Don't...but what if

     My last post was more open and honest and revealing of the ugly truth of what it's like to fight for hope and healing after abuse.  I've been encouraged to keep writing from that place.  That isn't an easy thing to do, and the person who encouraged me to do that knows very well the weight of what she was saying.  Had her words come from almost anyone else, I would have quickly scoffed the idea away, but maybe she knows what she's talking about.

     I've been thinking a lot about being honest, truly honest, about it all...with myself, with those who God has placed on this road with me, with God Himself.  I'm very good at making it all seem like it wasn't so bad and doesn't effect me that much.  I've learned that is called minimizing.  I've been doing that for many years now, long before I knew it had a name.  

     I have found it really difficult *not* to minimize and instead to be brutally honest about everything...how bad the abuse was, how deeply it hurts both then and now, how tight a grip it has on my daily life even in the present, how I struggle, the emotions I fight against.  I'm working on it, because I know that being painfully open about all of that will be good in the long run and is actually moving towards healing (even though the intense pain of it all makes it seem like a really bad idea and something to run from...I mean haven't I been dealt enough pain, why would I purposely face more?).  But it is HARD!  Hard isn't even a strong enough word, but I can't seem to find a word that is.

     I have two poems to share today.  The first one I wrote a few months back.  I wasn't in a bad place when I wrote it.  When I was done, I was actually kind of in shock at what had just come out of my head, maybe also my heart.  It is not a pretty piece of writing.  There is nothing beautiful or palatable about it.  Then again, there is nothing beautiful or palatable about abuse either.  

     This poem is a combination of voices I have heard over the years...the many, long years.  The combination of voices meshed into one really loud voice over time.  This voice I hear every day.  

Don't

Hush don't speak

Close your eyes so you don't see

Don't touch so you won't feel

The hurt so deep your life it steals

Don't move so you don't break

Don't forget your life is at stake

Don't stop listening so you always hear

The silence surrounding you proving nobody cares

Don't trust and don't fight

Don't hope there is no light

Don't run there's nowhere to go

Don't tell they don't want to know

If you think they'll help they really won't

You're all alone, on your own, so just don't

     Those words are harsh, hopeless, and cold, but they are very powerful and loud.  I am afraid many who have lived through abuse hear much of the same message in their own heads after hearing it in real life for so long.  I am still stuck with "DON'T" being yelled at me though no one else can hear.  I know in my head that everything "DON'T" says to me isn't true, but he speaks loud and clear and over anyone or anything else.  It is so hard to fight against him, but I know that I must.

--I'm offered hope from a pastor who genuinely cares..."DON'T, he's a pastor...remember what happened with the last pastor?"  "DON'T, you know hope is a lie...don't you remember the last time you believed hope was real?"

--Someone says "I'm here, I want to listen"..."DON'T believe that someone cares...listen to the silence of everyone else who doesn't care."

--Someone tells me they are not walking away..."DON'T fall for that lie again...remember the last person who said that?"

--Someone says "I want to hear your story"..."DON'T listen to their empty promises...they will run when they hear what you have to say."

--Someone says "I care about you"..."DON'T even go there again...you know you are worthless and no one would ever care; you've walked to that dead end before."

     But somewhere deep down, there is something that won't let me walk away.  For all the screaming "DON'T", somewhere there is a tiny whisper that spurs me on when "DON'T" tells me to give up.  This is where the second poem comes in.  I wrote this just today as I've been contemplating this post.

What If

What if this time isn't the same

What if this hope is different

What if good really does comes from this pain

What if this hurt is well spent

What if this hand reaching out to me now

Really will not let me go

What if this hand steadies me somehow

When I stumble and the going is slow

What if the smile I see in those eyes

Refuses to look away and frown

When the storm catches me by surprise

And the water rises as I drown

What if this woman who tells me she cares

Will really stand with me unafraid

What if she truly wants my burden to share

What if she really will not walk away

What if I'm really not alone anymore

What if she'll sit with me when I can't get up

What if she'll help me keep pushing forward

What if I take just one more small step

--What if this hope is different?

--What if they really do want to listen?

--What if they will be the first one who really won't walk away, who will really see me through this?

--What if they really do want to hear my story to help me walk through it?

--What if they really do care?

     "What if" speaks so gently while "DON'T" screams at me with a harshness I'm sure I deserve.  Many days "DON'T" drowns out "What if" with his fear and brutality.  "What if" doesn't give up though.  She gently whispers the possibility that what "DON'T" screams is wrong.  Even when I can't hear "What if," I feel her.  "DON'T" fights, but "What if" doesn't fight back.  She simply stands her ground with confidence...a confidence I wish I had.  

     My thoughts are pulled in two different directions.  I go back and forth between what "DON'T" screams, which is what I believe to be true, and what "What if" whispers softly, which is what I want to believe.  "DON'T" scares me into sticking with him, but "What if" speaks with a care and love I long for.  I want "What if" to win the war raging in my heart and mind, but "DON'T" strikes a fear in me that I can't seem to break free from.

     Do you feel the tension?  I can't escape it.  "DON'T" but "What if" but "DON'T" but "What if" but "DON'T"...and on it goes, every day.

"DON'T"......but "What if?"...but......"What...if?"

      

It all seems so backwards

     When I decided to start a blog, part of the reason was to maybe let even one person who is living in the aftermath of sexual abuse know that she is not alone, someone else really does understand.  I remember how much it meant to me when I finally realized I really wasn't the only one.  I knew that, statistically speaking, there were others out there, but when it became real and I had a real person to attach to the statistics I was part of, my heart broke for the person who understood but I found great encouragement and strength knowing I really wasn't alone...I really wasn't crazy in my struggles or doomed for the future because of my past.  I want others to know that they are not alone.  I want to encourage, but I want to be honest too.
     I find it easy to wrap up my writing in a pretty bow, though, which makes it very easy for someone who does not know me or where I am in my journey to get the idea that I am struggling a lot less than I really am.  It is easy to read what I have written and leave with the idea that I realize something once, and instantly I am changed because of it and better off than I was before.  Even writing anonymously, I am tempted to hide just how ugly and broken and messy and hard this journey is.
     While there are certainly things I would never share publicly (anonymous or not some things just don't need to be shared), I want others to see the struggle between what I know to be true and how I feel.  I want others to see the struggle between my past and my present and my future.  I want others to see the struggle between what I know God says about me and Him and what I think about me and Him.  I want others to see God work in the struggle, and one day I hope others will have this blog to read through and see how God relieves the struggle.  I want His healing and hope to be seen in the struggle and how it plays out.
     I live every day with a tension about this journey.  Every step I'm supposed to take feels like the opposite of what my entire mind and body are screaming at me.  Everything seems backwards.  I want to move forward, but to do that, I have to turn around and walk through my past.  I want to find healing, but to step towards healing means walking through all the hurt first.  I want to get to light, but I must first tread through the darkness to get there.  I keep hearing people say I am strong and courageous, yet with every step I feel smaller and more broken and fear paralyzes me.  Every step in front of me seems harder than the one before.  Every fiber of my being screams at me to stop, that this is not right, that it should not hurt this much or be this hard.  I struggle between what I want this journey to be and what it really is.
     I wrote this poem in pieces over many months time.  With each section I finished, I knew it wasn't done.  It just didn't feel complete.  The sections aren't even in the order I wrote them, but they are the way they should be.  I want you to know, if you are living in the same aftermath as I am, the struggle is normal.  The tension is just there.  I don't know how to make it go away.  You are not alone, and you are not crazy.  I do believe that it will get better.  I'm not exactly sure how that plays out and often times feel like I'm just being tossed around on a crazy ride with no rhyme or reason.  Even in that, I know God is bigger than the sin done against me and against you.  Some days that truth brings comfort and other days that is just knowledge in my head that seems to mean nothing even though I know it should mean everything.  That is part of the struggle too.  I wish there could be more encouragement in this.  I only hope that you find encouragement in reading about the struggle that wages war inside me daily.  I hope it is encouraging to know you are not the only one who feels it.

Paradox

I took off running
I won't turn around
I keep on searching
Looking for safe ground
But no matter where I go
And no matter how fast
I just can't escape
The grip of my past
I'm weak and exhausted
But keep running somehow
Until a gentle hand stops me
Says let me walk with you now
I want to keep going
But I'm stopped in my tracks
If I want to move forward
I will have to look back

I'm curled on the sofa
I'm trembling with fear
Trying to hide under blankets
Even so I am still here
They say I am brave
They tell me I'm strong
But they don't know me
I know they are wrong
They've said it takes courage
For my story to be shared
If this is courage
Why am I so scared

I turn my head
So no one can see
The hot bitter tears
Rolling down my cheeks
They burn like fire
As they fall to the ground
My heart breaking
Without making a sound
Each tear that falls
Brings life to my wounds
Once hidden in darkness
Now in the light shown
The pain seems too much
Deep anguish prevails
As I open my mouth
To speak the truth of my tales
Before it gets better
I'm told it gets worse
Because this road to healing
Has been paved with hurt

For days when the battle seems lost

     I have talked about this season in my life being a journey...a long, difficult walk out of darkness towards light, out of hurt and towards healing.  That description is certainly accurate, but this is more than just a journey, it is a battle.  In this battle, I am fighting for hope, fighting for truth, fighting for rest.  The battle is, at times, completely and utterly exhausting.  Some days I wake up still weary and worn from the battle the day before, and I can't see how I can keep going.  The battle rages long and hard, and I feel like I'm losing.

     Recently, the battle got fierce.  I was in a store to pick up a couple of things when something triggered a flood of memories and panic began to take over.  I was paralyzed yet desperate to leave the aisle I was stuck in.  The battle, in that moment, raged hard.  The memories came so quickly and unexpectedly.  They were like a tidal wave over me.  One moment I was standing on solid ground and the next I was completely under water.
     I managed to get out of the store okay and got home.  That evening, when the house was quiet and I was alone with my thoughts, the memories just kept flooding my mind, and nothing I did would make them go away.  I have felt the suffocating effects of being stuck under water ever since until the water left my eyes in a wave of tears I wish I could get back because crying is something I hate and feel ashamed of.  The tears rid my lungs of the water I was drowning on until I found my way back to numb and stable.  In the drowning, I was certain I was losing the battle.  Hope was inconceivable, truth so tangled in the lies I couldn't find it, rest just a dream I kept wishing I could have.
     I don't remember why, but I went to a familiar passage of Scripture as the drowning turned to tears and tears washed me back into numb.

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

    and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you."  Isaiah 43:2

     All over Scripture, trials are spoken of in terms of "when" rather than "if." They are coming. Struggles and suffering and pain are part of life on this side of heaven. The types of trials and suffering and struggles are different for everyone, but everyone faces them. This battle of a journey is one of mine.
     The struggles and suffering of life are likened to water and fire in many parts of Scripture including in this verse. The water and fire are upon me, but I am not alone. God promises that I will not be overwhelmed or consumed. I can tell you, it doesn't feel like that often. This journey feels like a never ending cycle of feeling that turns into falling that lands me back into numb until I feel something again to start the cycle over. In the feeling and falling, I feel very overwhelmed and consumed. He promises I won't be though. My feelings can lie to me, and the truth is, I will not be utterly consumed or overwhelmed. When I don't feel that way, I have to take Him at His Word. I don't have that down, but He is teaching me, slowly but surely.
     The nerd in me came out again as I pondered this truth trying to fight the lie that I can't keep going and giving up is the only way to not be consumed and overwhelmed. I looked up "overwhelm" in Strong's concordance. That word also means "to conquer." What a promise! The water and fire will not conquer me, no matter what my feelings say. God is with me in the water and the fire, and He will not allow them to conquer me regardless of how far under I go or how hot the flames feel. Rather...

"No, in all these things we are more than conquerors 
through Him who loved us."  Romans 8:37

     Not only will God not allow the water and fire of struggles and suffering to conquer me, He has already conquered them for me. He says I am more than a conqueror through Christ who conquered it all on the cross because He knew I could not conquer any of it on my own.

     I said one part of this battle is fighting for truth. The lie I believe is that I am consumed and overwhelmed to the point of no return, that I am completely and utterly overtaken and left without hope. While I may not feel much like a conqueror when I feel like the battle is lost, the God of truth says He has already conquered the battle I think I'm losing for me. The truth is that I will not be conquered, for Christ has conquered for me that which I could not conquer myself.

Remember, daughters of the King, He has conquered the 

battle you feel like you are losing right now. You feel like the 

fight is too much, the battle too far gone for you to be victorious, 

but God says you will not be conquered, for He has already 

conquered it. You are more than a conqueror through the

One Who has conquered every battle on your behalf.

My delight is in her

     Today is a Monday.  Monday can be a refreshing start to a new week, or  it can be a nagging reminder of the drudgery that life can be sometimes.  This morning, God refreshed me, and I want to share it with you.  This morning, God settled my recently anxious heart with His declaration of how He cares for me.  This declaration covers all His children, and I pray you find encouragement in it too.

     I was looking for a cross reference this morning when I came upon these verses.  The cross reference has fed my soul more than what I was initially studying.  Isaiah 62:4-5 says this:

You shall no more be termed "Forsaken," and your land 

shall no more be termed "Desolate," but you shall be 

called "My Delight Is in Her," and your land "Married;" 

for the Lord delights in you, and your land shall be married. 

For as a young man marries a young 

woman, so shall your sons marry you, and as 

the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, 

so shall your God rejoice over you.

     What sweet, precious words from our Heavenly Father!  

     As a child in the midst of abuse, I was forsaken.  Those who could have helped me had no clue what was going on, and the one adult who ever questioned me about my coach hurting me took my assurance he was not at face value and did nothing despite her gut telling her something was off (why else would she ask).  

     After it was over and I found the ability to tell someone, I have had more people walk away than I care to count.  Over and over people I thought could help, would help, saw my mess and my brokenness and with their actions called me "Forsaken."  Time and again it was clear...I was termed "Forsaken" even by God's people.

     Maybe, unfortunately it's likely, you have been termed "Forsaken" just like me.  That name is more than a name, and it stings.  It cuts deep, and it isn't easily forgotten or replaced.

But God calls me and you "My Delight Is in Her!"

     I'm a bit of a nerd, so I looked up the word "delight" used here in the Strong's concordance.  It is defined as "a valuable thing, acceptable, delight, matter."  Dear sister, while others have called you and me "Forsaken" and deemed our broken mess not worth their time or effort, our Father in heaven says we are valuable to Him.  We are acceptable, brokenness and shame and hurt and all, to Him.  We are a delight to Him.  We *matter* to Him.  As the psalmist says, such truth is too wonderful for me.  This is a truth I will have to think on and remind myself daily as I don't believe this most days, but He says it.  He says it, so it is true.  He has renamed us.  No longer our we named "Forsaken."  We now have the precious name of "My Delight Is in Her."  

     

     The end of verse 5 is sweet balm to my soul too.  "so shall your God rejoice over you."  I will never forget the look on my husband's face as I walked down the aisle at our wedding.  The joy was inexpressible with words, but his face said enough.  That was just a small, imperfect glimpse of the joy God pours over me.  His delight in you and me leads Him to rejoice over us.  He treasures us even when others are not willing to walk this hard road with us for the sake of their own comfort.  God calls us "My Delight Is in Her," and He shows it by rejoicing over us!

My dear, beloved sisters, you are a delight to the 

One who created you!  You are valuable to Him.

He accepts you with all your wounds and delights

in you because you matter to Him!  He rejoices 

over you now and forever.  No longer are you 

"Forsaken."  You are now "My Delight Is in Her."