Sunday,
August 4, 2013
12:15
pm
Disclaimer
from the author: I write under a long-ago created pen name
that has no connection to anyone I know. It is a name under which the “real” me could
never be discovered. And I write to save
my very soul. This is raw. This is me.
This is the kind of honestly that one could never get from conversation
with me. This is my vulnerability spelled
out, word for word, and at times, it’s still surface-level vulnerability. If I’ve led you here to read this, I either
know or pray that you would spend the time to fully understand what I’m writing. And to ask me questions if you don’t. And to know that there is so much more but
there are only so many hours in a day…
--from Arm Yourself Against the Enemy’s Schemes
by Beth Moore:
“Beloved,
your feelings of hopelessness and helplessness come straight from the
enemy. They are lies. Surrender yourself to God, withholding
nothing, and ask Him to do what seems impossible. Humble yourself and receive the help He will
send as you seek it. He who called you
is faithful, and He will do it. (See 1
Thess 5:24)
“Everyone described a mental bombardment. Excessive thinking is a clear sign of a
fierce demonic stronghold.”
“So
why does God allow someone with wholehearted devotion to Christ to get caught
in the snare of demonic seduction?
Because, not unlike Peter’s case, something in our lives needs removing,
sifting, or changing that an intense encounter with the kingdom of hell would
best accomplish. ….it is congruent with
Scripture.”
“Beloved,
are you being sifted? Has God permitted
the enemy to launch a full scale attack against you? God knows what He’s doing. He isn’t looking the other way or being mean.
Maybe this is the only way He can get you to attend to the old so He can do
something new. Grab onto Him for
dear life! Give Him full reign to remove
in you anything that needs to go.”
“And,
finally, remember that the Lord is always in charge. You will never face a storm in which He is
not willing to help you. Be encouraged
and sift, Beloved, sift!”
“Beloved,
you cannot get through the restoration process wholly on your own. You need
members of the body of Christ. Our brothers
and sisters in the Lord are partially responsible for our restoration to
Him. Their job is to fervently lift us
up in prayer that we might find healing, freedom, strength, and the
determination to develop hearts and minds dedicated to living under the guard
of God’s Word.”
WHERE I AM
TODAY
I’m
so blessed to still be in this mountain house TODAY - this morning (afternoon already). The wind is blowing, and it’s the first day
there’s been a steady breeze since I arrived.
The occasional sound of chimes ring through my soul. I feel a sense of my mother here today. She would have loved this. Getting up the stairs to where I am would
have been nearly impossible for her, but she would have done it, and she would,
like me, not want to leave. Unlike me,
she would worry about home and getting back there. I thought I’d not gained her immense sense of
worry, but it did finally jump on me.
But
it’s worry that is unnecessary. It’s scriptural
that all worry is unnecessary.
I’m
ready to get back on track with the roles God has given me. Wife.
Mother. Friend. Teacher.
I’ve spent countless days and nights in the past year or so
isolated. Literally under the covers in
my bed. When I wasn’t there, I was awake
in the middle of the night battling insomnia.
But mostly under the covers, blanket over my head, for days on end. Life going on around me. Kids and husband bringing me food occasionally
to the bed. Me, who previously could not
even nap, sleeping endlessly to escape the pain. Literally shrinking and becoming someone unrecognizable
from who I previously was (one positive in the middle of all the negative).
And
when I could not sleep, taking Xanax so that I could. Escape.
Running in place. Not reading. Not communicating. Doing nothing but thinking, even in my
sleep.
The
breeze today is intoxicating. Like it’s
blowing away all the things that need to be blown away. Like standing at the bow of the Titanic, arms
outstretched, regaining my power.
WHO GOD HAS
MADE ME
I
AM powerful. I AM strong. I AM a survivor. I AM brilliant. I AM attractive. I AM engaging. I AM valuable. I AM meant to be on this earth at this
moment. I AM NOT meant to leave this
earth by my own means.
I
have been a wonderful mother and though I have stumbled, I AM working to get
back to where I need to be.
I
AM a wife and though I have stumbled, I am where God wants me to be, and I AM
working to get my heart steadied and committed.
I
AM a gifted and teacher talented like few, and I will survive another year
giving all I have to my students while ignoring the flack and fluff of the
adults around me. I will have my eighth
year of “healing” one of my students. I
will have yet another student test from being intellectually disabled to having
a typical IQ. I’ve done it seven years
in a row, and I’ll do it again.
I
WILL love and encourage the mute to talk.
I will support and love those children who think they cannot do. I will create an environment where school is
inviting, relaxing, fun, and where children are motivated to learn. Where they find the intrinsic value in hard
and steady work. Where they don’t say
or feel defeat unless it is momentary. I
am gifted at my work, and I was created to do what I do. God will handle the obstacles to that. He will not allow me to be hindered.
I
will continue to shine light where it needs to be shown. For in the dark, there is isolation, fear,
and the things that should not go on continue.
Light exposes all things. Makes
all things seen. I will shine that light
fearlessly. I will not ignore or give up
on those causes that have been put in my path.
God put them there because he made my heart. He made it to understand
and feel for the disenfranchised. He
made it to believe that I can heal the sick.
He made it to believe that I have the power to make a difference like no
one else can. He made me to be sensitive
to the civil rights of others. He made
me to be an expert in my area. I am
standing back up. Straightening myself
and holding my head high. And I will do
right when no one else will. I will do
right when others are fearful to do so.
ENCOURAGEMENT
“Don’t
let someone dim your light just because it’s shining in their eyes.” The world does not gain when I shrink. The world gains when I know my worth. When I know the value of my abilities. When I do the right thing no matter the cost.
“After
a while, I looked in the mirror and realized….
Wow, after all those hurts scars, and bruises. After all of those trials, I really made it
through. I did it. I survived that which was supposed to kill
me. So I straightened my crown… and
walked away like a boss.”
“The
real challenge is not to survive. Hell,
anyone can do that. It’s to survive as
yourself, undiminished.” -- Elia Kazan
ASHTON
I
am extraordinary. I AM extraordinary. I AM EXTRAORDINARY. Ashton has told that me at least 50 times. I believed that HE believed that. I could logically look at my accomplishments
as compared to my defeats and see that he would find me to be
extraordinary. The missing factor was
that I did not feel extraordinary myself. Ashton felt it and I appreciated what I felt
was an exceptional compliment. The key
is that I have to accept my own power, my own extraordinary-ness. Otherwise, his words to me are compliments
that wash over me and hold me together until the next time I see him.
He
has held me together for some time now.
Tuesdays have been a gift, a blessing to me. I would not have made it without my time with
him. His generosity, his strength, his absolute
belief in what he says to me, his enjoyment of me, and his willingness to tell
me all that he sees in me and believes has been glue that has held me
together. His fearlessness when my mind
tried to sexualize his commitment to me, and his willingness to forgive and
move on without making me feel so much as a bump in the road from him – I could
not ask for more. What a dear friend he
is. Indeed, I pay him, but I know that
when the time comes (should it ever) that he retires, he is still going to be
there for me. He is still going to be a
rock, a part of my foundation. And even
when he’s gone, the thought of which kills me even now, his gifts to me will
not leave with him. I will hold them
forever and remember him forever and know that I would not be who I am -- I
would possibly not even be here today were it not for him.
I
remember the very moment when he asked me who told me that I was
extraordinary. I stared at him
speechless. I was 46 years old. He pressed on asking who in my past life, in
my childhood, could he talk to who would tell me the moment that I realized
what I was. And I remained speechless with
tears in my eyes.
I
was told that I was extraordinary for the first time in my life by him at that
very moment. Before that, I did not
know. I was unaware. I thought myself to be so very different from
everyone I knew – that others knew a “secret” to life that I had failed to
learn. As my mother said, and Ashton
loves to remind me of this, “Don’t forget that you’re not like those other
people.” She meant it to keep me down,
in my place. She did not know that it
was a prophetic statement.
MY FAULTS
I
have stumbling blocks that I have to either move or learn to step over. I have to learn not to sexualize attention
from all males. Mainly, I have to learn
to discern which men ARE intending and desiring that “sexualization” (I just
made up a word) and which are not. I’ve messed up some potentially good relationships
with that behavior. God, I hate that I
do that. Damn the past and the
circumstances that brought me to behave in that way. Damn them.
I didn’t deserve them. I didn’t ask
for them. I was not responsible for
them. And I will be able to grind my
foot in the face of the devil himself when I get to heaven because of all that
I suffered. I faced the devil himself regularly
as a child from as early as I can remember.
While those who should have known did what was best for them and not for
me.
My
responsibility now, though, is to let go of that and to not allow it to seep
into my current life. Although it was so
long ago, it lives subliminally in my brain (thanks, Lenard Mlodinow). I’ve never let it go. It is a filter through which everything
passes. I don’t know how to let it
go. I don’t know IF I can let it
go. One thing I can do is realize it is
there and that it is false and destructive and I have to fight against it.
God
did bring good from my situation (Genesis 50:20). Several people did what was best
for them and let me suffer at the hands of the devil himself. From that, an extraordinary part of me was
created. The me that does right no
matter the cost. The me that puts children
first. The me that advocates for the
best and the rights for children. The me
that adopted six children. Six broken
children who, like me, can turn their brokenness into a gift to this world.
I
just need the strength to get them to that place.
ED
I
am concerned about a recent relationship that I sexualized. I did it subliminally, unintentionally, but
it does not lessen my responsibility. It
does not lessen my guilt. I’ve
apologized, but I have not had word directly from Ed that he’s accepted my
apology. At least that’s what I’m
feeling. I’m left to talk to Christy,
his office assistant. She’s precious, sweet,
and I so pray for my own embarrassment level that she doesn’t know what has
happened. Or if she does, that she
understands.
But
I mostly pray for Ed to understand me, forgive me, and to trust me again. Without reservation. And to let me know that he does.
My
phone tallies texts up to 400. As
comparisons, I’ve texted 400 times with Rex, Marlee, Elizabeth, and
Robert. Amy is 318. Tasha is 339.
Jo is 63. Ashton, 331. Danni, 230.
Holley, 196. Amanda, 175.
I’ve
texted with Ed 214 times between July 21 and yesterday. Two weeks.
I took comments from him such as, (1) “I’m a night owl” and (2) “I have
enjoyed our conversation. As Leonard
Cohen’s song goes, “when it’s broken, it’s how the light gets in”!”
As
I looked up Leonard Cohen on You Tube, his songs were … sexual in nature in
many ways. Was I being led to view things
through that lens? Was I being encouraged
to do so? The song, “Secret Life” had me
entranced. It was what I was seeking. Being in a situation that, to get out of,
would cause more damage to damaged children is something that does not fit
within me – within who I am. But, late
at night, to hear those words and see those songs – I wanted that.
Also,
(3) “Sometime I will have to tell you about my life’s journey and would like to
hear yours?” (4) And, “Got to go to bed
early. Well, we accomplished a lot.” “I am so tired. Hope to see you tomorrow.” He hoped to see me. Really? He hoped to see me. I hoped to see him as well.
However,
there’s also, “I can’t do that this weekend, already have concrete plans. But in Columbia, it doesn’t have to be a date! (5) We can just relax and I am (sic) still be
the same person. To be honest with you,
I don’t think I would need to put myself in that vulnerable situation even if I
could. (6) However, I can be here for
you being there any way I can.”
The
most honest and wise comment of all, “Vulnerable
to me means you get so emotionally engaged and then you have to come back and
deal with reality and sometimes that does not help of salvage reality.” That is one of the truest statements I’ve
heard recently. But I missed it, or
dismissed it, because I was viewing through my dysfunctional lens.
“You
need all the right support you can get especially with all I hear about your
situation – husband and 5 children? (7) And
I want to be the right support for you to move to another place whatever you
visualize that place to be?”
And
then the offer to rearrange his schedule to have lunch with me. That was
(8). And out of order was a wonderful 35
minute phone call when I HATE to talk on the phone. (9) And the offer for me to come by the office
before coming to the cabin to pick up CDs including Leonard Cohen’s. (10)
Ten
concrete things that I described as an “undeniable connection”. God sent me a gift in a person like Ed, and
there WAS an undeniable connection. But
it was not a sexual one. And he was wise
enough and generous enough not to take advantage of my vulnerability.
So,
I sit here at HIS cabin. I’ve written for
more than two hours now. I’m a writer,
and I’ve lost the ability to write, but I’ve regained it here. It’s a part of how my soul works. It’s how I figure things out. It’s how I figure myself out. It is my only … (oh, the breeze is absolutely
heavenly)…it is my organized way of working things through my brain and making
sense of them.
I
haven’t written since shortly after finding out about Nicholas. What a gift it is to be able to do it again.
I
am fearful that in not moving that DAMN lens that clouds my view I have lost a valuable
friend. I’ve likely scared Ed away. When
I go back to look at the 1 – 10 that I noted above, there’s absolutely nothing
sexual in those actions – in those words.
There’s openness. There’s
connection. There’s a recognition that I
am hurting and in need of nurturing. There’s
evidence of a heart that wants to help others.
There’s generosity. There’s evidence
of the soul of a man who is a genuinely good person. There is evidence that my company and my
conversation is enjoyable. There is
evidence of someone who would not take advantage of me.
Why
would I screw that up when that is what I want?
When that is what I need? When Ed
could be a valuable and dear friend to me and me to him? I have so much to offer as does he. We share a common bailiwick, and we could
make some positive change in the world while we both maintain our current relationships
with our “significant others”.
Dammit! How do I fix that? What do I do to convince him that I “get it”? And I was wrong. And to convince him that in his generosity
and desire to “help” me, he saw firsthand one of my vulnerabilities that is
clearly in need of being extinguished.
In
his generosity, I get another day here at this cabin. I cannot even describe what a gift that is. How much I needed today. How much I’ve needed the past few days to
process through some issues that have locked me up. That have tried to squelch me.
WORK I’VE
DONE WHILE AT THE MOUNTAIN HOUSE
In
the past few days, in my mind, I’ve gone back to my house in Nashville on
Setliff Place. Where I lived alone. Where I was on my own schedule. Where I nested and healed and recovered. Makes me want to redecorate parts of this
house. Rearrange the furniture at
least. And that’s a joke which may not
come across in print.
I
used one of the past few nights to get drunk.
Brought an excellent bottle of cabernet with me that has been waiting on
me in my pantry at home. And I’m a happy
drunk. And I was walking on my tiptoes through
the house, playing Diana Krall on the stereo loudly, feeling like the woman
that I am. Beautiful. Brilliant.
Fun. Engaging. Sultry.
Several
days later, I feel those things without the alcohol. I’ve discovered those traits that Ashton has
been feeding me. I don’t need the
alcohol to go there. And some of those
traits are reserved for my husband.
I’ve
texted Rex about staying this extra day.
He generously understood that I needed to. I told him I want to go to dinner tomorrow
night and talk about getting our relationship back on track. Marlee will keep the kids at her house.
I’ve
been convinced for some time now, at least a year, that he was not the man I
was meant to be with. We’ve been
together for 17 years. Our anniversary is
September 28. We met and were engaged in
less than three weeks. Married in 2 ½ months. And are the parents of six children who need both
of us at our best to get them through their trauma.
I
don’t know that he’s the man I was meant to be with. I sometimes feel as though I was meant to be
alone. But, I’m going to try to revive
this relationship. For the sake of 17
years and six children. If it’s not
possible, Ashton assures me we’ll work it out where everyone will be okay. I don’t want to heap another trauma on top of
the stack my children already have endured.
So what I have to decide is whether or not the trauma is in our
inability to be in a relationship where we are married and living together but
doing it anyway. Or if it’s in
separating and working it out somehow. I
haven’t given it everything I have to try to revive it, and at the least, it
deserves that from me. If my all can’t
fix it, we’ll work it out.
MY PRAYERS,
HOPES, AND WISHES
Two
and ¾ hours have passed since I began writing.
It’s time to rest my mind and turn it toward my “to do” list. But I have some wishes and hopes that I have
to write. That I have to pray.
I
pray that Ed can somehow forgive me in spite of my brokenness. That he can trust me in spite of it and be who
he said he could be to me. And I pray
that somehow he lets me know that so my spirit can rest.
I
pray that my marriage can be restored. I
am tired and do not want to do that which I never planned to do.
I
pray that the strength and peace I’ve gained in this mountain house in these
few days remains with me once I return home.
I
pray that my children, dear God, would become easier to live with.
I
pray that I can shut out the negative from the world and surround myself with
my children and my students and be who God meant me to be.
I
pray that light is shown in the darkness, and that those things that should be
revealed are revealed for the sake of the safety of my children and others.
I
pray that this damn lens that trips me up will shatter.
I
pray that my to do list shortens tremendously.
I
pray that Ed allows me to come to this mountain house again. Right this minute, I don’t think my life will
be as rich or as healthy if I can’t.
I
pray that I win the lottery (note to self:
play the lottery) and Ed would SELL this house to me.
I
pray for internet connectivity in this house.
Lasting internet connectivity.
I
pray that Ashton lives to be 100.
I
pray that the hatchet that I can see on the ground outside the bathroom window
here at this house does not become a real life nightmare before I leave. (What IS a hatchet doing lying outside
anyway?)
I
pray that the hair that was in my food last night at the Chalet Restaurant at
The Little Switzerland Inn was my own.
I
pray that my “Handy Randy” gets the French doors installed as soon as possible
so I can move Rex out of MY office and have the space back to myself. (And I pray for forgiveness for my
selfishness.)
I
pray that I can find an inexpensive landscaper to do some minor work in the
yard to make Rex’s life easier.
I
pray that Rex gets the job with the pay raise that would allow us to install an
in-ground pool. (Oh, dear God, please,
for the sake of family peace and activity and for Rex’s self-esteem.)
I
pray for Robert, Amy, Amanda, Jo, Jeff, Tasha, Marlee, Mitch, Ed, Linda,
Ashton, Danni, William, Elizabeth, Diane, Betsey, Holley, Randy, Audra,
Calandra, John, Rick, and all the people in my life who keep me and my family
afloat and who make my life richer.
I
pray that my extended family is restored and will accept our children as they
are. That they will want to spend time
with them. That they will not try to sow
isolation between me and my father. And
that my father would see their schemes for what they are. And that our relationship would restored as
it was.
I
pray that somehow I can accept that my father has taken up with the… with
Paula. And to learn to tolerate Paula
better than I do. And that if possible,
Paula could find a boyfriend her age and be less of a constant figure in my
father’s life.
I
pray that my son does not tweet ever again and that no one shows up at our house
for the free sex that he offered. And
that I can get the SSI application filled out for Matt. And that we can get him to be more
independent.
I
pray that my daughter will stop her need to control adults (her lens from the past)
and be happy, peaceful, and successful.
I
pray that my son will be closer to normal when he comes out of the hospital.
I
pray that my son will overcome his PTSD from his assaults and realize his
abilities and not be afraid to try to succeed.
I
pray that my son will manage his stress and his outbursts and will have peace
and success.
I
pray that my daughter will realize her intelligence, her Duke Tip Scholar-ness, and
become whatever God intends for her to be.
Because I know he has great plans for her and all of my children.
And
at 3:14, I’m going to get out of my nightgown and into my clothes. And start my day.
Thank
you for this day. In no order, God, Ed,
Marlee, Rex, Ashton, Christy -- all those who made this day alone possible
for me.
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