've watched, books I've read, different avenues that I took to explore my attraction to women. But that blame doesn't solve anything. When the fact is, I think about sex all the time now. I assume, looking around in other people eyes, that they think about it too. But they don't. And it's come to this- me alone, my husband feeling alone, and both of us trying to get our needs met by the other. I don't know a lot about good relationships, but I know what love is, and what love is not. Love is not self-seeking. Although I sacrifice much of myself daily for my family, I am guilty of not loving. As long as I continue to love myself more, I will never be available to receive that peace that I've been searching for.
I want to forget about sex. Let's talk about love.
has been my drug addiction for the past six years.
Our society finds it so easy to sing about it, make jokes about it, design sitcoms about it, create magizine quizs or "dos and don'ts" about it, but for someone to actually discuss their personal experiences surrounding their own sex-life ...that's getting too personal.
And admittingly, I had to have a drink before writing about this.
The term "sex" can mean a lot of things. Although everything is better with a friend, it is not always mandatory to reach that sexual high. Anything addictive is ultimately a selfish desire working it's way to its fulfillment. And self-love has no place inside intimacy. Naturally, porn is born because of this followed by strip clubs and prostitution. Everyone wants to feel that high without the worry of caring for another person. That would require a relationship, and a relationship means work. And intimacy means transparency which can lead to ridcule and change i.e. more work.
I need a lot of work.
My first real sexual experience was with my husband, Drew. We were not married or engaged at the time. I was still clinging onto the idea that Ben and I would someday get back together. My heart was damaged so badly by Ben and I never thought it would recover. But one night in the back of a car with Drew would mark the beginning of something new. It didn't feel "dirty" or like something we needed to think twice about. And instantly I felt a closeness to Drew like we had been like this for lifetimes before. "Exposed" didn't seem awful
and intmacy was what kept us coming back for more, instead of chore. We felt connected. I felt at peace.
Before Drew, before Ben, I was alone. I dated more guys than I care to remember. None of them would amount to anything significant in my life, and I knew that from the start. But I thought I needed to go out with them to feel like a normal girl. I thought I needed them around and wanting me, to be beautiful. After I achieved the level of desire in my date, I was ready to move on. I discarded them like they were used needles, and I didn't feel bad at all for using them for my own pleasures. I would rather be the user than be the used.
A marriage takes work. It takes patience and unbending commitment to not only live with another person as part of your family, but to also contiuously churn that fire of desire for that person; loving them more than yourself. My mother-in-law must have realized this from her marriage, when she spent close to two hundred dollers on tickets to a marriage seminar for her son and I to go to. I don't remember much of what was said by speaker Gary Smalley; what I do remember most was having lunch with my husband. Those with small children I'm sure can relate that there are not many times when you and your spouse get that time to get away from the titles of "mommy and daddy". That short 45 minute lunch break gave Drew and I a chance to not only reflect on all the info from the conference it gave us a moment to reflect on ourselves; where we were going; where we want to be; and how we thought we would get there. We talked about our future goals. We prayed about our past. And we relaxed in the present knowing that times like these don't last too long. For now, we felt reconnected.
Marriage is more than sex Yet sex is necessary to maintain a healthy relationship. I struggle with that fact a lot in my marriage. It's not because I don't desire a sexual relationship; I do. It's just that it takes so much effort to get to that opportunity. The problem is not just time, kids, work schedules, sleep schedules, mood schedules, or stress in the home. It's all of those things and add in for each of us our past experiences both with each other and others, and you have a great cocktail of unhappiness and sexual frustration. That frustration becomes exaggerated in our effort to fulfill our own desires. We need that connection on more levels than just physical. But still, when I get angry and annoyed with Drew and knowing that our relationship is not what it should be, blaming him, blaming me, blaming God and life, I feel alone and like I have to look after myself in the name of self preservation. Because if I don't, no one else will.
My eyes search for a cure for my pain. I know how that first feeling with Drew felt, and I want to always go back there again and again. But all the masturbation or fantasies about another will never bring me back to that high. As much as it pains me sometimes, I realize that I need him. I need to love him and him to care for me in order to be satisfied. In my anger, I remembered only the peacefulness I felt that first night together; making the mistake of thinking that the climax was what got me there. When all along the high was in the relationship.
Now I could blame my previous porn addiction or the TV shows I've watched, books I've read, different avenues that I took to explore my attraction to women. But that blame doesn't solve anything. When the fact is, I think about sex all the time now. I assume, looking around in other people eyes, that they think about it too. But they don't. And it's come to this- me alone, my husband feeling alone, and both of us trying to get our needs met by the other. I don't know a lot about good relationships, but I know what love is, and what love is not. Love is not self-seeking. Although I sacrifice much of myself daily for my family, I am guilty of not loving. As long as I continue to love myself more, I will never be available to receive that peace that I've been searching for.
I want to forget about sex. Let's talk about love.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Letters from the Past
Over the past 12 years, I have kept a prayer journal. Although I do not write as much as I used to, I still find it useful to look back and read letters from my past; to see what God has done.
The following are a few of my entries that I came across:
(All entries are undoctored, only punctuation was added.)
-------------------------
7-8-02
Dear Father,
I don't like getting old anymore. I want to stay young and fit forever.
There is so much pain and grief in this world. It's everywhere; sometimes "hope" seems snuffed out by it all.
Most of the time, I just want to talk to you about "crunchy peanut butter" just because I don't want to have to think about real issues: Like where is my life going right now, and will I ever talk to {deleted friend's name} again?
I don't want to write anymore right now.
-------------------------
7-18-01
Dear Father,
Thank you for your strength and joy and peace that you gave me yesterday. I pray, and I will pray, that everyday it might not just be the same but grow with increasing measure each day.
Thank you for all the many blessings: like air to breathe, the Holy Spirit, trees, people to love and to love me, and you, a room to clean, and stuff to dirty it with. Thank you for who you are, which amazes me. It seems every time I turn around, I discover another aspect of your nature/ways, and it's wonderful- to wonderful- to awesome for words.
Now Father, I ask for the courage and the wisdom to search out actively/excitedly, people to love and to serve that I might love and serve you more.
Thank you again. Amen.
---------------------------
5-4-03
Dear Father,
Forgive me for falling in love with my dreams -And cheating on my husband in that way. Forgive me for taking that word fidelity or adultry so lightly sometimes, just because of the culture that I live in. Father, forgive me for not seeking you in every way and at every moment. Forgive me for being envious of other people's lives and money and stuff that they own.
Thank you for revealing these things to me.
Help me to learn to love Drew more. Help me to discover him the way that I want him to discover me; and the way that he already has.
Fix me, Father. Fix me!
Make me how you think I should be.
I love you, and I thank you for your grace.
--------------------------
5-28-07
Dear Father,
It's been so long since I opened up your word to read it on my own. That can't be a good sign of where my priorities lie.
I just put [my daughter] to bed after feeding her. I held her in my arms close to my chest while she slept. Most of the time I feel so disconnected from her during the day with everything going on and [my son] demanding my attention. But for those moments of quiet time with just [my daughter] and I together, I feel so close to her; as if she were still sleeping and growing inside me. It's hard for me to let those moments come to an end.
I hold her close while she sleeps and I think to myself, with such satisfaction, "we are the same". It's a wonderful feeling.
I also believe it to be a big break through for that to be an honest thought and feeling from me now.
I'm trusting you ..deep breath - good night.
----------------------
6-3-07
Dear God,
Thank you for taking care of me today - and reminding me that I am not alone. I actually felt peace.
The day went by so fast. Everyday that Drew is off usually does though.
I still feel everyday incompetent to be a wife or a mother, but you are giving me the confidence that I need.
It's hard to forgive those that I feel are responsible for my low self esteem and lack of confidence; but each day is a new day with a new start and end for me- so it is for them too.
The effects are still felt for years though and it's hard to let go and learn something different.
Teach me, Father, to listen and believe only in you.
Sometimes I feel as if I should not ever watch T.V. again, or go to the mall, or go to see a movie. They all corrupt and pollute my mind- which bleeds into my heart. But then, I guess, I shouldn't even walk out my front door or go to the store to buy groceries...There was a man who was waiting for me and the stroller with [my daughter] in it to move today in the Wal-Mart parking lot so that he could back out, and he actually cussed at me- or the situation- saying "Damn it!" -What is that about?? The world is a scary and sinful place, and you have asked my family to live in it. So although we want to be separate from it with our purposes, we must be a part of it with our every waking being [yes, I wrote that...].
Tell me how you did it. Tell me that learning from you, "the perfect man", is not a lost cause for someone totally mortal and sinful like me.
Prove to me that you can take my messed-up life with the messed up past and make something completely useful and great out of it.
Please, I beg you. Prove it!
The following are a few of my entries that I came across:
(All entries are undoctored, only punctuation was added.)
-------------------------
7-8-02
Dear Father,
I don't like getting old anymore. I want to stay young and fit forever.
There is so much pain and grief in this world. It's everywhere; sometimes "hope" seems snuffed out by it all.
Most of the time, I just want to talk to you about "crunchy peanut butter" just because I don't want to have to think about real issues: Like where is my life going right now, and will I ever talk to {deleted friend's name} again?
I don't want to write anymore right now.
-------------------------
7-18-01
Dear Father,
Thank you for your strength and joy and peace that you gave me yesterday. I pray, and I will pray, that everyday it might not just be the same but grow with increasing measure each day.
Thank you for all the many blessings: like air to breathe, the Holy Spirit, trees, people to love and to love me, and you, a room to clean, and stuff to dirty it with. Thank you for who you are, which amazes me. It seems every time I turn around, I discover another aspect of your nature/ways, and it's wonderful- to wonderful- to awesome for words.
Now Father, I ask for the courage and the wisdom to search out actively/excitedly, people to love and to serve that I might love and serve you more.
Thank you again. Amen.
---------------------------
5-4-03
Dear Father,
Forgive me for falling in love with my dreams -And cheating on my husband in that way. Forgive me for taking that word fidelity or adultry so lightly sometimes, just because of the culture that I live in. Father, forgive me for not seeking you in every way and at every moment. Forgive me for being envious of other people's lives and money and stuff that they own.
Thank you for revealing these things to me.
Help me to learn to love Drew more. Help me to discover him the way that I want him to discover me; and the way that he already has.
Fix me, Father. Fix me!
Make me how you think I should be.
I love you, and I thank you for your grace.
--------------------------
5-28-07
Dear Father,
It's been so long since I opened up your word to read it on my own. That can't be a good sign of where my priorities lie.
I just put [my daughter] to bed after feeding her. I held her in my arms close to my chest while she slept. Most of the time I feel so disconnected from her during the day with everything going on and [my son] demanding my attention. But for those moments of quiet time with just [my daughter] and I together, I feel so close to her; as if she were still sleeping and growing inside me. It's hard for me to let those moments come to an end.
I hold her close while she sleeps and I think to myself, with such satisfaction, "we are the same". It's a wonderful feeling.
I also believe it to be a big break through for that to be an honest thought and feeling from me now.
I'm trusting you ..deep breath - good night.
----------------------
6-3-07
Dear God,
Thank you for taking care of me today - and reminding me that I am not alone. I actually felt peace.
The day went by so fast. Everyday that Drew is off usually does though.
I still feel everyday incompetent to be a wife or a mother, but you are giving me the confidence that I need.
It's hard to forgive those that I feel are responsible for my low self esteem and lack of confidence; but each day is a new day with a new start and end for me- so it is for them too.
The effects are still felt for years though and it's hard to let go and learn something different.
Teach me, Father, to listen and believe only in you.
Sometimes I feel as if I should not ever watch T.V. again, or go to the mall, or go to see a movie. They all corrupt and pollute my mind- which bleeds into my heart. But then, I guess, I shouldn't even walk out my front door or go to the store to buy groceries...There was a man who was waiting for me and the stroller with [my daughter] in it to move today in the Wal-Mart parking lot so that he could back out, and he actually cussed at me- or the situation- saying "Damn it!" -What is that about?? The world is a scary and sinful place, and you have asked my family to live in it. So although we want to be separate from it with our purposes, we must be a part of it with our every waking being [yes, I wrote that...].
Tell me how you did it. Tell me that learning from you, "the perfect man", is not a lost cause for someone totally mortal and sinful like me.
Prove to me that you can take my messed-up life with the messed up past and make something completely useful and great out of it.
Please, I beg you. Prove it!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Someone push the Reset button
I hate routines and that hate leads me down a path of chaos and disorganization. And then worries breed inside my mind like bunnies. It's obvious that I can't survive with so much (another word for chaos) in my daily life. I make lists to unburden myself from the worry that I might forget about all that worries me.
"Cast all your cares on Him"
I don't think it is any big secret to tell you that I have been struggling with my faith lately. I don't even know why. There was no big tragedy that happened to me within the past year to spread doubt. I don't have any new "proof" against the faith to really speak of. On the contrary, I can easily ramble off the many different ways that God has intervened in my life and in the lives of those around me. Unexplainable circumstances that point me to believe in a loving and faithful God, who remains unseen but whose hand is seen in everything. Yet I still feel skeptical. My faith feels overcast, like it's stuck in a fog.
I was planning my route to spend some time with an old friend from college. Her and her family live roughly only 4 and half hours from us and we, as a family, had been over to visit a few times before. I knew the address and remembered the country landmarks to look for to find her house. However, when I was mapping it all out, my disaffection for everything routine kicked in; I decided to take a different route. Mapquest told me that it would get me there to the same place, and without paying for toll (bonus!). So I was all set. (So I thought...) What I didn't plan on was driving in freezing rain and ice with wind speeds that constantly made me question if I should stop the car to take cover in a ditch. Not to mention the "state highways" were not clearly marked and appeared more like a country road or something more residential. To top off the long cold wet drive, a fog started to creep in right as I came up to the unknown (to me) back way to my friend's house. Six or seven hours from the start, we arrived our destination. I was tired, I was grateful that we were there finally, but mostly I was frustrated with my stupid personality that told me that an already good plan needed to be completely redone. All of this trouble, risk, and time wasted because I thought doing something different would make me feel better somehow. I thought it would make the trip more exciting and less brain numbing. As I was traveling, I wished that I had left my brain numbing trip as it was.
I guess I could say the same about my faith. I took my focus off Christ because I felt neglected and unimportant to other believers, and ultimately to God as well. I felt like the Bible had become "old news". I sought out ways of creeping away from the world of holiness and things that would set me apart from the "world". I still wanted to have my "in" to what God wanted, but I also wanted my freedom to experience. I think it's fair to say now that I've created this spiritual fog. Now that a majority of me wants out of it, it's too late. I can't see past the end of my nose.
It's the new year, but it's still playing the same tune. Does a day that the calender resets mean that anything can?
"Cast all your cares on Him"
I don't think it is any big secret to tell you that I have been struggling with my faith lately. I don't even know why. There was no big tragedy that happened to me within the past year to spread doubt. I don't have any new "proof" against the faith to really speak of. On the contrary, I can easily ramble off the many different ways that God has intervened in my life and in the lives of those around me. Unexplainable circumstances that point me to believe in a loving and faithful God, who remains unseen but whose hand is seen in everything. Yet I still feel skeptical. My faith feels overcast, like it's stuck in a fog.
I was planning my route to spend some time with an old friend from college. Her and her family live roughly only 4 and half hours from us and we, as a family, had been over to visit a few times before. I knew the address and remembered the country landmarks to look for to find her house. However, when I was mapping it all out, my disaffection for everything routine kicked in; I decided to take a different route. Mapquest told me that it would get me there to the same place, and without paying for toll (bonus!). So I was all set. (So I thought...) What I didn't plan on was driving in freezing rain and ice with wind speeds that constantly made me question if I should stop the car to take cover in a ditch. Not to mention the "state highways" were not clearly marked and appeared more like a country road or something more residential. To top off the long cold wet drive, a fog started to creep in right as I came up to the unknown (to me) back way to my friend's house. Six or seven hours from the start, we arrived our destination. I was tired, I was grateful that we were there finally, but mostly I was frustrated with my stupid personality that told me that an already good plan needed to be completely redone. All of this trouble, risk, and time wasted because I thought doing something different would make me feel better somehow. I thought it would make the trip more exciting and less brain numbing. As I was traveling, I wished that I had left my brain numbing trip as it was.
I guess I could say the same about my faith. I took my focus off Christ because I felt neglected and unimportant to other believers, and ultimately to God as well. I felt like the Bible had become "old news". I sought out ways of creeping away from the world of holiness and things that would set me apart from the "world". I still wanted to have my "in" to what God wanted, but I also wanted my freedom to experience. I think it's fair to say now that I've created this spiritual fog. Now that a majority of me wants out of it, it's too late. I can't see past the end of my nose.
It's the new year, but it's still playing the same tune. Does a day that the calender resets mean that anything can?
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Worth a Thousand
Joy to the World! It's Christmas time.
Snow, lights, trees, candy, decorative cookies, carols, red and green, nativity, fat men in felt suits, family picture time; must mean it's Christmas time.
So where's my smile?
I can't fake it. I'm not sad, but the joy that's shown on every one's faces is not showing on mine.
Everyone has their holiday traditions. Something that we pass down to our children so to establish with them a heritage, a history, a memory.
I like my family now. My kids are the sweetest and the best. My husband is one of a kind. I thought myself better than him when we met, but I was sorely wrong. I see that now. God has blessed me with this new family. I would give my life for them. I don't deserve any of them.
This morning I had the pleasure of making homemade chocolate truffles with a long time friend of mine. Rachel and I don't see eye to eye on every subject; we've had our moments of heated debate, but we have a mutual pursuit of truth that keeps us together. That and we love CHOCOLATE! Truffles are not hard to make but they are extremely messy. I must have washed my hands close to 8 or 9 times in less than half an hour. Every truffle has to be hand rolled into a "ball-like" shape, and as the cooled chocolate melts in your hand (not in your mouth) it gets soft and leaves a pudding like mess behind. Delicious as they are when they are finished, while you are in the thick of the process, you might begin to wonder, "Is this even worth it?"
When we were all done Rachel let me be the designated taster. And oh baby, is it ever!
My support team from my Thursday meetings say that I shouldn't push myself so hard; "It's a process". I'm in the thick of it now. And I've started to look at my place in the world. More specifically, my place in my family. Inside a picture of smiling faces, my smile is absent. A friend reminded me recently that a smile is worth a thousand words. What is mine saying? Picture time scares me now. I didn't used to feel like this. And I'm thinking, "This 'process' sucks". I need to live my life now! I don't have time for all this drama inside.
Traditionally, my Mother always tried her hardest to make Christmas Eve a special evening. Traditionally, it always fell flat because of Dad's attitude about it. He wanted her to try, but he didn't want to try. All he had to do was show up. All he had to do was sit and enjoy all her efforts. All he had to do was smile.
My Dad has a process going on too. It's been going on for over 25 years. Now it's sort of stuck on rinse and repeat. His father hurt him emotionally, and he's felt tormented by those memories ever since. He's sought counseling. He's sought to drown it with medication. All his anger and discontentment with his job, himself, and his family was all part of that process. He was so busy internalizing that no one that was around him understood what was going on. My grandparents have both passed on now...and when I hear my Dad is having heart problems I wish he would just die too. I figure my problems, my bad memories, and all that stuff that took away my sweet child-like smile, will just go down with him to the grave.
But my Dad still does not smile...
I always run away from "tradition" because of him. I don't want to become a part of that family abuse statistic. I'm a fighter and I refuse to let his destiny be my own. I'm in a process, and my smile is a fake one sometimes; but I will never stop trying.
My new family tradition is to laugh, is to play, is to not let the stress of money and relationships (both past and present) take me away from those surrounding me that sincerely love and care. Those little hands that reach out to me to hold them. Those little ears that crave to listen to their night time stories.
And for my sweetest, who only wishes for my love and undivided affection, I will learn to live in the here and now. For my God, I will try even harder to shove away my demons that spread disbelief, so to remember all that He had done and is doing now.
As for the pictures...let the smile find itself. I'm no good at faking.
Christmas is not about keeping up with the Jones'. It's about the beginning of an end. It's about an answered prayer. It's about how love came down from Heaven to grow up surrounded by hate. That night, a new tradition was born. And it is all part of a process. (Isaiah 9:1-7)
Snow, lights, trees, candy, decorative cookies, carols, red and green, nativity, fat men in felt suits, family picture time; must mean it's Christmas time.
So where's my smile?
I can't fake it. I'm not sad, but the joy that's shown on every one's faces is not showing on mine.
Everyone has their holiday traditions. Something that we pass down to our children so to establish with them a heritage, a history, a memory.
I like my family now. My kids are the sweetest and the best. My husband is one of a kind. I thought myself better than him when we met, but I was sorely wrong. I see that now. God has blessed me with this new family. I would give my life for them. I don't deserve any of them.
This morning I had the pleasure of making homemade chocolate truffles with a long time friend of mine. Rachel and I don't see eye to eye on every subject; we've had our moments of heated debate, but we have a mutual pursuit of truth that keeps us together. That and we love CHOCOLATE! Truffles are not hard to make but they are extremely messy. I must have washed my hands close to 8 or 9 times in less than half an hour. Every truffle has to be hand rolled into a "ball-like" shape, and as the cooled chocolate melts in your hand (not in your mouth) it gets soft and leaves a pudding like mess behind. Delicious as they are when they are finished, while you are in the thick of the process, you might begin to wonder, "Is this even worth it?"
When we were all done Rachel let me be the designated taster. And oh baby, is it ever!
My support team from my Thursday meetings say that I shouldn't push myself so hard; "It's a process". I'm in the thick of it now. And I've started to look at my place in the world. More specifically, my place in my family. Inside a picture of smiling faces, my smile is absent. A friend reminded me recently that a smile is worth a thousand words. What is mine saying? Picture time scares me now. I didn't used to feel like this. And I'm thinking, "This 'process' sucks". I need to live my life now! I don't have time for all this drama inside.
Traditionally, my Mother always tried her hardest to make Christmas Eve a special evening. Traditionally, it always fell flat because of Dad's attitude about it. He wanted her to try, but he didn't want to try. All he had to do was show up. All he had to do was sit and enjoy all her efforts. All he had to do was smile.
My Dad has a process going on too. It's been going on for over 25 years. Now it's sort of stuck on rinse and repeat. His father hurt him emotionally, and he's felt tormented by those memories ever since. He's sought counseling. He's sought to drown it with medication. All his anger and discontentment with his job, himself, and his family was all part of that process. He was so busy internalizing that no one that was around him understood what was going on. My grandparents have both passed on now...and when I hear my Dad is having heart problems I wish he would just die too. I figure my problems, my bad memories, and all that stuff that took away my sweet child-like smile, will just go down with him to the grave.
But my Dad still does not smile...
I always run away from "tradition" because of him. I don't want to become a part of that family abuse statistic. I'm a fighter and I refuse to let his destiny be my own. I'm in a process, and my smile is a fake one sometimes; but I will never stop trying.
My new family tradition is to laugh, is to play, is to not let the stress of money and relationships (both past and present) take me away from those surrounding me that sincerely love and care. Those little hands that reach out to me to hold them. Those little ears that crave to listen to their night time stories.
And for my sweetest, who only wishes for my love and undivided affection, I will learn to live in the here and now. For my God, I will try even harder to shove away my demons that spread disbelief, so to remember all that He had done and is doing now.
As for the pictures...let the smile find itself. I'm no good at faking.
Christmas is not about keeping up with the Jones'. It's about the beginning of an end. It's about an answered prayer. It's about how love came down from Heaven to grow up surrounded by hate. That night, a new tradition was born. And it is all part of a process. (Isaiah 9:1-7)
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Moving Forward...Powerless
"When we were children, we used to think that when we grew up we would no longer be vulnerable, but to grow up is to accept vulnerability. To be alive is to be vulnerable." ---Madeleine L'Engle
I hope I do not sound redundant when I say that I am "moving forward", because I'm sure that I have already written a post or two that would suggest that same idea. But there for awhile and recently (just last week) I felt like I was stuck and sinking deeper to the very spot where my life was standing. The depression from those feelings kept me from writing and following through with my commitment to have a weekly update. I consoled myself by saying that no one really checks it that much anyway. It's old news, another fad, and my readers have moved on. It (my story) was feeling like "old news" to me already. A rut ..a sinking sand that I could not escape from. All my struggling seemed pointless. The outcome is always the same. What did I think? That my faith, my prayers, would actually change something?
I was afraid to be this vulnerable to you. I was afraid you would question my character or my allegiance to God. But in reality, these are questions similar to the ones that we all ask ourselves from time to time. Many are just like me and too afraid of what others might think to actually voice them. Questions like:
Is there a God? Or do I believe that there is because of the alternative option?
Is the God of the Bible really as "loving" and "caring" as the majority would say that He is?
If God is limitless, why does he seem "limited" to our decisions?
And what is free will? If the only inevitable option of our "free will" is to be enslaved to sin.
How can we still call it freedom?
"Is God good?"
I started attending a Christian support group for various addicts working to overcome their vices. After one of our weekly meetings, I started in on this discussion with a friend. The conversation started about my relationship with my Father and how we would know whether we finally had forgiven someone or not. Then it somehow bled into my depressive thought life of what was happening now. But my friend was the one who stated the question for me, "Is God good?" I said, "He is, because His very nature defines the word. But does His definition match mine?" What is good to me might not be "good" at all. I eventually just asked for prayer (suspicious that might not actually help) and resigned myself to believe that all my questions concerning God's goodness and authority could be considered just another language barrier.
I wanted someone to yell at. I needed a face to put my anger with. I wanted someone to blame my disappointment on, for my trauma, my cruddy childhood, and the stench that it left behind. Because what I want is to be happy and content. Reviewing my past makes me furious! I would rather just forget.
I had a significant dream while I lived in the dorms at college. It was about a man, who would eventually kill me. He never told me that it was my inevitable outcome, but I knew it was true. I had plenty opportunities to run and hide. That was what he wanted me to do. He left the door open, and I was free to leave. But where would I go? Where would I hide that he would not find me?
He looked like an ordinary man (white, middle-aged, bald, athletic build). Yet there was something ... He was different.
He wanted me to run and I ran for my life.
After he caught up with me again, I told him that I wasn't running anymore. I didn't want to play his game, and in reply he asked me, "How do you want to die?" I tried to think of some place full of people so they would know what he was. I was no longer afraid of dying. My spirit had been crushed, and I was finally letting it go.
I awoke to silence as I floated overhead of an empty movie theater. Down in front, I could see a mangled broken body folded in the red upholstered seat. It had been mine. I felt nothing for it now. I felt nothing.
Another man who looked similar to the one who had put me there, sat down next to the twisted limbs that had been mine. And diligently, tediously pieced the body back together till it looked functional and recognizable again. Then he breathed into me, and we walk out together.
It wasn't long until the first man caught up with me again. He was a constant threat to my life and I thought also of those that were around me. He would always catch me. There was no where I could go. It was happening all over again. What had changed?
I was traveling in a car with a few friends from school. We were going on a weekend road trip out of state. They all thought that my fear was ridiculous. They attempted to console me by saying, "How can this man find you in a moving vehicle? Look! There is no one there. There is no one on the road with us. Relax." I wanted to believe them, but down deep I knew they just didn't understand.
Suddenly, the door of the backseat where I was sitting ripped off, because it had been opened at such a high velocity. I heard someone in the car say, "Go faster! Now! Speed up!" But there he was. Both hands clung to the door frame with the rest of him flapping in the wind. Nothing was stopping him. And I really hoped it would this time.
I didn't want to die. I was afraid.
I screamed out for help as he climbed inside and clawed for my skin. I yelled to the driver for HELP! The driver turned around, looked at me, and smiled. It was the man from the movie theater. The smile on his face told me that I didn't have to be afraid anymore. And I felt peace knowing that he was still there.
Forgetting is impossible, if I am to love and honor my parents. Going "home" for the holidays to be with family reminds me of this. My Dad wants to hug and kiss me. He wants to pretend that everything is alright, and I just want to spit in his face. I consider it a victory enough for my Christian values, if I am able to bite my tongue long enough to let him push away my hair to kiss me on the cheek. I suppose if he asked, I would offer him the other as well. But don't ask me to like it. Don't demand that I enjoy it or cherish it. I can't do that.
If love means that my heart must let go of all the pain and believe his hypocrisy again. I guess I have a long way to go. If forgiveness means the same, then I guess I am damned to remain unforgiven. I can control my voluntary actions, but I am powerless to change my heart.
Here I sit waiting on God.
I need Him to teach me that love is not an emotion. I need Him to teach me to take one day at a time. I need Him to fix what's been mangled and broken. I need Him to remind me that I can't change the past. I need Him to help me let it go. I need Him to hold my hand as I walk through this process. And I need Him to remake my heart again... and again...
and again.
I hope I do not sound redundant when I say that I am "moving forward", because I'm sure that I have already written a post or two that would suggest that same idea. But there for awhile and recently (just last week) I felt like I was stuck and sinking deeper to the very spot where my life was standing. The depression from those feelings kept me from writing and following through with my commitment to have a weekly update. I consoled myself by saying that no one really checks it that much anyway. It's old news, another fad, and my readers have moved on. It (my story) was feeling like "old news" to me already. A rut ..a sinking sand that I could not escape from. All my struggling seemed pointless. The outcome is always the same. What did I think? That my faith, my prayers, would actually change something?
I was afraid to be this vulnerable to you. I was afraid you would question my character or my allegiance to God. But in reality, these are questions similar to the ones that we all ask ourselves from time to time. Many are just like me and too afraid of what others might think to actually voice them. Questions like:
Is there a God? Or do I believe that there is because of the alternative option?
Is the God of the Bible really as "loving" and "caring" as the majority would say that He is?
If God is limitless, why does he seem "limited" to our decisions?
And what is free will? If the only inevitable option of our "free will" is to be enslaved to sin.
How can we still call it freedom?
"Is God good?"
I started attending a Christian support group for various addicts working to overcome their vices. After one of our weekly meetings, I started in on this discussion with a friend. The conversation started about my relationship with my Father and how we would know whether we finally had forgiven someone or not. Then it somehow bled into my depressive thought life of what was happening now. But my friend was the one who stated the question for me, "Is God good?" I said, "He is, because His very nature defines the word. But does His definition match mine?" What is good to me might not be "good" at all. I eventually just asked for prayer (suspicious that might not actually help) and resigned myself to believe that all my questions concerning God's goodness and authority could be considered just another language barrier.
I wanted someone to yell at. I needed a face to put my anger with. I wanted someone to blame my disappointment on, for my trauma, my cruddy childhood, and the stench that it left behind. Because what I want is to be happy and content. Reviewing my past makes me furious! I would rather just forget.
I had a significant dream while I lived in the dorms at college. It was about a man, who would eventually kill me. He never told me that it was my inevitable outcome, but I knew it was true. I had plenty opportunities to run and hide. That was what he wanted me to do. He left the door open, and I was free to leave. But where would I go? Where would I hide that he would not find me?
He looked like an ordinary man (white, middle-aged, bald, athletic build). Yet there was something ... He was different.
He wanted me to run and I ran for my life.
After he caught up with me again, I told him that I wasn't running anymore. I didn't want to play his game, and in reply he asked me, "How do you want to die?" I tried to think of some place full of people so they would know what he was. I was no longer afraid of dying. My spirit had been crushed, and I was finally letting it go.
I awoke to silence as I floated overhead of an empty movie theater. Down in front, I could see a mangled broken body folded in the red upholstered seat. It had been mine. I felt nothing for it now. I felt nothing.
Another man who looked similar to the one who had put me there, sat down next to the twisted limbs that had been mine. And diligently, tediously pieced the body back together till it looked functional and recognizable again. Then he breathed into me, and we walk out together.
It wasn't long until the first man caught up with me again. He was a constant threat to my life and I thought also of those that were around me. He would always catch me. There was no where I could go. It was happening all over again. What had changed?
I was traveling in a car with a few friends from school. We were going on a weekend road trip out of state. They all thought that my fear was ridiculous. They attempted to console me by saying, "How can this man find you in a moving vehicle? Look! There is no one there. There is no one on the road with us. Relax." I wanted to believe them, but down deep I knew they just didn't understand.
Suddenly, the door of the backseat where I was sitting ripped off, because it had been opened at such a high velocity. I heard someone in the car say, "Go faster! Now! Speed up!" But there he was. Both hands clung to the door frame with the rest of him flapping in the wind. Nothing was stopping him. And I really hoped it would this time.
I didn't want to die. I was afraid.
I screamed out for help as he climbed inside and clawed for my skin. I yelled to the driver for HELP! The driver turned around, looked at me, and smiled. It was the man from the movie theater. The smile on his face told me that I didn't have to be afraid anymore. And I felt peace knowing that he was still there.
Forgetting is impossible, if I am to love and honor my parents. Going "home" for the holidays to be with family reminds me of this. My Dad wants to hug and kiss me. He wants to pretend that everything is alright, and I just want to spit in his face. I consider it a victory enough for my Christian values, if I am able to bite my tongue long enough to let him push away my hair to kiss me on the cheek. I suppose if he asked, I would offer him the other as well. But don't ask me to like it. Don't demand that I enjoy it or cherish it. I can't do that.
If love means that my heart must let go of all the pain and believe his hypocrisy again. I guess I have a long way to go. If forgiveness means the same, then I guess I am damned to remain unforgiven. I can control my voluntary actions, but I am powerless to change my heart.
Here I sit waiting on God.
I need Him to teach me that love is not an emotion. I need Him to teach me to take one day at a time. I need Him to fix what's been mangled and broken. I need Him to remind me that I can't change the past. I need Him to help me let it go. I need Him to hold my hand as I walk through this process. And I need Him to remake my heart again... and again...
and again.
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