Breaking chains

     This week has been very difficult for me.  Lies are losing their grip as truth becomes easier to see.  That sounds like a wonderful thing, and certainly it is good and necessary.  But it is hard and painful.  It has thrown my world out of balance, and I have struggled to breathe.  I have also learned some stuff that I want to share.

     I have come to see that abuse leaves the one who was hurt in chains.  These chains have been bound around my heart for many, many years.  I always assumed when the physical restraints were gone, I was free, but that hasn't happened.  When I was no longer physically bound but was given freedom, the chains that bound my heart remained...and in some circumstances, tightened.

I broke my silence, but then I was told...

--It wasn't that bad...and the chains tightened
--You are a danger to be around...and the chains tightened
--What you are saying, what you remember, it's not true...and the chains tightened
--Have you repented of what you did to cause it to happen...and the chains tightened
--It's in the past, it doesn't matter anymore...and the chains tightened

So back into silence I slipped for many more years than my silence lasted originally.

     I didn't know these chains were there until they started to break.  They held the pieces of my heart together in one place though.  That makes them feel safe and secure because it makes my heart feel safe and secure.  However, they were bound with lies, and with lies, they remain.  There is no security and safety in the chains around my heart despite what those same chains tell me.

But they have started to break...

--I believe you...the first chain shattered
--It wasn't your fault...another chain broken
--You did not deserve that...another chain gone
--God cares about you...another chain
--God cares about what happened...and another
--I am for you...a chain gone
--I am not leaving, I am here...a chain completely obliterated

     This week, more chains have broken away.  It happened really unexpectedly.  I was not prepared.  I saw more of the truth where his lies and the lies of others had reigned for far too long.  But as I have tried to find my footing in the aftermath, I have struggled.  I feel more broken than ever...and it hurts.
     As each chain breaks, the pieces of my heart that have been held in bondage fall piece by piece to the ground.  The chains gave me a sense of being held together because all the pieces were in one place.  Now, they are falling down as the chains are breaking.  I am seeing, for the first time, just how broken I've been as I see all the shattered parts of me falling out of the chains that once kept them captive long after I was physically free.

     The weight of that brokenness feels like too much.  I am terrified of the rest of the chains breaking, but too many have broken now to put them back together.  The rest will break.  The pieces will fall.  Still He says He will heal what has been broken.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. --Psalm 147:3

     The chains that bound my wounds are being broken by those around me now who are showing me people really can care and be kind.  Those chains are being broken as truth shines into the darkness of lies I have believed and exposes them for what they are.  When the chains that bind my wounds as a prisoner are gone, He will bind my wounds with His tenderness and bring healing and restoration of all that was lost.  

     My wounds, once bound by chains, He promises to bind up for the purpose of healing.  That is a promise I have to cling to with the feeble strength I have right now, for the chains breaking and my wounds being exposed as each piece of my heart falls freely to the ground is painful beyond words.  As I see, for the first time, what has been broken, I begin to feel, for the first time, the ache of what was lost, and that is simply terrifying.  Still I am here, though some days I don't want to be.  Be patient with me as these chains break and my heart falls apart.  I can't do this alone.

On the God who sees

     This post is my follow up to being invisible.  I have felt invisible for so long, I'm not sure what it is like not to be that way.  As I have thought about it recently, I am reminded of the story of Hagar and the God who sees.

     For those of you not familiar with this story, before Abraham and Sarah were Abraham and Sarah, they were Abram and Sarai.  They had been promised a child yet remained childless well past the normal childbearing years.  Being human, their faith was shaken as to how this promised child would be granted.  Sarai then told her husband that he should have her Egyptian servant, Hagar, as his second wife in order to have a child through Hagar.  Abram agreed.  Hagar had no choice in the matter.
     Hagar was given to Abram in marriage, and she got pregnant.  She looked down on her mistress after she knew she was with child.  Sarai, of course, did not like the contempt her servant was treating her with and spoke to Abram.  He told her to do with her servant as she wished.  She treated Hagar harshly until Hagar ran away.  So in the middle of the woods, invisible, alone, and pregnant, God met her.
     The story in Genesis 16 says an "Angel of the Lord" appeared to her.  This kind of language often is a reference to preincarnate appearance of Christ.  The very God of the universe came personally to her.  They had a dialogue, and she was given big promises and instructions on what to do from there.  After He departed, verse 13 says "so she called the Lord who spoke to her: the God who sees, for she said 'In this place, have I actually seen the One who sees me?'"
     God is called the God who sees.  She was in awe that she saw with her own eyes the One who sees her in all her plight.  She was nothing more than a means to an end to Sarai.  She did not ask to have Abram as a husband.  She was given no consideration in the plan.  She was used.  But God saw it ALL and met her when she was invisible!
     In many ways, I can relate to Hagar.  I was used for the desire of someone else.  I got what I never asked for.  No consideration was given to me and my well being.  As a result, I became invisible to everyone around me.  I was less than human.  But just as God saw Hagar, He sees me too.  He always has.

     He saw me when everything was happening.  He saw me in the aftermath.  He sees me now.  He will see me forever.  That truth does bring some questions for which I do not have any answers, but it also brings a sense of comfort.  Someone sees.  Someone knows.  Someones cares.  Someone notices.  I am seen.  I am known.  When no one here wants to see me, when they look away from me or through me so they don't have to face what makes them uncomfortable, there is One who sees me and meets me alone in the wilderness just like He met Hagar.  I may be invisible to most people here, but I am not invisible to the One who loves me most of all.

Do You See Me

God I know they don't see me but what about You

Do you see all of me that is dirty and used

Am  I more than everything he did to me

Am I more than all that they choose not to see

So much they overlook but do You take notice

You're so big, I'm so small, do You say I'm worth it

They have never seen me but tell me if it's true

Am I, have I always been, invisible to  You too

My child I love you much more than you know

What they look past only draws Me in close

You are so much more than the pain of your past

I saw all he stole but your worth he's never had

My dear child you've never been invisible to Me

You're invisible to your own eyes, you don't see what I see

A precious daughter who is known and loved and whole

Not dirty or used but redeemed, new, and beautiful

We are not ruined

     My family moved just a couple of years ago to another state.  I still am connected with a lot of people from where we came from.  Recently, a few people posted a news article from that city about a recent crime and a sketch of the suspect.  The basics of what happened is a woman was sexually assaulted at a local grocery store, in what is considered a good part of town, in front of her child, and the suspect got away.  I have not actually read the article.  Those kinds of articles are rather triggering for me.  I know to avoid them, but I have seen the commentary of some people I know and am acquainted with on my personal facebook page.
     As I have watched the comments on the article shared by people I know, there have been calls for justice and hope that this guy will be caught and punished to the fullest extent of the law.  There has been lament at how poorly sex crimes are handled by the justice system in general.  There has been pity for the lady and her child.  I read these reactions just on an acquaintance's page..."I don't know how anyone could recover from something like that"...and "the woman's life is ruined and tarnished."

     I read those comments, and I have something to say about what is a common reaction to stories of sexual crimes committed against both children and adults.

     We are not ruined!  No, we cannot ever undo what has been done to us.  Yes, it is a terrible tragedy that will remain with us for the rest of our lives, but when you say our lives are forever ruined, you strip of us any hope we had to recover and move forward and have a fulfilling and rich life after such trauma.  Sometimes that hope is really hard to find in the first place.  Some days the hope that other people hold for me is the only hope I can hold on to.  When the pity and fear (because these comments stem from the fear of becoming one of us) of other people say over and over that life is over after trauma such as sexual abuse or assault, you are saying that there is no hope for me or the other survivors that are out there.  You are saying we are damaged goods, trashed forever, broken with no hope of being beautiful again.  You are wrong!
     What you don't realize is we are living seemingly normal, every day lives right alongside you, and you don't even know we are here!  We have to fight and work and struggle to face hard things in life that haunt you in your worst nightmare.  We lived your nightmare, and we fight to get out of it.  Our lives are not ruined.  We look just like you.  We have families, just like you.  We go to school, just like you.  We have jobs, just like you.  We live, just like you...only we work really hard to press on through the trauma we have experienced.  We have to learn how to trust again, learn how to feel, learn how to heal, but we can and we do heal.
     We learn to enjoy the little moments in life that we once missed because of the effects of what we experienced.  We learn to laugh again.  We learn to love again.  We learn to live again.  There will be parts we will deal with the rest of our lives, but that does not mean our lives are less than yours.  It means we are brave, and we are strong even when we feel like we are falling apart.  But even when we feel like we are falling apart, we are still living and fighting to enjoy the life we have.  We work for healing, and we recover what was broken and become more beautiful than before.  While the trauma is ugly, the redemption and the healing are beautiful, and if we let you in to see it, you should know it's an honor.  Will you put aside your pity and look past your fear to see it?

     I'm also pretty sure we are not tarnished.  I struggle with this a little more because I still feel tarnished.  I still feel tremendous amounts of shame that are woven all throughout me.  And shame is what tarnishes.  The tarnish you think we have is the same shame you say isn't ours.  Aren't we supposed to be more than what was done to us?  Aren't we supposed to be more than our trauma?  Isn't that what well meaning people say?  Do you believe the trite platitudes you speak in the face of what makes you uncomfortable...namely our experiences, our pasts?  Do not heap more shame on us by viewing us as damaged, tarnished, marked forever by what was done to us.  We carry enough shame that isn't ours.  We do not need yours too.  What someone else did to us in the past is not the sum of who we are now even for those of us walking through the depths of recovery.
     Yes, I will always carry scars when these wounds stop gushing, but my scars do not make me less of a person than you because your scars are more palatable than mine.  You are not tarnished by the hurts you have experienced, so do not tell me I am tarnished because of mine.  I see over and over people pointing to victim-blamers as the reason so many of us live in silence, and that is certainly a big part of it.  But you who pour out your pity and see us as defined by our one experience and think we will never be able to move forward keep us silent too.  We do not want your pity.  When we expect pity, that "she'll never be normal again" attitude, as the response to sharing our story, we just won't share.  Will you look past the crime committed against us and see us as people?

     I know someone who walked through recovery and came out on the other side.  Sure, sometimes things pop up, but she knows how to handle them now.  She is one of my biggest cheerleaders as I walk the road to recovery myself.  She said someone told her of God's promise to restore the years the locust had taken.  She wanted that, and it sometimes kept her going when it got really hard.  She has told me she has seen Him keep that promise.  She tells me of the things she savors and enjoys that she would have missed before the hard work of healing.  She says it was worth it!  She is glad she kept going and encourages me to keep pressing on when it feels like too much to take the next step.  Her life is not ruined!  She is not tarnished!  My life is not ruined.  I am not tarnished.  Our lives are not ruined!  Our lives are not tarnished!
     If you want to look at us through the lens of pity and through the fear you have of becoming one of us, please keep your comments to yourself.  We are working hard to get our lives back, and we do not need you fueling the myth that we often times fall prey to that we will never be good enough again because of what was done to us.  If you are brave enough, set aside the pity and face your fear.  Look at us as people just like you.  See us for more than what was done to us.  Look for the beauty that rises from the ashes you struggle to see past.  The beauty is there.  Sometimes you will have to look hard to find it, but will you see us as worth the effort?

On being invisible

     I think this post is likely going to come across sad and hopeless, but please stick with me.  There will be another post coming in the next few days or so that will bring hope to this post.  So please read but also remember...hope is coming!

     Something happens when a child is abused.  It happens from the very first instance of abuse regardless of whether that abuse is brought about through words or hands.  I'm not sure how it happens, but I am certain it does.  So what happens?  The child becomes invisible.  They are desperate for help, for rescue, for safety, for hope, but it almost never comes because suddenly no one can see them.  I know.  I remember when I became invisible.

     I was 13.  I'm sure my coach had been setting the stage for a while, but I remember vividly when it started and got serious.  It started with words.  I don't remember them exactly, though I do remember the conversation and what he was talking about.  I also remember changing that very instant.  I couldn't put my finger on it then, but I can now.  I became invisible, and I could feel it.  I now had a secret.  I was now touched with shame.  I needed help, but I could not ask for it.  I didn't have words for what was happening.  I'm not sure how it all happened specifically.  I felt the difference, but no one around me could see it.  Somehow I disappeared, and no one came looking for me.  

Invisible

A world full of people but no one can see

The girl living among them with dark secrets deep

She needs someone's help but on her own she can't say so

And her help will never come because she's become invisible

At school her teachers say their doors are always open

But she's afraid of what it will cost her if she were to walk in

With good grades they don't see her, that she's slipping away

So when school's over, they send her home as she dies more each day

At home she has parents but life is not okay

Their marriage breaking, her silence a huge price to pay

Because they are too busy with the hurts that they bear

To see that their daughter, though present, is no longer there

She kept growing up but she never outgrew

Whatever kept her invisible and always out of view

But the sting of loneliness never went away

Instead it became her companion day by day

A world full of people but still no one can see

The one standing in the midst of them waiting to be seen

She is out in plain sight but they can't see...me

     While the cloak of invisibility is forced on a child when abuse begins, it doesn't automatically come off when it stops.  I never stopped being invisible.  Even now, many years later, no one looks for me when I hide or disappear or don't show up.  I'm forgettable which keeps me invisible.  There is one or two people who look for me, but that's not the norm.  I'm still invisible.  

     But invisibility pulls me in two different directions.  Part of me wants to stay invisible.  There is a strange comfort there.  It feels safe when nothing else does.  It's lonely though, so at times I wish I could be seen.  I've been invisible for so long, though, that I'm not sure how to change that.  I do know it would be risky.  If people could see me, they would see my secret.  That thought is enough to push me back into the safety of invisible.  But then I get lonely and wish I could be seen, and that scares me.  Do you see the struggle?  

     Being invisible doesn't mean I don't know anyone or have no friends or never leave my house.  I do, but sometimes the loneliest place to be is in a room full of people...quiet because I'm not sure how to fit in and never spoken to because I'm invisible to those who are there.  

Look Through Me

When they look through me they look past a wife

Nothing to notice, no need to look twice

Just a woman standing by the one who loves her

Overlooked and invisible, never someone to remember

When they look through me they look past a mom

Trying to gather my noisy kids, they want me gone

Exhausted and worn by the daily tasks

Of pouring into my children and caring for me last

When they look through me they look past a friend

Someone to listen when their world's crashing in

Someone to care for them when life hits roughest

Even though when I'm not there they never notice

When they look through me they look past a woman

Small, scared, and broken, convinced I am less than

Longing for a friend who sees past all they look through

But going it alone because that's how I've made due

When they look through me they don't see what they miss

A chance to be the hands and feet of Jesus

To reach out to the forgotten, to the very least of these

And bearing my burden with me, a chance to see the broken redeemed

     It hurts to be invisible, to always be forgotten.  My sweet survivor sisters, I want you to know that I see you.  I pray for you.  I hold you in my heart even when I don't know your name.  I have not forgotten you even when I don't actually know you.  But as hopeless as it seems being invisible, hold on my dear ones.  There is One who sees us when no one else can and when no one else wants to.  

     

Perception is not reality

    This post talks about a lie my coach worked very hard to get me and everyone around me to believe.  There is a bit of redemption in this post though.  This is my twenty-seventh post.  Twenty-seven was my coach's favorite number.  He gave me a necklace once with that number on it.  It had personal significance to him.  Now it has personal repulsiveness to me.  I literally hate the number twenty-seven.  I was thankful that when I was twenty-seven years of age, God blessed me with a child to ease the dread I felt as that year approached.  Now, I reach my twenty-seventh post...a post about breaking free from a lie my coach served up on a silver platter, that I spent too many years believing.  No more.  Post number twenty-seven...one more chain broken.

     My coach used to frequently say "perception is reality."  He said it to all of us on the team, but he particularly said it to the older girls, namely those of us in middle school.  He would explain that what people perceived to be true is what they believed to be true, so what they perceived was reality.  To us kids, it sounded really cool and made sense enough.  We bought into it.  We believed it.  I believed it.  And I didn't know how much I believed it until over 15 years later.
     My coach fully believed this when he said it.  He wanted those around him to believe it too.  He created a perception of himself that he needed others around him to buy into in order for him to get what he wanted...me.  This saying of his really played off of people's natural tendency to bring their own perceptions and preconceived notions to any given situation or circumstance.  I couldn't see the manipulation in it until almost a year ago, and even now I struggle to understand it all and how someone could so carefully construct an environment where that kind of thing went unnoticed for years.
   
     But here's the thing...

Perception is NOT reality!

     About a year ago, I first realized how incredibly manipulative and calculated he was in his use of that phrase and setting up the reality he wanted others to perceive in order to get his way.  As time has gone on though, I have come to understand how deeply I have held on to that lie of his and how not true it really is.  

     

     In every situation and circumstance I encounter, I bring my own perspective, ideas, and beliefs.  I let those perceptions color how I view the situation or circumstance.  I may, for example, get cut off in traffic.  I bring my own beliefs about how one should drive and who drives the way the other person did, that I make judgments about what is real in the situation.  I perceive the driver to be a jerk and careless and inconsiderate.  But I don't have the whole truth.  I may not be aware that the person is rushing through traffic to make it to the hospital where a loved one has been taken following a life threatening accident.  The person is not a jerk or careless or inconsiderate.  They are scared out of their mind and preoccupied with awful thoughts and questions.  They are in a situation that deserves compassion not judgement and anger.  My perceptions were not reality.  They were a version of reality, but they were not the full reality.

     My feelings can also alter my perception of what is real in a situation.  For example, a friend could say something in a conversation that I found hurtful though she did not intend to hurt me and did not know I may react like that.  Given the past I have, I assume I have done something wrong to make my friend mad at me.  My feelings color my perception of the conversation, and I believe I have angered my friend somehow.  What I perceive to be true, is not actually reality.  My friend just made a comment without realizing it would cause me pain.  I never made her mad.  My perceptions were not reality.

     This also comes into play with God.  It is so easy on this journey to feel like God is far away, that He has left me all alone, that He doesn't care.  Those feelings, those perceptions, are not reality.  No matter what I feel or think, God has promised to be with me.  How I feel on any given day does not change this.  Anything I perceive that is the opposite of Him being with me is not reality, no matter how real it feels.  No matter what I think or feel, God says He cares about me, and He loves me.  I cannot lose that.  It is mine not by my own merit but because He loved me from the beginning of time.  My perceived feelings about His love and care do not tell the reality of His love for me on those dark days when I feel abandoned.  When I feel He couldn't possibly love me and doesn't care one bit, my perceptions are not reality.  

     In day to day life, in situations and circumstances that involve other people, it is so hard to keep my perceptions from coloring my view of things.  I don't always have the other side to the situation.  I can't always find out the side of reality I can't see from my vantage point.  Sometimes, my perceptions are all I have.  Other time, what is real is so different from how I have perceived things to be that it is hard to accept what is reality when I find it out.  It just isn't easy to remember that my perceptions are not always right when other people are involved.  I try to remember, though, and to hold my perceptions loosely.

     God gives me a weapon against my perceptions of Him.  He gives me His promises, His truth, that will always fight the lies my perceptions try to tell me.  When I feel He is far from me, that He has walked away and left me in my darkness and hurt, I have His word and the promises that He will always be with me to fight what I perceive to be reality with what really is reality.  This is one of the best gifts He has given me on this journey...His truth to fight the lie that perception is reality.

My perceptions of God cannot nullify His promises to me.  

He is faithful to His promises whether I perceive Him to be or not.

Perception is NOT reality!

     Let us all remember, in any circumstance we are in, there are other perspectives, other truths, other sides to each story that must be mixed with our own perspective and perceptions in order to see the full reality. Hold your perceptions loosely. Remember what you perceive to be true may not be reality at all.

     My precious sisters, there is tremendous hope and comfort in this! What we perceive to be true, is not always so. Cling to His promises, especially when they scratch and chafe against the perceptions you hold in the moment. Take comfort in knowing that what you perceive to be reality really isn't. He is still with you, even when you feel alone. He still loves you more deeply than you can imagine, even when you feel discarded. It won't change your feelings. I won't pretend that it makes it easier. Sometimes, though, it brings a peace and comfort in the harsh darkness that helps you press on. His promises push through your perceptions, dear one. They always will.

Denial, noise, truth...ramblings

     A fair warning...this is a lot of rambling.  It goes down a few rabbit trails and seemingly different paths, but if you'll be patient and stick it out, I think I can tie it all back together the way it is in my head.  The all over the place nature of this post is just where my head is.  I'm sorry for that.  I hope you'll be willing to keep reading to see how it all comes together and hopefully makes sense.    

     It's a new year.  People like to make new year's resolutions to make each year better than the one before.  It's more a formality than anything realistic though.  Resolutions are made knowing they will be broken, yet we still like the hope we feel in formulating a plan to make changes and live life on our terms.
     Life doesn't live on our terms though.  We wind up facing circumstances that are messy and hard and ugly and broken.  We end up torn between what we had planned and what is unfolding before us.  We find ourselves at the mercy of truth, and sometimes what is true is what we never wanted or asked for.  So we try to escape the truth we didn't want because that somehow feels more comfortable and more in control (even though we aren't).

     I have spent more years than I care to count trying to escape a truth I never asked for, never wanted, never had a say in.  I grew up with heavy secrets to keep.  I had to leave a room where the unspeakable took place and enter a world where I was "normal" and "fine" and just like every other kid I was around.  So I learned very quickly and rather young how to deny the truth of my life even while knowing what the truth was.  Denial became my truth without my ever knowing it.  Denial meant I survived.  It was good and necessary in those years that the truth tried to kill me.
     Life is different now all these years later.  I'm not living in the nightmare I once was trapped in.  In fact, the tides have turned.  The truth that would have killed me then is what now can bring me freedom.  The denial that was necessary for me to keep living, now keeps me from healing.  But moving past denial is proving to be a terribly difficult fight...denial is a vicious and ruthless opponent.

     I'm sure you must think it strange to talk about being in denial.  After all, when we think of denial, we think of holding fast to a lie that something did not happen when in fact it did.  That is denial, but that just scratches the surface of it.  I don't have the ability right now to explain it all, but I will try to briefly explain the denial I am battling at the moment.
     I do not deny that the abuse I endured happened.  If asked if I was abused as a child, I would shake my head yes.  I keep my distance from it though.  I minimize it.  I do it without thinking.  I've been doing it so long I don't know I'm doing it.  I hold my past at a distance, refusing to let it be real.  I will shake my head in agreement that it happened, but I cannot let the words escape my mouth.  That makes it real.  There are words I have in my head that I know are part of my story, but they are so awful and repulsive that I actively look for definitions anywhere that will define them out of what happened to me.  I know what applies as truth to my story, but I won't accept the truth.
     Not accepting what is true as true and minimizing the parts I will admit to is another level of denial that I am losing my fight with.  It's a fight I can't afford to lose though.  I have to win this fight if I am going to find healing.  But I am stuck, going in circles with denial while feeling truth pull at me, quietly requesting I sit and rest from the dizzying circles I dance with denial.  My feet keep moving though, and I feel the tension rise between denial and truth.  I know I have to be honest with my truth to myself in order to take my truth honestly to the One who can redeem it.

     As I dizzy myself with denial, truth keeps finding ways to make her presence known.  The last few months as I have struggled greatly feeling stuck and falling into some rather deep, dark pits that I wasn't sure I could get back out of, I have had this noise in my head grow louder and louder.  The more I see the denial I am stuck in and realize even more how badly I need out, the louder the noise gets.  It is particularly loud in the evenings when the house is quiet and my family is settled in for the night...deafening, frightening, always there.  It isn't audible noise, but the word noise is the best description I have for this stuff inside my head.  
     I'm not completely sure of what is in the noise.  There is a mix of a lot of things.

• there are words...inexpressible, and sometimes incomprehensible, words
• there are feelings...but I don't do feelings, I just DON'T
• there are tears...liquid terror, instant anxiety attack
• there is truth...all the truth I have not yet accepted
• there is _________...more that I don't have words for or can't understand yet

     And the noise is relentless!  It leaves me restless every evening, moving about my house on edge.  I know I should listen to it little bits at a time.  I know it has a purpose.  There is something or lots of somethings in my head, making all this noise, that need to be heard, spoken, felt, grieved, walked through, but I want nothing more than to drown it out.  It screams at me, so I scream louder with meaningless, mindless activity every night to ignore what is begging for my attention.

     Then I struggle desperately to fall asleep.  My mind refuses to unwind, to settle, to quiet.  My body, tense with the fight between the noise screaming at me and me screaming over it, refuses to relax.  Sleep is a fight which drains me instead of refreshing me.  My body begs for sleep, but my mind won't let up until my body empties itself of all it has, and my mind is forced to shut down.  Then sleep comes but never rest.
     The noise fights to be heard.  It knows it holds the truth.  But I'm terrified of what it has to say.  I don't know how to listen to it.  I can't understand the screams.  I cannot sit still.  I fear the noise will break me if I knew what it wanted.  What if it wants more than I have to give?  My stores are already so depleted.  So I pray and read Scripture and seek to be filled, but the noise just wants more and more and more.

God I am empty!  I know You can see!  Can You see I am empty?

     Now it's a new year.  I see more clearly than I ever have how entrenched in the mire of denial I am.  I know now more than ever how desperately I need to face the truth.  It's a battle.  It's raging fiercely within me every.single.day.  

     Denial spins me around while the noise screams at me that truth must be heard and walked through.  I know that I will not have to walk through it alone.  I know somehow God will meet me in it.  I know He is there waiting for me, for He is the God of truth.  Yet still each day, I drown out the noise as I dance with denial and truth tugs at my heart to just sit and be still.

     So this year, I have a goal (for lack of a better word).  I want to learn to listen to the noise.  I want to sit down with my truth and begin to accept it, piece by piece.  It will mean learning how to hear what is true, feel what is true, speak what is true, grieve what is true, walk through what is true, all while clinging to the God of truth who promises to be with me in the pain of what is true.  I know it will not be easy.  I know it will be a process and involve a lot of hard work.  This year, I want to find God with me in the terror of truth and learn, in the midst of all the hurt, to rest in His arms of love and comfort.  I know the only way to healing is through the hurt of truth.  As much as this terrifies me, I press on.

If you want to walk with me

     This post is meant for those who are not survivors themselves but have survivor friends walking out the journey towards healing.  I don't know much about relationships or friendships.  I haven't really had much practice to be honest.  I have been walking this journey though.  As I have walked this road, I have started to learn what is helpful for me.  As I have begun to learn what is helpful as I press on, I have also thought a lot about those who start to walk with me only to walk away.
     I have said before that many have walked away over the years.  Some have walked away from me completely while others are still friendly but steer clear of anything of substance in order to avoid what they know is deep in my heart.  Both types of walking away are painful.  I struggle with it every time it happens which is more often than not.  It seems to me that there is one overarching factor in why people who seem so genuine in their care and desire to walk this road with me soon walk away or pull back sharply.
     This post puts those thoughts out of my head and into words, written words for others to see.  It scares me though.  It feels so out of character for me.  I don't stand up for what is helpful for me, for what I need.  I have gone back and forth for days and days about whether or not to post this at all.  It feels wrong to say what I will say in this post, but I believe that this is part of learning how to use the voice that was taken from me, MY voice.  I also think it is information that should be considered by all who are not survivors but want to walk with a survivor.

     Here is how it seems to happen.  I throw out a few hints of my past and the journey I'm on.  When someone hears my story, even just parts of it, they feel a tug at their heartstrings.  Abuse is an awful thing of course.  This pull on the heartstrings leads many, I think, to want to do something.  Not knowing exactly what to do, they offer their support, their friendship, their willingness to "be there" for me as I pursue healing.  It looks like compassion, but I fear it is often times more along the lines of thinly veiled pity.  I, however, put up the deposit and let them in.  I know it will cost me, but I hope the cost is worth it.  A friend is such a treasure on a journey that is often quite lonely.
     At first, they are there.  They start off strong, and their friendship is a comfort on a hard and difficult road.  But as time goes on, they are there less often.  They seem irritated or distant.  I never seem to heal fast enough, and they get burnt out, usually rather quickly.  They tell me they've done all they can or that I know what I need to do and we no longer need to bring this up, I can do it on my own.  The look of what initially appeared to be compassion turns to a look of emptiness since the compassion was pity, and pity runs out.  I didn't heal like they thought I would.  More than that, they didn't know walking with me would cost them too, and now that they do, they realize they weren't willing to pay the price.  They forget how big God is when they see how big hurt can be.

     I want you to know this.  It certainly costs me to let others near enough to be a friend on this journey, but there is a price you pay for walking with me too.  It will cost you time.  The journey is not a fast one.  It will cost you a comfort you didn't know you had as you come face to face with statistics that now belong to someone you care about.  You will see me, hear of evil you knew existed but never thought much about, and those numbers you hear about will seem a lot closer than they ever have before.  You will see that there are far more of me much closer to you than you realized.  It is an uncomfortable reality to face to say the least.  It will cost you ease as you realize you must fight with me and for me on your knees, helping me carry a burden I simply cannot carry on my own though I have tried and tried again.  It will cost you pain.  If you stick with me, you will get weary and tired, and your heart will hurt as you see me struggle with my past as I press on to my future.  You will find hurts in your own heart you have not taken the time to find healing for (since you likely didn't know you needed healing) and that will cause you pain of your own also.  It will cost you the box you try to fit God into.  It's so easy to put God in a box.  I do it too.  But as you walk with someone whose wounds are so deep, your box will be too small for the God who can bringing healing to such depths.  It is challenging to have that box shattered.  I know.  He's been shattering my box this entire journey.  This is a good cost, but it is not pain free and is so vital to count.  If you aren't willing to give up your box to keep God small, you won't be able to walk with me.
     I can try to explain the cost to you in words, but the price is much higher than I can adequately describe.  While the price is high, the reward is great too, but you must be willing to see your investment to the end.  I am not sure if you can get your cost back should you choose to walk away.  I know I can never get back the price I pay to let you walk with me.  That is what makes it so frightening to let you near me.  I can't make you stay.  I can tell you that if you keep pressing on with me, the return for your investment will be worth far more than you can dream.  If you see this through, you and I both will have a reward well worth the price we both pay.
   

If You Want to Walk With Me

You say you want to journey with me as I go

But first there are realities that you must know

Don't be shocked when your willingness I fail to believe

Because there's a price that I pay which you cannot see

If you want to walk with me

The price that I pay is costly and steep

And once it is paid can never come back to me

But I'm not the only one with a high price to pay

For there's a cost to you also to journey this way

If you want to walk with me

Your eyes will be opened to a harsh reality

Well known to all though most choose not to see

Where darkness and evil reign without limitation

And you'll wish you could believe my truth is mere fiction

If you want to walk with me

The lifeless statistics that you've always known

Will begin to take on a life completely their own

While the endless numbers turn into the faces

Of those who you love in your deepest heart places

If you want to walk with me

At times the path will leave you beaten and bruised

You'll wonder how much longer you have to push through

For this journey is long and each step is a fight

And the road presses straight through the darkest of nights

If you want to walk with me

My burden is heavy and can leave you quite weary

Time spent on your knees will leave you hurting and bloody

But your company is a treasure I won't take for granted

And there is great hope the return for your cost will be worth it

If you want to walk with me

     When you feel the tug on your heartstrings as you hear the story of a survivor, you just have to step back and decide whether or not you really want to invest.  Take time to consider whether you feel compassion or pity because your pity won't last, but compassion is good fuel for the journey.  I do not know a single survivor who takes lightly the friendship of those who choose to walk with them.  I also do not know a single survivor who does not know the pain of being walked away from.  We know it isn't easy to walk this road with us.  That is why we treasure those who stick with us even when it's dark and difficult and slow going.  We really do believe this journey is worth it or we wouldn't be working so hard at it.  If, after you have considered the cost, you're willing to invest, we trust it will be worth it for you too in the end.