You know, the seed that goes into the ground doesn't look too promising. Shriveled. Hardened. Tough. It doesn't look anything like the fruit or tree or veggie or flower that it is going to produce. If I just looked at the seeds, I would wonder "why bother?" But, I know by experience that the seeds are just the little bits of hope that I put in the ground. Then I add stinky stuff. And sticky stuff. And watery stuff. It's really quite a process for that little seed. Must be uncomfortable. Down in the dark. Waiting. But, I know that when I put it down there and have faith. And if I nurture that faith with actions....well, pretty soon, something totally different than that seed comes up out of the ground. All of the things look a bit the same in their first few days of life. Bright green. Small. But, very soon, each one takes on their own characteristics. Begin to stand out as unique. Boy, would I be shocked if my daisies and my morning glories looked the same after a few weeks. And, how boring would my garden be?
That's how growth is in my life. I have to undergo some major changes to become what I'm supposed to be when I'm fully alive in Christ. He nurtures it. Feeds it. But, I can't keep fighting to be like every other "seedling". I have to be the one I was created to be.
For me, doing that IS growth. Can't wait to see the full grown plant. His plant. I trust Him to know exactly what I need. To make me into exactly what He intended. I HAVE to quit fighting it.......pumpkins and tomatoes are both wonderful, but a tomato trying to be a pumpkin will always be simply frustrated.
Off I go to dream of the wonders He has planned in my growth....
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
What Faith Can Do
Love that Kutless song. Makes my heart soar. Sometimes, I forget what is important. I forget how much faith God has instilled in me and what a gift that is. I see miracles every day in the lives of children. I see kids growing to be adults. I see people who fall down and get up. Every day. One after another.
I am blessed. I am filled. Though life has been really hard, it is even in these times that I see how amazingly God uses the hard things to make me strong.
I do not want to be tough. I do not want to be stoic. I do not want to simply cope. I want to be real. I want to be vulnerable. I want to live fully. I want joy to permeate my soul. I want to be the person that makes the day of the clerk in a store. I like being the one who makes sure to smile. To say hello. To give a little bit of hope. That is who I am. Can't believe I nearly forgot to be thankful for that. Can't believe that I almost lost faith in who I am......not pridefully, but gratefully. Because there's only one me. And when I have faith in who God created me to be then it means that what He made me to do also gets done.
I want to learn what faith will do in my life. Every single day. With His love casting out all fear.....note, that's ALL, not just SOME. His PERFECT love. Whole. He doesn't give me partial love. He doesn't hold back. He doesn't punish me. He allows me to learn at my own pace. He is a differentiated instructor. He teaches me just the way I learn. He gives me what I need to learn. He sends arms and hands into my life because He knows that I'm not an oral learner....I'm visual and tactile. He GETS me. And I have to have faith in that. Faith in Him. In His goodness.
That kind of faith changes my life. The ethereal kind of faith....where people just talk about believing in something way out there that doesn't make any sense doesn't make my life different. What makes things happen in my life is when my faith becomes personal. When I believe and act on the fact that not only is God good, but He is good to me. Not only is God love, but He loves ME. Personally. Up close.
I have been struggling through this. I am so wounded that it has been hard to dig up and out. Most of the time I just feel like I'm sitting and waiting for Him to lift me....and He does. He is the lifter of my head. He lifts me out of the pit. I can trust Him. Completely. Even when I am totally a mess.
And, frankly, I am.
I am not any of the things that I think a good christian woman looks like. But, I am a christian woman. And I just look like me. But He thinks well of me. Because He sees me through Jesus. I'm not standing on my own merits. I don't got none to stand on. ;) I can only stand on His promises. With His covering. I can simply take Him at His word that that's enough. I do. I choose.
And that faith is changing my life. Moment by moment. I've learned about religion. I've sought a relationship. And He is responding to my deepest heart needs. He is meeting me in my most painful places and showing me what my tiny little amount of faith can do.
Oh, I still simply want the sabbatical. And, honestly, I think for healing to begin, it's a necessity. I need my own place. I need to make my own way. I need to have my husband see and understand that my provision comes from my Father. To understand that deepest part of my heart. Because there lies the foundation of all that I am. I have never walked alone. I have never made my way. He has fed me, clothed me and met my needs that I can't even describe. He sees me in all of my weakness and chooses me. And THAT is love. What we have been living is not love. It is works. It is people pleasing. It is futile. So, I am going to choose truth. And faith. I am going to keep seeking what God has. I believe that it's good. Even if I have to go on through the hard things.....
I am blessed. I am filled. Though life has been really hard, it is even in these times that I see how amazingly God uses the hard things to make me strong.
I do not want to be tough. I do not want to be stoic. I do not want to simply cope. I want to be real. I want to be vulnerable. I want to live fully. I want joy to permeate my soul. I want to be the person that makes the day of the clerk in a store. I like being the one who makes sure to smile. To say hello. To give a little bit of hope. That is who I am. Can't believe I nearly forgot to be thankful for that. Can't believe that I almost lost faith in who I am......not pridefully, but gratefully. Because there's only one me. And when I have faith in who God created me to be then it means that what He made me to do also gets done.
I want to learn what faith will do in my life. Every single day. With His love casting out all fear.....note, that's ALL, not just SOME. His PERFECT love. Whole. He doesn't give me partial love. He doesn't hold back. He doesn't punish me. He allows me to learn at my own pace. He is a differentiated instructor. He teaches me just the way I learn. He gives me what I need to learn. He sends arms and hands into my life because He knows that I'm not an oral learner....I'm visual and tactile. He GETS me. And I have to have faith in that. Faith in Him. In His goodness.
That kind of faith changes my life. The ethereal kind of faith....where people just talk about believing in something way out there that doesn't make any sense doesn't make my life different. What makes things happen in my life is when my faith becomes personal. When I believe and act on the fact that not only is God good, but He is good to me. Not only is God love, but He loves ME. Personally. Up close.
I have been struggling through this. I am so wounded that it has been hard to dig up and out. Most of the time I just feel like I'm sitting and waiting for Him to lift me....and He does. He is the lifter of my head. He lifts me out of the pit. I can trust Him. Completely. Even when I am totally a mess.
And, frankly, I am.
I am not any of the things that I think a good christian woman looks like. But, I am a christian woman. And I just look like me. But He thinks well of me. Because He sees me through Jesus. I'm not standing on my own merits. I don't got none to stand on. ;) I can only stand on His promises. With His covering. I can simply take Him at His word that that's enough. I do. I choose.
And that faith is changing my life. Moment by moment. I've learned about religion. I've sought a relationship. And He is responding to my deepest heart needs. He is meeting me in my most painful places and showing me what my tiny little amount of faith can do.
Oh, I still simply want the sabbatical. And, honestly, I think for healing to begin, it's a necessity. I need my own place. I need to make my own way. I need to have my husband see and understand that my provision comes from my Father. To understand that deepest part of my heart. Because there lies the foundation of all that I am. I have never walked alone. I have never made my way. He has fed me, clothed me and met my needs that I can't even describe. He sees me in all of my weakness and chooses me. And THAT is love. What we have been living is not love. It is works. It is people pleasing. It is futile. So, I am going to choose truth. And faith. I am going to keep seeking what God has. I believe that it's good. Even if I have to go on through the hard things.....
Walking Tall
I have consciously been reminding myself to stand up and walk tall. To move forward in confidence. Because Jesus walks before me. Always. Every day. And loves me. No matter what. And my simple posture helps me to remember that. It's easy to live slouched down. Easy to let the troubles of my marriage define me.
But, they don't. They simply don't. God is still calling me. Still believing in the plan He has for me. Still about creating good from my life. Even if it looks like I've royally screwed up. He still speaks to me. He still hopes in me. And instills faith in me.
But I have to stand up. I've been slouching, cowering, hiding for too long. It has become a lifestyle. I am not proud of it. It is my own doing. That part. I have spent too much time being afraid of what will happen if I refuse to comply, refuse to behave as expected or simply speak how I feel without having the other person even understand. I am not responsible for the understanding. I am responsible for living a real life. As a real person. Not someone I am trying to be as I go along in order to make a happier life. I know...I KNOW.....he always tells me, "it's not about happiness...", but I disagree. And I am allowed. I don't think that my life's goal is to "be happy", but I think that being happy is a great indicator of what I am doing in my life and whether I am on track. Because God says He wants to give me an abundant life. That He wants to fill me with joy. That He IS life. I want to live like that.
How do I tell someone after so long that he has not given to me? Has not seen me? Has not encouraged me? Has not cherished me? Has not protected me? Has not been patient with me? Has not shown an interest in me? Has not found a way to help me to become who I am? It's so hard. I tear up. He does not get it. I have said it so often. I have tried for so long to let him know what I need. But for some reason, I am not important enough. I lack something that connects inside him to draw out that kind of response.
I can't stand that he doesn't tithe. He tells me it's my fault. I can't stand that he is stingy with the kids; I have never heard him offer them money to go do something fun. Well, he will take them on a birthday or Christmas outing. I'm talking about offering his son some money to take out his girlfriend. Or his daughter to go with her friends. Not only that, but when they do buy something, he makes them feel like they squandered their money. He never comes and says, "there's a little extra money, why don't you go buy yourself something."
He didn't know when our son got a job...because our son didn't bother to tell him. Because he made him feel like it was all about money. When, for our son it's about so much more. Independence and the chance to feel grown up. To feel respected. He so wants respect. And he let me know right away that he got a job. And my other son let me know when he had a program...but not his dad. I guess that I'm trying to say that what I am seeing is that those feelings that I have been struggling with are filtering down to our kids. And it hurts me deeply. I so tried to let them know that their dad loves them. I tried to be the "translator" for so very long. I tried to hold it together. But, now they are older and now they are living through what I feel. A lack of support. A lack of interest. A lack of desire to really engage with anyone for any purpose that is not his own. For instance, he is on time to his things. When the kids need to be somewhere, they will go to the car and he will spend 15 minutes inside doing dishes, turning off lights or whatever......to prove that they are lacking in what they should have done.
I want my children to walk tall. I want to walk tall. I am going to have to be really me. I am going to have to be the one on the line. I am going to have to do it even though I want to tuck my head under my arm just thinking about it. And, maybe I'm not strong enough yet, but it IS coming. God is leading and encouraging and showing. I am learning. Mostly, I am leaning. He is able. To do everything. Anything. All of the time. And right now, I can't give my husband my whole heart. he can wait if he chooses. Or he might now. It is up to him. I can't decide for him. But, I can decide to have the time to heal. Because I am the one who has to live my life. I don't know why it makes me so afraid. Oh, I guess I do. The battle. The same old battle. Obviously I am not "christian enough" or "willing enough" and isn't there supposed to be unlimited chances? I have heard them all. I have heard how he doesn't go out drinking with the boys. How he doesn't beat anyone. I have heard the litany of all of the bad things he doesn't do. But today I realized, the bad that we don't do does not offset the good that we could do. He has failed to do the good. To make something good. To care enough to bother with the things that matter to me. He can remember every trivial thing he ever hears, but he has not a clue what I like, how I want my coffee, how I think, what is important to me. He refuses to hear me when I talk about what makes me feel guilty....like not tithing. Or that it hurts that he has never taken the time to lead our boys into how to make a biblical decision. It's hard. He is missing so much. And all he does is try to play a game. Calls me dear. Asks me if I want to go out to dinner with a political guy and his wife in town. I said no. He was stunned. I said that he could go. I don't know how to be any plainer to him. He has lost an attachment with me. He doesn't miss it because HE never had it....but I did and it was really painful to have to pull away. Like ripping off a huge scab. But it was do that or suffer from the infection. I am not trying to be mean. Just trying to survive.
However, when I confront him....yet again.....it will be a battle.....and I'm not sure how to best handle it. I wish he was a friend. He feels like an enemy. I wish that he could see me. I wish he could know how hard I am trying not to hurt him more though he has hurt me as deeply as anyone ever has. And that is saying a lot.
So, for now, I'm going to learn to walk tall. To stand up. To practice being authentic....EVEN in my marriage. Doesn't that seem ridiculous? What a sad thing to have to say.
If you have found this place, you are probably in a hard place too. It's not easy, but it IS possible. You are loved and cherished right where you are by the One who made you. Take courage, He has overcome.
But, they don't. They simply don't. God is still calling me. Still believing in the plan He has for me. Still about creating good from my life. Even if it looks like I've royally screwed up. He still speaks to me. He still hopes in me. And instills faith in me.
But I have to stand up. I've been slouching, cowering, hiding for too long. It has become a lifestyle. I am not proud of it. It is my own doing. That part. I have spent too much time being afraid of what will happen if I refuse to comply, refuse to behave as expected or simply speak how I feel without having the other person even understand. I am not responsible for the understanding. I am responsible for living a real life. As a real person. Not someone I am trying to be as I go along in order to make a happier life. I know...I KNOW.....he always tells me, "it's not about happiness...", but I disagree. And I am allowed. I don't think that my life's goal is to "be happy", but I think that being happy is a great indicator of what I am doing in my life and whether I am on track. Because God says He wants to give me an abundant life. That He wants to fill me with joy. That He IS life. I want to live like that.
How do I tell someone after so long that he has not given to me? Has not seen me? Has not encouraged me? Has not cherished me? Has not protected me? Has not been patient with me? Has not shown an interest in me? Has not found a way to help me to become who I am? It's so hard. I tear up. He does not get it. I have said it so often. I have tried for so long to let him know what I need. But for some reason, I am not important enough. I lack something that connects inside him to draw out that kind of response.
I can't stand that he doesn't tithe. He tells me it's my fault. I can't stand that he is stingy with the kids; I have never heard him offer them money to go do something fun. Well, he will take them on a birthday or Christmas outing. I'm talking about offering his son some money to take out his girlfriend. Or his daughter to go with her friends. Not only that, but when they do buy something, he makes them feel like they squandered their money. He never comes and says, "there's a little extra money, why don't you go buy yourself something."
He didn't know when our son got a job...because our son didn't bother to tell him. Because he made him feel like it was all about money. When, for our son it's about so much more. Independence and the chance to feel grown up. To feel respected. He so wants respect. And he let me know right away that he got a job. And my other son let me know when he had a program...but not his dad. I guess that I'm trying to say that what I am seeing is that those feelings that I have been struggling with are filtering down to our kids. And it hurts me deeply. I so tried to let them know that their dad loves them. I tried to be the "translator" for so very long. I tried to hold it together. But, now they are older and now they are living through what I feel. A lack of support. A lack of interest. A lack of desire to really engage with anyone for any purpose that is not his own. For instance, he is on time to his things. When the kids need to be somewhere, they will go to the car and he will spend 15 minutes inside doing dishes, turning off lights or whatever......to prove that they are lacking in what they should have done.
I want my children to walk tall. I want to walk tall. I am going to have to be really me. I am going to have to be the one on the line. I am going to have to do it even though I want to tuck my head under my arm just thinking about it. And, maybe I'm not strong enough yet, but it IS coming. God is leading and encouraging and showing. I am learning. Mostly, I am leaning. He is able. To do everything. Anything. All of the time. And right now, I can't give my husband my whole heart. he can wait if he chooses. Or he might now. It is up to him. I can't decide for him. But, I can decide to have the time to heal. Because I am the one who has to live my life. I don't know why it makes me so afraid. Oh, I guess I do. The battle. The same old battle. Obviously I am not "christian enough" or "willing enough" and isn't there supposed to be unlimited chances? I have heard them all. I have heard how he doesn't go out drinking with the boys. How he doesn't beat anyone. I have heard the litany of all of the bad things he doesn't do. But today I realized, the bad that we don't do does not offset the good that we could do. He has failed to do the good. To make something good. To care enough to bother with the things that matter to me. He can remember every trivial thing he ever hears, but he has not a clue what I like, how I want my coffee, how I think, what is important to me. He refuses to hear me when I talk about what makes me feel guilty....like not tithing. Or that it hurts that he has never taken the time to lead our boys into how to make a biblical decision. It's hard. He is missing so much. And all he does is try to play a game. Calls me dear. Asks me if I want to go out to dinner with a political guy and his wife in town. I said no. He was stunned. I said that he could go. I don't know how to be any plainer to him. He has lost an attachment with me. He doesn't miss it because HE never had it....but I did and it was really painful to have to pull away. Like ripping off a huge scab. But it was do that or suffer from the infection. I am not trying to be mean. Just trying to survive.
However, when I confront him....yet again.....it will be a battle.....and I'm not sure how to best handle it. I wish he was a friend. He feels like an enemy. I wish that he could see me. I wish he could know how hard I am trying not to hurt him more though he has hurt me as deeply as anyone ever has. And that is saying a lot.
So, for now, I'm going to learn to walk tall. To stand up. To practice being authentic....EVEN in my marriage. Doesn't that seem ridiculous? What a sad thing to have to say.
If you have found this place, you are probably in a hard place too. It's not easy, but it IS possible. You are loved and cherished right where you are by the One who made you. Take courage, He has overcome.
Steadiness
I have been being thankful that something has been instilled in me to make me strong. Not hardened. Not aloof. Strong enough to still engage in life while going through the hard things.
In the midst of it all, I have some very special things. Very special relationships. Beginning with my mom. She loved me wholeheartedly and steadily. I still can feel how her hand wrapped around mine to keep me safe. I really never remember her yelling at me. She talked with me. She laid with me as I would go to sleep. She was there. She managed, even in the difficulties of her life, to remain present for me. I think that perhaps that has been a huge foundation in a life fraught with pain and heartaches. Though she died when I was in kindergarten, she left me a great legacy. And, all along the way, God brought people with that kind of steadiness along to walk with me. When I was a teen. When I was in college. Even now, as an adult, a person who is steady.
I might not have things all together. I might not always be likable. But, having at least one steady person who sees but stays is probably what has kept me sane. It is probably what makes getting up in the morning ok. It makes a huge difference.
I think that's why, without ever even realizing it, I like to encourage and tell my kids how loved they are by me. How I cherish their differences. How I am blessed by their presence in my life. I want them to know the security of that steady love. And, as they are growing up, I see them reaching out and having another friend or two who gives them that too. I love seeing that. Love seeing them reach out for it. Love that they are not afraid to love and be loved.
And, I hope that I've been a little part of giving them that gift. Because that would mean that I passed along the gift that has been given to me.
There are relationships that I feel overwhelmed by gratitude for. I don't even know how to express it. The complete immovability of the care. The gentleness. The thoughtfulness. The bothering to actually know me. Because of that knowledge, not just in my head, but deep inside, my life has been changed. It has been kept. My self....such as it is....has not been completely lost because there was another to remember. To cherish who I am. To remind me.
That steadiness, that rock solid dependability clothed in tenderness, has saved my life in every way. God knew and provided a way through the pain He knew would come. I love that.
In the midst of it all, I have some very special things. Very special relationships. Beginning with my mom. She loved me wholeheartedly and steadily. I still can feel how her hand wrapped around mine to keep me safe. I really never remember her yelling at me. She talked with me. She laid with me as I would go to sleep. She was there. She managed, even in the difficulties of her life, to remain present for me. I think that perhaps that has been a huge foundation in a life fraught with pain and heartaches. Though she died when I was in kindergarten, she left me a great legacy. And, all along the way, God brought people with that kind of steadiness along to walk with me. When I was a teen. When I was in college. Even now, as an adult, a person who is steady.
I might not have things all together. I might not always be likable. But, having at least one steady person who sees but stays is probably what has kept me sane. It is probably what makes getting up in the morning ok. It makes a huge difference.
I think that's why, without ever even realizing it, I like to encourage and tell my kids how loved they are by me. How I cherish their differences. How I am blessed by their presence in my life. I want them to know the security of that steady love. And, as they are growing up, I see them reaching out and having another friend or two who gives them that too. I love seeing that. Love seeing them reach out for it. Love that they are not afraid to love and be loved.
And, I hope that I've been a little part of giving them that gift. Because that would mean that I passed along the gift that has been given to me.
There are relationships that I feel overwhelmed by gratitude for. I don't even know how to express it. The complete immovability of the care. The gentleness. The thoughtfulness. The bothering to actually know me. Because of that knowledge, not just in my head, but deep inside, my life has been changed. It has been kept. My self....such as it is....has not been completely lost because there was another to remember. To cherish who I am. To remind me.
That steadiness, that rock solid dependability clothed in tenderness, has saved my life in every way. God knew and provided a way through the pain He knew would come. I love that.
A New Day
I love new days. It doesn't really take much in life to make me feel content. I am not one who has to have a lot. I am not one who is hard to please. But, I had forgotten that. I remember it today as a new day dawns and I find myself ever so thankful. I am a thankful person. Deep down to my toes.
This day holds all kinds of possibility. It holds hope. It holds laughter. It holds my dear children. No matter how heavy my heart is, that is always enough to get me up, get me going, make me think of adventures. Make me think of how to encourage them, grow them.
Simply being thankful for a new day reminded me a bit of who I really am. I am not someone who is unworthy of love. I have many faults, but basically, I am a loving and fun loving person. Basically, I am pretty easy. I was never hard to get along with. The stressful self came post marriage. Finding how to banish her is my goal. I want to be me. Not what someone else wants me to be. Because, for good or for bad, I like me and I think that she, as she is, has a purpose in this world.
So, off to a day full of surprises. Smiles. Troubles. Blessings. A day full of everything that I need for life. A gift. Breath. Living. Today. All I have is today. This new day.
This day holds all kinds of possibility. It holds hope. It holds laughter. It holds my dear children. No matter how heavy my heart is, that is always enough to get me up, get me going, make me think of adventures. Make me think of how to encourage them, grow them.
Simply being thankful for a new day reminded me a bit of who I really am. I am not someone who is unworthy of love. I have many faults, but basically, I am a loving and fun loving person. Basically, I am pretty easy. I was never hard to get along with. The stressful self came post marriage. Finding how to banish her is my goal. I want to be me. Not what someone else wants me to be. Because, for good or for bad, I like me and I think that she, as she is, has a purpose in this world.
So, off to a day full of surprises. Smiles. Troubles. Blessings. A day full of everything that I need for life. A gift. Breath. Living. Today. All I have is today. This new day.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Detached
That's me. Detached from one person. It's sad. I am learning that I really have the potential to be a good friend. I probably should have been able to be a good wife. decent at least. I don't think that I am as awful as I've been thinking. I mean, I have lots of faults, but I've been thinking about my work, the places I am and I realized that I am pretty good with people. Not incredibly outgoing, but able to be kind and pleasant. Able to be real.
Working has been good for me. Let's me see who I am again. To remember that I have skills and talents. That there are people who see the good I am able to do. And who see my weaknesses and are ok with that too. It's like God gave me the perfect jobs to start out in. It comforts me.
But, I am detached for safety's sake in my marriage. Maybe one day that will change. I really can't say. I've stayed married longer than I thought I could over a decade ago. Kept going. It was hard. But, though I would mention the divorce word, it wasn't really my thought about how to handle things. It was more like, "I don't want to wind up divorced, so let's.....". And, the cost of divorce is so high on so many fronts. Mostly, back then, I knew that the loss of friends would kill me. Friends were closer than family in some ways. They were here. They were the day to day support. And, there was always knowing that even to my family it would be my fault. That sucks. While I really don't want to create a "my side"/"your side" scenario, I wish that I had that place in the world where I knew that there was someone simply on my side. No parents around. Grandparents gone. Pretty much nobody to be that. But it's ok. At least I'm not the great disappointment to them.
I should sleep. Really tired. I need real rest, not just sleep.
He sat here. I played Scrabble. He waits for this to pass. There is no action. Simply ignoring. Waiting. I'm waiting too. But differently. I am getting stronger. I am learning how to not live bitter. I am learning that sometimes hopes and dreams are delayed. But it is about the journey. About the learning. But I am also learning that I need peace to survive. I can't live in survival mode for years more.
One day, answers will come, I'm sure of it. But for now, I will guard my heart. It's my only one. I don't get another. Not with walls. But with boundaries. With truth. With how I really am, not how someone wishes I was.
Funny, I put my clothes in the washer yesterday. They disappeared. But when I got home from work, they were back in the washer still wet. Kids said dad was doing laundry. Guess mine was put in a basket somewhere or something and then put back in the washer a day later. Weird. Just like other things. I don't get it. And, I'm too tired to try.
Working has been good for me. Let's me see who I am again. To remember that I have skills and talents. That there are people who see the good I am able to do. And who see my weaknesses and are ok with that too. It's like God gave me the perfect jobs to start out in. It comforts me.
But, I am detached for safety's sake in my marriage. Maybe one day that will change. I really can't say. I've stayed married longer than I thought I could over a decade ago. Kept going. It was hard. But, though I would mention the divorce word, it wasn't really my thought about how to handle things. It was more like, "I don't want to wind up divorced, so let's.....". And, the cost of divorce is so high on so many fronts. Mostly, back then, I knew that the loss of friends would kill me. Friends were closer than family in some ways. They were here. They were the day to day support. And, there was always knowing that even to my family it would be my fault. That sucks. While I really don't want to create a "my side"/"your side" scenario, I wish that I had that place in the world where I knew that there was someone simply on my side. No parents around. Grandparents gone. Pretty much nobody to be that. But it's ok. At least I'm not the great disappointment to them.
I should sleep. Really tired. I need real rest, not just sleep.
He sat here. I played Scrabble. He waits for this to pass. There is no action. Simply ignoring. Waiting. I'm waiting too. But differently. I am getting stronger. I am learning how to not live bitter. I am learning that sometimes hopes and dreams are delayed. But it is about the journey. About the learning. But I am also learning that I need peace to survive. I can't live in survival mode for years more.
One day, answers will come, I'm sure of it. But for now, I will guard my heart. It's my only one. I don't get another. Not with walls. But with boundaries. With truth. With how I really am, not how someone wishes I was.
Funny, I put my clothes in the washer yesterday. They disappeared. But when I got home from work, they were back in the washer still wet. Kids said dad was doing laundry. Guess mine was put in a basket somewhere or something and then put back in the washer a day later. Weird. Just like other things. I don't get it. And, I'm too tired to try.
Omissions
We have this funny story that has been told through the years about a trip to Texas. While stopped in a small, West Texas town for gas, my husband got out and stood by the gas tank for awhile. He turned the little lever and stood by the car. Then, he went in to pay. Being a good wife....and in order to allow the people behind us to get to the pump, I pulled away from the pump to go park to pick him up. I didn't know that he had left the nozzle in the car. And I pulled the hose out of the pump. The company took our information and said they'd let us know if we needed to do anything. Now, me, being me, found it rather amusing....I mean, I never knew that could happen. It was totally an accident. But, my husband was nervous and the nervousness on top of the Taco Bell that he had eaten for lunch caused severe stomach distress. We were in the middle of NOWHERE--no trees, no towns, no nothing. Finally an overpass boasted a few columns that looked like a worthy stopping place. I pealed off the highway, handed him the wipes and waited. He hurried over and came back a few minutes later; apparently there were houses on the other side of the columns. So, I took off again. We skidded into a Dairy Queen parking lot where he disappeared into the building and did not come out for a long time. When he did, he had an ice cream cone. He had felt obligated to purchase something since he had basically rented out the bathroom for the afternoon. We fed the ice cream cone to the baby. But, what is never said in the family lore is how angry he was with me. How he was ranting about how it was going to cost $500 or more. How I should have known. He was furious. Nervous. Worrying. Troubled. It was not the light moment that gets told. But, I did have trouble not laughing...which did not end the irritation, but rather increased it. He was worrying and moaning about how badly he had to go.....it was one of those classic moments. He loves telling it now. I kind of cringe when I think of how I felt. What could have been easily forgiven was not forgiven until months had passed and the gas company had not charged us. They had insurance for such things. I wish it could have simply been a funny memory.
Or there was the trip to Disney World. I worked for it. Planned for it. Arranged it. We took seven of us to Orlando for 11 days for about $2500 including hotel, airfare, car rental and five day passes to the parks. It also included a dinner show and multiple trips to the beach. But, the worry of money while we were there was ever present. Most of the money had come from my grandmother as our Christmas gift. Some was from a tax refund. It was the only thing our five children and we got for Christmas. It was a once in a lifetime trip. We speak of it fondly. Talk about how great it was that the parks were not crowded. But we don't speak of the massive fight over what we could do regarding money. I had the spending money figured in as well--for meals, souvenirs and gas. We were forced every morning to rise early in order to get the most for our money. I was exhausted. The kids were pooped. We went non stop. He didn't want to let them spend the spending money for souvenirs. We had a long fight in the hotel room while they waited in the parking lot of a hotel to go have a fun day. I wished I was there without him. So he wouldn't guilt them into not spending what they wanted to. Oh, it's a "happy" family memory, but not exactly.
Or the trip to California. He ended up driving home a day earlier than I with the kids. I stayed to clean up the rental and then to shop for my business on the way home. By the time he finally left, I was a basket case. I needed another week on the beach to try to calm down. After he was gone, I was physically ill. Nearly passed out in the bathroom where I threw up. His demands and assumptions always floored me. All while acting like the nice guy. I am tense just writing about it. It was awful. I have never been so glad to see anyone leave. Of course, I did miss the kids. He took them to stay at a sleazy hotel with doors that opened to the parking lot and they had to have more than one room. But, hey, it was cheap. Seriously? I could have gotten you a nice hotel for the same price on Hotwire....
Family history has been written to make things good for kids. Stories are told with a good slant. But, sometimes I wonder if they remember the other things. I hope not. I hope that they remember laughter and fun and playing. I hope that they remember feeling safe and loved. Because they are the reason I have tried so hard to keep things normal. They are why I work so hard for him to look good. They have been totally worth it.
Unfortunately, now they are older and have to suffer the guilting and shaming. That's why I just don't know if I can play my part anymore. What's the point? For them, it was worth it. Not now.
Or there was the trip to Disney World. I worked for it. Planned for it. Arranged it. We took seven of us to Orlando for 11 days for about $2500 including hotel, airfare, car rental and five day passes to the parks. It also included a dinner show and multiple trips to the beach. But, the worry of money while we were there was ever present. Most of the money had come from my grandmother as our Christmas gift. Some was from a tax refund. It was the only thing our five children and we got for Christmas. It was a once in a lifetime trip. We speak of it fondly. Talk about how great it was that the parks were not crowded. But we don't speak of the massive fight over what we could do regarding money. I had the spending money figured in as well--for meals, souvenirs and gas. We were forced every morning to rise early in order to get the most for our money. I was exhausted. The kids were pooped. We went non stop. He didn't want to let them spend the spending money for souvenirs. We had a long fight in the hotel room while they waited in the parking lot of a hotel to go have a fun day. I wished I was there without him. So he wouldn't guilt them into not spending what they wanted to. Oh, it's a "happy" family memory, but not exactly.
Or the trip to California. He ended up driving home a day earlier than I with the kids. I stayed to clean up the rental and then to shop for my business on the way home. By the time he finally left, I was a basket case. I needed another week on the beach to try to calm down. After he was gone, I was physically ill. Nearly passed out in the bathroom where I threw up. His demands and assumptions always floored me. All while acting like the nice guy. I am tense just writing about it. It was awful. I have never been so glad to see anyone leave. Of course, I did miss the kids. He took them to stay at a sleazy hotel with doors that opened to the parking lot and they had to have more than one room. But, hey, it was cheap. Seriously? I could have gotten you a nice hotel for the same price on Hotwire....
Family history has been written to make things good for kids. Stories are told with a good slant. But, sometimes I wonder if they remember the other things. I hope not. I hope that they remember laughter and fun and playing. I hope that they remember feeling safe and loved. Because they are the reason I have tried so hard to keep things normal. They are why I work so hard for him to look good. They have been totally worth it.
Unfortunately, now they are older and have to suffer the guilting and shaming. That's why I just don't know if I can play my part anymore. What's the point? For them, it was worth it. Not now.
Clear Vision
There are all sorts of things that make my vision less clear. Experiences. Hurts. Opinions. But I have struggled greatly with why I am so very convinced that where I am not even God will really be able to stay and love me. Don't get me wrong, I know He does, I just can't believe it. I know of His mercy. Of His great love. Of the fact that He was willing, knowing everything beforehand, to die for me. To live in me. To be my friend and counselor. To stay. I KNOW, but really letting it sink down into my heart has been hard in this case.
Today, as I was looking back and thinking and kind of praying...you know, that running dialogue during getting ready and all....I suddenly remembered something from childhood.
I had been living with my stepmom. Things were not good, to put it mildly. I had a babysitter, who was one of her ex brother in laws, who was abusing me. My stepmom was gone until late every night with school and had to leave for work before I even got up at 6:30 to go to school. Life was horribly hard. I was helpless. Nothing I could do. I went and spent a weekend with my grandparents; my real mother's parents. As time drew near to take me back, the dread was overtaking me. Grandma and I were sitting on the bed reading. And I told her what had been happening. I also told her that my stepmom was mean to me. She left and talked to my grandpa. I fell asleep. They woke me up. They took me home. I was antsy in the car. I pretended to be asleep when we were almost there. Then, I got out of the car, walked in, and nobody ever spoke of it again.
So, I see why I don't believe anyone will hear me now. I told the only people I could think of that could possibly help me in a moment of great courage and trying to get help. That's how I feel now. Like there is no help. Like I'm just going to say it all and then feel completely worse because I said it but everyone who hears will just think that I just have to go back and do it anyway.
But, as I was praying THIS morning, I realized that there is a huge difference. I am no longer a child. I can, and I must, be my own voice. I must guard my heart. Diligently. With great care. I must learn to give myself the grace I show to others. I must be merciful to myself. Even when nobody stands by me. Even when I am shaking and nearly unable.
He has spent his life working to be a good guy. Trying to do the things that look right. The problem does not stem from how he looks to everyone else. I get how he looks. I noticed it too. Obviously....I MARRIED him. But there is no object for his goodness beyond himself and his pride. It is misplaced. It is not to make his children feel necessary and wonderful. It is not to make his wife know that she is his treasure. I laughed when I wrote that. Seriously, his treasure.....no way, I am more like a possession. And while he suffers from jealousy, it's not because he ever wanted my time or wanted time to let me know how much he cares....it's because he wants people to see that he's important. Doesn't want to be embarrassed. Doesn't want to look wrong.
It used to be that if we were home, if I wanted to talk to him or be with him, I seriously had to follow him around at whatever project he was doing. And sometimes the tv too. There has never been a time that he simply wants to be with me where it doesn't involve touching my butt or boobs or having sex. I get that those things are important too. But I, as simply a person, have a right to be seen and to be important because I am. Wow. That's amazing for me to say. To be able to say. Because I have never believed it. I have always known in my marriage that in order to be accepted, sex was expected.
The good news right now is that during this sexual reprieve, I am learning to be stronger. The one thing he really wants is sex. And, sex is not a bad thing....making love would be nicer, I think. Having that aspect be an expression of the other parts of life would be amazing. But the other parts don't exist. The rut is that he acts nice and "butters me up"--no, not literally--so that he can have sex. Then he is done. That's it. Until he wants it again. Then he acts nicely again. Bleck. Now, these months later, it gives me the shakes and shudders just thinking about it. Just remembering how those moments made me know that I was being expected to perform...to come through. And, the funniest part, he was really only happy if I would initiate. I quit awhile back....just couldn't bring myself to play the game anymore. But then it became him asking. And letting me know that a wife isn't supposed to say no. Then he would try to praise my "good behavior" to get it to be a repeated action......like he learned from a parenting book. He didn't read it. We went to a class on it.
And all the while everyone is telling me how lucky I am. And I keep sucking it up, literally AND figuratively, trying to be worthy, trying to meet the expectations, trying to show that I'm good enough to be the wife of such a catch. Well, I'm not.
If I have to drink to stand sex with him. Take pills to sleep. Write in secret. Pray with great fervor that he goes away. Have panic attacks when going home. Shake. Tremble. Freeze. Worry. Well, perhaps my body and mind are trying to tell me something. Perhaps it is time for me to listen instead of running from it. Even if nobody else can understand. Even if they behave like my grandparents did....doing nothing. I don't need anyone to do anything on my behalf anymore. Well, I mean, it's nice, but what I mean is that I'm an adult and can make decisions about things that affect me.
I want to go back to all of my doctors and say, "you got it wrong. It wasn't five pregnancies in seven years. It wasn't raising stair step kids. It has nothing to do with the kids. It's the husband."
My vision is clearing. Like the fog burning off in later day at the coast. The Son is shining, taking the fogginess away. Giving me clarity.
Yet, still.........I don't feel like I'm worthy of anything better. Because I allowed this sham. And that is what disgusts me most. My ignorance. My denial. My wishing.
But, that is who I am. Not ignorant, but willfully overlooking faults in order to love. Willing to be hopeful. Willing to wait. Willing to have compassion. My willingness to be what he needed has nearly robbed me of my own life. He always likes to say how biblically I'm his. That it's not my own body. Not my own life. Very recently I refuted that. Told him even if I was a heathen, it was my body. It is my life. Maybe it didn't go over well, but I felt better for having said it.
Today, as I was looking back and thinking and kind of praying...you know, that running dialogue during getting ready and all....I suddenly remembered something from childhood.
I had been living with my stepmom. Things were not good, to put it mildly. I had a babysitter, who was one of her ex brother in laws, who was abusing me. My stepmom was gone until late every night with school and had to leave for work before I even got up at 6:30 to go to school. Life was horribly hard. I was helpless. Nothing I could do. I went and spent a weekend with my grandparents; my real mother's parents. As time drew near to take me back, the dread was overtaking me. Grandma and I were sitting on the bed reading. And I told her what had been happening. I also told her that my stepmom was mean to me. She left and talked to my grandpa. I fell asleep. They woke me up. They took me home. I was antsy in the car. I pretended to be asleep when we were almost there. Then, I got out of the car, walked in, and nobody ever spoke of it again.
So, I see why I don't believe anyone will hear me now. I told the only people I could think of that could possibly help me in a moment of great courage and trying to get help. That's how I feel now. Like there is no help. Like I'm just going to say it all and then feel completely worse because I said it but everyone who hears will just think that I just have to go back and do it anyway.
But, as I was praying THIS morning, I realized that there is a huge difference. I am no longer a child. I can, and I must, be my own voice. I must guard my heart. Diligently. With great care. I must learn to give myself the grace I show to others. I must be merciful to myself. Even when nobody stands by me. Even when I am shaking and nearly unable.
He has spent his life working to be a good guy. Trying to do the things that look right. The problem does not stem from how he looks to everyone else. I get how he looks. I noticed it too. Obviously....I MARRIED him. But there is no object for his goodness beyond himself and his pride. It is misplaced. It is not to make his children feel necessary and wonderful. It is not to make his wife know that she is his treasure. I laughed when I wrote that. Seriously, his treasure.....no way, I am more like a possession. And while he suffers from jealousy, it's not because he ever wanted my time or wanted time to let me know how much he cares....it's because he wants people to see that he's important. Doesn't want to be embarrassed. Doesn't want to look wrong.
It used to be that if we were home, if I wanted to talk to him or be with him, I seriously had to follow him around at whatever project he was doing. And sometimes the tv too. There has never been a time that he simply wants to be with me where it doesn't involve touching my butt or boobs or having sex. I get that those things are important too. But I, as simply a person, have a right to be seen and to be important because I am. Wow. That's amazing for me to say. To be able to say. Because I have never believed it. I have always known in my marriage that in order to be accepted, sex was expected.
The good news right now is that during this sexual reprieve, I am learning to be stronger. The one thing he really wants is sex. And, sex is not a bad thing....making love would be nicer, I think. Having that aspect be an expression of the other parts of life would be amazing. But the other parts don't exist. The rut is that he acts nice and "butters me up"--no, not literally--so that he can have sex. Then he is done. That's it. Until he wants it again. Then he acts nicely again. Bleck. Now, these months later, it gives me the shakes and shudders just thinking about it. Just remembering how those moments made me know that I was being expected to perform...to come through. And, the funniest part, he was really only happy if I would initiate. I quit awhile back....just couldn't bring myself to play the game anymore. But then it became him asking. And letting me know that a wife isn't supposed to say no. Then he would try to praise my "good behavior" to get it to be a repeated action......like he learned from a parenting book. He didn't read it. We went to a class on it.
And all the while everyone is telling me how lucky I am. And I keep sucking it up, literally AND figuratively, trying to be worthy, trying to meet the expectations, trying to show that I'm good enough to be the wife of such a catch. Well, I'm not.
If I have to drink to stand sex with him. Take pills to sleep. Write in secret. Pray with great fervor that he goes away. Have panic attacks when going home. Shake. Tremble. Freeze. Worry. Well, perhaps my body and mind are trying to tell me something. Perhaps it is time for me to listen instead of running from it. Even if nobody else can understand. Even if they behave like my grandparents did....doing nothing. I don't need anyone to do anything on my behalf anymore. Well, I mean, it's nice, but what I mean is that I'm an adult and can make decisions about things that affect me.
I want to go back to all of my doctors and say, "you got it wrong. It wasn't five pregnancies in seven years. It wasn't raising stair step kids. It has nothing to do with the kids. It's the husband."
My vision is clearing. Like the fog burning off in later day at the coast. The Son is shining, taking the fogginess away. Giving me clarity.
Yet, still.........I don't feel like I'm worthy of anything better. Because I allowed this sham. And that is what disgusts me most. My ignorance. My denial. My wishing.
But, that is who I am. Not ignorant, but willfully overlooking faults in order to love. Willing to be hopeful. Willing to wait. Willing to have compassion. My willingness to be what he needed has nearly robbed me of my own life. He always likes to say how biblically I'm his. That it's not my own body. Not my own life. Very recently I refuted that. Told him even if I was a heathen, it was my body. It is my life. Maybe it didn't go over well, but I felt better for having said it.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
This Is What I Learned
It's not about him being bad. It's not about me being bad. It's about the fact that no matter how much I try to communicate, use word pictures, share or whatever, he does not choose to "get" me. He does not feel the inside desire to meet the needs of my heart or body. And as I drove tonight, I learned that this fact is what makes me know that without time to heal and figure out a new way, this marriage is doomed. Because I won't live that way anymore. I can't make everything right. I can't be everything right. And he can't show me love if I'm not what makes him happy. In that case, it's not really love, it's using. So, in order for us to find that place where you're supposed to be, it's like starting all over. Because at this point, I can't even fathom anything.
I read today that the sex life is the thermometer of a relationship. Uh oh. What if it's frequent but one person is miserable? What if it's not satisfying? What if it's not at all? What if you cry yourself to sleep after being used but not loved? What if? I have found that sex can create an illusion of peace in my case. But not for ME.
Somehow I need a good long time to heal. To have my own time. Selfish I am. I wrote today how I am just not sure how God loves me. I feel shame. From him. When things are like this he acts insincerely "pleasant." Makes me sick. Literally.
Gotta go. Stolen time is over.
I read today that the sex life is the thermometer of a relationship. Uh oh. What if it's frequent but one person is miserable? What if it's not satisfying? What if it's not at all? What if you cry yourself to sleep after being used but not loved? What if? I have found that sex can create an illusion of peace in my case. But not for ME.
Somehow I need a good long time to heal. To have my own time. Selfish I am. I wrote today how I am just not sure how God loves me. I feel shame. From him. When things are like this he acts insincerely "pleasant." Makes me sick. Literally.
Gotta go. Stolen time is over.
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