Creating a grateful heart

The story I referred to in my last post is in regards to the tragic tornadoes that tore through the north central Illinois region where I live. They happened a week ago from this past Thursday, and even took the life of a woman I had worked with a long time ago. I have struggled so hard for so long to develop a grateful heart, and that devastation definitely helps put things into perspective.

Ever since I was forced to move out of my townhouse last May, I have been fighting a daily battle to not feel sorry for myself on all I had lost. I’ve had several losses since then – relationships, job, vehicle – which have made me feel like a failure in every aspect of life. For months I buried myself under the “woe is me” mentality. I couldn’t get out of the trap of wishing I had everything back that I had lost…my independence most of all.

It’s slowly getting to be less of a burden by thanking God for what I do have, and remembering so many other people would love to have what I have now. Regardless, there are days like today that bring up tough reminders that threaten to pull me under once again. It is my ex-boyfriend’s birthday, and I was reminded that I lost a companion whom I shared friends and experiences with. I absolutely know that even though he was the one to break it off, I never should have pushed for it to begin with because we were not right for each other and would not have lasted anyways. Doesn’t change the fact that we still made memories, good and bad, that I will still be reminded of for who knows how many more times.

I talked with another friend who’s been going through the same situation of giving up the past. It’s been a rough time for him, but he’s acknowledging that some things will never get back to the way they were. He was able to comfort and sympathize with me, which helped the pain ease a little. I also read Psalm 121, and loved the verse about how my help comes from the Maker of heaven and earth. He has literally created everything, and He is helping me create a grateful heart. A long, hard process, but when I instill that type of mindset in my life I will appreciate everything I do have and gladly accept whatever else I’ll be blessed with down the road.

“Holding on to the past is like trying to climb stairs with heavy weights chained to your ankles.”

What I know and don’t know

Recently I’ve been on a mental and emotional roller coaster. A couple situations seemed to be panning out a little. They weren’t. I thought I’ve been making huge progress; since I’ve opened my eyes somewhat it doesn’t seem like it. A friend told me otherwise, but I don’t know what to think. I’m all over the place, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt God hasn’t moved. He steadies me when I wobble on the balance beam of my life.Thank God because I am so absolutely tired of falling on my face. Could I please learn to do what God is telling me?? Yes, hard sometimes, but I know it’s the best way to keep trudging on.

In retrospect, my situations have been both comical and disheartening. How could I have ever imagined those “possibilities” to turn out the way I was playing it in my head? Embarrassed I realize I can still do my part moving forward. Who am I to say that these misunderstandings won’t be used for good? God says that He works for the good in ALL things for those who love Him. Not just some of my stupid mistakes, but all of them in some form or fashion. I know I love Him; I just don’t show it all the time. Maybe because of selfishness, pride, ignorance, or a ridiculous temper tantrum because I didn’t get my way. So I know I don’t always do what God tells me to do, and I don’t understand why I hurt both of us time after time again when I know better! I’ll learn eventually that He has my best interests at heart. I know I can’t wait to find out what they are!

Wounded healers, experienced ministers

I am going to rely heavily on T.D Jakes book God’s Leading Lady in regards to the topic of sexual trauma and abuse. The terms he uses in the title of this post are his description of those who are working through their past issues of abuse, and use that to help others who are just coming to terms with their losses. His example revolves around the Biblical story of a woman named Tamar, who was brutally raped by her brother. She felt guilty for what happened, and felt she should have or could have prevented it. Some women suffer this in silence, and others process it by making it known.

This paragraph addresses his view on her grief: “It is perfectly okay to indulge your grief in the wake of tragedy. Certainly she should not blame herself for what happened; she has nothing to be ashamed about. She didn’t bring this upon herself. But neither can she just walk away like nothing happened. You can’t ignore the abuse inflicted upon you. That’s denial, and your repressed emotions will only rise up and surface later in your life, with an intensity that is tenfold the original and so much more damaging. No, Tamar is right to express her devastation. She can’t and shouldn’t sweep the incident under the carpet. Nor should she endure the suffering alone. Pretending nothing happened would just protect Amnon (her perpetrator), and feed fuel to the fire of her own shame. Sharing grief lightens its load and makes it easier to bear.”  p.166

So many women feel like they will be shamed even more if they tell their story, whether it comes from their own mind or someone insisting they just “sweep the incident under the carpet.” That dirty filth should not stay stuffed under a carpet just to prevent the abuser, or anyone else aware of the abuse, from being viewed as a dirty, filthy human being. This only perpetuates the cycle of abuse. Let it be told so the abuser can be prevented in whatever means possible from ever doing this to another of God’s children. I did not come forward to accuse my abuser legally, but later in my adulthood I did warn someone in his life of what he had done so she could be aware. I have no idea what came of that warning because I did not get a response, nor was I expecting one. My hands were clean though of refusing to try to prevent him from abusing again, and I prayed for protection for any other women or girls he might come across.

I can hear those people now who are pointing their finger at me and saying “how dare you bring up his sins when you are just as much of a dirty, filthy sinner.” Of course I am; I don’t deny that. God sees all sin the same. But as humans the after effects of sin take its toll on us differently. I dare bring this up because I have that right and responsibility, to be an advocate for those whose hand I can take and lovingly tell them I understand their pain. Take myself, my circle, my surroundings out of the way of the truth, and give a voice to those who are absolutely terrified to speak. Sharing you devastating pain is cathartic and can begin a path to recovering from a life held down by broken dreams. Use that ugly, strangling darkness and  burst forth into a beautiful confidante and mentor. This is one of the facets of my calling.

Jakes continues by saying that Tamar was faced with trusting men right after the incident when her other brother Absalom graciously extends his help for her to recover. Some women are blessed with having those male influences help restore their faith and sanity, but others never get to experience that beautiful act of love. Either way, it is possible to have hope in humanity again. We can use our time of loss to turn our face to our Savior, and accept the help from the caring, compassionate women who come alongside us. Sometimes this help has to be looked for; not everything in life will fall into our lap.

It takes extraordinary courage to ask for help from individuals or agencies. No ifs, ands or buts…all victims should seek help from trustworthy, capable sources. I have encountered helpers who extended their hands and hearts when I didn’t know where to turn, and others that I searched out for myself. All ambassadors that God has used for His healing work in my heart. I can do my best to strongly urge other abused women to look for help, but it has to be a personal decision that they make. God has people and methods He wants to use to help us reclaim the power He supplies. Then we can boldly move forward in life, leaving our mark wherever He wants us to. Don’t believe the lies that we can never become someone great in the cause for Christ, just because someone stripped us of the sanctity of our body and soul. God can work unbelievable miracles in the midst of depression, self-loathing, anger, and defeat. I want to use my story to show many hurting women that their identity does not lie in the tragedy forced upon them, but rather in the beautiful gift of being a daughter of the Heavenly Father, a princess of the King of Kings.

Cherished memories

I guess 3:30 in the morning is as good as any other to get all philosophical. Everyone has their own stories of how the best memories of their life happened. I’m hoping to share some of mine at a later time. This post is about the special people that you share those memories with. Just thinking back on how they contributed to your successes, laughter, dreams, exhilaration. For those amazing people who blessed your life – cherish them. And thinking back on the memories of those involved in contributing to your failures, crying, dashed hopes, depression. For those special people who harmed your life – cherish them. They may have had good intentions, but things didn’t turn out like they wanted. They may have had any number of bad intentions, and were able to make them happen. From the tiny pebble-in-the-shoe annoyances, to the enormous soul-shattering nightmares – cherish them. Good or bad, God created each person in His image. What they choose to do with that gift will ultimately be revealed and they will be held accountable for as they face their loving Maker. My job is to take those memories and find out what God’s plan is for me to use them in furthering His kingdom. That’s what I am here for, and because of that I will cherish Him.

Why do I keep doing that??

I’ve always been extremely hard on myself. Because of my abuse, I felt like I had to do everything in my power to be loved and accepted. I also felt pressured since a very young age because I have been gifted with intelligence, and I felt like everyone in my life was pushing me to strive for excellence in that area. Yes, most things came to me easily in my education, and others were either impressed or resented me for it. But was that the only part of my identity? Did all my good grades and educational accomplishments define who I was? Then I started playing volleyball, which became another avenue for me to receive praise. I treasured that feeling because people were acknowledging something else I was good at. But it also left an empty feeling. I cried so much inside because I felt like those were the only things in me that people considered to be worthwhile.

So when I started making mistakes that other people thought were extremely stupid, it became an excruciating struggle to believe in myself. I only attended one semester of college, and I was looked down upon for wasting my life when I could have become something great. What most people didn’t know was that I was pressured to become a Christian school teacher by those who were shaping my life and had been praising me before. I was still struggling with my mental health issues because I hadn’t even been able to give them a name yet, so why waste the money if I knew I couldn’t handle it? After that semester, I knew teaching wasn’t my calling so I didn’t go back. Man, was I ever criticized.

Then came the romantic relationship decisions I made. Some critics either directly stated or subtly implied that I was settling and not saving myself for the right person to come along. I chose my partners because I was desperately searching for someone who I felt saw the real me and would love and appreciate me. I looked for the wrong things in a companion; it was all about what they could or would do for me. Codependency and selfishness right there for you. Of course I went through many intense heartbreaks, but there were also many blessings in disguise…especially the ones named Cassandra, Joseph, Alana, and Collin. Don’t get me wrong, I did have some varying support from family members and friends, and looking back I think they were trying their best to help. The vast majority just didn’t cut it like I needed.

Others thought I was being lazy or throwing away jobs because I kept missing work. I am grateful for those who sympathize with having migraines, anxiety, bipolar disorder, and borderline personality disorder. A vicious cycle of realizing I couldn’t make it in or even do my job like I needed to, and then worrying how soon it would be before I’d get fired! I knew I was capable of doing my job, but I just wasn’t able to follow through. Talk about feeling like a failure.

Then others poured heaping amounts of guilt and shame on me because I wasn’t there for my children. When I was married there were days upon days, weeks upon weeks, that I couldn’t take care of them physically or emotionally; I was battling my own wars. And that trend continued when I was living elsewhere. I have so many people that I am grateful for because they provided what my kids needed…too many to list right now. But I beat myself down so badly because I wasn’t excelling in taking care of myself and my own children. Sometimes, I still do.

All these swirling circumstances and situations broke down my spirit and confidence in myself…if I even really had a true sense of confidence. I questioned before, during, and after why I made the choices that affected my life in such extreme ways. Shamefully facing the reasoning behind my mistakes and the consequences that followed. Granted, I came off easy compared to others who are trying to manage the repercussions of their choices. But I am facing mine, and that’s what I need to focus on.

My life, inside and out, started turning in a beautiful direction this past November. I had absolutely been brought to a breaking point the month before, which sent me to a crisis residential center. I spent two weeks learning about coping skills, and finally got the diagnosis of my borderline personality disorder. I also started turning back to my Savior; it wasn’t a complete turn, but it was a beginning. I say that because a couple weeks after I got out, I made one of the biggest mistakes I ever regretted. And I’ve continued making mistakes. But God still loved me SO much that he brought about new friends and situations that have literally saved my life, for today and for eternity.

I hadn’t just turned back to my knowledge of God, but I was beginning my greatest relationship ever by giving Him the chance to become my best Friend. We are working on our communication – God through His Word and His Spirit inside me, and me through opening my heart and speaking to Him in prayer. I’ve tried to force things to go faster, just like I have in so many other relationships, but no relationship can be that intimate in a day. It takes time to establish trust and learn about the other. Except this time. God already knows everything about me – hurts, hangups, skeletons, mistakes. And yet He still keeps telling me He wants us to become inseparable friends! It’s not humanly possible to block out the judgment and criticism and anger from others, but it doesn’t have to keep me in the pattern of degrading and belittling myself. I don’t have to hang my life on their praise and acceptance, because they are not the One who forgave me completely for all my poorly chosen mistakes. He believes in me and what I can do in my life. Our growing friendship is showing me that through my ashes, I am becoming more beautiful than I ever imagined.