tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73247989676356387542024-03-13T21:18:33.174-07:00The MendedLaurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08586314023825419237noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7324798967635638754.post-56938304507073377012017-11-16T11:07:00.000-08:002018-06-24T09:52:38.191-07:00Some of My Story: Emotional Abuse and Identity Theft<div>
17 years old. I was sitting in her living room, her hot breath
on my face -- hushed words with so much intensity. I was told how
ignorant, god-less, un-christian, "common"(rude), cruel, ungrateful,
disrespectful, worthless, and evil I was. I was videotaped as I sobbed
and shook and wished I could die. I was told that my school friends
needed to see how their "Christian" friend and leader <i>really</i>
acted. I was asked if I would be embarrassed to show my friends the
"real" me. I was asked why I was crying and why I was angry. I'm a
"lucky little bitch". EP explained to me calmly that if she knew she was going to die tomorrow and had nothing to lose, she'd kill me. She said she never thought that her "Monk" (the endearing nickname she gave me years before) would end up on her "hit list". I was told that I was the reason for my mom's sickness
and strokes/seizures, for her outbursts, and rage, and thoughts of
suicide.<br />
<br />
I was finally left to sit alone. I wasn't allowed to speak or
cry or move off the couch, because I would contaminate the rest of the
house. I was disgusting. -- A tiny house in the middle of the country,
no streetlights, and the continued "conversations" that were meant to be
heard through paper-thin walls about my worthlessness and cruelty. Then
nothing. Just crickets outside in the black.<br />
<br /></div>
Hours later, my mom appeared and pulled me close. She laid my head on her
lap, brushed the little hairs from my temples and told me how proud of
me she was and how good I was.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And that's the night that I died.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
---</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
The
summer before my senior year of high school. A normal time for
uncertainties. A time for hopes and dreams, questions and fears. A time
when the future is equally exciting and terrifying. A time when we most
desire stability and belonging, when we seek direction and hope. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After
a years of constant family drama and a particularly severe year of emotional torment dur to my Mom's jealousy and anger about my Dad's engagement, I was forced to leave my school, my church, my best friends, my boyfriend, all of my
positive influences. I left my leadership and service roles and every single person that knew me and
respected me as a person. We moved out of state to live in a camper with my mom and
my 7 year old sister in a secluded campgroud and later to EP's land in the middle of nowhere. No drivers license, no car, no freedom, no
friends, no church, limited calls, if any. Definitely no contact with my
Dad. We were "starting again", away from everything that she hated, no
loved, no hated, no loved.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She
thought that we needed counseling. But "we", meant me. If I would just
let go. If I could just love her more. She couldn't understand why I
didn't love her enough to be entirely happy about leaving everyone and
everything. We sought counseling at a couple of little churches but once they
actually caught on to what was happening, we would find fault and and stop going. The game would be played and
apologies made for past boyfriends or behaviors or "working too much"
but never admission or apology for the current situation. I was the only hurdle left in having a brand new life. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A
bad example to my sister ... a diva, a brat, cruel and callused,
selfish, ignorant, uncaring, disloyal. A liar. The mental and emotional
control went on for what <i>felt </i>like years. I had no right to be
depressed or upset, angry or sad. I had no right to feel unless they
were her feelings. No right to speak unless they were words that she
wanted to hear. I felt like I had nothing. I didn't matter. I was either
screamed at or completely ignored. My voice didn't matter. My opinion didn't
matter. My emotions didn't matter. I had to shut down. So I did. I went
into emotional hiding.<br />
<br />
I prayed so much that summer. I walked to the
campground playground when I could. I would sit swing and listen to
praise music to try and find something bigger, hope. I was dying inside. Apparently
my sudden silence (the weekend before my dad got remarried) was taken to be a "cry for help" and I was literally
wrestled into the car and taken to the ER. The doctor prodded me with questions about my depression
and "thoughts of suicide". I never threatened to, kill
myself, I explained. I just didn't want to be tormented. I wanted
normalcy, stability. I want to feel loved. I want to be away from my
mom's 'friend'. But what my mom (apparently) heard from the doctor
was quite different. "She hates you. She loves her Dad. She doesn't want
to be with you."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The scratching squeak of
the glass doors sliding open was the only thing I heard as we walked
into the parking lot. No eye-contact. No words. Finally one word, not so
hushed this time, "In". The door slammed behind me. A few moments of
piercing silence, just the sound of the pouring rain on the hood, and
then every word and name in the history of names.<br />
"How could you tell some stranger lies about your family?!"<br />
"You're lucky to be alive right now."<br />
"You're lucky you weren't slapped shit-less in the parking lot."<br />
"If this is what Christianity looks like, I don't want any part of it."<br />
"No one wants to look at you because you're worthless." EP said in an eerily calm tone.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"You're dead to me", my mom finally said.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And for the first time in my life, I really wished I was.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
We continued on to a laundry mat. --Just going about normal business
while my mom stared off into the distance and pretended as though I didn't exist. I wept uncontrollably in
the back seat. I
could barely breathe. When the car finally stopped, I was asked why <b><i>I</i></b> was crying and told to "get it together" as to not embarass anyone. I obediently walked
inside the laundry mat while being quietly berated with words. Fight or flight
took over, I suppose, and I ran to the closed down
gas station next door. I melted beside the pump, praying for God to
have mercy on me and just kill me rather than torture me like this. They
didn't follow. I paced the dark country street and considered stepping in front of a truck or walking
to the motel a couple of blocks away to plead for help but history had
taught that my lack of scars would lead to nothing but being put back in
the same situation. So instead, I knelt down on the asphalt and prayed aloud to God to help me.<br />
<br />
More than an hour later they
loaded laundry and drove down the road past me, while I still sat by the pump at that gas
station. They eventually came back for me because my 7 year old sister saw me and
started screaming for me. They made me get
back in the car and told me that they only cared where I was because
they
were responsible for me and "would be damned if they went to jail for
some little bitch". We drove off into the middle of nowhere to that tiny
hell-house with just trees and fields and darkness. So much darkness.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My innocence was slaughtered that day and my identity was stolen. I was left questioning who I <i>really </i>was, what value I <i>really </i>had, and what I could possibly offer anyone in life, especially God. I also wondered if I was actually insane. What I <i>knew </i>to be true was completely altered. Someone that once "loved me" added me to her "hit list" and and my own mother allowed this abuse to happen in front of her. What worth could I possibly have? My identity had been forever changed.</div>
<div>
<br />
There is certainly much more to this story ... many more dark things but also great mercies fro the Lord. God did incredible things and wonderful people worked very hard and loved me so well through these times.<br />
<br />
But my purpose in writing this is two-fold.<br />
1.
To work towards truth. And I can't work towards truth if I can't ever
speak the whole truth. I feel things deeply and personally because those
attacks were <i>personal</i>. My "trust" issues are valid. My
hardships may not be particularly blog-worthy or visible or
memorial-able but they are no less real.<br />
2. To encourage other
people that my not have a "platform" or physical proof of injury, to
know that they aren't alone. You are valuable. You aren't crazy (as much
as certain people would like you to think you are). You are wholly
loved.<br />
<br />
Lots of people have written books and blogs
about abuse, loss, addiction, tragedy... but I feel like emotional abuse
is rarely spoken of because it's label-less. It's not a "platform"
that's seen as acceptable or reasonable or truly tragic. It's messy,
somewhat self-inflicted, continuous, and most who have experienced it
don't ever get "past it" or away from the influence of their abuser.
Like an addiction, it's always calling from the shadows.<br />
<br />
--------<br />
<br />
The
wounds still haven't really healed. It's been more than 10 years and
these scars can still be easily opened. I fight my own personal identity
crisis daily. These things may have been brushed under the rug, buried
beneath the surface, or never acknowledged but that doesn't make them
less true and it certainly doesn't make them less painful or toxic.<br />
<br />
I'm
sure that many people will be quick to tell me to count my blessings
and to be grateful I wasn't beaten or physically tortured. And I am
thankful about so many wonderful things in my life that I certainly
don't deserve. The truth doesn't negate thankfulness. There are people
who would say it's best not to speak of these things but respectfully,
not speaking of these things is just more isolation. Because until
you've been in a place of mental and emotional chaos at the hands of
people you believe love you, you don't understand. And to the abusers
who refuse to acknowledge the things that happened, it's real. It's been
very real for me these past several years and it has affected every
single aspect of my life -- from my marriage to my children to my
relationship with my sister to my aspirations and decision making
abilities. But honestly, the worst of all is my spiritual life. You made
me doubt things I never knew I could. I walk on eggshells in my own
mind. I can't even be "good" without thinking that I'm probably doing it
for the wrong reason.<br />
<br />
I will never let you in fully,
again. I will not let you hurt my family. I will try to protect those
that I love against torment. I will not let you control my mind or my
emotions. I will protect my boys, because that is what parents do,
protect their children from harm. So instead of guilt-trips and
conversations about forgiveness, lets converse about this... when you
can acknowledge that all these things were done and said, then we can
communicate. Until then, it's not actually a conversation... it's
manipulation. 12 years and these sores still burn so wildly that there
isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel the sting. I need to cut off
the cancerous limb and all the twigs that have sprung from it.<br />
<br />
I need to be able to tend to the <i>true</i> heart
issues in my life. I need to hear the truth and believe it, good and
bad. How am I supposed to work on issues when I'm consistently made to
feel as though I'm insane? How am I to seek truth and believe the truth
when I'm not allowed to speak about true things that happened?<br />
<br />
I'm
finished with being fearful of what people think and assume. I'm
finished wondering if people understand me or really care about me. I'm
finished second-guessing. I'm finished feeling crazy. My identity
doesn't come from you or your friend. I know, in my mind, that you both
were wrong, but my soul still feels tormented. <br />
<br />
My
faith needs to be greater than all the fears within me. I want to
believe that God can heal even the invisible wounds. I have been wholly
crushed and wholly lost but I <i>know </i>that I am wholly loved, if I accept it and believe it.<br />
<br />
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And that is my meditation for this year: Renewal. Revival. Truth.<br />
I'm ready for this endless winter to be over and for spring to come once again.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08586314023825419237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7324798967635638754.post-67683793926153191232017-11-15T10:56:00.000-08:002017-11-15T11:20:19.003-08:0013 Ways to Support Someone Who Has Been Emotionally Abused<div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>
If you know someone who is journeying through the depths of their thoughts and feelings after emotional abuse and you are unsure of what to do, this could a helpful resource for you.<br />
<br />
Loving someone at their darkest and most vulnerable is really hard. Trying to help can be overwhelming and exhausting, especially if we haven't stood in those shoes before. But I wanted to offer a (non-exhaustive) list of things that may be an encouragement to someone in search of healing. These are all things that I wish my own abuser had heard when she was young. I think they could have made all the difference in the world. <b><br /></b><br />
I'm not a counselor or a therapist, I'm just someone who has walked in these shoes and is learning what my heart needs to hear most. Maybe these things could be helpful in your effort of loving and extending grace.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>----</b><br />
<b><i>Listen. </i></b><br />
Being heard is incredibly important in the healing process. Chances are that there have been years of being shut down, shut out, and misunderstood. See past the mask and understand that there is <i>real </i>and<i> intense</i> hurt.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Think about how you might advise someone who was being physically beaten on a daily basis and apply that to emotional abuse as well. </i></b><br />
Emotional abuse may leave no physical scars, but is no less harmful. Saying things like "at least you weren't" and "you need to toughen up" and "don't burn bridges" can be incredibly damaging. The scars are deep and the the support is generally non-existent. <br />
<br />
<b><i>Affirm the most basic things. </i></b><br />
The phrase, "I believe you" can go a long way.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Affirm (the believer's) identity in Christ.</i></b><br />
But what does that <i>really</i> mean and look like? I've heard it over and over again and it never really make sense - until it made sense. <br />
Affirm that the Holy Spirit is in them. Tell them that they can work towards trusting the voice of truth again. Affirm that the Lord is capable of healing and renewing. Affirm that where they feel weak and broken, the Lord is strong and powerful and is also a good and gracious Father. <br />
<i><b><br />Tell them that "It's okay to grieve". </b></i> <br />
Even if that person is responsible for cutting ties or creating solid boundaries. It's still a loss. Grieving the loss of a relationship, a childhood, security, control is valid and necessary.<br />
<i><b><br />Tell them that "Every victory counts".</b></i><br />
A step in the right direction is absolutely huge. Seeking help, allowing the hurt to rise to the surface, dealing with feelings as they come rather than stuffing them down is <i>absolutely</i> good. <br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>Tell them that people can not give them the clarity that they so deeply desire. </i></b><br />
Lead them to helpful resources. Admonish them to find the truth and live according to those core truths. Living while listening to a constant committee of internal naysayers and conflicting thoughts is exhausting and depressing. Depending on other outside "voices" can be damaging in the search for truth. Listening to just a couple of trustworthy and wise counselors may be best.<br />
<b><br /><i>Help them to find their vision and goals. </i></b><br />
One of the hardest things when searching for clarity is choosing goals to meet. Achieving those goals requires <i>grit and grace</i> and ultimately falls on them. But helping a friend prioritize their goals and find "vision" is a huge help. (ex: personal and spiritual health, keeping their own family safe, doing the right and honest things.)<br />
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<i><b>If you don't know what to say, saying, "I'm so sorry" is enough. </b></i><br />
You may not know how to handle the situation and you may not be able to take on that type or amount of emotional burden. Knowing your limits and knowing that you may not "know" is important too. Gentling guiding them towards a counselor (a safe place) where they can
talk it through is great advice. <br />
<br />
<i><b>A</b><b>sk,"What can I do?" </b></i><br />
Don't be surprised if they say, "I don't know". They may be too overwhelmed to have an answer off the bat. Recognize that sifting through heavy emotional baggage is taxing mentally and physically. Maybe it's watching children or bringing a meal on occasion so they can attend counseling. Maybe it's giving them uninterrupted time to spend with God. Maybe they need a couple hours of extra sleep. Maybe they need to just have fun, away from the emotional stuff, for a while. Offering to do [x,y,z] to lessen the burden so they can find help and safety makes a huge impact.<i><b><br /></b></i><br />
<br />
<b><i>Keep trying. Keep encouraging. And also learn your limits.</i></b> <br />
Don't burn yourself out trying to hold someone up. Those who have been abused have years and year of baggage and confusion to work through. You can't be the hero, holding them up (along with that overwhelming weight) BUT a little note, an affirming word, a helping hand, can go a very long way in helping them feel valued and supported. The last thing someone wants to be is a burden. Do what you can but don't allow them to become too taxing for you. It's okay to rest. You can't fill anyone else up if you are empty. Creating healthy boundaries in your friendship may empower them to create healthy boundaries as well.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Be a source of truth. </i></b><br />
Those that have been abused have a hard time deciphering truth from lies. Be a source of honesty. Put advice through the filter of "is it kind and is it necessary" before speaking. The depth of a relationship will determine how well honest direction will go over. I can not stress enough how important honesty and genuine concern can be. Do not exaggerate and do not compliment falsely. But if you have something sweet and uplifting to say, say it! They can definitely use the boost ... even if they don't want to accept the positive encouragement. It takes a lot of affirmation and positive reinforcement to replace the negative.<br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>Recognize that the healing process takes time. </i></b>Don't get annoyed when grief and pain doesn't go away quickly. Being sad doesn't mean that progress isn't being made. Tears can be healing. Time does not heal all wounds. But time and small victories do create a new normal. We are who we choose to be - just one step at a time. <br />
<b><i></i></b><br />
<b><i></i></b>----<br />
Dear Sweet Friends, <br />
The simple fact that you took the time to read this list means so much. It's obvious that there is a great deal of compassion in you and a desire to understand. Sometimes there are no words or actions that can make things"better" when someone is hurting, but I want to encourage you that YOU are a key component in ending the cycle of abuse that can plague families for generations.<br />
<br />
Your concern and care, your honesty and graciousness, are huge tools in helping someone get the help and healing they need. Showing someone they are valued and heard can be life-changing. Someone like YOU can be what keeps someone from becoming an abuser someday. Even the most simple words or actions can be the seed of hope that a hurting heart needs in order to bloom again. Thank you for caring, thank you for trying. That is the best we <i>can</i> do, really. <i><br /></i><br />
<br />
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08586314023825419237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7324798967635638754.post-24064632218967847282017-11-09T08:42:00.001-08:002017-11-10T23:43:48.226-08:00Safety is Important TooIt's a beautiful winter day. You and a group of good friends drive into the
country and lace up your ice skates for a fun day on pond.
You are leisurely skating when suddenly you hear a sharp crack and the
glassy ice gives way, sending your friend plunging into the frigid waters.
You rush to help her out of the water and onto solid ground. <i>But what next? </i>How
do you save someone from freezing to death in the middle of winter,
covered in ice water? If you don't take action quickly, they could lose all of their body heat and they could die from hypothermia. When
the
body can no longer regulate internal temperature, other measures <i>have</i> to
be taken to get them warm ... and quickly. <br />
<br />
Someone suffering from hypothermia couldn't
get the warmth and healing they needed if part of them was still stuck
in an ice-bath. Warming up requires stripping away the cold, wet,
clothing and bundling up in thick warm blankets and drinking warm
liquids. Warming up requires a lot of effort and absolutely no exposure to cold.<br />
<br />
My point is ... sometimes
the only way to real healing is by getting away from the cold. Sometimes healthiness and wholeness require warming up <i>fully</i> before ever allowing the cold back in. <br />
<br />
This
is like emotional abuse. At some point, someone who is abused can no
longer regulate their internal thoughts and feelings without help.
Putting truth into our brains can only get us so
far. Putting blankets on top of icy, wet, clothing will only do so
much. If we are piling truth and grace on top of layers confusion and
anxiety, perhaps we aren't really treating the core problem after all. <br />
<br />
----<br />
The
hardest part about navigating the aftermath of emotional abuse, for me,
is actually in the spiritual realm. The person that hurt me and failed
to protect me is the same person that regularly spouts out bible verses.
The person that turned my own brain against itself is the same one that
"prays for me every day" and "wishes I understood".<br />
<br />
It
would seem as though these traits couldn't co-exist within the same
person, but I assure you, they can. The one who is a master at
manipulating and is capable of making me question my own reality (<a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/here-there-and-everywhere/201701/gaslighting-know-it-and-identify-it-protect-yourself">gaslighting</a>)
is the same one that consistently tells me that they are proud of the
woman that I have become and don't understand why I'm so cruel and
unfair. It's quite a contrast of mentality and an extraordinarily
confusing place to live. <br />
<br />
She "prays" that I can learn
to forgive. She "doesn't know where this is coming from". She thinks
that my behavior is unfair and uncalled for. She sends me texts and
notes and letters explaining how God has changed her, how she "had to
work through hard stuff too". She sends bible verses and bible story
books to my kids and writes sweet notes about when I was a little girl.
She wishes that I could "just work through my hurt and open up to her". <br />
<br />
She
has all the right words, and they often sound so nurturing and natural
and sweet ... so why does it sting so deeply? Why do words about God
and faith, forgiveness and love and "opening up" still hurt so
terribly? Why do these words feel like slinging sand in a raw wound? <br />
<br />
Because
for years I witnessed her manipulate and blame, all while putting on a
loving and helpful
Christian front. I watched as she <i>said</i> one thing and <i>did</i> another. I
watched the rage and the tearful meltdowns. I saw that reputation was
much more important than integrity. <br />
<br />
Why does it hurt? Because year
in and year out, my feelings didn't matter. My opinions didn't matter.
My best wasn't good enough. I was made to question who I was and if <i>any</i> of my efforts could be "good enough" for her ... and for God.<br />
<br />
----<br />
I
see this darkness and resentment in myself. I feel so
ashamed of thinking so poorly and not offering grace upon grace to her
when I offer it to others so much more easily. When I'm beside her in
church, I feel the
anxiety boiling up inside of me. Each little comment and nod and "amen"
poking holes in the grace that I try to cover up my overwhelming anger
with. When she stands next to me in church, hands raised in worship, or
nudges me after the delivery of a sermon statement, I feel like throwing
up. Not because she doesn't belong there but because it all feels like a
lie. Because I have seen the other side. From small exaggerations to
huge
issues of integrity, she knows how to create the narrative that suits
her best.<br />
<br />
Why would I believe her notes about her
unconditional love and devotion to family and God and prayer? Why would
I believe, knowing what I know, that her words are honest and good and
not full of manipulation and selfish ambition. Everyone else may not
believe it, or see things for what they are, but I know what happened
and continues to happen. I spent years believing and defending. I spent
years trying harder and harder to win approval. I tried to be a better
daughter, a better sister, a better example, a better christian. I never
measured up and I had no escape from the constant mental and emotional
push.<i> </i>But right now, safety is more important to my soul than reconciliation.<br />
<br />
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----<br />
We
are all broken and in need of healing. We all fail and need the Lord's
grace, and the grace of other's to function well and move forward.
Without God's extraordinary grace and mercy, I would be condemned.
Therefore, as a believer, the last thing I want to do is be destructive
or cruel but when someone is an abuser, truth and caution <i>have</i> to reign. At least for a while -- maybe long term. <br />
<br />
I don't have an answer about how to put the resentment and hurt and anger to rest right now. I <i>so</i>
wish that I did. I am working through it as more pieces of the puzzle
come to light. Perhaps sometime in the future, the process of
reconciliation can begin. But I have to get warm before I can be brave
enough (and healthy enough) to go back towards that icy pond. And maybe
the danger is too great to return. I'm not sure yet. <br />
<br />
----<br />
Every
situation and story is different. People are flawed and sinful and
selfish, and grace is so necessary in forming and preserving loving
relationships. BUT... being emotionally stable, and whole and <i>safe</i> is just as important.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>For
anyone reading today that is going through this process of anxiety,
anger, disappointment, guilt ... I just want you to know that I'm in the
trenches with you. <br />I am for you -- and you are not alone.</i></div>
<br />
I indefinitely ended a relationship in order to preserve my emotional and mental stability. <i>I
don't regret it. My life is calmer and my inner committee of critics
are much quieter these days. I have more space for good things because I
made less space for the negative input. </i><i>I have more space for the truth because I've cut out the lies.</i><br />
<br />
I'm growing. I'm learning. I'm actually "trying" less than I ever did before, but I feel more spiritually successful. And <i>even the smallest victories count</i>
in overcoming the chaos inside my head and heart. Knowing my smallness
in this area makes me appreciate God's greatness all the more. I can't.
But He can. He is doing good things inside of this heart, just one piece
and one small certainty at a time.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DHgfEMNef4E/WgSBFL8rg7I/AAAAAAAADVw/qtgi4gYW0eoAkcuGmmcBaNktdFCuzeDEwCLcBGAs/s1600/smallest%2Bvictories.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DHgfEMNef4E/WgSBFL8rg7I/AAAAAAAADVw/qtgi4gYW0eoAkcuGmmcBaNktdFCuzeDEwCLcBGAs/s320/smallest%2Bvictories.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div>
Perhaps
someday I'll be stronger. I'll be able to separate the truth from lies
and decipher and deal with false guilt and true shame as it comes. I
hope that someday I can extend the same grace to her as I do to so many
others. I can't wait for the day when I can feel confident enough to
just "let it roll off my back" when something negative gets thrown my
way. But right now, in this moment, all I can do is work on me and have
faith that heart-change is coming. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08586314023825419237noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7324798967635638754.post-29392146390286852402017-02-04T12:56:00.003-08:002017-02-04T12:56:46.586-08:00Courage is BelievingCutting ties. Calling out behaviors. Searching for truth. Praying against collateral damage. <br />
<br />
I've been struggling with feeling incredibly selfishness for speaking out about many things recently. I have sought wise counsel and tried
to approach things in an upright and factual way, as to not cloud my
story with exaggerations or other perspectives. As you know, telling a
story can leave us quite vulnerable. And stories have more than one
character. In telling my story, I have to consistently find a balance
between telling <i>my </i>story (not speaking for anyone else) while seeking truth in the most respectful and credible way that I can.<br />
<br />
I've
been anxious, and weepy, and searching for approval because deep down, I
feel as though posting potentially harmful things is selfish, and
cruel, and unnecessary. These terms aren't unfamiliar to me. I have had
to constantly remind myself that honesty is not wrong. My truth is not
malicious. And <i>facts </i>have a great power to heal (everyone involved). Speaking out and giving things fair labels <i>is</i>
appropriate. Abuse is abuse. And, if I don't fill in the blanks, other
people will, like they always have. Assumptions are powerful.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
----</div>
<br />
Words
like, "reconciliation is God's deepest will for families" and "burning
bridges is a bad idea" are actually terribly confusing things to hear as
a victim. They can knock us back into a place of deep unrest and make
us feel falsely guilty for seeking change. While these concepts mostly
come from the mouths of wonderfully kind and god-seeking people, it
doesn't always make these words ultimate truth or particularly helpful.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>The
thing about a victims is ... we have probably tried (for years) to make
peace in every other way imaginable. We have probably tried tirelessly
to fix things, to keep bridges from burning, and to protect the people
we love, even when those people unrepentant-ly hurt us.</i> </b></div>
<br />
While
concepts like reconciliation, honoring covenants (commitments and
promises), staying loyal to family, and being respectful to ones parents
are completely biblical and completely true, situations and scenarios
can also change the way in which we approach these concepts.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
----</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
As Christians, our first response in all relationships should be to mend. We desire truth. <i>We seek peace, we seek healing, we forgive, and we pray for those that "persecute us". </i> We
are called to be the stronger, more gracious, more loyal people in our
communities. When we are "slapped" [attacked], we offer the other cheek
instead of returning the blow. That is what God desires for us and
requires from us. <i><b>That is courage. That is love. That is grace. </b></i><br />
<br />
<i>However</i>,
sometimes our situations don't fit into a neat little box (often times
they don't). And we are left trying to figure out where to draw our
lines and create our boundaries for the sake of our own spiritual life
and for our own righteousness. Speaking solely from my perspective and
from my experience (not speaking from God's mouth, or as a scholar, or
teacher) ... I believe that there is a season for healing (like there
are seasons for all other things). I believe that sometimes, the most
righteous and loving thing we can do is tell the truth.<br />
<br />
Sometimes
covering sins (our own and the sins of others) with grace can actually
be detrimental to growth. This is true across the board. Abuse happens
behind the scenes. <i><b>Sin hides in darkness.</b> It hides in
assumptions. It hides in half-truths. It hides in exaggeration and
distortion. It hides in places where the light is not allowed in. </i>Sin
can hide for generations upon generations without ever being brought to
light and dealt with appropriately. Typically the (now) abusers were
once the abused and their abusers were likely abused a generation before
that.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Without
truth, without transparency, without righteous anger,
self-confrontation, and perhaps even public confrontation, these
offenses will remain hidden and continue to poison beneath the facades
of "family", "loyalty", "appropriateness", and "good Christian
behavior". </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Courage is believing. Courage is telling the truth. </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Willingness
to speak the truth is brave. Believing that that truth can heal
(despite fallout and repercussions) is perhaps the bravest of all. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08586314023825419237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7324798967635638754.post-57125558435299637602017-02-04T12:44:00.000-08:002017-02-04T19:53:49.935-08:00I. Will. Have. Order. <i><b>I get really anxious sometimes. And then I get angry.</b></i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
When
I was a senior in high school, I had a bad habit of waking up late.
Really late. The bus would be purring outside while I threw on some
clothes, grabbed
my gear, and went running down the stairs and out the front door. I
could have probably won some sort of Guinness record with my morning
pace. When my step-mom would come upstairs later, she always noticed
that my bed was
made. I may have been lethargic and late, but somehow still "clean".
Why? Because that
habit was so ingrained in me as a child, it was now (as a teenager) a natural response to years of
knowing that the consequence of a messy bed was after-school misery at my mom's house. </div>
</div>
<br />
Disorder
in my house as a child meant screaming, grounding, guilt trips, and the
throwing of all kinds of stuff (folded and orderly or not) in a
pile in the middle of my floor. Often times I would be greeted with "
you didn't do what I asked..." or "what did I tell you..." instead of a
"how was your day?" I dreaded coming home much of the time. To this day, I
still feel terribly
uneasy when things aren't orderly (<i>especially</i> in my own home). I
struggle to leave my house without tidying up and cleaning off surfaces. I'm almost incapable of
leaving without straightening the pillows on the couch, folding the
throw blankets and putting them in their designated place. I'm always anxious
leaving and almost always anxious coming home. I still get the same breathless
jitters when I come back to a disorderly house that I did when I was
young. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
These days, my home is my <i>escape</i> and my<i> safe place</i>,
where I can control the majority of what goes on, or so I'd like to
think. I want our home to be a safe place for my husband and our
children as well. Unfortunately, I'm learning that my most common
response to anxiety is <i>anger</i>.
And that's not okay. Frustration, resentment, impatience, call it what you will. I
consistently find myself getting aggravated when things feel out of
control. I'm annoyed when the counter top becomes a crumb collector and
the floor is covered in scrambled eggs and half squished green
beans. I lose it when my kids are under my feet while I'm cleaning or
working out. I end up yelling at bedtime because tired boys just. won't.
rest. I fuss and fret because I'd like to be able to finish one simple thing.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"I will. have. order." is the wailing of my soul and my mouth. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The problem is, that makes me the villain, and I really don't want to be that. </div>
<br />
While I can <i>justify</i> discipline and I can <i>justify</i>
teaching
my children with structure and responsibility, I know that the root of
my
problem is anxiety and anger. <i>My home might be pretty and tidy, but my
spirit ... not so much.</i> I often find myself thinking, I hope someone didn't
just hear that. I'm ashamed and sincerely convicted about my mouth and
my attitude. I want to be a woman of integrity above all. I need to be
the same person when someone is watching as I am when I'm alone.<br />
<br />
I
have to talk myself down off of my angry ledge regularly. I have to be
my own advocate when those anxious feelings start flooding in. I push
the waters back by breathing and then ... I put myself back into my 8 year old shoes for a moment.
I remind myself about
the things I wanted and needed when I was little. I remind myself that those
legos that I've been stepping on are proof that my kids are being<i> kids</i>.
I tell myself that the cluttered counters and dirty floors mean
that my family is being fed. I tell myself that a gracious Mama is a
good Mama and that grace will have to cover the mess. <br />
<br />
I tell myself that <i><b>our home is lived in and well-loved</b></i>.
Home is all about the heart after all. I still clean and I still quibble
but I am actively trying to cover each day with grace. Grace upon grace
upon grace. Grace when I fail and grace when things don't go my way. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I
know that my own problems with control, anxiety, and anger have a
definite impact on my family. I am living proof of this. I don't want to
be the kind of mother that my children fear. I don't want my home to be
tense. I don't want these walls to be filled with shouting and
disapproval. While I desperately want our house to be clean and orderly,
my top priority is to help create a safe place for my family. A
peaceful home requires sacrifice on my part. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I
have to deny my impulses and knee-jerk responses. I have to ignore
those nagging feelings and focus on what really counts. I am certain
that God is going to meet me where I am in this battle. I am taking it
day by day and moment by moment. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Every little victory counts. </div>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08586314023825419237noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7324798967635638754.post-86509307150839475842017-01-23T12:01:00.001-08:002017-01-23T12:01:19.755-08:00A Critical SpiritAn encouraging voice or a critical one? That is a question I've been
asking myself a lot recently, regarding the 'voices' I've been listening to and the voices that escape my mouth (and fingers as I
type).<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
--- </div>
<br />
We
don't typically mean to be critical but our judgment usually shows our
heart just the same. Sometimes we tear others down because we feel bad
about
ourselves. Sometimes we point out flaws because we would rather direct
attention away from our own. And sometimes we are just proud. Plain and
simple.<br />
<br />
I am so guilty of this. I would <i>like</i> to think that much of my sin comes from underlying feelings of unworthiness, and that's probably true <i>to an extent</i>,
but I also have to face the facts. Being a follower of Christ requires
that I take responsibility for my own temptations and poor judgment. <i>Intention does not neutralize impact.<b> </b></i>Harshness makes us unattractive, especially to those that do not know Christ.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
When
my words are harsh and my attitude is demanding, I am thinking of
myself as better than others. I am failing to see the person, failing to
see potential, and trying to orchestrate change in the wrong way. <i>That's the truth. </i><br />
<br />
We
all do it. ... while driving, while working, while sitting in church.
We even use social media to to push perspectives and criticism. Women, I
think, are particularly skilled in this area. Most of us are very good
at, uh, knowing it all. <i>I know I am.</i> [insert laugh here].<br />
<br />
We
have our own ways (we call that independence). We have the wisest words
(we call that teaching). We have knowledge and experience to advise (we
call that correction and discipline). We gossip about other people,
"bless her heart" (we call that conversation). The way we label it
sounds pretty good, but our true intentions <i>might </i>label it differently. <i>Might. </i>I only know where my own heart falls short.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<br />
I
wanted to share some things that I have been meditating over because I
know that I can be ugly sometimes. It's a heart problem. It's a pride
problem. -- It's a problem. Let's leave it there. -- And I know that
heart change doesn't necessarily require knowledge (of mind) it requires
a willingness to grow. It requires teach-ability and it requires a
spirit of humility. Even the most seasoned preachers and most
knowledgeable scholars have things to learn. Information can come from
all sort of people in all sorts of positions, in all walks of life. Some
of the most valuable lessons I've learned are from some of the most
broken people. <br />
<br />
Perhaps unity as the body of Christ is achieved through listening to one another. There is no place for <i>cruelty</i> in the church. <i><b>We speak in love and we speak with conviction, but not at the expense of respect.</b></i> A body can easily be torn apart and broken down by the cancer of criticism.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Knowledge
isn't everything. It's attractive, commendable, and necessary ... but
knowledge doesn't win the heart, only love and respect can do that. </b></i></div>
<br />
With
respect to my personal life, I like to think of myself as a critical
thinker. I have a lot of thoughts and visions and plans and hopes. And I
<i>do </i>try very hard to make people see my point because I feel very strongly about the power of grace in ones life (my life). <i><b>I also like to win.</b></i> And I know that at times, I have sacrificed my sweetness. And for that I am sorry.<i><b> </b></i>As it turns out, I'm less of of "critical thinker" and more of a "critical stinker", a lot of the time. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
--- </div>
<br />
Here
are a couple of differences, that I've been meditating on, between
"constructive" criticism (critical thinking) and having a critical
spirit: <br />
<br />
<i>Critical Thinking sees potential</i><br />
A Critical Spirit finds fault<br />
<br />
<i>Critical Thinking asks questions</i><br />
A Critical Spirit makes assumptions<br />
<br />
<i>Critical Thinking desires understanding</i><br />
A Critical Spirit wants to be right<br />
<br />
<i>Critical Thinking desires growth</i><br />
A Critical Spirit expects perfection<br />
<i><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></i>
<i>Critical Thinking appreciates differences</i><br />
A Critical Spirit devalues other perspectives<br />
<br />
<i>Critical Thinking offers grace first</i><br />
A Critical Spirit offers discipline first<br />
<br />
<i>Critical Thinking acts as an advocate</i><br />
A Critical Spirit acts as [the] judge<br />
<br />
<i>Critical Thinking is respectful</i><br />
A Critical Spirit is arrogant<br />
<br />
<i>Critical Thinking is responsive</i><br />
A Critical Spirit is insensitive<br />
<br />
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<i>Critical thinking sees the big picture</i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
A Critical Spirit has tunnel-vision<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
----</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
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<i>I want to be better; for my family and for the people I come into contact with. I want to be a light.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
It's hard to know how to find balance grey areas. </div>
What do you think? Do you have a way of drawing the line in your life? <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08586314023825419237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7324798967635638754.post-68836021635126513902017-01-23T09:32:00.007-08:002017-11-09T08:52:55.700-08:00Guilty<i><b>I feel guilty. </b></i><br />
<i><b>All the time. </b></i><br />
I feel blamed, useless, not good enough. I feel as though I should be able to <i>do</i> more, <i>handle</i> more, work faster, <i>give</i> more. I should be capable of speaking better words, loving others better, being more encouraging. I should be
"sweeter", more holy, more ... More. More. More. I feel as though I am responsible for fixing everything and keeping the peace, even when I'm not directly involved. I feel deep down as though the problems and frustrations of others are a direct result of something that I did, or said, or didn't do.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's hard to remember instances where I was <i>made</i>
to feel guilty or blamed (with specific words) in my earlier childhood
years, partially because, children have a natural grace and innocence
about them. But somewhere along the line, somewhere in the middle of
extremely high expectations and harsh words of criticism, I started
feeling<b> </b>the blame<b>.</b> I would cringe if I made a mistake or
had any sort of accident (especially if I made a mess). I fully expected
to be punished for being irresponsible, selfish, and/or stupid. I
thought that when my sister behaved wildly (like children often do) it
was a reflection on me. When my mom would cry, or rage, or get sick, it
was because I created too much stress for her; because I wasn't a good
enough listener or because I couldn't fix the situation. This mentality
definitely came to a head the summer before my 17th birthday, when I was
specifically <i>told </i>that I was to blame for my mom's illness and
stress and temper and exhaustion. Those words sealed my belief and still
have a great impact on my life as an adult.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
These days, sermons
and messages feel like they are built specifically to attack me. I
often find myself sitting in church, listening to a sermon about
"respecting your parents", "keeping your family whole", "having healthy
emotions" or "having a quiet and gentle spirit" and translating the
message into something more along the lines of...<br />
"reasons why [Lauren] is a terrible Christian"<br />
"reasons why [Lauren] should never be a leader"<br />
"reasons why [Lauren] will never be as righteous as [so-and-so]"<br />
"reasons why [Lauren] is a terrible wife, and mother, and friend"<br />
"reasons why [Lauren] is never going to be free"<br />
"reasons why [Lauren] will never be enough" <br />
<br />
Those
thoughts and feelings are a knee-jerk reaction to feeling faulty. When
we are told over and over again how bad we are and how inferior we are,
we begin to feel utterly defeated. But <b>they. are. lies.</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I have to tell myself, </b></i><i><b>"Not everything is about you."</b></i></div>
<b> </b><br />
<br />
Apparently,
I say "I'm sorry" for all sorts of things. And I don't even realize
that I do it most of the time. It's yet another subconscious (verbal)
reaction to feeling like something is my fault. My
father-in-law often comments on my quickness with apologetic words and
it always get me thinking. -- If I'm always sorry for <i>everything</i>, am I ever really sorry for anything <i>real</i>? It's relatively easy to flip from feeling guilty about everything to
feeling guilty about nothing. It's important to seek the truth and
distinguish between guilt and conviction. <br />
<br />
The thing
about sermons and advice is, they are meant to instruct. A heart can
easily become unteachable because of the protective walls built around
it (always trying to maintain any semblance of pride). It's
self-preservation. The heart can also easily be crippled and crushed
because words feel like knives. They feel personal and cut straight to
the core. And because abuse causes us to generalize negatively about <i>ourselves</i>, we also tend to generalize and draw conclusions that maybe weren't meant for us.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"It's not about you being detestable, [Lauren]." </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"It's about you being a human-being in need of direction, and mercy, and grace."</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"It's a call and challenge to be better, not an accusation."</b></div>
<br />
I
have been trying to label my feelings so that I have a better grasp of
how to handle each of them as they arise. It's often difficult for me to
decipher between guilt and true conviction. How am I supposed to know
when I am making <i>myself </i>feel bad, and when I am being led to make positive changes?<i> </i><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
Generally
(here we go with that word again), I am learning that conviction is
different than a false sense of guilt. Conviction is that small whisper,
those daily self-audits, that help us to align our goals with our
current actions. It is honest, but generally kind. The goal of
conviction is to encourage positive change. It wants us to become
better, more whole, more holy, as a result of seeking Christ. </div>
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Guilt,
on the other hand, is usually a deafening voice. It's an aggressive,
repetitive, growl of ridicule. It can rarely be escaped or made silent,
even with modified behaviors. Guilt from the enemy is a thought pattern
and a cruel cycle of destructive thought. These thoughts and feelings
are not useful for building up. That wicked voice of guilt is cold, and
isolating, and purposeless, and chaotic. And it can not be the voice
controlling us.<br />
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Unchecked
and unheard "conviction" (I'm sure) can also become pretty loud. But, I
trust that if I am really seeking what is right (and paying attention
to what and who I'm listening to) the truth will be brought to light.<br />
<br />
I
am constantly fighting between feeling and believing, emotion and fact.
It's an exhausting battle between believing what experience has taught
and what truth really is. I have to remind myself daily (on a minute by
minute basis, even) to be careful who I'm listening to. And I have to
remember that despite constantly feeling defeated, I have to keep those
"walls of pride" in check as well.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the words of C.S. Lewis, [Mere Christianity]</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less."</b></i></div>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08586314023825419237noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7324798967635638754.post-70248459456392140982017-01-23T09:24:00.002-08:002017-02-04T20:09:49.918-08:00To the Label-less SuffererEmotional and mental abuse creates scars with no obvious physical
ailments, with no "appropriate" stories to share, and no discernible
villains to put behind bars. There is little help and little closure.
Labels help us categorize and compartmentalize things in our lives. But
suffering can't often be labeled and tucked into neat little boxes. We
experience and we process but . . .<br />
<br />
Emotional and
mental abuse breaks our "processor". Emotional abuse strikes in a
particularly vicious way, making us question our own <i>identity</i>.
Our head begins to question even the most basic matters of the
heart. The constant psychological stress and continued searing pain of
contempt exhausts our spirit. It poisons all of our thoughts and either
makes us cynical or so idealistic that, in our minds, it's impossible to
be anything less than perfect. One's own judgment
and knowledge becomes a casualty of war. <br />
<br />
One of my
first steps in seeking truth and healing is learning to label. Labeling
helps me see things as they actually are rather than how they are
through the eyes of someone else. As I go on this journey of discovery
and truth, I want to be able to share the ups and downs, progress and
setbacks. Hopefully it will help someone else in their journey ... or
help a friend reach out to someone they know.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<b>Here are some thoughts, lessons, and labels I have learned over the years </b>[and am still working through if I am being completely honest<b>]: </b><br />
<br />
Speaking about abuse <i>is not disrespect</i>.
It is not ungratefulness or pride or harsh judgment. It is coming to
terms with the facts. It's putting your emotional, mental, and spiritual
well-being as a top priority. <br />
<br />
Healing from abuse <i>requires support</i>.
Unlike many other sufferings, this form lives within the mind and heart
only. It's hard to be supportive about something that we aren't
familiar with, haven't experienced, or can't see. But trying ... that is what really
counts. Someone that has suffered at the hands of an identity thief
[abuser], really needs affirmation. It can take a long time for the <i>light </i>to win.<br />
<br />
Working through abuse <i>is not living in the past </i>or
dwelling on the bad. Overcoming distorted views requires digging
through the garbage. It required picking through things that are rotten
and fraudulent while searching for everything that is ethical and
honorable and honest. <br />
<br />
<i>It's grief. It's fear. It's doubt. It's distrust. </i><br />
<i>It's questioning. It's uncertainty. It's confusion. </i><br />
<i><i>It's identity. </i>It's vulnerability. It's personal.</i><br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
It's
mistrusting everyone and everything, including yourself. It's being
unable to trust that you are capable of hearing Gods will and making
well informed choices. It's assuming that people really do think the
worst of you. It's fearing that the cycle of abuse will continue with
you. It's constantly second guessing every feeling, option, choice,
intention. It's making yourself sick by playing through all the
scenarios and realizing the main component of contention and concern is
... you. It's hard.<br />
<br />
Abuse makes you certain of only one
thing, that you are the problem. You are
not enough. You are failing. You are destructive. You are unwanted and
you are deplorable. It's being bound by invisible chains that make
asking for help, needy and not asking for help, foolish. It's about
hating who you are, how you got here and how you are thought of. It's
about never living up to expectations. It's seeing love and acceptance
as a direct result of action and effort. <br />
<br />
"You can do
anything you put your mind to" they say ... but your mind is a mess. You
feel crazy, misunderstood, and misinterpreted. You live and love in a
constant state of emotional exhaustion. You overthink everything.
Everything. You desperately want to be accepted for who you are, but you
aren't really sure who that is or who that should be.<b> </b>Church
sermons designed to correct bad behavior feel designed and directed at
you. Harsh advice breaks your heart and shatters your emotional
stability. Every comment penetrates to your core, not because it's cruel
or wrong or even <i>meant </i>for you but because you believe every bad trait and character flaw <i>is </i>you, <i>defines </i>you.
It can take years to recover from a stray comment that further confirms
your weaknesses and fears. Compliments are usually rejected until they
begin to outweigh the heaviness within your heart. <br />
<br />
Emotional turmoil is never <i>really</i>
knowing what you are good at. It's insecurity. It's constantly waiting
for the other shoe to drop, for love to become conditional. It's
remembering that your feelings don't really matter. It's knowing that
your perspective isn't valid or valued. It's hating manipulation but
falling for it every time because you hate discord and desire to please.
It's complete vulnerability. It's the risking bearing your soul or
becoming an impenetrable fortress. It's cold and it's isolating. It's
helpless. It's infuriating. <i>It's worth weeping over.</i><br />
<br />
It
makes crying shameful and anger invalid. It makes boundaries
impossible. It makes anxiety the primary emotion. It makes mountains out
if molehills. It makes lions into lambs and lambs into vicious lions. <i>It makes you prey</i>. Prey to your own thoughts, your own fears, and others' assumptions. It always keeps true love at a distance.<br />
<br />
Suffering is hard, no matter who, and why, and how it happens. We
experience loss and hardship, broken dreams and broken promises. We question
who we are and who we want to be. We question authority. We question
spiritual matters and ultimate truth. We wonder if we are failing and we
consider life on greener pastures. <br />
<br />
The main thing about suffering is ... it takes time to heal. It takes strength. And it requires divine intervention. It
requires freedom from the bondage of emotional and spiritual darkness. It
requires a new identity. It requires a healer.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---- </div>
<br />
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<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">To the label-less sufferer, </span></b></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">God sees you. He wants to make your heart whole and full. He will fight for you. You are loved. You are known. You are wanted. </span></b></span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<i><br /></i>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08586314023825419237noreply@blogger.com0