I've just begun a new bible study with my women's group at church and it's already made a HUGE impact. ONE week and I feel changed. And here's the irony, I missed several weeks. Talk about God meeting me where I'm at in all things! It's Beth Moore's study on Esther and it's amazing. So last night I listened to the intro, through tear filled eyes and realized once again I'm exactly where The Lord wants me. Those God ordained moments blow me away every.single.time.
Here's what stuck out the most: the most frequent phrase in the bible is "do NOT be afraid"...and yet every single human emotion or ailment is tied to fear and anxiety. And I don't know about anyone else but for me it's increased tenfold recently. (another reason this bible study is perfectly timed!)
When I'm feeling sadness about the loss in my life, fear immediately swoops in and tells me I will always experience loss. Then fear's sidekick- doubt speaks up and convinces me I'm unlovable; the next thing I know I'm isolating again out of complete dread that I will be rejected and abandoned all over again.
When I realize the sadness isn't lifting and I've now entered a stage of despondency that threatens to swallow me whole and envelop me in an all encompassing abyss of deep dark depression...anxiety jumps right up and says "well of course because you will always struggle with this demon!"
When my physical pain has taken another turn for the worse and I'm again stiff and achy, I tremble at the fear of what my future holds...dark gloomy days of nothing but chronic pain and misery.
When I can't fall asleep and I toss and turn, my heart begins to beat right out of my chest at the idea that I will NEVER ever sleep peacefully again.
It's never "just" an emotion like sad or mad, it's always followed with dread worry and fear. Likewise it's never "just" an illness or ailment, it's always accompanied with distress, anxiety and discouragement over what the future holds.
But God knew our human hearts and frailties and therefore in His word time and time again commanded us to not fear and to take courage because no matter what our circumstances
He promises to NEVER leave us.
Isaiah 41:10
Fear not, for I am WITH you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Phillippians 4:6-7
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Psalm 56:3
When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.
2 Timothy 1:7
For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self control.
Matthew 6:25-34
"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather in to barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: They neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
Deuteronomy 31:6
Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you."
Psalm 34:4
I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears.
1 Peter 5:6-7
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.
1 John 4:18
There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.
Joshua 1:9
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."
John 14:27
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not our hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.
Isaiah 35:4
Say to those who have an anxious heart, "Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God. He will come and save you."
Proverbs 12:25
Anxiety in a man's heart weights him down, but a good word makes him glad.
Psalm 23:4
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Matthew 6:34
"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."
Psalm 27:1
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
Of course I will still experience loss and sadness, pain and illness for that is life in a fallen world; but these scriptures filled with His promises give me HOPE because when "this" happens (whatever "this is) I don't have to be afraid. I have God.
I am going to take courage. I'm not sure exactly what that looks like yet, I'm sure I will have to learn as I go along in this bible study so I'm sure grateful to be a part of it.
For sure I will be re-reading these scriptures and spending more time in prayer letting the Lord know I want to take His courage. Because this whole trembling in fear and feeling shaky with anxiety thing sucks! That is not the life God intended for me. (or anyone else!)
I believe God's Word is infallible and His promises are true so this is the cure for anxiety. Which is good because drugs don't work for me! :)
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Waves of Grief
Today I wished I had a memory zapper like on Men In Black so I could just point it at myself to rid me of all my memories.
Not just the bad ones but the good memories as well, because they trigger unbearable hurt as I'm reminded of what is lost. Sometimes I don't want to remember. I just want to live in the here and now, but my present can feel so alone as those I thought once loved me continue to live as though I don't exist. Their abandonment of me in the here and now drags with it the pain of the past and then in my grief, time ceases to exist. The past and future are intertwined with the present, each memory of the past bringing pain, each moment in time a constant reminder of the gaping hole in the present; and every worry for the future filled with dread. Leaving the statement to "leave your past in your past" moot. There is no past, present or future, there exists only immediate pain, misery and empty loneliness.
Over the last year I have endured a LOT of grief. Days filled with endless tears as I emptied myself of all the years of hurt. In between those emotional releases I feel lighter, happier and healthier. But just like most things are cyclical, it seems as though my grief has been coming in waves. And just like the ebb and flow of the ocean-tide changes, so has this layer of grieving as it hit me like a tsunami with incredible force and knocked me on my butt, broken and undone. Hopeless and alone. This left me drowning in a sea of tears and ultimately unfettered from my gripping emotions.
It started with an innocent peek at my mother's facebook page, which is somewhat public; I hoped for a window into her world, a hint at her missing me but instead I saw my friend 'liking' one of my mom's photos... and that was the moment the wave made landfall. Enter destruction; crashing down walls built up around me to protect my heart, the salty tears pouring from my eyes like ocean water ripping through barriers.
It seems no matter how much progress I make; boost in confidence, change in perspective, positive thinking, being grateful and joyful, all it takes is a remnant of those old feelings of not being protected to relive the terror I felt as a little girl. A little girl who had no one on her side. A little girl lost and alone.
That little scared girl still wants to know that those still in my life through all this are on MY side and not hers. Little Brandi wants/needs to feel loved and validated and special. She doesn't want to see MY friends paying any attention to my mother. It's not just a simple "clicking like" on a picture...it's personal and it feels like more betrayal. At least it does in the mind of a little broken girl.
Since the dam of tears I'd apparently been holding back had broken I allowed them to freely fall; no longer feeling the need to hold them back like sand bags piled high against the rising waters. I then found myself looking through photos despite that it's painful to recall the memories captured in those snapshots. There were over a hundred pics on facebook that my mother tagged me in. In the 'good' photographs I felt a stab to my heart that my own mom could spend my life with me by her side, intertwined in so many memories and then just dismiss me as if I never existed as she completely turned her back on me. Wishing me 'Happy Birthday' for 37 of them but maintaining silence on my 38th. Spending 37 Christmases with me, and ignoring me last Christmas. A lifetime filled with spending time together; passing summer days with walks around the river, trips to the zoo, shopping (lots of shopping), winters of complaining about the snow together and spending cold mornings sipping coffee or chilly evenings snuggling under blankets while watching movies and munching popcorn. In all the seasons of our lives are all these memories and each one now triggers pain at what once was and what I fear will never be again.
I was tagged in lots of pictures of my youth; family photos, family gatherings, weddings & holidays. I was also tagged in two pictures of myself that sent me right into full on post traumatic stress. A photo of me standing outside of the barn where I was first sexually assaulted. Even as I type this, I KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that what happened was wrong but I STILL hear "it wasn't that bad, you weren't raped". I was 13, I was tackled down to the straw-covered ground, my arms were pinned above my head, my shirt lifted up to expose my bare breasts and I was "tickled". I was asked if it felt good. I wasn't physically raped, but I might as well have been because that day changed the course of my life forever. I was violated and my soul was irreparably shattered. My trust was forever broken. My trust in the man I knew as my dad, the man that took my mother away from my father, married her and vowed to love and honor her, had sexually assaulted me; and that was just the beginning of it. I saw this picture of myself standing outside that barn and I heard loud and clear that what happened didn't matter to anyone but me; because if it did, how could a mom choose to stay with this monster and later turn her back on me? If what happened mattered, how could a family go on living as if nothing happened?
But that was just what we all did. It was swept under the rug and not dealt with. It was only spoken of when another 'incident' occurred and then I was treated as if I had done something wrong. I was in the wrong for going to him for affection/attention. I was wrong when I got angry. I was wrong when I spoke with an attitude. I was wrong when I ran away from home. I was wrong when I spoke with my friend about it. (and subsequently she was wrong for reporting it to CPS) I was wrong when I complained and compared. I was wrong when I cried and screamed. I was wrong when I got angry last year and stopped accepting my mother's excuses, minimization, denials, and deflections. I was wrong when I spoke up publicly. I was wrong for discussing it on facebook. Not only was I told I was wrong to do that, I was treated as if I was dangerous, unsafe and not "ok" to be around.
How does that even work? I was violated and I WAS WRONG? Was I wrong when he entered the bathroom while I showered, to re-attach the shower head that had mysteriously popped off in the middle of my shower? Was I wrong when I obeyed his demand to just stand their in the shower, dripping wet and naked while he repaired the shower? Was I wrong when I bit him in the chest because I panicked when he again had me pinned down in a compromising position? Was I wrong when I showed him my tailbone bruise and he tried to touch my vagina? Was I wrong for trusting that my "father figure" would'nt do anything inappropriate? If I was wrong for trusting him, how does that NOT make my mom wrong now? I kept trusting, because my mom trusted him. I kept going to him for love and affection, because that is what my mom did. I kept treating him like my parent because that is what I was taught to do. I modeled the behavior and acceptance of this abuse. Until last year, that is when I started to think for myself and act upon my own gut feelings about this. And as soon as I did that, I was disowned and abandoned.
I was NOT in the wrong. I was a child and I should have been protected. I am still not in the wrong, publicly speaking about this.
I will never stop speaking about this. I believe that sharing my experience is the only way to live a life free from the bonds it created. I believe that speaking my truth is not only empowering to me, but for others who hear it. Sexual abuse should NOT be swept under a rug. It should be discussed, dealt with, and out in the open for healing. People need to be educated and informed. That is the only way to ever attempt to stop this from happening again and again to children.
I know, just as sure as the sun rises, that every time I speak about this, I push the wedge in farther and the great divide that exists now between my mother and I (and her family) widens. I know that each push subsequently forces those in denial further away. With each push I feel the agonizing pain; the sorrow and loss of so many I held dear in my life, the hurt at my outrageous abandonment, the wounds of not being chosen time and time again. The sting of betrayal, the shock of their denial. I feel it all each and every time I 'push'.
But, something else happens with each push of this wedge; I feel my resolve grow stronger, I feel my commitment to healing get bigger and I feel more empowered. I'm never going to back down again and crawl back to them in blind acceptance of their abuse and denial or their blatant disregard for my well-being. This 38 year old Brandi is standing up for that little girl and I won't ever let her feel alone again. I have her back. I believe in myself, because I was deserving of protection and a safe environment, and when it wasn't safe or healthy it wasn't my fault that it affected me the way that it has and continues to.
When I saw those pictures today, I made some outspoken comments on facebook knowing my mother would see them. (until she blocked me again...or maybe even deactivated her facebook for a while) That hurt little angry girl who has NEVER once received validation from her mother lashed out. I know it upsets her and I hoped it caused her pain because admittedly in that moment, I didn't care. I wanted her to feel a speck of the pain I have felt. That I know is not the definition of 'forgiveness'. I thought I had begun the journey to forgive her, but today proves I'm still a ways off. And that's ok. I'm allowing myself time and space to keep making this journey of healing. Because I'm still grieving, I have a lifetime of memories to remember and with them a lifetime of loss to mourn.
Each day that goes by without a phone call only further proves she is still incapable of telling me what I need to hear. And each day that passes only adds more pain and hurt to recover from; but that is on her. If/when she ever wants to be in my life again, she will have a lot of time to make up for.
For now the crashing waves of tears have ceased just as risen waters recede after flooding. I feel the calm after the storm and in the calm I once again feel hope. I do not know what the future holds, but I know I will be ok. And even as sure as I am that another storm will surely hit, for such is the cycle of life; I know that I will make it through that too. I am strong. I am a survivor. And I'm glad I don't have the "flashy thingey" that Will Smith has, because there are far too many beautiful memories to hold tight to...kissing my husband for the first time, becoming his wife, gazing upon my babies faces for the first time and every time since, laughing with my family and friends, and living my life with joy.
Not just the bad ones but the good memories as well, because they trigger unbearable hurt as I'm reminded of what is lost. Sometimes I don't want to remember. I just want to live in the here and now, but my present can feel so alone as those I thought once loved me continue to live as though I don't exist. Their abandonment of me in the here and now drags with it the pain of the past and then in my grief, time ceases to exist. The past and future are intertwined with the present, each memory of the past bringing pain, each moment in time a constant reminder of the gaping hole in the present; and every worry for the future filled with dread. Leaving the statement to "leave your past in your past" moot. There is no past, present or future, there exists only immediate pain, misery and empty loneliness.
Over the last year I have endured a LOT of grief. Days filled with endless tears as I emptied myself of all the years of hurt. In between those emotional releases I feel lighter, happier and healthier. But just like most things are cyclical, it seems as though my grief has been coming in waves. And just like the ebb and flow of the ocean-tide changes, so has this layer of grieving as it hit me like a tsunami with incredible force and knocked me on my butt, broken and undone. Hopeless and alone. This left me drowning in a sea of tears and ultimately unfettered from my gripping emotions.
It started with an innocent peek at my mother's facebook page, which is somewhat public; I hoped for a window into her world, a hint at her missing me but instead I saw my friend 'liking' one of my mom's photos... and that was the moment the wave made landfall. Enter destruction; crashing down walls built up around me to protect my heart, the salty tears pouring from my eyes like ocean water ripping through barriers.
It seems no matter how much progress I make; boost in confidence, change in perspective, positive thinking, being grateful and joyful, all it takes is a remnant of those old feelings of not being protected to relive the terror I felt as a little girl. A little girl who had no one on her side. A little girl lost and alone.
That little scared girl still wants to know that those still in my life through all this are on MY side and not hers. Little Brandi wants/needs to feel loved and validated and special. She doesn't want to see MY friends paying any attention to my mother. It's not just a simple "clicking like" on a picture...it's personal and it feels like more betrayal. At least it does in the mind of a little broken girl.
Since the dam of tears I'd apparently been holding back had broken I allowed them to freely fall; no longer feeling the need to hold them back like sand bags piled high against the rising waters. I then found myself looking through photos despite that it's painful to recall the memories captured in those snapshots. There were over a hundred pics on facebook that my mother tagged me in. In the 'good' photographs I felt a stab to my heart that my own mom could spend my life with me by her side, intertwined in so many memories and then just dismiss me as if I never existed as she completely turned her back on me. Wishing me 'Happy Birthday' for 37 of them but maintaining silence on my 38th. Spending 37 Christmases with me, and ignoring me last Christmas. A lifetime filled with spending time together; passing summer days with walks around the river, trips to the zoo, shopping (lots of shopping), winters of complaining about the snow together and spending cold mornings sipping coffee or chilly evenings snuggling under blankets while watching movies and munching popcorn. In all the seasons of our lives are all these memories and each one now triggers pain at what once was and what I fear will never be again.
I was tagged in lots of pictures of my youth; family photos, family gatherings, weddings & holidays. I was also tagged in two pictures of myself that sent me right into full on post traumatic stress. A photo of me standing outside of the barn where I was first sexually assaulted. Even as I type this, I KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that what happened was wrong but I STILL hear "it wasn't that bad, you weren't raped". I was 13, I was tackled down to the straw-covered ground, my arms were pinned above my head, my shirt lifted up to expose my bare breasts and I was "tickled". I was asked if it felt good. I wasn't physically raped, but I might as well have been because that day changed the course of my life forever. I was violated and my soul was irreparably shattered. My trust was forever broken. My trust in the man I knew as my dad, the man that took my mother away from my father, married her and vowed to love and honor her, had sexually assaulted me; and that was just the beginning of it. I saw this picture of myself standing outside that barn and I heard loud and clear that what happened didn't matter to anyone but me; because if it did, how could a mom choose to stay with this monster and later turn her back on me? If what happened mattered, how could a family go on living as if nothing happened?
But that was just what we all did. It was swept under the rug and not dealt with. It was only spoken of when another 'incident' occurred and then I was treated as if I had done something wrong. I was in the wrong for going to him for affection/attention. I was wrong when I got angry. I was wrong when I spoke with an attitude. I was wrong when I ran away from home. I was wrong when I spoke with my friend about it. (and subsequently she was wrong for reporting it to CPS) I was wrong when I complained and compared. I was wrong when I cried and screamed. I was wrong when I got angry last year and stopped accepting my mother's excuses, minimization, denials, and deflections. I was wrong when I spoke up publicly. I was wrong for discussing it on facebook. Not only was I told I was wrong to do that, I was treated as if I was dangerous, unsafe and not "ok" to be around.
How does that even work? I was violated and I WAS WRONG? Was I wrong when he entered the bathroom while I showered, to re-attach the shower head that had mysteriously popped off in the middle of my shower? Was I wrong when I obeyed his demand to just stand their in the shower, dripping wet and naked while he repaired the shower? Was I wrong when I bit him in the chest because I panicked when he again had me pinned down in a compromising position? Was I wrong when I showed him my tailbone bruise and he tried to touch my vagina? Was I wrong for trusting that my "father figure" would'nt do anything inappropriate? If I was wrong for trusting him, how does that NOT make my mom wrong now? I kept trusting, because my mom trusted him. I kept going to him for love and affection, because that is what my mom did. I kept treating him like my parent because that is what I was taught to do. I modeled the behavior and acceptance of this abuse. Until last year, that is when I started to think for myself and act upon my own gut feelings about this. And as soon as I did that, I was disowned and abandoned.
I was NOT in the wrong. I was a child and I should have been protected. I am still not in the wrong, publicly speaking about this.
I will never stop speaking about this. I believe that sharing my experience is the only way to live a life free from the bonds it created. I believe that speaking my truth is not only empowering to me, but for others who hear it. Sexual abuse should NOT be swept under a rug. It should be discussed, dealt with, and out in the open for healing. People need to be educated and informed. That is the only way to ever attempt to stop this from happening again and again to children.
I know, just as sure as the sun rises, that every time I speak about this, I push the wedge in farther and the great divide that exists now between my mother and I (and her family) widens. I know that each push subsequently forces those in denial further away. With each push I feel the agonizing pain; the sorrow and loss of so many I held dear in my life, the hurt at my outrageous abandonment, the wounds of not being chosen time and time again. The sting of betrayal, the shock of their denial. I feel it all each and every time I 'push'.
But, something else happens with each push of this wedge; I feel my resolve grow stronger, I feel my commitment to healing get bigger and I feel more empowered. I'm never going to back down again and crawl back to them in blind acceptance of their abuse and denial or their blatant disregard for my well-being. This 38 year old Brandi is standing up for that little girl and I won't ever let her feel alone again. I have her back. I believe in myself, because I was deserving of protection and a safe environment, and when it wasn't safe or healthy it wasn't my fault that it affected me the way that it has and continues to.
When I saw those pictures today, I made some outspoken comments on facebook knowing my mother would see them. (until she blocked me again...or maybe even deactivated her facebook for a while) That hurt little angry girl who has NEVER once received validation from her mother lashed out. I know it upsets her and I hoped it caused her pain because admittedly in that moment, I didn't care. I wanted her to feel a speck of the pain I have felt. That I know is not the definition of 'forgiveness'. I thought I had begun the journey to forgive her, but today proves I'm still a ways off. And that's ok. I'm allowing myself time and space to keep making this journey of healing. Because I'm still grieving, I have a lifetime of memories to remember and with them a lifetime of loss to mourn.
Each day that goes by without a phone call only further proves she is still incapable of telling me what I need to hear. And each day that passes only adds more pain and hurt to recover from; but that is on her. If/when she ever wants to be in my life again, she will have a lot of time to make up for.
For now the crashing waves of tears have ceased just as risen waters recede after flooding. I feel the calm after the storm and in the calm I once again feel hope. I do not know what the future holds, but I know I will be ok. And even as sure as I am that another storm will surely hit, for such is the cycle of life; I know that I will make it through that too. I am strong. I am a survivor. And I'm glad I don't have the "flashy thingey" that Will Smith has, because there are far too many beautiful memories to hold tight to...kissing my husband for the first time, becoming his wife, gazing upon my babies faces for the first time and every time since, laughing with my family and friends, and living my life with joy.
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