I’m A Mom

Maybe you can relate–

Do you know who I have to talk to on a daily basis? My kids— one who can on occasion be opinionated while challenging everything I say– makes me feel like I’m the stupidest person on earth because I never know what I am talking about. I have my husband, but he gets busy or involved with his own stuff and doesn’t always even hear me. He tries, but he can’t stop doing his own stuff just because I want someone to talk with and do things with.

Some days it would be nice if I had a friend who didn’t stop talking to me when I start talking about me. Who’s there for *me*, not just me for them. I don’t need problem-solving or advice, I don’t need to be ignored until it’s convenient to talk because something is needed. I need a consistent friend that does not expect me to always initiate or to give until it hurts while agreeing with everything they believe politically/religiously and then wait until they get around to getting back to me after they just drop off texting. Or gets offended and doesn’t value me enough to work things out.

I am far more isolated than most realize or care to know, I guess. But— pay no mind to my irritated rant— I’ll go back into my corner and look at the news–

That’s what I feel like saying sometimes.

I don’t know if this is common, or just me. It’s pretty much always been my life. I think if someone else stepped into my shoes, they would get back out really fast.

My life itself is really good. But that friend issue– it’s a lonely place.

Thankfully when I start to feel sorry for myself, God reminds me that He always provides what I need. I always have just who I need in my life when I need them. Then they move on or get busy with their own lives, or just step back because they don’t much care for me. I’m used to that– life goes on.

I’d be surprised if anyone really does relate.

It would be a nice surprise, though.

The Ego and the Communicator

Have you ever been in situations where people glean off of your success, and get embarrassed by your failures?

Have there been people who change their treatment of you based on your performance or appearance?

Are there those in your life who have attached their ego to their expectation of you, and then communication becomes this one-way street where even if it’s physically impossible you are expected to elevate them? And if you fail– if you try to signal or explain why you are unable to– the transmission of pertinent information is incomplete or ignored?

Most people are allowed– even forgiven– for their mistakes. Most first-world people are afforded the the right to individual successes and respected with reciprocal dialogue.

I bear the scars of being crushed by expectations and egos of others. I’m not sure why that has been the case for me.

I’ve recognized how I’m treated differently when I fall short of getting them some glory versus when I hit that mark head-on.

People exhaust and overwhelm me. I’ve been trying to figure out why that is, and I believe God is opening my eyes to help me break free from unvocalized and unadmitted rejections I’ve experience far too often.

God’s glory is not attached to my perfection when the world’s spotlight singles me out. He’s not embarrassed when I fail, nor is He prideful when I succeed. He is always consistently the same with me, my relationship with Him isn’t affected by me except where I allow it to be. He never moves away or towards me because I perform perfectly or I miss it by any length.

My whole life I’ve born this crushing weight that I have to say things just right, I have to play every note perfectly, I have to openly be supportive, embracing and encouraging of specific people, while being given little– sometimes nothing at all– in return.

While I am hard on myself, I often take cues from the responses and reactions of others to me after I fall short of where they expect me to land. My mistakes and successes somehow get tangled in with the egos, even pride, of others.

I believe God used my very public mistakes yesterday to open my eyes to this so I can begin to walk in freedom from crushing expectations.

I hope He also helps others to start giving me what I need in every situation. I do see a turning point, I just hope I can use that to shed this chain and fetter people have used to attached me to their pride-success balance.

Maybe then people will no longer exhaust and overwhelm me.

Foolhardy Judgement

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How many times do we hear something and jump to a conclusive opinion without actually looking into things for ourselves?

Examples I see everyday are critics of Christianity, political opponents, public school supporters against home educators, race criticizing race, Christian critics of anything secular… I’m sure you can think of many I haven’t listed here, there is an endless supply of judgement that is both uncalled for and unnecessary. But we sure do value our opinions!

I once, many years ago before the internet saturated me with knowledge, said I thought the POW/MIA flag was some sort of American Indian symbol. Of course my husband– then friend– sarcastically corrected me. Yeah– I was that ignorant! He had to tell me that it actually means Prisoner of War/Missing in Action. I was deeply ashamed, but I had never even seen that flag before.

I used to judge table top games, such as Dungeons and Dragons as demonic and evil because Jack Chick made a tract about it that seemed like facts. But, the facts are– it’s nothing more than socially creative story making and acting out the different characters. Sure there are millions of directions it can go– just like any fiction novel. But, I don’t think he wrote a tract about The Lord of the Rings. D&D is so much like that, and Christians miss out because they refuse to investigate what it really is. https://www.chick.com/reading/tracts/0046/0046_01.asp If a person is swayed to leave Christianity because of a game, there are far deeper issues involved. More than likely they never actually gave their lives over to Christ.

Being confronted with my having badly judged a book by its cover woke me up to how easily I can fall into that trap of not looking into things before forming an opinion– judging what I actually know nothing more than the appearance I see.

It shocks me every time I hear people who have never enlisted in the military talk about the military being soldiers at war, killing innocent children with no accountability. That’s actually the opposite of what I’ve known for more than 20 years in military life. I’m sure it would surprise many critics to know military life is like everyday life, but super structured and strict. There is far more accountability in the US military than in any organization– especially of size and scope– in the world throughout history. Certainly far more than in our current government! But, don’t take my word for it, find out for yourself. Do some research, interview military members, Veterans, contractors– even enlist for yourself!

Critics of our military sometimes falsely accuse it as blindly going along with whatever is commanded. Obviously they don’t realize each member has the responsibility to not obey a constitutionally unlawful order. The military is beholden to no person, no political party, no cause. There are core values instilled within each member. Core values unique to Americans and our 1st world allies.

While there is purposeful misinformation out there trying to sway people to specific sides of various issues or keep people from knowing what’s actually going on, there is no excuse for not researching the facts. The easy way is to not challenge sound bites and points of agenda for what we want/hope to be the truth. The responsible way is to dig deeper and find the truth.

For the past 10-12 years I’ve noticed how historical facts are being changed to paint a different picture than actual reality. I’ve seen things disappear off of the internet, I’ve caught the main news sources passing on false information, lying, and even staging events to mislead people watching to trick them into a political point of view or support some cause.

In this day and age of purposeful deception, it’s imperative that we take on some form of an investigative role. No one likes to be fooled, and no one likes to find out they are reacting in a foolhardy way.

From The Darkness Of Despair To Hope: The Future’s Light

I have darkness in my past. In my 20/20 hindsight view, there are things I’ve said and done, parts of who I used to be that I deeply, deeply regret. I was young and foolish, brought up in a culture that never mentioned accountability or conscience, my immaturity and lack of common sense mixed with my world-view of life was self-destructive.

When I look back at the heart of who I used to be I cringe with disdain and distaste– and then I look away, ashamed of the hatred and jealousy that polluted my younger self. I don’t want to see it, except now I can use it to measure how far I’ve traveled from what used to be my expectations and experiences.

Living in the moment, desperately trying to “find myself” and figure out how I “fit” into the world’s big picture, I made so many bad decisions.

I used to blame the bad things that happened to me– some, the things of nightmares and semi-horror stories, some, happenstance of being wrong place-wrong time– for my negative situations, many I had zero control over.

The one constant I had that never faltered was God.

I remember standing at my window as a small child, around 8 years old, crying, watching the kids outside who seemed to have no cares in the world. I remember the feeling of hopelessness drowning my thoughts. I didn’t fit in, I sincerely believed that no one liked me, that I was such a horrible person that my own family hated me.

And then I saw a rainbow.

Suddenly my thoughts and emotions were flooded by 3 words I heard and felt at the same time, from deep within my being- “I love you.”

The darkness that engulfed me that day was pushed out by the bright, warm light of hope– things would get better.

I’ve always believed that was God. Now when I see a rainbow, I know beyond the shadow of any doubt God is reminding me that He loves me– and He keeps His promises.

Fast forward to today, looking into the review mirror of hindsight– God has indeed kept His promises to me. He turned my darkness into light, my mourning into joy, my fear of the unknown into hope for my future.

I remember as a kid trying to imagine what my future would be like. The thing is, I couldn’t have guessed because I hadn’t experienced or seen anything like it. I had dreams of happiness, but I had no picture of what that was except it was full of this warm light. I was afraid to bring children into a world I had been shown pain and abuse from. I lacked faith that my choices could create a different type of future for my offspring. If others walked through what I barely managed to survive, they could understand the lack of hope I was surrounded by, that tried to overtake my inner confidence and boldness to push through to find the good that others seemed to have.

Had I not pushed through that invisible force that was so heavy and thick that tried to hold me down, I never would have left the life I was born into physically, and stepped into the life Hope embraced. I never would have stepped out of the grappling hooks the enemy of my life, of my soul, attempted to try to imprison me with.

God designed me carefully, He put in me what I have needed not only to survive, but to want to survive. Many living in my circumstances and experiences might have given up, and I don’t say that lightly or with no understanding. I was tempted to give up, to let go of that brilliant shard of hope my spirit desperately clung to.

I understand darkness in a way I don’t think many who know me realize.

Thankfully, I also now understand the light of hope even more fully than I remember the darkness that embraced me with its death-grip.

I am undeserving of God’s grace and mercy, but I am so very, very thankful He wrapped me up in it, healing my heart and my mind. An inner strength pushed with a force far beyond my own strength, to get out of the stronghold of that darkness.

I’ve often seen myself as a 50 yard-dasher type– a short-distance runner. I start out strong, and if the distance is short, I finish strong. But, with longer distances I find myself being tempted to stop short. In this rearview-mirrored view, I can see that God has carried me those distances I didn’t have the strength on my own to go, and the view lighted by the hope He planted deep inside of me, has made it far more beautiful than anything my childhood imagination could have dreamed.

I’m maybe halfway, maybe more, through God’s planned distance for my life. I’m greatly anticipating the view through the remainder of hope’s light for my future.

The Oppression of Skepticism

I was right.

God has spoken to my spirit a few times about things over the past 25 years, and I continue to find out that I heard Him correctly. Yet– when I try to step out in faith of what I know my Lord and Savior has shared with me, has led me to pray about, or has warned me about, it amazes me how my brothers and sisters in Christ— some near to my own heart– shut me down. They don’t trust me or believe that God would choose to be active in our– in my— relationship with Him.

They don’t want to hear from God– through me.

Well, I’m not letting people hold me back or push me down any longer.

They can live with their skepticism, I choose to step out in the faith of my amazing, loving, kind God Who leads me in all wisdom, Who increases my understanding, Who gives and increases my discernment.

I blame me for trusting in or relying on the opinions of those around me– for allowing myself to be gauged by people I have believed would listen to God’s Spirit for confirmation rather than skepticize– and I repent from that. Their lack of faith in God’s Spirit for confirmation and trust in my ability to discern my Shepherd’s voice is deeply hurtful.

Deeply.

I’m trusting God to guide my steps forward with new confidence because–

I was right.

A Patchwork Of Memories and Emotions From An Overly Complicated Relationship

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So, I’m sitting here, alone, on the eve of the anniversary of my dad’s death. Hubby is deeply sleeping after a long day at work, the kids are in bed, and I wish I had someone I could just maybe watch a movie with– probably to avoid thinking. There’s no reason why anyone should think I’d need to talk or get my mind off of what seems to be an undercurrent of emotions I really just don’t want to deal with. (It’s going to turn into a flood of tears, and I don’t want to open that gate.)

I don’t think much about my dad anymore.

When I do, there aren’t many emotions involved. We didn’t have any kind of a relationship when he passed on, I hadn’t seen him in years. One of the last times I did see him– he humiliated me, in public and in front of my husband. I mean, horribly humiliated me.

I forgave him. My husband gently told him off, and forgave him. But, it sickened my heart to even see him again.

We had such a complicated relationship. He was mentally ill, before doctors knew what to do to help that. I have begrudged the VA for using him as a guinea pig, but some of that responsibility was his alone. He wouldn’t take the pills prescribed, he used his diagnosis as a crutch– and he was a jerk.

But he was also really funny. There were times he had us laughing until our sides ached.

He was one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and I have met quite a few very smart people! He was a genius with electronics and rigging things.

He had times where he could be really mean. Thankfully those weren’t constant. But, he was unpredictable. And, of course, there was the abuse.

It’s always kind of felt like my dad was dead in some ways. When I think about him, I grieve for the father-daughter relationship I wish we could’ve had. I know there is not one thing I could have done to make things better, so I’m able to move on. There is a diminishing part inside of me that wonders “why?” Why did it have to be me that went through all of that?

Why did I have to have that dad?

And, after all these years, I think I finally know the answer– Because just like that scratchy violin I had as a kid that caused me to practice for hours and hours everyday to overcome that awful, scratchy tone– I had to want to make a better life. I had to actively seek God to make a better path for my future children. My first husband was not that path, he was not someone I would have trusted with children. After that (biblical) divorce (from a non-believer who wanted to leave), I desperately sought God to provide me with a man who would be.

And He did.

But, had I not experienced everything I did, I wouldn’t have known what to work towards.

I sometimes wonder if my life being so full of overwhelming things that I’ve had to push through, if that’s what triggered my body’s reaction with a disease that exhausts me. Physical things, nothing psychosomatic. Fatigue is a reality blood work has confirmed.

Ok, now it’s the actual anniversary of his death.

4 years ago, today.

Remembering is stirring up, I don’t know– I guess emotional dust? Cobwebs? Triggered reminders?

I’ve watched my husband over the years with our daughter, and it’s such a contrast to what I ever knew with my own dad. I grew up terrified, filled with hate and anger– though not anymore. My daughter and my husband laugh and joke, share music, and she has never had to build a protective guard against him for any reason.

I am so, so deeply thankful for that.

I’ve often said it’s been thoroughly healing to watch them interact, and see what I missed out on– yet gives me the opportunity to rejoice that my daughter has not.

Isaiah 61:3 has come to life in my life– “To grant those who mourn in Zion, Giving them a garland instead of ashes, The oil of gladness instead of mourning, The mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting. So they will be called oaks of righteousness, The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.”

Doxology

Your Discomfort Is Not My Responsibility

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When we started dating, my husband, bless his heart, listened to so many stories from my past. He was my true friend– still is. He didn’t live through the same kinds of pain, and maybe he didn’t really want to hear what I was telling him about– but he did. I know he did, because he can still tell me things I told him about back then. He listened, and he remembers.

There are moments when I’m reminded just how separated from most people my experiences have shaped me to be. While I no longer hold onto anger, grudges or the pain of most, those experiences are still very important parts of who I am and why I am the way I am. But– why have I had to have so many of them? I have too much to add to some conversations, and nothing to add to most. Small talk is easier now, but it used to be impossible.

How I wish I didn’t have so much to say about some very difficult things. Most people have one or two, maybe three tough life experiences. If I stopped to count, I could name at least 8– ranging from spirit-breaking to devastating to near-death.

I’ve met very few that could honestly say the same, to the same degree as my own.

This causes me to realize just how alone I really am.

Certain songwriters’ lyrics speak to issues and express feelings I haven’t been able to give my own words to. I was surprised to hear Plumb’s story recently. I thought for sure she must have lived through similar devastating life circumstances to my own, because her words reach down into depths I had forgotten existed in my own past. What she has experienced are not light matters, it just wasn’t what I expected because of the impact her music has had on me. NF is another one that has a few songs that reach the depths of my spirit and my painful past, sometimes so deeply I have to stop listening to it. Through his music, I would guess he’s at a place in his healing that I’ve already passed through in much of mine, so sometimes his lyrics cause me to go back to the negative view of things God has already visited and healed in me.

My point in writing this is– I know I will never “fit in”.  I’m ok with that, now, I just recognize it for what it is. I recognize and I now just accept that if I mention or blog about something that nearly broke me in my past, a rare few stop to listen/read.

They don’t hear what God claims as victory in me.

I think some would rather I stay silent about those uncomfortable things because they don’t have to acknowledge them. Some think I haven’t moved past things if I bring them up. Some feel uncomfortable if others hear.

It happened to me.

It happened. To me.

Don’t they think I feel uncomfortable having to live with those memories, and the shame attached to them?

But– as long as I go out of my way to make everyone else feel comfortable by never mentioning publicly what has been constantly uncomfortable for me– it’s ok. Because they aren’t uncomfortable, and it’s got to be all about me making sure no one feels any discomfort around me because of circumstances outside of my control. That happened. To me.

I try very hard to be gentle in what I share. But to remain silent about it because of the expectations of others feels like I’m being shoved into that box I’m not meant to go into.

The comfort of others is not my responsibility, and it never should have been something anyone has expected me to go out of my way to ensure for others.

The subjects that were the main theme of my past are more than anyone was meant to carry. I’m not carrying that burden of protecting everyone from knowing what happened to me, anymore. That is not my calling. Because to not be upfront about what God has had to do in my life to help me be a normal, functioning woman, is to suppress the glory and praise God alone deserves. The discomfort or embarrassment others experience at hearing about what I have had to survive is not my responsibility.

I’m not going to be silenced by silent or verbal disapproval.

If they care at all about me, they will instead rejoice at what God has done and is still doing in my life– every time I mention it. They would praise and thank God for working unseen from most so that I am still alive, instead of them wishing, maybe, that I weren’t. If someone is embarrassed by something that happened to me because I mention it, the problem is with them, not with me.

People have to know what happened to me so they can praise and thank God for what He did when He rescued me.

And, He has rescued me. More than once.

If you have a broken limb, everyone sees the cast, and most will ask what happened. I’ve had a broken life, and if people were paying attention, they would have seen that. Since the things that broke my spirit are hidden, people want them to remain hidden so they don’t have to be inconvenienced by knowing.

I see that as a problem, never a solution.

That whole #MeToo campaign gave me hope that finally victims would be able to speak out, and be received with hearts of compassion. How disappointing that it’s become a mockery to victims, and I do not mean the fake ones paid to lie to ruin reputations! That needs to be exposed! Where is justice for the real victims of sexual assault? Not the “He said I look pretty.” garbage!

I am a survivor of real sexual abuse, who can claim victory. #MeToo #VictimToVictor #TheTruthHasSetMeFree

Those who don’t want me to speak out can #GetOverIt.