scared!

scared, did it take? did God change my heart? how do I know? how different should I feel? Had a situation where I wanted to close shop...put the walls back up...I thought, this is why I don't share...but then I stopped and said no, I cannot close my heart. I want to recieve love. (btw, hate the word receive, never can remember which way it is spelled) I had to talk myself through that panic attack and talked myself into remaining open to intimacy and open to receiving love. I don't know. Just want to receive God's love.

This has no title!

So, I finally got on my knees and asked God to heal that part of my heart that can't feel love. That is deeply afraid of intimacy. The part of my heart I haven't wanted anyone to see or touch. The part of my heart that believes I am unworthy, I am no good, I am not pretty enough to wear the diamond necklace Ava gave me. The part that works overtime to hide the fear. The part that wants everyone else to feel deeply loved, they way I desire, yet am too afraid to allow. The part of my heart that screams desperately to be loved, but blocks it all from coming in because it would be too painful to accept. Since I wrote my last post I realize I have had less and less patience with my parents, I have had less and less grace for them, less and less have I wanted to be in their presence. I kept pondering, was this me going hom rogue, without God? I mean, why am I getting less and less tolerant of them, instead of more and more?!?! I guess God just wasn't going to let me get comfortable where I stopped, He wants all of me and I finally want him in that place of me that hurts so bad and is so scared. I knew that I needed him in this place when my sister told me that Ava loves me so....and I was so sad, because I wanted to be able to feel her love for me. I want to sense His blessing on my life. I want to know that I am somebody. I want to know that I am special. I want to know that I am needed. I want to know that I am wanted. I want to know that I am precious. I want to know that I am being blessed just for who I am. I want to accept affirmation from others that I am ok. I want a great capacity for emotional intimacy. I want to look at God as a loving, heavenly father who wants to bless me, just because I am me. I want to reach out to others with a new level of authenticity. I know that a genuine loss has occurred in my life, I never had the things from a parent that a child is supposed to get. Like the child who asks his parent to play darts and says, I'll throw them and you say, good shot! That is what I missed. That is what I need. And now, that is what I want. I knew God was asking me this, and I just felt it would hurt to much to get on my knees and open up that part of me and offer it to him, to lay it at the foot of the cross. But when I did, I didn't weep uncontrollably, I didn't feel excruciating pain, I didn't feel all the loss. I just felt peace. And I thought...oh no, God's not here. He's not going to help me. And so I sat on my knees and told him I would stay there all night, I wasn't leaving until he met me here and until he took this from me and made it his. And still no excruciating pain, just unfamiliar peace. And so I said, I confess, I hate them, I am sorry, please forgive me, ok, I do I hate them. Now please come, heal my heart, finish this, allow me to receive your love, allow me to receive love from others. And nothing, just a quietness and a peace, where to me it felt like his absence because I was sure that I would cry and cry and it would be so full of pain to do. And still today, I think, do I have to fast? What do I have to do?!! And then I hear, that's the point, you needn't do a thing, you came to Me and now it's mine. And I think, how do I test it out?!??! God's peace and love are not earned. They are given freely because he loves me just as I am. He created me with all the qualities I have. And for the first time I can say, I want true, deep abiding, intimacy. Part of me I guess still thinks I will get that from a husband, which I may, but humans fail, humans come short, God does not. And I don't want to be a wife who needs that constant reassurace from her husband. I want to trust God's love for me and trust my husband's love for me. I want my heart to be whole. I want me heart to be able to receive love. I want to receive love. I want to receive it. I want love. This is what I have next to my bed right now....

I accept God's love for me
God is in control
Through Jesus I am clean in God's sight
I release my fears to Jesus
I claim the joy of being God's child
Because God loves me, it's ok to be incomplete
I accept God's healing of painful memories of my past
No matter what happens, I trust God is working for my good
In Christ it is ok for me to be myself
Because God has forgiven me, I can forgive others
I am blessed.

The Blessing

I had an epiphany. I knew this was the problem, I just didn't have the words to express it. Especially I had confusion because I knew I had forgiven my parents and my words for what I felt were, what do I do with the continuing hurt they give? And if I forgave them, why do those memories still bring tears to my eyes? If it still hurts have a really forgiven? And I like in this b0ok that he said it will still hurt and you just work through those things as they come, sometimes you experience new pockets of pain and when those come, you work through them. And that's ok. That gave my heart such a relief. He was specific about one day at a time. Working through present feelings in the present. I feel good about that.

The next thing he talked about was "The Blessing". When I think of the blessing, I always think of Jacob and Esau. Anyways, in a healthy family, children receive the blessing from their parents from the day they are born.

You are somebody.
You are special.
You are needed.
You are wanted.
You are precious.

I know, especially, when I typed that, I can't help but cry, and know that is what I am missing. And when I say, I can know someone loves me....but I can't feel it. Unless I am in a vulnerable state and if I can feel it, it just makes me weep and weep. Like it's nice to hear, but it's not me. It's not meant for me, it's not true.

The epiphany came, that I am still seeking the blessing from my parents. A place where it is never going to come from. I'm like a bird who flies into a window, goes back up to the tree, tries again and flies into the same window, again, and again and again. The result is just becoming more battered, more weary and believing that it isn't meant for me.

Any blessing I received from my parents was either withheld, distorted, conditional or partial. I think that's a reason I get so disappointed when I have finished visiting with them. I am hoping for something that isn't ever going to come.

I am still seeking love and approval from two dysfunctional people who even if they wanted to give it, couldn't ever give it in the way I need.

I need to stop seeking the blessing where I cannot find it. I need to stop battering myself into the window, over and over again.

It is not going to happen. It hurts. I am sorry it isn't going to happen. It sucks. But it is not going to happen.

I need to grieve the missing blessing. Which is perhaps what I do after each time I am with them?!?! I need to grieve and let go. I need to evaluate the fantasy I must have with my family, and what will happen this time I am with them. I need to adjust my expectations when I make contact with them.

So I need to seek the blessing outside my family of origin. This will take much prayer to prepare me to hear it and to accept it. I need to find healthy ways to seek out the blessing from God and from friends.

This will take some prayer and some work. It is nice to have a name to my suffering. God is good.

Forgiveness

My book says this....

You say you have forgiven, but occassionally something happens to remind you that all is not well in your relationship with the person you are supposed to have forgiven. Surprising feelings of anger or depression may pursue you. You have skipped an important prerequisite to forgiving: acknowledging the intensity of the hurt you experienced.

The hurt I experienced was traumatic. It was harmful to my soul. It was extremely painful. It is awful to be hurt by the people who are supposed to love you no matter what. And you begin to believe that something is wrong with you, if the people you have an automatic love card with don't even love you. It must mean there is something wrong with me, something fundamentally unlovable. I was abused. I was abused physically as well as verbally. At the dinner table once, with my grandpa, we were having such a nice dinner and my dad made the comment to my sister and I..."like how you two were abused"....I nearly choked...he was admitting it, what was this? and my sister said, abused?? what abuse? what are you talking about? And the earth moved under me, I looked at my dad and he looked right at me and I just looked back down at my plate. And for a long time, I questioned myself...am I crazy? Why did my sister just say that? I don't know, we didn't ever talk about it. But it has scared me some, because many of my memories are fuzzy or I don't remember them the way my sister remembers them. Regardless, I grew up in a painful environment. An environment, that to this day, years and years later, still brings me to tears thinking about it. It was wrong. It was harmful. I came away damaged. Scared. Ashamed. Angry. I hated living there. I hated what they did or didn't do. I hate that little girl was standing in the mirror asking to be loved, to be affirmed and her mother walked away and called her stupid. I hate that part of my heart feels blocked off. I have to come to a place of forgiveness knowing I may never get acknowledgement from my parents. Not an I'm sorry. Nothing. I have to forgive them, for my own well being. I have to forgive them without making excuses for them about any cycles they may have repeated. I have a choice to repeat this cycle or do the hard work to end it. Without their acknowledgement. They had a choice too.

I ran away hurting deeply. No one should ever have to experience the things I experienced. The true impact of what happened to me, is that I came away a different person than I was meant to be. I came away a scared, insecure, hurting person. All I have ever wanted is to be loved. I used to think I wanted 5 children and I wanted them all to be boys...because boys were always good to their mothers and how could I not feel loved with 5 boys of my own? I came away a person afraid of true intimacy, afraid that I would ask someone to love me and they wouldn't love me back. I came away, afraid to meet new people, no one was going to like me. I still feel shy and stifled in new situations, because no one is going to like me, anything I would have to say is worthless.

I came away so hurt, that I would be a freak when visiting my sister, afraid to do or say something wrong, not because of her, I realize now, but because she might decide not to love me back either and I think I couldn't handle that because I need her to love me, even more so because my parents didn't.

I never tried to learn how to play chess, thinking I wasn't smart enough to learn it and be able to play it. But really, because I believed the messages my parents gave me...I was stupid and chess was a game for smart people, not stupid people.

the pain, is real and deep and like layers of an onion. It happened and it was damaging, to my belief in my self, to other relationships, to fearing intimacy...

I invite Jesus into my pain, to soothe it, to heal it, to change it.

technology, arrgh!

I just spend a good two hours, just going through painful memories, to only lose my internet connection, to be thrilled to see it in drafts still and then to see only one paragraph out of about 12. grrrr.

Going through painful memories

We had a swim team banquet. Bryan was one of our assistant coaches. He wasn't much older than I was. He was really into computers, as was my mom. He came and sat next to my mom at the banquet and they talked about computers the whole night I guess. When we got home a terrible fight ensued with my parents. My dad was enraged that my mom let Bryan sit next to her and that she talked to him so much. I think my dad was pretty much accusing her of having an affair with Bryan. It was a big and scary fight. I can remember my sister sneaking into my room. We sat next to each other on my bed, not speaking, just right next to each other scared to death. On some level, I thought my dad was capable of killing my mom. I just remember being so scared. I remember hearing my mom come upstairs and go into her closet. I could hear things banging. I just knew that she had gotten her suitcase down and was leaving. I went to sleep absolutely convinced that my mom would be gone when I got up in the morning. I could barely breathe. She was there in the morning. And no one said a word about the fight, everyone just pretended like it didn't happen.





When we were both home from college at one point, my sister and I were home alone. I can't recall if we had argued or what had happened, but my sister freaked out. She was screaming that she was leaving, she was never coming back, she got out a bag to start packing. I was so scared, I didn't know what to do. She even tried to go out the second story window. Once she finally calmed down we talked about her going to see a counselor at school because it would be free.

My dad had a rifle in the front closet. I always had it in my mind that he would kill me with it. If he was going out with the dogs and had it out propped against the wall so he didn't forget it, my first thought would be a gasp and is today the day he kills me?

My father tried to force me to register to vote. My mom's job was up on a referendum. He sent people to register me to vote to the house and I sent them away. My mother, for the first time in my life said, just wait until your father gets home. I was worried sick then. Once he got home I got called down from my room for a long, long evening in the living room. I don't know how he didn't have an aneurysm, his vein in his forehead was so big, it looked like it would just explode. He started with yelling and screaming to get his way....telling me I would vote yes for this referendum. I explained calmly, that I would take his opinion into consideration and I would make my own decision. This infuriated him even more. I, for some reason, took this very seriously, that he could not force me to vote for something. I told him that what if this referendum has something I don't agree with? Like it keeps my mom's job but also cuts off every third person's legs? How could I vote yes for something just because it kept my mom's job. He was so mad. He then went the route that obviously I didn't love my mother if I was not going to vote for her to keep her job. And I just kept calmly repeating, I would take into consideration everything he said and then I would make my own decision. He then told me he wouldn't want to, but if he had to, he'd have to ask me to get out of the house, that I wouldn't have a place to live or anything to eat if I didn't do this. I don't know how that evening came to an end because I never agreed to vote. However, the next day, I was so scared. I mean I had no place to go, what would I do, would he really kick me out?? So I went crying all the way there, and crying all the way home, to register to vote. I can remember screaming and crying and banging my hands on the steering wheel. I didn't tell anyone I had done it. I didn't want to give my dad that satisfaction, but I had it just in case I needed it. I had no idea that a registration card comes in the mail. I brought in the mail that day, I would have gotten it had I known to look for it. My dad found it and said...aw...you registered...what a good girl you are and came over to hug me. I could feel more of myself die in that instant, just shrink up, shrivel up. It makes me nauseous just recalling it. And the crazy thing is, that was the end of it, there was never any mention of voting or going to vote, I never knew anything else about it. My mom did keep her job. No thanks to me.

When I was small, maybe 1st grade or smaller. My mom had gotten my sister new clothes and I hadn't gotten any. I asked why...my mom said because I got them all tomyself for three years before she was born so now they had to love her more to make up for that.

There was some drama my jr year in college on the swim team. I feel like I know where it came from but could do nothing about it and as a result was kicked off the swim team. I was so disappointed. My dad was angry and without my knowledge called the swim coach. And then called me to tell me he had set up a meeting for me to go meet with her. I explained that I would not go meet with her, I had no desire to hear what she had to say. He then exploded about me putting his good name on the line and how I WOULD go see her. I said no I wouldn't. He then threatened me. He was screaming so loud I had to take the phone from my ear and could still hear him loud and clear and lucky for me so could my roommate. So embarrassing. He told me that if I didn't that he would be up at school shortly and he would beat the shit out of me, he would kick my ass from one side of campus to the other. I don't know how that phone call ended. I did not go meet with the coach and I lived in fear for awhile, jumping every time there was a knock on the door. I was more than sure my dad would be up to school to do just as he promised.

One fall at school, I had a sundress on. Someone said, hey what's that on your arm. I lift my arm and on the underneath of my bicep is a perfect hand print bruise. I was horrified. I didn't even know it was there.

In second grade, I was so sad. I felt like no one loved me, no one liked me. I stood in front of my mirror one day crying and talking to that poor girl in the mirror, that no one loved me, no one liked me. My mom was downstairs on the phone. I heard her say hold on a minute and come up the stairs. My door was closed all but an inch, I heard her stop outside my door but we couldn't see each other. I was scared, but I took a chance, what will mom do? I repeated, crying that no one loved me and no one liked me. I heard my mom turn and go back down the stairs and I heard her say on the phone...oh nothing, just jennifer being stupid. She didn't fling open my door, she didn't rescue me, she didn't say that was wrong, I love you...she just said I was stupid.

Good Things God has done in my life

He provided me a job in SC so I could move far away and get out of that house.

He put my sister and me together and helped us build a new relationship, separate of them.

He has given me good friends.

He has used me to bless others.

He has given me friends that have good strong marriages, in order that I may see good examples of healthy marriages and healthy families.

He has provided me with a place to live, food to eat, a car to drive.

He has placed me in a great church.

He has given me wonderful opportunities to grow and experience new things like Boundary Waters and Aspen.

He continues to love me regardless of the "rules" I follow.

He gave me Lucy.

He blessed my sister and her husband with a baby girl, which in turn has also been a blessing to me.

He has answered prayers.

He healed my sister.

He has helped me to walk away from toxic situations that I have put myself in, to not remain fiercely loyal in a bad situation.

He has helped me heal in so many ways already.

He loves me uncondotionally and never withholds his love from me.