O Lord, this holy season of Lent is passing quickly. I entered into it with fear, but also with great expectations. I hoped for a great breakthrough, a powerful conversion, a real change of heart; I wanted Easter to be a day so full of light that not even a trace of darkness would be left in my soul. But I know that you do not come to your people with thunder and lightning. Even St. Paul and St. Francis journeyed through much darkness before they could see your light. Let me be thankful for your gentle way. I know you are at work. I know you will not leave me alone. I know you are quickening me for Easter - but in a way fitting to my own history and my own temperament.
- Henri Nouwen A Cry For Mercy: Prayers from the Genesee
This was a timely reminder in my email this weekend. Too often I want to skip the process, to not have to journey through the darkness. Healing is a process, one that is uniquely tailored to the pain and horrors that have happened to me. It's itchy and I hate it...
...and I love it. I love how it is perfectly timed and ordered, even though I can only see that order in hindsight. I know, that it took time for me to get to where I am. The healing that I've already done has taken time. I can't heal from all of it all at once. That's just not the way that it works. The times I tried to rush the process were overwhelming.
Years ago in one of my "why-wont-You-hurry-up-and-heal-me" phases I remember clearly for the first time seeing the extent of my pain. Every time I want to hurry this up I flashback to that moment. It was the moment that it became real. Real that this was going to take years of hard work and that it would forever alter me. It was a major crack in my minimizing what had been done to me as "not-a-big-deal", "normal" and "my fault".
Now in my racing ahead, trying to stop being "broken girl" I know I am avoiding. Of all the stages of work that I go through in healing, this stage of grieving not only for what happened, but for all the losses and the continued fallout - this is the stage I will avoid, run from, and try to rush through. I hate grieving. I hate the sadness that works it way up for the core of my body. I hate the crying, the migraine, the puking, the sinus headaches, the curled up in a fetal position screaming through sobs. I hate how spent I am, that this takes every scrap of energy that I have. I hate that there is no room for anything else and yet I need those other pieces to keep me from spinning out and losing everything I've gained over the years.
I want redemption NOW. I want the other side of this to be here now. I am weary and my heart is grieving. Whether or not I choose to acknowledge it doesn't change that it's happening. I find myself doing the next right thing and begging for mercy.
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Monday, March 31, 2014
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Breathe In, Breathe Out
Breathe in
Breathe out
Breathe in
Breathe out
This seems to be what I can do today. I can breathe. A couple conversations over the course of my day have brought some cracks in my walls. I risked being seen and was welcomed with love. I am grateful. Grateful to have women in my life who see me and love me. It's still so new and I'm continuing to learn how to open up these deep places in myself to others.
Breathe out
Breathe in
Breathe out
This seems to be what I can do today. I can breathe. A couple conversations over the course of my day have brought some cracks in my walls. I risked being seen and was welcomed with love. I am grateful. Grateful to have women in my life who see me and love me. It's still so new and I'm continuing to learn how to open up these deep places in myself to others.
Letting go of the judging mind feels like letting go of knowing what could hurt us, surrendering our most potent weapon for survival. If we stop judging ourselves and everyone else so rigorously, how will we know what is true? How will we protect ourselves from harm? (p64 - Legacy of the Heart, Wayne Muller)I've been re-reading Muller's chapter on Judgement and Mercy this afternoon and finding hope. I'm hearing my own voice and seeing the damage that judgement has caused me over and over. I'm hearing my own fears of letting it go. It has been so important to me for so very long. I'm brought back to Steps 6 and 7. Once again I'm being asked to be entirely ready to allow my Higher Power to remove this from my life and then humbly asking for it to be removed.
Cultivating nonharming toward ourselves is a tremendous step toward allowing healing love into our broken hearts - especially for those of us who, feeling the sting of physical or emotional pain as children, have internalized much of that judgement and violence in our souls. We are so in need of mercy and care, and so clumsy in allowing it to be born in our own lives. (p69 - Legacy of the Heart, Wayne Muller)I have a place to start. A place that begins with allowing myself the space to simply breathe in and breathe out. In this way I can release my judgement and welcome mercy with every single breath that I take.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Judgement
This week is all about letting go of judgement. {cue bitter laugh}
You'd think that having growing up in a world where everything I did and was would keep me from continuing that destructive view in the present. Instead I find that I don't know any other way to see. It has been a painstakingly slow process to learn how to see others differently and I'll admit that if anyone ever heard the shit that goes through my brain, but never makes it out of my mouth, I'd be horrified and friendless. I'm good at judgement. I excel at it. More than shame which is something others have put on me, or lies that I tell myself which stem from unhealed wounds. Judgement is woven into the fibre of my very being. I breathe judgement.
Of all my character defects this is the one where I am most powerless. I've started to learn over the past three years about mercy and grace. I've been learning to extend that to others, to choke back my judgemental thoughts and to beg God to please show me how you see this person because all I can see are the ways to shred them to pieces with my words. I know that judging others was a form of self-protection for a long time. I needed ammunition and I got good at attacking before anyone even knew to duck. I did to others what had always been done to me.
I am learning to live my amends - to extend grace and mercy before they are even needed. I am learning to live at peace with others, to create spaces that are free from judgement. It's hard work. It's necessary work. It's sacred work.
This Lent seems to be all about next steps and this next step is a doozy. I don't know how to turn off the constant stream of self-judgement that runs through my brain 24/7. Every thing I do, think, speak, or feel is judged. That judgement is held over my head, beating me back down to my supposed rightful place any time I dare to be breathe. There's been some shifts, because the punishment that comes along with the judgement is no longer there. I no longer have to pay for my existence with blood and bruises. I'm grateful for that.
Yet I still see myself as too much - too broken, needy, desperate, silent, loud, clumsy, awkward, weird. I feel my walls up this week. I know that they are there because I am scared that you will see me and judge me as lacking, not good enough. My heart can't take any more harsh judgements and so I've built a wall of my own self-judgement to keep yours from ever getting to me. Any external judgement just increases the strength of my walls because you are simply agreeing with how I already deem myself to be.
This is the ugly truth, the aftermath of years of emotional and verbal abuse. This is what happens when you demand constant perfection from your children. This is what I learned. I don't know anything different thanks to you.
I don't know what this week is going to look like. It's going to be challenging that's for sure. Here goes nothing.
You'd think that having growing up in a world where everything I did and was would keep me from continuing that destructive view in the present. Instead I find that I don't know any other way to see. It has been a painstakingly slow process to learn how to see others differently and I'll admit that if anyone ever heard the shit that goes through my brain, but never makes it out of my mouth, I'd be horrified and friendless. I'm good at judgement. I excel at it. More than shame which is something others have put on me, or lies that I tell myself which stem from unhealed wounds. Judgement is woven into the fibre of my very being. I breathe judgement.
Of all my character defects this is the one where I am most powerless. I've started to learn over the past three years about mercy and grace. I've been learning to extend that to others, to choke back my judgemental thoughts and to beg God to please show me how you see this person because all I can see are the ways to shred them to pieces with my words. I know that judging others was a form of self-protection for a long time. I needed ammunition and I got good at attacking before anyone even knew to duck. I did to others what had always been done to me.
I am learning to live my amends - to extend grace and mercy before they are even needed. I am learning to live at peace with others, to create spaces that are free from judgement. It's hard work. It's necessary work. It's sacred work.
This Lent seems to be all about next steps and this next step is a doozy. I don't know how to turn off the constant stream of self-judgement that runs through my brain 24/7. Every thing I do, think, speak, or feel is judged. That judgement is held over my head, beating me back down to my supposed rightful place any time I dare to be breathe. There's been some shifts, because the punishment that comes along with the judgement is no longer there. I no longer have to pay for my existence with blood and bruises. I'm grateful for that.
Yet I still see myself as too much - too broken, needy, desperate, silent, loud, clumsy, awkward, weird. I feel my walls up this week. I know that they are there because I am scared that you will see me and judge me as lacking, not good enough. My heart can't take any more harsh judgements and so I've built a wall of my own self-judgement to keep yours from ever getting to me. Any external judgement just increases the strength of my walls because you are simply agreeing with how I already deem myself to be.
This is the ugly truth, the aftermath of years of emotional and verbal abuse. This is what happens when you demand constant perfection from your children. This is what I learned. I don't know anything different thanks to you.
I don't know what this week is going to look like. It's going to be challenging that's for sure. Here goes nothing.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Saturday Rest
With Be, we're taking a collective Sabbath on Saturdays. More than the fasting element, this piece scared the crap out of me. I remember when my father got on his "Sundays are sacred and family-time because it's Biblical to have a Sabbath" kick. It was awful and there wasn't any kind of grace, or rest, just a lot of forced spiritual practices and trying to appease him. I'm sure there's more work for me to do on that in therapy.
I was apprehensive going into today. What would it look like to take a Sabbath? I can handle the no collective group activity and figured if nothing else I could respect the intent that way. Today has been so much more than that. I had an hour to cuddle and connect with my hunny first thing this morning. All the things that I needed to accomplish got done and I took myself back to bed, exhausted and slept for 5 hours. There was no belittling myself for needing the extra rest. I don't even see it as I wasted the day, which is my usual response. It feels like the shame and condemnation I'd usually hold against myself as a matter of course is gently, firmly being held back today. I can breathe; I'm clenching my teeth a little less.
If this is what Sabbath can be - a day of respite and rest - I'm excited to continue to explore it. I'm sure it won't always be like it was today. That's okay. I'm grateful that it was a good experience to start off with, and that because it happened on a Saturday, the triggers from the past weren't there they way they could have been had it been on Sunday.
I was apprehensive going into today. What would it look like to take a Sabbath? I can handle the no collective group activity and figured if nothing else I could respect the intent that way. Today has been so much more than that. I had an hour to cuddle and connect with my hunny first thing this morning. All the things that I needed to accomplish got done and I took myself back to bed, exhausted and slept for 5 hours. There was no belittling myself for needing the extra rest. I don't even see it as I wasted the day, which is my usual response. It feels like the shame and condemnation I'd usually hold against myself as a matter of course is gently, firmly being held back today. I can breathe; I'm clenching my teeth a little less.
If this is what Sabbath can be - a day of respite and rest - I'm excited to continue to explore it. I'm sure it won't always be like it was today. That's okay. I'm grateful that it was a good experience to start off with, and that because it happened on a Saturday, the triggers from the past weren't there they way they could have been had it been on Sunday.
Friday, March 7, 2014
A Hope and A Purpose
Let me start by start by saying I passionately hate Jeremiah 29:11. I hate that it's a promise that God gave to Israel right after He told them that "guess what guys, you've gone so far away from me, that the last tool in my toolbox to get your attention is selling you off to slavery (again)" Jeremiah 29:11 kicks in as He tells them "but I'm not going to leave you there. I'm not doing this without a reason, and there is hope and purpose and future that I have for you. To get there, you have to walk through this, but this won't last forever."
That verse becomes this glib, pat answer, written on graduation cards, sympathy cards, milestone birthday cards..it's on mugs, magnets, bookmarks..I hate when Scripture is misappropriated. It scrapes against my soul and deepens wounds that have never had a chance to stop bleeding.
And yet...the idea behind it, the truth that God has a plan, a purpose, Romans talks about that. About how He works things for good and glory. Hebrews reminds us that that good and glory isn't always this side of death. Sometimes we get the raw end of the deal and we don't see what has been promised in our lifetime.
Sometimes though, God is gracious and we do see it, even if it's only pieces. Today was one of those pieces. In the midst of being honest with myself for the first time in a long time about how much shame I still hold, the last piece of plan clicked into place and I could see. I could see how Be + Story 101 + belly dancing was His perfectly crafted gift to me for this next season of healing. It tackles the big issues, my faith, my voice, and my sense of myself as a woman. It stares down my identity issues. It not only gives me a voice, but teaches me how to better use my voice. To reconnect with my body, to teach it strength and grace and flexibility, to feel like a woman, sensual without being tawdry. A woman who holds herself up and dances - without shame, opening herself up and sharing her joy.
I'm excited. I feel like I have something to hold onto here as I dig into the painful places that my Healer is leading me. There is a purpose for facing the pain, there is a light of hope that says I am crafting a perfect plan tailored specifically for your damage so that you won't stay here in this place of darkness and shame. I better understand why people love Jeremiah 29 - I get it, because they can connect it to the slivers of hope that they've been given.
That verse becomes this glib, pat answer, written on graduation cards, sympathy cards, milestone birthday cards..it's on mugs, magnets, bookmarks..I hate when Scripture is misappropriated. It scrapes against my soul and deepens wounds that have never had a chance to stop bleeding.
And yet...the idea behind it, the truth that God has a plan, a purpose, Romans talks about that. About how He works things for good and glory. Hebrews reminds us that that good and glory isn't always this side of death. Sometimes we get the raw end of the deal and we don't see what has been promised in our lifetime.
Sometimes though, God is gracious and we do see it, even if it's only pieces. Today was one of those pieces. In the midst of being honest with myself for the first time in a long time about how much shame I still hold, the last piece of plan clicked into place and I could see. I could see how Be + Story 101 + belly dancing was His perfectly crafted gift to me for this next season of healing. It tackles the big issues, my faith, my voice, and my sense of myself as a woman. It stares down my identity issues. It not only gives me a voice, but teaches me how to better use my voice. To reconnect with my body, to teach it strength and grace and flexibility, to feel like a woman, sensual without being tawdry. A woman who holds herself up and dances - without shame, opening herself up and sharing her joy.
I'm excited. I feel like I have something to hold onto here as I dig into the painful places that my Healer is leading me. There is a purpose for facing the pain, there is a light of hope that says I am crafting a perfect plan tailored specifically for your damage so that you won't stay here in this place of darkness and shame. I better understand why people love Jeremiah 29 - I get it, because they can connect it to the slivers of hope that they've been given.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Thursday Thoughts
My brain is weary tonight. My heart feels full and for the moment cried out. I'd forgotten yet again how many tears come with this journey to the centre of my being. There were so many good words spoken in the call tonight for Be. I have pages of scribbled notes and questions to chew over. I'll get there. For this moment my take-away is gratitude. I'm not alone. I'm not alone and there is hope. That hope is part and parcel of what pierces through my shame. It's not some nebulous wispy "we'll get there someday" hope. This hope has voices and faces. This is a hope borne of the raw beauty that is the hearts of brave women sharing pieces of story tonight.
I don't remember a time in my life before shame. I don't remember a life before trauma. I don't remember the little girl that I was before. I'm not sure that I have a before. It feels like shame is woven into every splintered piece of my personality.
Tonight in the chat it was spoken that we are made new.
I need a new. There's nothing left of me to be restored. I need a new. I can see pieces where He is making new in me and it's breathtaking. I have whole days now where I don't hold myself responsible for the evils that others inflicted on me. I have whole days where I can see this incredible woman who has been buried in all of the shit. I'm not there yet. I don't see all the new yet.
For this night I'm holding onto Brandy's words. "it's okay to be where you are. We have work to do." I'm sitting in them, wrapping them around my raw heart places and practising acceptance of where I am.
I don't remember a time in my life before shame. I don't remember a life before trauma. I don't remember the little girl that I was before. I'm not sure that I have a before. It feels like shame is woven into every splintered piece of my personality.
Tonight in the chat it was spoken that we are made new.
I need a new. There's nothing left of me to be restored. I need a new. I can see pieces where He is making new in me and it's breathtaking. I have whole days now where I don't hold myself responsible for the evils that others inflicted on me. I have whole days where I can see this incredible woman who has been buried in all of the shit. I'm not there yet. I don't see all the new yet.
For this night I'm holding onto Brandy's words. "it's okay to be where you are. We have work to do." I'm sitting in them, wrapping them around my raw heart places and practising acceptance of where I am.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Fasting From Shame II
After writing this morning, I took my aching head and heart back to bed for some sorely needed rest. Looking at how shame continues to impact my identity isn't easy. I thought I was further down the road than I feel right now. So many of my insecurities are screaming in my face. Seeing myself as I am, without judging, or shoulding is proving challenging.
My vision of myself is skewed - one way or another. Coming out of the last season of healing I felt more comfortable in my skin than I ever have before. It was amazing. I knew there was more work, but that felt far away and I blissfully soaked in the glow of no longer hating myself. All too soon, here I am for the next layer, the next round and I want to go back to the bliss.
I enjoyed not gearing up for war every day and going to battle. It was sweet relief. Now it's time to fight again - I don't feel ready. I feel as weary putting on my armour as I did taking it off in December.
In the middle of it all today though, the middle of being ready to throw in the towel and walk away, God still met me. Jason Gray's new album dropped today and so many of the songs on there were this soothing balm for my soul. Tonight I'm choosing to rest in that comfort, to not judge myself for where I'm at, and to extend grace to me in being where I am.
My vision of myself is skewed - one way or another. Coming out of the last season of healing I felt more comfortable in my skin than I ever have before. It was amazing. I knew there was more work, but that felt far away and I blissfully soaked in the glow of no longer hating myself. All too soon, here I am for the next layer, the next round and I want to go back to the bliss.
I enjoyed not gearing up for war every day and going to battle. It was sweet relief. Now it's time to fight again - I don't feel ready. I feel as weary putting on my armour as I did taking it off in December.
In the middle of it all today though, the middle of being ready to throw in the towel and walk away, God still met me. Jason Gray's new album dropped today and so many of the songs on there were this soothing balm for my soul. Tonight I'm choosing to rest in that comfort, to not judge myself for where I'm at, and to extend grace to me in being where I am.
Ash Wednesday - Fasting From Shame
I haven't fasted in years. Fasting has been a dirty word, one filled with disgust, shame, and guilt. Disgust because all that I've seen of it has been from the place of worshipping a vending machine god. Insert proper spiritual practice, make your selection and down falls your chosen blessing. Like all vending machines, occasionally the blessing gets stuck and you have to insert more spiritual practices.
I feel deep shame around fasting. Maybe because it was used as a punishment as a child. Maybe because only the "holiest" of Christians fasted. Maybe because it was required. I don't know where all the shame comes from - but the idea of fasting, of intentionally putting something down to make time and space for God to whisper. That idea stirs my desire to run, to hide, to cower. My view of God is still so warped, especially when it attaches to any kind of spiritual discipline that I grew up with. Too quickly it spirals into feeling guilted for not reading enough Scripture, for not attending enough services, for not serving in children's ministry.
It feels like just about everything connected to my faith it tinged with shame and guilt. It's not how I want it to be. When I get away from religious behaviours, I find freedom and connection with the Divine. In churches, in Bible studies, in public prayer, in Scripture reading I find terror. It would be easier in so many ways to walk away, to throw my hands up in the air and give up. It's exhausting, painful work to keep facing the fear and sharing the shame.
For today I'm choosing to be honest. I'm choosing to not heap judgement and condemnation on myself for where I am at in this journey. Today I choose to honour my journey, to honour my pain and the raw places by lifting off the veils. Today I sit in the ashes of my faith, surrounded by flickering embers and weep for my little girl self. The one who believes she is evil because she is a woman. It was a woman who caused a man to stumble and people have been tripping over her ever since.
I weep for the scars, the white lines that continue to stand witness to my pain and the damage inflicted on my soul. I weep for an identity that was shattered before it was formed, and for the years I've spent scrambling to find, to hold all the pieces together. It wasn't fair, it isn't fair and my heart screams at the injustice of it all.
Here is my shame, it is threaded through so much of my heart. How do I fast from it, when I feel shame that I exist? I don't know. There's less shame than there used to be and maybe for today, for this time that is enough. For today I hold my head up, tears streaming down my face and declare that I am enough.
I feel deep shame around fasting. Maybe because it was used as a punishment as a child. Maybe because only the "holiest" of Christians fasted. Maybe because it was required. I don't know where all the shame comes from - but the idea of fasting, of intentionally putting something down to make time and space for God to whisper. That idea stirs my desire to run, to hide, to cower. My view of God is still so warped, especially when it attaches to any kind of spiritual discipline that I grew up with. Too quickly it spirals into feeling guilted for not reading enough Scripture, for not attending enough services, for not serving in children's ministry.
It feels like just about everything connected to my faith it tinged with shame and guilt. It's not how I want it to be. When I get away from religious behaviours, I find freedom and connection with the Divine. In churches, in Bible studies, in public prayer, in Scripture reading I find terror. It would be easier in so many ways to walk away, to throw my hands up in the air and give up. It's exhausting, painful work to keep facing the fear and sharing the shame.
For today I'm choosing to be honest. I'm choosing to not heap judgement and condemnation on myself for where I am at in this journey. Today I choose to honour my journey, to honour my pain and the raw places by lifting off the veils. Today I sit in the ashes of my faith, surrounded by flickering embers and weep for my little girl self. The one who believes she is evil because she is a woman. It was a woman who caused a man to stumble and people have been tripping over her ever since.
I weep for the scars, the white lines that continue to stand witness to my pain and the damage inflicted on my soul. I weep for an identity that was shattered before it was formed, and for the years I've spent scrambling to find, to hold all the pieces together. It wasn't fair, it isn't fair and my heart screams at the injustice of it all.
Here is my shame, it is threaded through so much of my heart. How do I fast from it, when I feel shame that I exist? I don't know. There's less shame than there used to be and maybe for today, for this time that is enough. For today I hold my head up, tears streaming down my face and declare that I am enough.
Inviting Vulnerability For Lent
I'm excited and nervous to be intentionally observing Lent this year. I'm doing it through Brandy's Be e-Course. As part of this journey I've been reflecting on what am I looking for? What's my hope in doing this? Overall my hope is healing. Anything connected to faith is still pain-filled, with the major Christian holidays being things for me to survive. I'm sick of it. At times I want to throw in the towel, stop fighting to hold onto any kind of faith, and quit. On the other hand, my faith is the only thing that is getting me through life right now. It's the only place that I can feel any level of peace or hope. It's my one positive in a sea of struggling.
So I want healing - great, same story, different verse...what would it look like practically? What do I need to pick up or put down that would open myself up for the healing that I'm desperate for?
I've got two things - one to pick up and one to put down. I'm picking up writing publicly, albeit anonymously. I have this love/hate relationship with blogging that results in my abandoning yet another blog out of intense terror as to who is reading it. I grew up in a world where keeping secrets and protecting the family was of the utmost importance. I'm not feeling brave enough to attach my name to my writings, but I have enough courage to write again. I'm going to practice the discipline of writing at least once every day here through Lent, with Sundays being my day off. I want to intentionally practice using my voice, even on the days when all I can do is whisper.
I also need to put something down - Monday through Saturday for the duration of Lent. Even though I'm sober in my food addiction, there are still ways in which food is comfort to me. One of those ways is eating out. It's too easy for me to not binge, but still use food as a comfort, to soothe raw emotions and to cover my vulnerabilities. It's time to let that go, to put it down, to take another step towards trusting that God can be my place of comfort.
I'm excited to see where this journey takes me. I'm excited to be intentional. I'm nervous. I'm great at making plans, but I struggle with the follow through. Discipline was drilled into me for so many years. It's easy to feel like I'm back in the past, fighting for the right to be a person, to hold an opinion, to be me. This though is about intentional seeking. I know it's not going to be easy. My desire to run is already stirring. My prayer is that I can channel that running into a running towards instead of running away.
So I want healing - great, same story, different verse...what would it look like practically? What do I need to pick up or put down that would open myself up for the healing that I'm desperate for?
I've got two things - one to pick up and one to put down. I'm picking up writing publicly, albeit anonymously. I have this love/hate relationship with blogging that results in my abandoning yet another blog out of intense terror as to who is reading it. I grew up in a world where keeping secrets and protecting the family was of the utmost importance. I'm not feeling brave enough to attach my name to my writings, but I have enough courage to write again. I'm going to practice the discipline of writing at least once every day here through Lent, with Sundays being my day off. I want to intentionally practice using my voice, even on the days when all I can do is whisper.
I also need to put something down - Monday through Saturday for the duration of Lent. Even though I'm sober in my food addiction, there are still ways in which food is comfort to me. One of those ways is eating out. It's too easy for me to not binge, but still use food as a comfort, to soothe raw emotions and to cover my vulnerabilities. It's time to let that go, to put it down, to take another step towards trusting that God can be my place of comfort.
I'm excited to see where this journey takes me. I'm excited to be intentional. I'm nervous. I'm great at making plans, but I struggle with the follow through. Discipline was drilled into me for so many years. It's easy to feel like I'm back in the past, fighting for the right to be a person, to hold an opinion, to be me. This though is about intentional seeking. I know it's not going to be easy. My desire to run is already stirring. My prayer is that I can channel that running into a running towards instead of running away.
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