I'm sorry I made you cry. Twice.
It's not like I set out to ruin your day.
Sometimes you're just so stubborn... about stupid stuff... just like me, I guess.
Anyway, I'm going to try harder. I promise.
I dunno. I just have this urge to write. About what? Nothing in particular, I guess...
I've wanted to make something gourmet the last few days, but... eh. The effort just doesn't seem worth the end product. I'd rather dream of buying books.
I'm feeling a little angsty about my upcoming visit home. Will they see a difference in me? I hope so. I'm way different than I was before, and I'm not just talking about my hairstyle. So much about who I am intrinsically has changed. Less lies, more truth. And truth that is not lived is worse than pointless. I hope I am living it. I hope that I will be more loving and lovable. I hope that I will be able to help them heal, even if it's just a little bit.
Another thing: I want to help people so bad... but I'm so scared of it. What if I mess them up further? I mean, I get so tongue-tied when people have problems! What do I say? What do I do? How can I help? So I sit there, like a bump on a log, and just listen... offer what words I can... But here I go, off to school to learn how to help people, and I'm so intimidated by the thought that...
But I could never be happy knowing that I walked away from this calling. I mean... helping people who have been hurt like I have is what I wanna do for a long, long time, if not the rest of my life. The problem is... I'm just not so sure I can. I still feel so broken myself. And how do I explain the beautiful hope that is growing in my heart to someone who has never experienced it?
Once, when I was an infant, there was a small garden. It was full of tender little seedlings that showed great promise. They would grow up into delicately scented flowers and lush ornamental grasses and even berry-bearing bushes. But then came the storms. One by one, they came. The little garden could have withstood one or two, probably quite a few if there had been someone to help protect the fragile little plants. But there was no one who would or could consistently shelter the growing vegetation. On and on the storms raged, through the years. At times, there would be a sweet stillness to the air, and the sun would shine, and the battered little seedlings would stretch out their leaves and try to grow. The storms, however, had stunted and twisted the little plants until it seemed impossible that they could grow at all. Some of the grasses and flowers and bushes had withered and died beneath the continual onslaught, and their corpses littered the ground, making it difficult for the other plants to multiply as they needed to. Somehow, in the midst of the fierce weather, weeds had managed to grow profusely (as weeds often do), and they, too, choked the little plants, and stole their water, and soaked up the sunlight meant for the seedlings.
The years stretched on. The little garden grew more and more ragged. If a passerby had glanced over the fence, they would have thought it contained nothing but weeds, but a few saw the little plants hidden among the sharp grasses. They came into the garden and watered the little plants, trying to clear spaces among the weeds. Their efforts kept the little plants alive, but still they could not flourish. Storms continued to buffet the small patch of vegetation. By some miracle, the plants grew a little.
Then, new variations of the noxious weeds began to multiply and spread their poisons even more profusely throughout the little enclosure. It seemed that their was no choice but for the plants to give up hope and wither away, as many of them had already done.
But the gardener, who had faithfully attended this little patch through all the years, came in and whispered to the little plants. Weary and broken, they sighed their assent, and the gardener got to work. He brought in people who, though not professional gardeners, had a love for tender, broken little plants. These he set to work nourishing and bandaging, while he pulled out the noxious weeds. Slowly, ever so slowly, the ragged, blackened patch of ground began to clear. Some of the weeds had been there for decades, and had quite the root system entrenched. Some weeds were simple byproducts of the larger, more firmly rooted weeds, and they came out quickly and quietly.
As the gardener did his work, the plants found that, for the first time in years (or maybe ever), they were able to stretch out their leaves in comfort. The nourishment and tender care given by the friends of the gardener did its work, and the flowers, the grasses, and the berry bushes climbed towards the crystal sky, centimeter by centimeter. Their tender rootlets drove deeper and deeper into the soil, now rich with nutrients. (The gardener had taken the uprooted weeds and turned them into a nourishing compost.)
As of today, there are still weeds in the garden. They are fewer, though, and they pale in comparison to the once-stunted little plants that now whisper and sigh their contentment in shades of green and silver. In the corner over there, a dainty flower joyously flings its petals wide to the sunlight (a sight rarely seen before in this garden). And the storms? Yes, they still pass through, magnificent in their fury. Now, however, the friends of the gardener stand watch over the plants, ready to take hold of tender stalks and stems when they are in danger of breaking. As for the gardener himself, it turns out that he has always been around to help protect this little garden from the storms. If it weren't for him, this little plot would have been wiped out long ago. And it must be global warming or something, because it would almost seem to me that the vicious storms sweeping through this area now make this little garden stronger. I know, I know... it's crazy.
I've wanted to make something gourmet the last few days, but... eh. The effort just doesn't seem worth the end product. I'd rather dream of buying books.
I've had (and succumbed to) this urge to look up books that have really impacted me. I found them (and more!) on Amazon, and created a wish list :http://amzn.com/w/3HPW4VMI6DQD2. Some I have never read before, but I read the reviews and they look like they're right up my alley. I realized, in my compilation of this list, that the books I have liked the most throughout the years are ones with themes of redemption, growth, and healing. Not your sitcom style resolution-in-30-minutes, but a change in the core of the person. Granted, in some of the books, God is not a factor. But I know where healing and growth comes from, even if the author doesn't recognize it.
So I guess I'll go accomplish something now. Like organizing my documents... or creating my packing list...
I'm feeling a little angsty about my upcoming visit home. Will they see a difference in me? I hope so. I'm way different than I was before, and I'm not just talking about my hairstyle. So much about who I am intrinsically has changed. Less lies, more truth. And truth that is not lived is worse than pointless. I hope I am living it. I hope that I will be more loving and lovable. I hope that I will be able to help them heal, even if it's just a little bit.
Another thing: I want to help people so bad... but I'm so scared of it. What if I mess them up further? I mean, I get so tongue-tied when people have problems! What do I say? What do I do? How can I help? So I sit there, like a bump on a log, and just listen... offer what words I can... But here I go, off to school to learn how to help people, and I'm so intimidated by the thought that...
But I could never be happy knowing that I walked away from this calling. I mean... helping people who have been hurt like I have is what I wanna do for a long, long time, if not the rest of my life. The problem is... I'm just not so sure I can. I still feel so broken myself. And how do I explain the beautiful hope that is growing in my heart to someone who has never experienced it?
Then, new variations of the noxious weeds began to multiply and spread their poisons even more profusely throughout the little enclosure. It seemed that their was no choice but for the plants to give up hope and wither away, as many of them had already done.
But the gardener, who had faithfully attended this little patch through all the years, came in and whispered to the little plants. Weary and broken, they sighed their assent, and the gardener got to work. He brought in people who, though not professional gardeners, had a love for tender, broken little plants. These he set to work nourishing and bandaging, while he pulled out the noxious weeds. Slowly, ever so slowly, the ragged, blackened patch of ground began to clear. Some of the weeds had been there for decades, and had quite the root system entrenched. Some weeds were simple byproducts of the larger, more firmly rooted weeds, and they came out quickly and quietly.
As the gardener did his work, the plants found that, for the first time in years (or maybe ever), they were able to stretch out their leaves in comfort. The nourishment and tender care given by the friends of the gardener did its work, and the flowers, the grasses, and the berry bushes climbed towards the crystal sky, centimeter by centimeter. Their tender rootlets drove deeper and deeper into the soil, now rich with nutrients. (The gardener had taken the uprooted weeds and turned them into a nourishing compost.)
As of today, there are still weeds in the garden. They are fewer, though, and they pale in comparison to the once-stunted little plants that now whisper and sigh their contentment in shades of green and silver. In the corner over there, a dainty flower joyously flings its petals wide to the sunlight (a sight rarely seen before in this garden). And the storms? Yes, they still pass through, magnificent in their fury. Now, however, the friends of the gardener stand watch over the plants, ready to take hold of tender stalks and stems when they are in danger of breaking. As for the gardener himself, it turns out that he has always been around to help protect this little garden from the storms. If it weren't for him, this little plot would have been wiped out long ago. And it must be global warming or something, because it would almost seem to me that the vicious storms sweeping through this area now make this little garden stronger. I know, I know... it's crazy.
It's amazing what a little thing can do for your self-confidence. You see, I used to have this problem of over-tweezing my eyebrows. Something about pulling hairs is just so satisfying, I find it hard to stop... which led to a near-bare face. (Now all I do is compulsively pull out the hair on my head. Hah.) The worst part was that this took place during high school--the time when one is most exquisitely conscious of physical appearance. So I stopped plucking and just let my brows take their natural shape, with a stray-hair guard patrol in place. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great. Then again, I have never really cared much about "creating an image", so who cares? I'm not into frilly froo froo stuff, anyway.
I have had a hard time coming to grips with my own attractiveness. I mean, I know that I must be physically attractive in some ways, otherwise I wouldn't have the man-hopping problem that I have had, right? But it is not until very, very recently that I have been able to look at myself in the mirror and say, "Yes. I am good looking."
So last week, I took a passing glance at myself and thought, "yeah, I'm okay looking... but... hmm... something is missing...." So I grabbed a pair of tweezers and proceeded to pluck my brows into lovely arches. It's nothing drastic. In fact, I think it looks quite natural--so natural that nobody noticed! LOL. However, just knowing that I have beautiful eyebrows has boosted my self-confidence wonderfully. Also, I have officially appointed Tuesdays as "eyebrow maintenance day".
It kind of goes along with my Sunday activity. I completely re-arranged my room. You see, I love love LOVE books and reading. (I just finished reading a book about twenty minutes ago. It took me about... two hours? Maybe? You can see why I go through them fast-- I devour books.) But I had no room in my room for books. They were stacked on either side of my dresser and just made my room look so cluttered and messy, even when it was clean. (If there's one thing that I absolutely must have to function, it's a tidy room. Not necessarily clean and orderly, but tidy. On my therapy days, I have to straighten my room before I can get anything done.) In addition to that, I had just kind of stored stuff in random places, because the room was a guest bedroom/storage room before I moved in.
So, I went to the thrift store, bought a pair of end table/cupboards for $10, and then moved every single piece of furniture in my room. I swept under everything, pulled it all out from under the bed and re-organized, and... you know what I found? I have SO much more room this way!! And I'm able to fit 3x as many books in my room! Plus I am using one of the cupboards to store my potpourri pie supplies, beads, thank you cards and the like.
It was great. Kind of like a purging/renewal process. C came in to see my room when I was done, and she said, "The butterfly is shedding its cocoon!" How right she is.
My beautiful eyebrows are another part of that process.
The book I read today is an old favorite of mine, and it's Cheri Peters' story of her transformation from a homeless bar dancer and druggie to the kind of person I want to be. I have always loved her book, but this is the first time I've read it since I started healing. Oh man. So amazing. I identify with her so much! And it's so interesting how God is taking us through different paths and channels for healing, but essentially doing the same thing! She had the same problem with dependence on men that I did/do, and she had to go through that fear of being "alone", too. Anyway, it's just really cool. I highly recommend it.
It's called....
A few things that are bothering me/that I have noticed that I'd like to write down so I can return to them at some point...
- I used to be almost addicted to trying to get every guy I met or saw to like me or think I was attractive/cute/sexy/whatever. Now I find that male attention causes fear to rise in my heart. Before, I'd be thinking, "Look at me. Look at me. Want me. Please, want me." Now the line running through my head is, "Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Why are you looking at me? Stop staring at me! I'M LEAVING!!" And then I book it as fast as I reasonably can, almost shaking.
What gives?
- I still find myself overeating. Then I get sick. Why, oh why, do I do this to myself? Just. Stop. Eating. Alright? It's OKAY to be hungry. It's OKAY to be almost-full. You don't have to gorge yourself to prove a point. Sheesh. I mean, aside from the fact that I get sick if I don't eat on time (i.e. if I'm hungry for too long), why am I so afraid of being hungry? Food is just food.. right?
So, yes. The butterfly is breaking out of the cocoon... but there's still work to do. That's good. I'd hate to think that I was perfect or something.
Realization #2
regarding: movie
I'm so grateful to have cats. Last night I had horrible nightmares, and it was sweet Emily who came into my room and woke me up to pet her (which usually REALLY annoys me, but this time I was so very grateful to escape from my dreams). And just now my "son", Juneaux, came into my room to cuddle with me. It was just what I needed to settle me anxious heart.
That's not the realization, though.
After I had prayed from healing from my relationship with C, something was different inside my heart. Maybe just the act of praying for freedom was a step forward in and of itself? Either way, something was different. Then came the realization of C's brokenness. As I tried to explain these things to my friend Julie, as well to my group, I could tell that there was a bigger thought behind these things that I was trying to articulate, but couldn't quite figure out. Then, on the way home from group on Friday, it hit me.
C IS NO LONGER LARGER THAN LIFE.
This may be hard to understand, but I realized that he's just been this... giant. He was my life... for years. And our dysfunctions matched each other extremely well--like the two halves of a friendship charm. (Which gave birth to the thought, "we're perfect for each other! the relationship was so good!)
So, in my head, he's a giant. He's an intrinsic part of my past, and not one I want to get rid of, either. I loved him as deeply as I was capable of. Even in the throes of the relationship, and certainly in the favorable light of reminiscence, he was always wiser, smarter, more mature, more capable, stronger, more daring, more exciting, and just all around a step above myself. In my head, he wasn't a person anymore. He was the embodiment of... something. Maybe what I thought I was missing out on? I don't really know.
What I do know is that, when I recognized his pain and brokenness, I realized... he's a person. He's a person with a broken heart, just like me. And suddenly, the spell was broken. He shrank down to people-size, with people-motivations and actions and reactions... I see now that he, too, was acting out of his brokenness. He certainly reacted differently than I did, but it was still there.
Oh, my. You don't know how free I feel. I've been weighted down with chains that I couldn't see. Now, they've been lightened, and I feel like I can run for the first time!
I've also been reflecting on the future. It's coming quickly--more quickly than I had anticipated. I realize that this season of my life is drawing to a close. I can't camp out here forever... though I almost think I would like to. This intense healing session has been really hard, but very, very worthwhile. There are so many things in my past that I look at and cringe, or that I quickly "close the window" to, because I'm embarrassed by them. I speak of decisions I've made and had to live with. (Like my last relationship, for example... I try not to think about it.) However, I know that I will be able to look back on this period of my life with a smile.
There have been so many tears... so much pain... but I can now say that, for the first time, I'm happy. Not happy because my emotions are on that side of the spectrum. I mean, I enjoy that just like everyone else. No, I'm a different sort of happy... I'm happy inside, way down deep somewhere. Do they call that "at peace", maybe? I'm satisfied. I'm content. I am worthwhile. I am part of something bigger, and not as a wart. I'm actually enjoying life, rather than just trying to survive it by hopping from one happy-emotion-producing thing to another. Even when I have nightmares, and I wake up wanting to throw up because I feel so vile and violated and just gross through every fiber of my being... I have a view of reality that keeps those bad things from taking over my life, my thoughts, or my day.
I'm not just doing what I think other people will think is right so that I can get the approval I need to keep my soul from starving. I'm not just drifting aimlessly through life, hoping to stumble across happiness. I'm not mentally pointing fingers and ripping people to shreds for being different than I think they should be... or ripping myself to shreds because I want to strip off the facade and be like the person I'm ripping to shreds... (as much. Still working on that.) I'M A REAL PERSON NOW.
As I look to the future, I see this part of my life coming to a close. It's bittersweet. New things are always scary, and they inherently carry the risk of failure. I'm comfortable here, in my little cocoon... I've got a rhythm going. But this can't be forever. I'd eventually die. The butterfly can't stay in the cocoon forever, or it will starve.
As I look to the future, I see the possibilities... and as I look to the recent past, I see the growth. You know what I feel like? Like this:
Yep. Like a flower, bursting into bloom.
And about the nightmares? Check this:
"Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world." {1 John 4:4}
I know where they come from. But I can tell you that the very poison of those putrid emotions coursing through me is even more cause for me to run the other way. It will not destroy me- rather, it will motivate me. I'm done serving out of fear. My allegiance can only be bought with love.
That's not the realization, though.
After I had prayed from healing from my relationship with C, something was different inside my heart. Maybe just the act of praying for freedom was a step forward in and of itself? Either way, something was different. Then came the realization of C's brokenness. As I tried to explain these things to my friend Julie, as well to my group, I could tell that there was a bigger thought behind these things that I was trying to articulate, but couldn't quite figure out. Then, on the way home from group on Friday, it hit me.
C IS NO LONGER LARGER THAN LIFE.
This may be hard to understand, but I realized that he's just been this... giant. He was my life... for years. And our dysfunctions matched each other extremely well--like the two halves of a friendship charm. (Which gave birth to the thought, "we're perfect for each other! the relationship was so good!)
So, in my head, he's a giant. He's an intrinsic part of my past, and not one I want to get rid of, either. I loved him as deeply as I was capable of. Even in the throes of the relationship, and certainly in the favorable light of reminiscence, he was always wiser, smarter, more mature, more capable, stronger, more daring, more exciting, and just all around a step above myself. In my head, he wasn't a person anymore. He was the embodiment of... something. Maybe what I thought I was missing out on? I don't really know.
What I do know is that, when I recognized his pain and brokenness, I realized... he's a person. He's a person with a broken heart, just like me. And suddenly, the spell was broken. He shrank down to people-size, with people-motivations and actions and reactions... I see now that he, too, was acting out of his brokenness. He certainly reacted differently than I did, but it was still there.
Oh, my. You don't know how free I feel. I've been weighted down with chains that I couldn't see. Now, they've been lightened, and I feel like I can run for the first time!
I've also been reflecting on the future. It's coming quickly--more quickly than I had anticipated. I realize that this season of my life is drawing to a close. I can't camp out here forever... though I almost think I would like to. This intense healing session has been really hard, but very, very worthwhile. There are so many things in my past that I look at and cringe, or that I quickly "close the window" to, because I'm embarrassed by them. I speak of decisions I've made and had to live with. (Like my last relationship, for example... I try not to think about it.) However, I know that I will be able to look back on this period of my life with a smile.
There have been so many tears... so much pain... but I can now say that, for the first time, I'm happy. Not happy because my emotions are on that side of the spectrum. I mean, I enjoy that just like everyone else. No, I'm a different sort of happy... I'm happy inside, way down deep somewhere. Do they call that "at peace", maybe? I'm satisfied. I'm content. I am worthwhile. I am part of something bigger, and not as a wart. I'm actually enjoying life, rather than just trying to survive it by hopping from one happy-emotion-producing thing to another. Even when I have nightmares, and I wake up wanting to throw up because I feel so vile and violated and just gross through every fiber of my being... I have a view of reality that keeps those bad things from taking over my life, my thoughts, or my day.
I'm not just doing what I think other people will think is right so that I can get the approval I need to keep my soul from starving. I'm not just drifting aimlessly through life, hoping to stumble across happiness. I'm not mentally pointing fingers and ripping people to shreds for being different than I think they should be... or ripping myself to shreds because I want to strip off the facade and be like the person I'm ripping to shreds... (as much. Still working on that.) I'M A REAL PERSON NOW.
As I look to the future, I see this part of my life coming to a close. It's bittersweet. New things are always scary, and they inherently carry the risk of failure. I'm comfortable here, in my little cocoon... I've got a rhythm going. But this can't be forever. I'd eventually die. The butterfly can't stay in the cocoon forever, or it will starve.
As I look to the future, I see the possibilities... and as I look to the recent past, I see the growth. You know what I feel like? Like this:
Yep. Like a flower, bursting into bloom.
And about the nightmares? Check this:
"Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world." {1 John 4:4}
I know where they come from. But I can tell you that the very poison of those putrid emotions coursing through me is even more cause for me to run the other way. It will not destroy me- rather, it will motivate me. I'm done serving out of fear. My allegiance can only be bought with love.
Kinda like zombies... but scrambled.
I'm not depressed, as in walking through darkness. I'm depressed, as in a depression in the ground. Like, below the normal level of functionality. It's really interesting being here and knowing it and accepting it, because most of my life I've been totally out of touch with myself-with my body, my emotions, my thoughts... everything. I've lived a very reactionary life. No understanding of the causes or roots of things. For instance, being sick. I never realized I was sick until I couldn't crawl out of bed, or until I lost my voice, or until I was burning with fever. Now? Now I can feel sickness encroaching, and I know more of how to keep it at bay.
Anyway, now I'm "depressed", and I can recognize it as the result of a.) battling an illness and b.) a heightened state of emotions (occurring concurrently). It's a letdown, that's all. It'll be over soon, and I'll be back to my old self.
I just thought it was neat that I am able to find the cause of my depletion of motivation. That's a new thing for me.
Another shocking realization on the way to work yesterday...
First, background. I've prayed that God would heal me from my relationship with C. It still haunts me, and I can't seem to shake it. But I realized that I have never actually asked God to heal from this specific thing... I've never "given him permission" to touch that aspect of my life. I've prayed for general healing, but anyway, I just thought that I needed to talk to him about that specific thing. So far, so good.
Well, that was rolling around in my head on the way to work, and I was just thinking about how people operate out of their brokenness, and hurt other people... and I remembered an instance when C shared the source of his pain with me, but I was too immature to do anything with it.
It was one of the times we had broken up, and he drove me out to the Territorial Prison (it's not a prison anymore, it's a state park) where we talked and cried until our tears lost their saltiness. (For a time reference, we broke up several times after I went canvassing, but then a year later we moved in together... where we broke up again, then got back together... then I left for good and went to SOULS.) The reason I broke up with him was because it was hard for me to live life the way I thought I should when the person nearest and dearest to my heart held a different set of morals and convictions, and was really, really good at talking me out of mine.
We were sitting at a picnic table in the dark, he on one side and I on the other. The tears still coursed down our faces, but by now they had lost their intensity. C explained to me an incident in childhood when, because of church, he was cut off from all his friends and not allowed to play with them anymore. It seemed.. almost insignificant to me at the time. I didn't understand what he was trying to communicate. All I knew was that he wouldn't listen to me when I said I didn't want to sleep together anymore, and that he didn't want to go to church with me. But as I thought about that incident on the way to work, I realize that he was sharing his pain with me. Even if I had recognized it for what it was, I would have had no idea of what to do with it.
As I look back, I see how shallow that relationship was, because I myself was shallow. I lacked depth, because I could not really let anyone into my heart. I wouldn't even look there myself, so how could I let anyone else in? I think I loved C more deeply than I had ever loved anyone else before, perhaps with the exception of my mom and my grampa and gramma, but romantic relationships are a whole different ball of wax. But I was still incapable of dealing with his pain, or understanding that conversation for what it really was. (Interestingly enough, now that I am finding depth and healing, I think the platonic relationships and friendships that I have now are a more intense love experience than even my relationship with C.)
C saw God as someone who cuts off and isolates. As I talk with his mom and realize what kind of home he grew up in (very abusive, but more of a subtle type, with outbursts of physical violence), I also realize that his friends were his release, his safety net. When he was cut off from that in the name of religion (thus plunging him back into the home world with no escape except church), he grew bitter and rebelled. And I don't blame him. It's no wonder he doesn't like God. He thinks he's like his dad! Arbitrary, isolating, demanding, brooding, inflexible, dictatorial... But, oh C... if you could only know that he is so, so different...
And I can't imagine that I gave him any different impression... because that was who I thought God was, too. So I served him, and C didn't, and neither of us could understand why the other one was doing what they were... And I can understand why C resisted my talk about God, because all I knew was the forms. I didn't know God heart to heart. All I knew was outward compliance. (Especially after canvassing.)
I'm thinking about writing him a letter apologizing for my selfishness when we were together. I was operating out of my brokenness, too... but I think he deserves an apology. I have no idea how I messed him up (and I don't think he does either, since he's not given to much introspection), but I do know that I caused him much pain, and that's not cool.
I'm not depressed, as in walking through darkness. I'm depressed, as in a depression in the ground. Like, below the normal level of functionality. It's really interesting being here and knowing it and accepting it, because most of my life I've been totally out of touch with myself-with my body, my emotions, my thoughts... everything. I've lived a very reactionary life. No understanding of the causes or roots of things. For instance, being sick. I never realized I was sick until I couldn't crawl out of bed, or until I lost my voice, or until I was burning with fever. Now? Now I can feel sickness encroaching, and I know more of how to keep it at bay.
Anyway, now I'm "depressed", and I can recognize it as the result of a.) battling an illness and b.) a heightened state of emotions (occurring concurrently). It's a letdown, that's all. It'll be over soon, and I'll be back to my old self.
I just thought it was neat that I am able to find the cause of my depletion of motivation. That's a new thing for me.
Another shocking realization on the way to work yesterday...
First, background. I've prayed that God would heal me from my relationship with C. It still haunts me, and I can't seem to shake it. But I realized that I have never actually asked God to heal from this specific thing... I've never "given him permission" to touch that aspect of my life. I've prayed for general healing, but anyway, I just thought that I needed to talk to him about that specific thing. So far, so good.
Well, that was rolling around in my head on the way to work, and I was just thinking about how people operate out of their brokenness, and hurt other people... and I remembered an instance when C shared the source of his pain with me, but I was too immature to do anything with it.
It was one of the times we had broken up, and he drove me out to the Territorial Prison (it's not a prison anymore, it's a state park) where we talked and cried until our tears lost their saltiness. (For a time reference, we broke up several times after I went canvassing, but then a year later we moved in together... where we broke up again, then got back together... then I left for good and went to SOULS.) The reason I broke up with him was because it was hard for me to live life the way I thought I should when the person nearest and dearest to my heart held a different set of morals and convictions, and was really, really good at talking me out of mine.
We were sitting at a picnic table in the dark, he on one side and I on the other. The tears still coursed down our faces, but by now they had lost their intensity. C explained to me an incident in childhood when, because of church, he was cut off from all his friends and not allowed to play with them anymore. It seemed.. almost insignificant to me at the time. I didn't understand what he was trying to communicate. All I knew was that he wouldn't listen to me when I said I didn't want to sleep together anymore, and that he didn't want to go to church with me. But as I thought about that incident on the way to work, I realize that he was sharing his pain with me. Even if I had recognized it for what it was, I would have had no idea of what to do with it.
As I look back, I see how shallow that relationship was, because I myself was shallow. I lacked depth, because I could not really let anyone into my heart. I wouldn't even look there myself, so how could I let anyone else in? I think I loved C more deeply than I had ever loved anyone else before, perhaps with the exception of my mom and my grampa and gramma, but romantic relationships are a whole different ball of wax. But I was still incapable of dealing with his pain, or understanding that conversation for what it really was. (Interestingly enough, now that I am finding depth and healing, I think the platonic relationships and friendships that I have now are a more intense love experience than even my relationship with C.)
C saw God as someone who cuts off and isolates. As I talk with his mom and realize what kind of home he grew up in (very abusive, but more of a subtle type, with outbursts of physical violence), I also realize that his friends were his release, his safety net. When he was cut off from that in the name of religion (thus plunging him back into the home world with no escape except church), he grew bitter and rebelled. And I don't blame him. It's no wonder he doesn't like God. He thinks he's like his dad! Arbitrary, isolating, demanding, brooding, inflexible, dictatorial... But, oh C... if you could only know that he is so, so different...
And I can't imagine that I gave him any different impression... because that was who I thought God was, too. So I served him, and C didn't, and neither of us could understand why the other one was doing what they were... And I can understand why C resisted my talk about God, because all I knew was the forms. I didn't know God heart to heart. All I knew was outward compliance. (Especially after canvassing.)
I'm thinking about writing him a letter apologizing for my selfishness when we were together. I was operating out of my brokenness, too... but I think he deserves an apology. I have no idea how I messed him up (and I don't think he does either, since he's not given to much introspection), but I do know that I caused him much pain, and that's not cool.
It's late, and I'm wiped. I have work tomorrow, so I'll have to be up early. However, if I've learned one thing, it's that if I don't record my thoughts at the time, they usually won't get expressed.
1. I think I qualify as "mountain woman" now, something I really, really wanted when I moved up here. What gives me this qualification? The simple fact that I park at the "bottom of the hill" (in other words, out at the main road) and haul my stuff back and forth on a toboggan now. It only takes about 10-15 minutes down, but it takes twice that coming up (for now), because of the steepness of the driveway.
2. Fearful. I've realized that I'm afraid of romantic relationships. For all the yearning that I have to be in a relationship, I'm pretty paralyzed by the thought. I think there are a few things contributing. One is that I've been really messed up by past relationships. In addition to that, my last one was purely awful. (Okay, maybe not purely. More like dilutedly.) Secondly, I'm fearful that to get into a relationship would either halt or undo all the progress I've worked so hard for. Thirdly, I'm afraid of what I would do if I were to be in a relationship. The emotions that go along with romance are so heady that I might lose all common sense and make a huge mistake. (just... like... last time) Fourthly, I don't want to feel like I need anyone else. I want to keep my independence.
Anyway, just a few thoughts that came to me this evening. Must sleep. Shall be zombie tomorrow.
Braaaaaaains.
1. I think I qualify as "mountain woman" now, something I really, really wanted when I moved up here. What gives me this qualification? The simple fact that I park at the "bottom of the hill" (in other words, out at the main road) and haul my stuff back and forth on a toboggan now. It only takes about 10-15 minutes down, but it takes twice that coming up (for now), because of the steepness of the driveway.
2. Fearful. I've realized that I'm afraid of romantic relationships. For all the yearning that I have to be in a relationship, I'm pretty paralyzed by the thought. I think there are a few things contributing. One is that I've been really messed up by past relationships. In addition to that, my last one was purely awful. (Okay, maybe not purely. More like dilutedly.) Secondly, I'm fearful that to get into a relationship would either halt or undo all the progress I've worked so hard for. Thirdly, I'm afraid of what I would do if I were to be in a relationship. The emotions that go along with romance are so heady that I might lose all common sense and make a huge mistake. (just... like... last time) Fourthly, I don't want to feel like I need anyone else. I want to keep my independence.
Anyway, just a few thoughts that came to me this evening. Must sleep. Shall be zombie tomorrow.
Braaaaaaains.
There must be, there has to be, a difference between sharing something with someone because you actually care about them, and sharing something with someone because you're trying to make them into what you think they should be.
I guess it all comes down to motivation.
Check this:
In matters of conscience, the soul must be left untrammeled. No one is to control another's mind, to judge for another, or to prescribe his duty. (Bam! Take that!) God gives to every soul freedom to think and to follow his own convictions. "Every one of us shall give account of himself to God." No one has a right to merge his own individuality in that of another. In all matters where principle is involved, "let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind." (Rom. 14:12, 5) In Christ's kingdom there is no lordly oppression, no compulsion of manner. The angels of heaven do not come to the earth to rule, and to exact homage, but as messengers of mercy to co-operate with men in uplifting humanity.
So I'm struggling to find balance. I'm coming to grips with the fact that I am not Holy Spirit Jr. It's not my job to make people "right". But when do I step in and say something? I've got friends from back in the day that are throwing their lives away... and I have no idea what to do about it.
Then again, take a look at my family. I've come home and preached at them for the last 2 Christmases in a row, because I want our family to be functional SO BAD. I figure that if they just followed through on the truth they've been taught, then it'll all work itself out... right? Not so. Knowing about the Sabbath hasn't healed my family. Trying to turn them vegan hasn't healed their hearts.
So I guess the thing is... my surrender. Like, "Yes, God. Okay. I want to be totally yours, for better or worse, until death do us part." And then, from that, knowing that, though I don't have a window into their hearts, he does. Listen, listen to what he has to say... What shall I do for this person? What do I say? When do I say? Don't say anything? Okay, sure. Tell them about ______? You got it.
I think that's really all I can do. Just listen. And love 'em. That phrase up there, "uplifting humanity"... that's what it's about. Lifting people higher. Giving them hope.
I guess it all comes down to motivation.
Check this:
In matters of conscience, the soul must be left untrammeled. No one is to control another's mind, to judge for another, or to prescribe his duty. (Bam! Take that!) God gives to every soul freedom to think and to follow his own convictions. "Every one of us shall give account of himself to God." No one has a right to merge his own individuality in that of another. In all matters where principle is involved, "let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind." (Rom. 14:12, 5) In Christ's kingdom there is no lordly oppression, no compulsion of manner. The angels of heaven do not come to the earth to rule, and to exact homage, but as messengers of mercy to co-operate with men in uplifting humanity.
So I'm struggling to find balance. I'm coming to grips with the fact that I am not Holy Spirit Jr. It's not my job to make people "right". But when do I step in and say something? I've got friends from back in the day that are throwing their lives away... and I have no idea what to do about it.
Then again, take a look at my family. I've come home and preached at them for the last 2 Christmases in a row, because I want our family to be functional SO BAD. I figure that if they just followed through on the truth they've been taught, then it'll all work itself out... right? Not so. Knowing about the Sabbath hasn't healed my family. Trying to turn them vegan hasn't healed their hearts.
So I guess the thing is... my surrender. Like, "Yes, God. Okay. I want to be totally yours, for better or worse, until death do us part." And then, from that, knowing that, though I don't have a window into their hearts, he does. Listen, listen to what he has to say... What shall I do for this person? What do I say? When do I say? Don't say anything? Okay, sure. Tell them about ______? You got it.
I think that's really all I can do. Just listen. And love 'em. That phrase up there, "uplifting humanity"... that's what it's about. Lifting people higher. Giving them hope.