On My Way

 I've been on this journey for a while now. And now, I'm one course away from finishing this program. I'm within sight of beginning a career in counselling. 

After I get my credentials from the soon-to-be-opened College of Counselling Therapists of PEI (CCT-PEI), I will be able to call myself a Counselling Therapist. Until then, I will be finishing my studies, applying to obtain my credentials, and searching for an appropriate office from where to provide services.

I feel as though I have started the last leg of my graduate studies journey, and at some point, that last leg becomes the first leg of my second career. 

I have no rose-coloured glasses here. I know it will be difficult. I know I will struggle at first. Most new business owners do. However, I have my training, I have a few people who want me to contact them in the fall of this year (after I get my credentials) and who will be happy to come and see me as paying clients. And I have word of mouth, which in this province is a powerful thing, for good or ... not. 

Plus, I also have the support of family, friends, colleagues, professors, and the most amazing supervisor. That means that if I have a question about anything to do with the counselling business OR about getting myself unstuck as a therapist, I have someone to mentor me. 

Thinking back to when I first started this blog, little did I know then where that journey would lead me. Random events converged to funnel me in to a decision that I initially made as a back-up plan in case I got fired. (At the time Stephen Harper was the prime minister and public servants were in his cross-hairs!) That back-up plan quickly became my ultimate goal, something I lined up for me to walk into after I retired. 

I retired near the end of September 2020, after the pandemic had ravaged the world and we were heading into the second wave. However, since the Emergency Measures Organization had identified counselling as an essential service, I was able to do my practicum at a local church (thanks to Grace Baptist and Pastor Jeff Eastwood and the elders' board!) for the past 7.5 months. The day after tomorrow, I will see my last client as a student.

It all seems so surreal to me. The idea that in six months, I will likely have my own practice and be seeing clients there ... boggles my mind. Six months! 

I have very little idea what lies ahead. The stepping stones of this journey lead to the other side, but what that shore will look like is a mystery to me. All I know is that this is what I was meant to do, what I was made to do. 

And I will relish every moment. Even if I get my feet wet. :D

 

Storm Stayed

This morning, of all mornings when I would have loved to have slept in, I was awake at 5:30. I awoke to the low moan of winter outside our window, rising occasionally into a whistle.

I hate winter. I've made no secret of it. I hate everything about it - except for the fact that it doesn't last all year long where I live. I detest the cold, the wind, the snow, EVERY winter sport or activity, the ice on the windshields, the shoveling, the slippery roads, the ice underfoot, the slush, the slow traffic, the lack of greenery, the short daylight hours, the bulky clothing and ... did I mention the cold? Uggh!! 

"An Old Mountain Shelter Covered with Snow"
Image courtesy of Michal Marcol at www.freedigitalphotos.net

I've learned to survive, of course. I'm Canadian after all. We accommodate. ;) 

I've even learned to find things for which to be grateful in the midst of all this "white stuff" - which technically ... is quite dirty and not something I would want to melt and drink! 

I can be grateful for a warm, safe home, when so many must sleep in dumpsters and on park benches even in this weather. I can be grateful that (for example, today, when there's a blizzard raging outside) all of my loved ones are accounted for, and most are sleeping late! I am pleased that the power is not out - at least not yet - and that even if it does go out, we live in an area that usually can get it going fairly quickly. I can be glad that we knew that this storm was coming and that we had time to stock up on groceries, batteries, and the like. I can be thankful that hubby did my laundry yesterday, that we are on the city water and sewer systems (so we don't have to use a commode anymore!) and that in the fall of 2011, we paid someone to come in and spray-foam (insulate) our furnace room. And finally, I can be very grateful that storms don't last forever. 

That last point is good to remember when I've been hit with the blizzards of life, too - when body-blow after body-blow happens and I feel overwhelmed. "This too shall pass." Or, "The storm doesn't stay." 

At times in my past, I had a tendency to get storm-stayed and lose my way, refusing to emerge from my hiding place. When events would transpire that were distressing for me, I'd hunker down. And these occurrences would pile up! After a while, I'd expect to get those emotional hay-makers, and would interpret everything that happened, not at face value, but by attributing the motive that "they're out to get me." Even the good things were tainted with bitterness. I'd mistrust any good that anyone did for me, wondering what they wanted in return. I'd deflect any kind words, thinking that those who complimented me or were kind to me didn't really mean it, that it was just the polite thing to do ... or that they felt sorry for me. 

When I started to heal on the inside, I started to realize that for decades, in response to years of physical and emotional abuse, I had created an emotional atmosphere within myself that was conducive to many of the negative things I was experiencing, or that I perceived to be happening. Since I expected bad things to happen, that's all I saw, which only deepened my belief that I was somehow under a curse. 

In a sense, I was under a curse. I was stayed - stuck, detained - in the "What next?" mentality, a real "storm magnet." However, as I became more and more free from the effects of those childhood experiences, my self-esteem became more balanced and I was able to find my own identity, and not the one that was tied up in what others thought about me, or how they might want to hurt me. 

In time, and with a great deal of repetition and reinforcement of the "new Judy," I actually began to believe statements like, "Today is a good day, unless I make other plans." And, "Don't let a bad moment turn into a bad day." As I did, and I started to get to know myself and like myself, I dared to believe that others could like me too. It's a process, of course. Part of it is realizing that there are going to be people who won't like me, no matter how hard I try to impress them... and that I don't need to keep chasing after them. It's okay to let go. It's okay to be me and not feel I have to apologize for it. 

I'm still learning those lessons.

So now, when those kinds of storms happen - and they do occasionally - I remind myself that it's okay to protect myself from them, but that they don't last, and I don't need to be stayed by storms beyond the "all clear." And I can remember that, as George of the Jungle said in the 1997 movie, "Something good always happen after."

The soft underbelly

I just finished reading a post by my friend and fellow-blogger Ellie at One Crafty Mother, a post which has spurred me to talk about something that I don't often discuss. Especially not in a public forum.

Here is her challenge:

I want to issue you a challenge.  I want you to think of a moment, or period in your life (maybe it's still happening - even better) where you were feeling shame and vulnerability.  There is a difference between shame and guilt - just to clarify - shame is feeling badly about who you are, guilt is feeling badly for something you've done.   Vulnerability is that feeling we have when we've placed too much power in the opinions of others (oh, if they only knew how _______ I am) and shame and vulnerability feed off each other in very toxic ways.

Once you've identified a time when you have (or are) experiencing shame and vulnerability (almost always accompanied by their evil cousin fear) - I want you to write about it.  If you don't have a blog, crack out pen and paper, or a word document, and just let it pour out.  Try, if you, can, to write about it in narrative form.  Close your eyes, picture yourself in that moment, or in that period of your life, and write it like a story.  Tell the truth, every part of it, especially the little nuggets of shame, fear or guilt you've mentally edited out because thinking about them makes you feel small.

Talk about your inner shame dialogue; what did it tell you? How did it make you feel?  Writing about it - seeing your words out there - will take a lot of the power out of what is, essentially, holding you hostage.  I promise.

I must admit I'm a little daunted.  Especially because the first thing that popped into my head was something that I'm still going through and which I don't see any way out of except through it.  (Wow. That sounds familiar.)  But ... there's something that resonates in me with this concept - that truth makes people free, even if it's not pretty. That ugly things like shame and evil lose their power when brought into the light, when their soft underbelly is exposed.  

So ... here goes.

Many of you know that last fall, I e-published a book about my journey from the bondage of control-freaking and door-mat-itis into a lifestyle of freedom, passion, and purpose. It was a huge deal for me to have made the journey, and I wanted to write about it! 

The response I've received has been rather sporadic, actually - definitely not what I had hoped.  To be sure, I didn't expect to make much money from it; it was something that I wanted to do so that if even one person is helped by it, then it would be worth it. But I had thought I would receive just a smidgen more recognition than the large round of indifference I've gotten.  

Except from one quarter: my birth family and extended family, and anyone who is friends with them.  

For, you see, I did mention a couple of members of my family-of-origin in the book a couple of times.  I did so to highlight the "before" picture and some of the things I went through to be free of the things certain people did and said to me: things which scarred me my whole life long.  I took great care not to make that the focus, though.  I wanted to talk about the "unwrapping" that happened as a result of a day-by-day relationship with God, with myself, and finally with others.  (For more information on the book, see my "About Me" page.)

But by talking about their part in it even once, I broke the cardinal rule that was hammered into my psyche as a child: "What happens here STAYS here - we don't talk about it outside these four walls." 

I found this photo at THIS SITE

The truth about my childhood has always been a source of great shame for me.  I always thought - until I was well into my forties - that if anyone knew that I was abused as a child, they'd not want to have anything to do with me.  I'd lose everything.  Fear had me by the throat.  I thought people would blame me.  I thought that my family would disown me.  I thought that I would never be able to look anyone in the eye again.

But for the most part, people outside of my birth family have been kind, if not just tolerant. And I've experienced a great deal of healing from those traumatic experiences.

Yet, I am still ashamed.  Not for the horrors of what happened to me - God has healed me from that shame - but for telling the truth.  Ashamed for (even though it is the last thing I intended) appearing to be disloyal, ungrateful, vindictive.  For exposing the deception and no longer keeping "our little secret." For being honest ... and being called a liar. For having my motives judged and for not being able to explain to their satisfaction why I would cast such a shadow on the reputation of someone who - to friends and family - is the closest thing to a saint that they've ever seen.  

I wish I could say that it's been resolved. That would be nice, nice and pretty, all tied up in a bow and a "wonderful testimony."  But it hasn't.  This is a process.  I struggle with these feelings of shame, of feeling exposed and vulnerable to what others think, nearly all the time.  There have been many nights - even in the last six months - that I have cried myself to sleep because of the fallout, the pointed fingers, the broken relationships, the constant criticism and the lack of any kind of attempt to understand what I'm trying to accomplish. Grief over lost contact, lost favour, lost relationship, is something I deal with daily. All too often, the weight of shame and the crushing, smothering feelings of loneliness, fear and anxiety overwhelm me. 

I fight to keep in the moment; it is the only way I can survive.
 
I don't know how to get past this wall of misery.  I don't know if I SHOULD get past it.  I don't know if I'm doing any good to anyone - or if secretly I WANT them to suffer.  (Am I really that horrible? How can I ever look at my reflection in the mirror? When will this end? HOW will it end if it does?) 

I don't know.  I really don't.  I have wrestled with saying goodbye for good, with writing them off, with closing the door on that part of my life and never looking back.  

More shame. More vulnerability.  More feeling like I want to crawl into a hole and disappear.  

I am exposing my soft underbelly here - in the hope that shame has a soft underbelly too.  My friend Ellie says that shame and vulnerability hate the truth; they hate compassion.  

I hope so.  I really DO hope so.

When we are wrong

Frequently, when driving, I remind myself to check my mirrors - and I use my rear view mirror twice as much (at least) as I do the side mirrors.  Looking back once in a while lets me know where I am on the road in relation to the other drivers, and alerts me to potential problems of which I might not be aware otherwise.  Knowing where I am helps me make adjustments to compensate for errors - either my own or others' errors - that happen because of inattention or unexpected events. 

It's important to know where we are, if there's anything wrong, or that could go wrong.  And it's important to correct mistakes as soon as possible in order to avoid perpetuating them or making them continue and get worse. 

So it is in life.  

I lived most of my life trying to avoid admitting that I was in the wrong about anything.  I spent a lot of my time trying to protect myself instead of facing my fears and admitting my mistakes.  I never truly apologized for anything, because I'd been taught through example that forgiveness was making excuses for the other person, so I firmly believed that apologizing was giving other people the excuses they would need in order to make what I did "not wrong." 

Likewise, I never truly forgave anyone because either I denied that what they did was wrong ("they had their reasons" and all that) or I refused to forgive, believing that by "forgiving" them, it would be like saying that what they did wasn't hurtful...when it was.

But the last three and a half years has been a learning experience for me.  I discovered that what I had been taught about forgiveness was not correct; in fact, it was the opposite of the truth.  And I learned - by trial and error - how to take responsibility for my own actions.  This was huge for me.  One of the tenets of my new lifestyle since that time is to occasionally check my rear view mirror - and when I am wrong, to promptly admit it.  No excuses, no justifications.  No trying to put a positive spin on it.  Just admit, "Yeah.  I messed up.  I am sorry.  I'll try not to do that again."  

Notice I said "when" I am wrong.  Not "if."  I mess up.  A LOT.  Admitting it does a few things.  First, it forces me to take responsibility for my own actions, and opens me to the possibility of changing how I interact with this or that person. Second, it acknowledges that the other person is hurt.  Sometimes all anyone needs is to know that he or she has been heard, understood, validated.  Third, it paves the way for me to be able more easily to forgive myself (often the hardest one to forgive!) and to move on.  (It could be argued that nobody deserves a second chance, but everybody needs one. Including the person who has erred.)

Also notice another application of the word "when."  What I mean is "as soon as."  When we are in the wrong, even if there is fault on both sides, as soon as we realize that someone else has been injured, that's the time to make it right.  Even if they don't take it well. Even if they don't forgive right away. 

Source of this image

Leaving it alone for a short while might possibly allow someone to stop being angry and be more receptive to an apology.  But leaving it too long (that is, longer than a couple of days) will definitely cause the resentment to fester and make it even harder to reconcile with the person ... perhaps even impossible.  Promptly admitting my error - not only to myself but to the person or people I have wronged - is hard, but it is necessary.  

There is rarely an argument in which only one person is at fault.  But admitting my mistake is not the time to be bringing up the other person's mistake. It's a time to clean up my side of the street, to pick up the mess I made.  It's not about me and my pain; it's about the other person and his or her pain.  "If you are about to make your offering to God," Jesus said, "and you remember that your brother (friend) has something against YOU, leave your gift at the altar. YOU go to him first and be reconciled to him, and THEN come and present your gift."  (Matthew 5:23, 24 - emphasis mine)  That not only clears my conscience, but it just makes good sense in relationships.

It's possible to learn to accept responsibility without wriggling out of it.  It takes guts of course - but it is possible. And truth be told, it's absolutely essential.

Cone of Silence

It was the way things were.  Nobody thought anything of it.  Nobody talked about it, least of all the ones who were the most affected.  And everyone thought that their situation was the same as everyone else's.  We all used the same language when we talked about (or was it around) it - each knew his or her own reality but sadly, nobody else's.  If we'd known, maybe we'd have figured out that something was wrong.  But nobody said a word.  There was a cone of silence around the topic.  We got together, we played catch, we skated on the pond - and we each assumed that the others' lives were just the same as ours.

That's how it went on for so long before the truth came out.

The truth was, someone (and maybe a lot of someones) in our number was a victim of child abuse.  Someone's parent was unable to control his or her anger, and took it out on his or her child.  Often.  And not just physically, but verbally, emotionally. Maybe there was even sexual abuse happening.  The home - supposedly a haven of rest and safety in a scary, mixed-up world - was in fact a war zone.  Except that the enemy lived under the same roof.  And the victim never knew when he or she would be targeted again.  Every time, he or she vowed to him or herself (whether consciously or subconsciously) that once free of this place, nobody would ever be able to push him or her around again. That things would be different. 


Ruled by fear - or anger - or both - the child became an adult and moved out. But the pain, the fear, the anger - these reactions were constantly in the driver's seat.  They controlled the person's behavior so he or she pushed people away or smothered them with either need or caretaking, whichever the case, and the misery never ended.  Like soldiers with PTSD, this child (now an adult) was always on "red alert." The danger was past - but not on the inside.  Relationships were not a safe place.  There was no "off" switch.

Here's the link for this photo

Abuse.  It's an ugly subject, made all the more subjective because of the pain and the stigma associated with it.  Fingers point - more point back.  Children live in denial all their lives and honestly believe they deserved it.  

Nobody deserves it.

And the pain can stop.  But it takes honesty.  Brutal honesty with one's self.  Not just about the self but about the past.  The truth really does set free.  The trick is in untangling the lies and separating their roots, untangling those tendrils of shame from things as they really were.  The cone of silence MUST come off.  Healing can't happen until we start talking about it, exposing it to the light.  If it stays in the dark, it thrives like the monster it is, and gets bigger.  Buried perhaps, but stronger and stronger. The light of truth does dispel the darkness of that network of lies.

That takes time. A LOT of time.  And a lot of help from someone else, someone who's been through it before, someone flesh and blood who can walk alongside as the one who's recovering works through those things.  More importantly, it takes a lot of help from a Power far greater than any human can give.  

I know.  I was one of those kids who played ball and thought everyone's life sucked just like mine.  

And I got help.

Back to the basics

In the last few months I've been noticing some increasingly alarming things happening in my thought life, in my attitudes and in my physical health.

However, I didn't notice the thought life or the attitudes until my physical symptoms started to show up in a big way.  Incredible fatigue, crushing depression, a dread of being with people, especially people at work or church, headaches, joint aches, knots in my stomach when I thought of certain places or people, even my hair and nails drying out.  

It started about six months ago or so, after I was unjustly treated by someone at work. It was a difficult experience.  I felt attacked; I felt bullied. And I eventually confronted the person and we talked it through - and I thought it was resolved.  

About two months ago, though, there were some changes at work that put one more step into the process of what I do.  That step involved the involvement of this same individual. It wasn't long before the same thing started happening that happened last time, only more intensely. It was then that I realized that I hadn't been imagining the personal nature of the attack from the last time; it was real.  And with that realization, it dawned on me that it would keep on happening, over and over with no end in sight. Now, I'm not naïve enough to believe that everyone will like me all the time. However, I do have the right to expect to be treated like a professional.  This is not how I am being treated by this person. Whether real or perceived, this not-being-in-a-safe-place ... can be a cause of a mental illness known as "Adjustment Disorder."

So more and more I started to dread going to work. My confidence in my own abilities was suffering. I felt like I had to compromise my own values to conform to what this person wanted from me.  This I was not prepared to do - yet that old me was still there, wanting to be approved of, needing to not make anybody mad.  

Sick days, even planned holidays became refuges from the mounting stress. On weekends and days off, I'd nap at least two hours during that day, too tired to think or move.  Everything was an effort. My productivity went down at work and at home.  Way down.  I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing.  My memory started to lapse; I'd forget why I was on my way to a particular spot and have to go back to my seat to try to recall what I was thinking before I stood up. And I was so tired all the time.  At work I would catch myself staring into space, in that zoned-out pre-sleep state just before nodding off. It scared me.

One day last week, while researching hypothyroidism (symptoms, causes, treatment) for my work, I read about the most common symptoms and discovered with a start that I had most of them.  So I booked a trip to the doctor, and had my blood tested.  The results came back "normal" today.  Warned by a co-worker that this might not tell the whole story, I decided to pursue this avenue until I was sure I could rule out the possibility of a lower-threshold version of the same thing.  At the same time, I booked an appointment to talk to my counselor and see if there might be something else that is the matter.  

This evening, while visiting a good friend, I was reminded to not give up and also to remember to look after myself first, even if I have to hound my doctor to stay on the case, and even if it means another blood test (yuck) to check for a higher percentage of white blood cells (which would indicate the possibility of leukocytic thyroiditis - which happens when the white blood cells attack the thyroid gland and cause it to slow down the production of thyroxin, a hormone that regulates growth and metabolism).  

Just the basics of self-care - it felt like such a long time since I had done what I needed to do to look after me.  What a tremendous gift.

And this is where I sit now, even as I have dozed off for the fifth time tonight, in gratitude for the reminder that yes, I am worth looking after and that it had better be sooner than later.  A call to my doctor to discuss the test results might prove fruitful especially if he agrees to send me a copy of them.  Whether it turns out to be hypothyroidism or not, I have a difficult conversation I need to prepare myself for - with much prayer - so that I can further reduce my stress and be able to get the rest and peace that I need.  

And I will keep reminding myself of a few important but very basic things which are all too easy to forget when fighting an uphill battle: 
This too shall pass.  
Let Go and Let God.  
And First Things First.

God-whispers

Those unspoken prayers - the ones we don't dare pray but which our hearts cannot help but feel - are the most potent. 

This past weekend, my heart was praying such a prayer.  I was tired.  Bone-tired. Weary. Fed up.  I felt unappreciated, attacked, undervalued, and like I needed to be constantly on my guard.  I'd even taken over a day off last week with symptoms that mimicked a cold - stress-related fatigue was all it was, apparently.  All weekend long I "vegged" and slept when I needed to.  Even with the extra sleep, I was not looking forward to being with people and avoided it until the last possible minute.

So ... I dragged myself to work this morning, dreading another week - yes, I saw the whole week stretching interminably in front of me instead of one day - another week of doing my best only to have it questioned, of pouring my heart and soul into my work only to have someone criticize it.  

As I usually do after an absence, I checked my plants to see if they needed watering.

And I saw a flash of a color I didn't expect - white - nestled among the leaves of my peace lily.  One tiny blossom was starting to emerge from the depths of the plant - a peace lily's quiet way of saying, "I like it here." 

From :
http://www.mybestcanvas.com/detalii_produs/Peace-Lilly-Bud/1323034280

Now, this plant was one with which I had a special affinity.  Once a large and luxurious plant with plenty of foliage and lots of beautiful white blooms, it had slowly become pot-bound and I had to perform surgery on it last summer.  I divided it into four plants and gave three of them away; I kept only one.  It looked so small and alone - in my own mind, a shadow of its former self.

Like I have been feeling of late.  Insignificant, lonely.  Plain.  Overlooked.  Stunted. I wondered if it would ever recover.  Or if my own inner transformation would become visible, if it was only a figment of my imagination.

And then, today.  

I hadn't been expecting the still, small whisper of the Divine.  But as I peered into the depths of the leaves where this small tip of a bud was forming, I heard it.  

"You are not alone.  There is hope." 

Truth Hurts - Lies Hurt More

This evening I was talking to someone who had just found out second-hand about something he should have been told two months ago when it happened.  Yet people kept that information from him, fearing he would be upset. "We were scared of just such a reaction," the person told him when he angrily confronted one of the conspirators.  

Truth, even if it is hard to accept and might not be well received, is still better than withholding it only to have the person find out, and then feel that he or she wasn't considered worthy of the truth to start with. That's the thing about lying.  It speaks of a deep and abiding mistrust of the person being lied to.

People lie - about a great many things - and call it all manner of things.  I know.  I've done it.  I can't promise I will never do it again.  And the justifications abound....

Sparing the person's feelings.
Bending the truth.
Protecting.  (Protecting whom??)
The greater good.
The lesser of two evils.
Withholding information. 
White lies.
Fibbing.
Joking. 

Even more damaging are the lies we tell ourselves about either our own behavior or someone else's.  

He didn't mean it.
She's not really like that. 
I'm not controlling.  I'm concerned. 
I'm not manipulating.  I'm just pointing out the facts. 
I'm not playing the victim.  I AM one.  

When we start telling the truth, to ourselves first and then to others, it is no guarantee that we'll never be hurt.  Truth does hurt sometimes.  But it is more damaging to lie - or to be lied to - than to live in an atmosphere of honesty. 

Withholding the truth from someone just because we are uncomfortable with confrontation does a disservice to both parties.  It leaves us with a fear of being found out - and trust me, it WILL be found out - and it leaves the other person with a deep and abiding sense of betrayal.  Betrayal is inviting the spectre of death into a relationship.  It takes a very long time to recover from it.  Some never recover.  Never.  

Telling someone a hard truth should never bring us pleasure.  I say again, if we take secret delight in telling someone some truth that will make them sad, or hurt, or uncomfortable, or angry, then we are not operating in love, and we will be held accountable.  Yet on the other hand, the fear of negative repercussions from someone that loves us or whom we love is not reason enough to lie to that person.

Relationships are messy.  Life - and truth - is sometimes hard.  
We owe it to each other to be lovingly and graciously honest.

Learning to trust

For some reason at this time of year, I start thinking about simple trust... how it's learned... how it's unlearned... how it grows... how quickly it can be broken.  

Maybe it's all the focus on little children at this time of year : starry-eyed children hyped up on their unfettered belief in a magical elf who will make all their dreams come true - but only if they're good.  It almost makes that rotund, red-suited gnome sound like an adult's most effective tool of manipulation and control of the little people's behavior.  Something to make parents' lives easier, give them a bit of rest and relief from the inexhaustible need represented by their children, compounded by the shortened daylight hours and the ever-increasing cold weather which keeps them indoors for more hours per day.

Source (via Google Images) :
http://atrustingchild.blogspot.com/2011/01/
some-quotes-for-best-fathers.html

The question of Santa aside - for that is only one question among many trust or faith-based questions - when do we first learn to trust?  Some psychologists tell us that this happens before age two. To a certain extent, I would agree.  The foundation of trust (or mistrust!) is built then.  

After that, all the events that happen are erected on the foundation that was laid in the first two years, and they pass through the pre-set filter of whether the child trusts his parents, his siblings, his relatives ... and his world ... or not.  

Betrayed trust is the most devastating and difficult to restore.  Some never can learn to trust again once they have been lied to.  I've seen this happen over and over again.  

One lie.  That's all it takes.  

One lie perpetuated, nurtured, covered by other lies to protect its 'validity' - and then discovered (for it WILL be discovered eventually) - can destroy decades of trust built up.  Worst, it can cause the one so deceived, to mistrust everything that the liar says from that point onward - and backward in time.  In other words, lie to me and I not only don't trust anything you say from now on, I won't trust anything you have ever told me.  

Now multiply that sentiment by a factor of at least five - for a child who has been lied to.  Double it for every decade as that child grows up - mistrust multiplied by mistrust until everything that anyone says is suspect.

So what if you're that child?  How many times have you been lied to?  Is it possible to trust again?  

Learning to trust again is a slow process, but it is possible.  Whether a person can learn to trust the one who has lied ... depends in large part on whether the one who lied is willing to change.  If he or she isn't, it's time to walk away.  But learning to trust in general is possible with one basic element at the core.

Truth.  

Speaking truth to the inner person, refusing to believe the lies of the past that drummed their way into the psyche, replacing those false statements with true statements, this is the way - albeit slow and potentially torturous at times - to healing and faith.  No sugar-coating.  "Yes, this was wrong." (Not, "He/ she meant well.")  And so forth.  Acknowledging the wrongness gives us permission to be outraged, to admit the hurt.  

And it helps us - strange as it may seem - to gradually move on to a place of real forgiveness and compassion.

Thanks - in spite of's

This is day six of fourteen.

I am thankful and grateful for the things that remain true no matter what.  Here are some examples.

The sun is always there in spite of how many clouds or raindrops are in the way.

Time passes at the same rate whether it seems like it or not.  

God loves me - even when I don't. 

My children will forgive me if I ask them - in spite of how badly I've screwed up and done it wrong.  

My friends care about me even if they could care less about some of the stuff I consider important.  

I can always count on God to be listening whenever I call out to Him, no matter what time of day or night or how unimportant the subject matter might seem.  I'm so thankful He doesn't need sleep.  

No matter how rotten a day I am having, I can find something - even a small thing like a green traffic light - for which to be thankful.  If I look.  

My husband loves me with all his heart, even when I drive him nuts with my messiness and other annoying little habits.  

Even though he's gone now, I will always be Daddy's little girl, and I know he is proud of me.  

As long as I am committed to being who I am without compromising, I am happier - in spite of the circumstances - than I ever was when I tried to be someone else just to please someone else.

Timorous audacity

"Be yourself.  Everyone else is taken." - - Oscar Wilde  

Everyone I know extols the merits of being oneself.  Everyone.  Yet for some strange reason, perhaps because I've put on so many masks in my life myself, or because I never even knew who I was until recently (so how could I have been myself?) I am not sure - with rare exceptions - whether what people show me of themselves is the real them.  

Sometimes I'm not even sure that the person I am showing others is the real me either.  I think that it more closely resembles the real me than it ever did, but I'm not sure that I'm brave enough to be who I really am with no pretense at all.  Part of that is because there's still a part of me that is scared that if people got to know the real me, they wouldn't like me.  Or they'd judge me.  

I base it on past experience where I voiced my opinion and got judged and/or attacked verbally. Immediately. By people I mistakenly thought I could trust because we shared the same beliefs.  But that's another question for another time.   

So these days, what I'm aiming for is a state of audacity - a bold disregard for convention (otherwise known as 'what others think') when convention - or conventional thinking - smacks of hypocrisy and superficiality.  Putting on that plastic smile and pretending everything is okay.  Some days, everything IS okay.  And some days, it isn't.  I'm getting so I refuse to say I'm "great" when I am just "okay" - and believe me - "okay" is a whole lot better than I was when I was pretending and saying "great."

Yet I'm being audacious in fear and trembling, knowing that the most dangerous person to a system that is built on appearances is someone who is real.  Therefore, that person becomes a target for even more judgment and attack.  Hence, the title of this post : timorous audacity.  Timorous meaning timid, hesitant, shaking-in-my-boots.  Especially for someone who has built her whole life on doing whatever it takes to keep on "being liked." 

God has brought me so far; I've grown so much in the last two and a half years.  And I'm coming to realize that less and less am I concerned with what people will think, and more and more with whether I'm being true to myself.  

The audacity.

Case Dismissed

I was just reading about a program in the state of Ohio where people who surrender to the authorities for outstanding warrants for misdemeanors were guaranteed leniency - that is, that in most cases (unless the crime involved violence) the people would not go to jail and not even have a criminal record - their case would be processed and dismissed.  It's an interesting article. You can read it HERE. 

One of the things about the story grabbed my attention.  It was that people started lining up outside the courtroom where these crimes were to be granted leniency TWO HOURS in advance.  People were lining up, in essence admitting their guilt ... to be forgiven.  

I've also been reading some blog posts about famous people in the news who for one reason or other are notorious.  Casey Anthony.  Mike Tyson.  The question these bloggers have posed is whether these folks deserve a second chance - whether their readers would give them one.  Everyone seems to think that it would be hard but yes, they would give these people a second chance.  Everyone deserves one, or so the saying goes. 

Which is fine and well, because these are people you and I probably would never meet anyway.  

But what if it's someone you know, someone you used to trust?  What if it's something that touched your life personally, deeply?  What if it was something you couldn't escape with distance, with anonymity, with religious platitudes because that person was "in your face" every day?  How would it be then?  

Source of this photo:
http://fallenpastor.wordpress.com/
2011/03/01/why-churches-arent-growing-
transparency-and-the-fallen-church/

And I'll get a little closer to home for my fellow-Christians, because we are really good at expecting less of non-believers than we expect of ourselves.  

What if ... what if it was a fellow church member? your Sunday School teacher?  a pastor?  a worship leader?  the person you see every Sunday in the next pew? What if you found out that there was a moral failure, an addiction?  What if that person stood at the front of the church on a Sunday morning and admitted it publicly, and not only admitted it, but said that they were having a difficult time giving it (whatever "it" is) up?  What would happen then?  

You see, this is the other half of grace.  This is the part where we find out if all those messages about forgiveness and love really make a difference.  I know people in the Christian community who have been brave enough to risk being ostracized just to stop playing church and be "real" - the response from the next pew has been anything from leaving the church in disgust or at least shunning the person socially ... to forgiving and embracing the one who is struggling, loving the person through the process of restoration.  

Believers are just as much in need of grace and forgiveness as those who are not.  I'm not exactly sure where we got the idea that we're supposed to be 'better' than everyone else.   

If I were a betting person, I would wager that if people who attend church could be guaranteed that their fellow church members would say, "Case Dismissed" if they were to be open and honest about their inner lives and struggles - there would probably be a whole lot more people willing to talk about them.  

In fact, they might even line up.

Serenity - Courage - Wisdom ... part three

"God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference." 

I was reading in a daily devotional book this morning; the topic was on watching where you go - something about paying attention to your path.  But it was a verse shortly before that which caught my attention most.  It also happens to be one of my favorite ones in this healing process I call 'recovery' - which is simply another word for 'restored sanity'.  It said, "Above all, guard your heart, for out of it flow the well-springs of life." (Proverbs 4:23)   

(I think I've said before that) I used to think this meant that my heart had to be watched like a hawk, because it couldn't be trusted as far as I could throw a Mack truck.  But it doesn't mean that at all.  It means that my most important relationships are the ones I have with God and with myself (both out of which flow my relationships with others).  It means that only in right relationship with God and with myself (and it is essential to have a nurturing relationship with oneself) can those daily paths be attended to, the ones Solomon told his son to pay attention to.  

"The Creation of Man" detail (God's hand is on the right, man's
on the left) - Michelangelo, Sistine Chapel ceiling 
Source of the image above:
http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/rayortlund/2011/03/28/
depending-solely-on-god/

It boils right down to this.  Wisdom to know the difference between the things I can't change and the things I can ... has only come for me with a dedicated focus on my relationship with God, and a commitment to know myself as I truly am, not as others have painted me.  

It's in daily dependence on God.  I believe that this is the only "dependency relationship" that is healthy because it is the only one humans were created for.  The more time I spend with Him, the more grateful I am for His presence. The more I value His opinion and am aware of how much He loves me, the more I want to honour Him in all things. The more I depend on Him, the better I'm able to see what's true, right, and honest, and when I'm just deceiving myself.

He lets me know He is there.  Sometimes in the smallest of ways.  But when I am living in a "God-conscious" state of mind, nearly everything reminds me of His presence, His power to transform, His love.  He even reminds me to take care of myself when I need to do that (and of course, part of that self-care involves keeping my contact with Him close).  When I don't, there's a nameless feeling of uneasiness that creeps in, and sometimes it takes several hours, days, even weeks to pinpoint.  

Sometimes I even have had to be told by caring and loving friends that I am not "myself" lately.  (That's still a new experience for me, because up until a couple of years ago I didn't even know who "myself" was!!)  At such times I look first to that vertical plumb-line and see, yes, it's been shifted off centre and I need to be still and let Him come to the middle - my middle - the centre of who I am.  The less I do (in the sense of frantically trying to please Him with what I do) and the more I allow myself to be (that is, resting in His love, His grace, His power) the more 'opportunities' open up for me to share what He has done in me, and communicate that (or even a part of that) to someone who asks. 

Which reminds me.  I've discovered, in my Christian faith, that if I am not BEing, I might as well not DO anything because it will backfire. Every time. When I am living in daily and intimate relationship with God, it shows in my attitudes toward work, family, friends, leisure, ... everything.  He fills me up with an awareness of Him being with me - and in me.  Out of that automatically flows opportunities to be there, to be a friend, to be a conduit of healing and mercy to the most unexpected (and unexpecting!) of recipients - and for that I can't take one bit of credit.  Nor would I try.

God sets it up, He orchestrates the whole thing, and I'm simply left in awe of how He does it...  I'm just glad to occasionally be there when He does.

Counter it

I got a call on my cell phone last night at a time when I was with my whole family. Since they're the only ones who know my number, I was suspicious but I answered anyway.  I was told by an operator that there was an important message for me and to please hold while they put the party through.  Then I heard a sound I had heard before:  the "shoving off" horn of an ocean liner.  

I hung up.  It was an unwanted message trying to sell me a cruise.  First, I don't do business over the phone where I would have to give my credit card number over the phone lines, and second, water is for washing and drinking, and that is all.  Asking me to go on a cruise is kind of like asking someone with a fear of heights to go skydiving.  Hello....

I get other unwanted messages too sometimes.  Those voices, sometimes in a whisper, sometimes full-throated and nearly deafening, still nag away at me from the inside, based on messages I got and believed when I was a child.  You're not welcome here.  Get out of my face.  What you do isn't good enough.  Why can't you be more like ___?  You're weird.  You'll never amount to anything.  Nobody will ever want to spend time with you.  Those messages - some of which I never even heard verbally but picked up on through non-verbal cues - sometimes won't stop.  They were so much a part of my psyche that I thought that I was thinking those thoughts.  Then when I identified the real voices behind them, I realized that not only were they not mine, they weren't true either.  Yet I'd believed them for such a long time that I didn't know quite how to get rid of them.

Until I was told to counter the messages with other ones that were true.  You are special.  You do have something to offer.  The abuse was NOT your fault.  People can like you just the way you are.  You don't have to bend over backward just so people will spend time with you.  You can be free.  You have unique gifts and talents.  You are already important to so many people.  You do not have to accept criticism or belittlement from anyone.  You don't have to assume responsibility for the bad decisions of other people.  You can let go of the shame.  

These messages, and more, were things I had to tell myself at least once, and more like 4 or 5 times, per DAY at first.  The self I was telling these things to was not my present self but the child-self that still peeked out of the closet wondering if the angry person that was just in there beating her was still angry or if it was safe to come out.  The one who convinced herself that it was safe, only to be criticized, belittled, and mocked over and over again by people who were themselves criticized, belittled and mocked by their parents.  I was so tired of that cycle and I was very motivated to be the generation where it started stopping: to not perpetuate onto future generations the horror and the pain of never knowing what words would set off an emotional land mine.  

When I look back at the way things were before, and compare them to now, I do see a marked difference inside. Yet the condemning voice still comes to me. Frequently.  It creeps in unawares sometimes.  I still need to watch for it, to counter it with truthful affirmations, and I still need to back that up with actions that tell me that I am worth spending time on, that I do have value even if nobody sees it at the moment, that I can be free of the slough of despair, and that I can rise to beauty and victory through truth in the innermost part.

The genuine article

Lately I've been fighting a battle of identity.  My account at facebook was made the subject of (as far as I can tell) a shape-shifter who goes from account to account posing as someone's friend (by stealing that profile pic) and getting the person to confirm a friend request.  Then he or she assumes that person's identity and does the same thing.  They do it to phish for email addresses and to send the individuals involved scams (like go to such and such website cuz they're giving away money...) 

from
http://www.underconsideration.com/speakup/archives/002094.html

Scary.

Some folks gave me some feedback on how they knew which person was the real me.  My daughter said she saw herself listed on my wall as my daughter.  Not on the impostor's.  Others knew me well enough to know the difference.  Which makes sense of course.  People who work in banks are trained to spot a counterfeit not by studying all the tricks of counterfeiters but by studying the real article, being familiar with real money so that they can spot a fake!  

It's that way with everything.  Knowing what's real protects against the fake.  However, if you've never known the real thing, you don't know you're using a counterfeit until the real thing actually really does come along.  This is true in money, honesty, integrity, love, faith, hope, and relationship with people - including God, yourself, and others.  But once you've experienced the genuine article, the counterfeit looks more and more second-rate.  And you wouldn't ever go back to the way things were.

I sure wouldn't.

How many times...

I found myself thinking of an old LDS commercial from the 1980s tonight - one that never failed to sicken and sadden me.  Two scenes from it come to mind.  The first is a boy coming through the door all excited yelling, "Hey Dad!  I got an 'A' !!" and an off-staged dad's voice saying, "How many times have I told you never to slam that door?"  Similarly, the next scene is of a girl flushed with success, wiping her hands on a dish towel, saying, "Hey Mom - I washed the dishes!"  And a woman's voice comes on and says, "Did you clean the sink?"

Source:
http://www.rainbow-project.org/mh/boost-your-self-esteem

I remember vividly the soul-crushing feeling of having accomplishments ignored and generosity trampled by unthinking comments like that.  

They engendered beliefs about myself - false beliefs that I had to counter with the truth.  In my own journey of recovery from abuse and other issues, I found that I actually had to be the parent to that small, insecure child inside of me - to tell her that I was proud of her, to tell her that what she did mattered.

The false beliefs sounded something like this:   Nothing I ever do is good enough.  What I think and how I feel doesn't matter.  I don't have the right to have feelings - my feelings are wrong and can't be trusted.  I am not worth anything, I should never have been born.  The world would be a better place if I wasn't here.  I always screw up.  Everything I touch gets ruined.  I don't deserve to enjoy myself.  Nobody will ever want me as a friend, a wife.  

Quite a downer, eh.  But I truly believed those things and they came from things that grown-ups (and others I looked up to) said to me, the way they behaved toward me.  

So - I countered the lies (for that is what they were) with the truth.  I am valuable.  I have intrinsic value to God, to other people.  People can like me for who I am.  I can make an important contribution. I am capable.  I can trust my own feelings and have the right to feel them.  I don't have to prove anything to anyone.  What I do is good enough.  I am loved, and lovable.  

It took many repetitions over several months, and catching myself at telling myself the old lies, stopping in mid-thought, and countering with these new truths, before the insecure child that was me started to believe the truths and begin to mature the right way.  I'm living proof that the truth will make you free, but also that it will create you - recreate you. 

Faking it - Part 1

When I was 48 I didn't like who I was.

Well, at least I didn't like the person I had become.  I didn't know who I REALLY was.  I don't think I ever knew because that realness was stolen from me when I was growing up.  I think a lot of people have had it stolen from them too, without realizing it.  I know I didn't realize it for most of my life.

I guess it really starts when we're babies.  A baby's cry is designed to motivate a parent to stop what's causing the crying.  Babies' feelings seem to be so fleeting that we think that they are a blank slate - who hasn't distracted a baby from fussing by just getting in front of them and giving the baby a big wide smile, an open-mouthed look of delight.  Gurgles and coos follow - and the myth is born.  If we don't like the way someone feels, we can change it.

Hm.  I have to wonder why we are uncomfortable with the way someone feels in the first place.  Whatever the reason, whether selfishness, helplessness or a desire to make another person into a carbon copy of yourself, "being real" is not seen as valuable.  We've bought into the notion that it's better to "fake it" and fit in rather than to be real and stand out.

I'll show you what I mean.  Here are a list of things I and others have heard growing up - why the adult really says them and what they mean to the child who hears them.

If you don't stop screwing up your face like that, it'll freeze that way.

The adult feels: I'm tired of listening to you cry. (or) I'm uncomfortable with your pain and I feel helpless to stop it for you. (or) I'm too lazy to figure out why you are crying - I just want it to stop. (there are other reasons).

The child hears - Your feelings aren't important to me  (or) You'll always be sad. (or) Being sad is unacceptable; you aren't allowed to feel what you feel (or) Be afraid of being ugly. (there are others).

[after your sister breaks your favorite toy and you say you hate her] Of course you don't hate your sister! You love your sister!  Now go give your sister a hug!
The adult feels: - I can't stand conflict (or) I just want everyone to get along with each other (or) My children should be perfect and that's what they're going to be if it's the last thing I do! (there are others).

The child hears: - You aren't smart enough to know how you feel (or) I don't care about why you are angry with your sister, just get out of my face (or) good people don't ever have bad feelings - so you are a bad person (or) your feelings are secondary to everyone else's (there are others).

If you don't stop that crying I'll give you something to cry about!

The adult feels: irritated and/or annoyed that the grieving takes longer than expected (or) helpless to fix the problem so resorts to threats (or) wounded pride that any child of theirs couldn't "suck it up" and "take it like a man" - (there are others)

The child hears:  Expressing your feelings is always a bad thing and if you don't hold it in, something way worse is going to happen to you (or) I don't want to take the time to find out why you are crying because I don't love you (or) I don't care about you or how you feel; what I'm doing is more important than you are (there are others).

You just wait until your father (or mother) gets home - are you ever going to get it!

The adult feels:  I can't deal with this right now (or) I am afraid I'm going to hurt you (or) the anger I feel toward you justifies someone who is better at inflicting pain than I am (or) I just want you to behave and get out of my hair, so I'll use this threat - it's worked before (there are others)


The child hears: I don't want you, and Daddy (Mommy) won't want you either when (s)he learns what you've done [love is dependent on what people do, not who they are] (or) you're such a bad person that I'm going to be mad at you all day long for what you did/said and then the other parent will be mad at you too (or) You better be scared - the right response is living in terror of punishment for what you've done and nobody could forgive you for this  (there are others).


So early on, we learn to fake it.  To hide our true feelings and so hide from ourselves. Many of us pride ourselves on nothing getting to us. (How sick and dysfunctional is that...?)  We shove those feelings deep inside of us and we refuse to acknowledge that they even exist.  The problem is, if we do it long enough, we not only choke out the "negative" feelings, but we kill the ability to experience the "positive" ones too: joy, happiness, peace, love.

We even make doctrines out of faking it.  Yeah, really!!  We believe - in error - that being realistic is being pessimistic and that telling the truth is "not speaking in faith."  

And then we wonder why we're so lonely, so depressed, feeling unappreciated and abandoned.  

It's because we are.

That's where I was up until the time I was 48 years old.  The child in me that was alone and friendless, who didn't know how to come out of her prison, sat in the darkness in fear and despair... and waited to be set free.  She was tired of running into walls, tripping and falling down, all from trying to do it on her own.  It had been so long since she had spoken that she thought she didn't have a voice left.

Thank God that He hears the smallest whisper.

Living Dangerously

I was reading a blog post recommended by a friend, which talked about the Christian response to tragedy and to stories where it seems that justice has prevailed... and whether it's really Christian or not.

If you want to read it, click here.  

That got me to thinking about one of my pet peeves about just about every sermon I have ever heard.  It's all about what we SHOULD be doing, never about how to get there.  The final result - that of reacting in love and forgiveness when atrocities happen - is not a product of what WE are doing or what we should be doing.  It is a result of God's passionate love for us.  When we start to understand just how deep, how wide, how high His love is for us, we start to live in gratitude for that, to want to spend time with Him.  The more time we spend with Him the more we will value those things which He embodies - truth, mercy, love, integrity.

For a Christian who is tired of playing church, experiencing God is primary to everything else - not just facts about God (and especially not facts about Him so that we can club people over the head who don't believe the same facts we do). 

Being aware of His presence, soaking and joying in it, is transformational, the source of all kinds of behaviors of which we are incapable on our own.  The sense of His presence, the belief that He loves us, ... that alone provides the strength to accomplish all those altruistic actions we read about - people forgiving those who have committed atrocities against them.

Such actions are not the goal.  They are the outflow.  Such a life (lived, as I've mentioned before, from the inside out) is dangerous to just about everyone I've ever met who was all about following the rules to earn some sort of eternal reward.  

A life lived totally from the experience of God's presence has no need for rules because it flows directly from His character.  Life lived on that kind of an edge cannot be described by anyone as religious (a.k.a dead).  It's the kind of abundant life that Jesus led - radically relational.

It's also the only life I've found that has any joy in it.

Roots of Religion

I am taking a real risk here.

I know so very many adults with deeply ingrained trust issues.  I count myself among them still.  I'm not sure if I can count on people, or even on God.

I think it starts when we're little.

Our parents, wanting to control our behavior - to give us some sort of motivation for "being good" - tell us that if we aren't good, this or that fictitious character won't come to give us presents, or money, or easter eggs.  External motivations for good behavior amount to one thing and one thing only:  RELIGION.  Dress it up any way you like it, it's either earning brownie points, or it's behaving in such a way as to avoid punishment.  And ... it's wrong.  Because once the myth is exposed - and it is ALWAYS exposed - then the young heart learns that trusting in something or someone hurts in the end.  And it hurts a LOT.

Yes, even the "Christian" myth.  Oh I can hear you now - Christianity isn't a myth.  I know that.  But we Christians have made it into a religion - and religion is candy-coated myth.  What I mean is that we have made what is supposed to be a relationship with God into something that has to do with doing all the right things, saying all the right words, in order to either gain brownie points with God (so He'll do what we want Him to do) or to avoid getting slammed by Him (i.e., to avoid being punished.)  

If that is all there is to it, count me out.  

Thankfully though, I've been learning that that's not what it's about at all.  It's about a relationship built on His love, and our gratitude and trust.

Telling children that something that's make-believe is real ... is lying to them, setting them up to be hurt, and setting parents up to be mistrusted down the road.  I know it's "magical" to see their eyes light up - but is that really worth it to risk crushing their spirits later on?  Can we not make "behaving" about pleasing a loving someone (i.e., the parent) that they are in a relationship with? Would it kill us to build that relationship with our kids instead of relying on a fantasy to keep them in line?

I'm not saying we can't teach our kids about Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, or the Easter Bunny.  I'm saying that we can tell them that it's a story that is fun to pretend about.  Like a game they pretend about in the back yard.  That way, when we tell them that God is real and we live in relationship with Him so they can see it, they'll be able to tell the difference ... and be able to trust.