Barricade the road that goes Nowhere

The winter is long and dreary, here in a place where winters are supposed to be just that.

But this winter . . .

. . . this one is different.

In the midst of this winter, I am weary.

Not just any weary, but the weariness and heaviness of a soul trapped and afraid.

As a Christian, it is the sort of weariness I’ve struggled with for two decades, crying out to God, clinging to His leather-covered Word, feeling the stinging, false accusation of “not having enough faith to handle it” creep through my arms and into my chest as once again I wander the desert known to many of us as depression.

Anxiety.

Panic attacks.

Why do I dare blog about such things?

Why lay it all out there for everyone to see?

Because I know, after blogging about it numerous times already, untold numbers of others struggle with the craze and walking-alone-in-the-pitch-black uncertainty of that pesky little neurochemical called seratonin (or lack thereof).

If your soul is weary today . . . if your heart cries out to Him and you feel on the edge . . . know you are not alone. 

Know it is appropriate and necessary and even of the utmost importance to seek help if you cannot climb out of the pit yourself.

Feeling like I was nearing a crisis point a few weeks ago, I did just that. And with the help of friends who are also on this journey and my doctor, I am starting to see the light of day again. (Many online resources are listed in the bottom right corner of this blog page.)

I am starting to lose the fear of leaving my home–literally and figuratively.

I built not one, but three snowmen with my sons yesterday, a task which on other days might seem insurmountable. But yesterday and today, the task morphed into a blessing.

And I am grateful.

So.

Very.

Grateful.

For a husband who loves me.

For friends who care.

For modern medicine.

For God, who knows the depths of our weary souls and helps us find the way to our families, our selves, and Him again. If you doubt God knows how rotten we feel, read the scripture I found below, and know that God knows.

Praise God, He knows!

 ”I’m feeling terrible—I couldn’t feel worse! 

Get me on my feet again. You promised, remember? 

When I told my story, you responded; train me well in your deep wisdom. 

Help me understand these things inside and out so I can ponder your miracle-wonders. 

My sad life’s dilapidated, a falling-down barn; build me up again by your Word. 

Barricade the road that goes Nowhere; grace me with your clear revelation. 

I choose the true road to Somewhere, I post your road signs at every curve and corner. 

I grasp and cling to whatever you tell me; God, don’t let me down! 

I’ll run the course you lay out for me if you’ll just show me how.”

~Psalm 119:25-31, TMV

***This post is also part of the One Word at a Time blog carnival on renewal this week.***

On fear: Pursuing the radical taste of freedom

Yesterday morning, the corner lamp post struggled to choke out light through an unexpected fog covering my neighborhood.

That’s how I feel, I thought. Pinned down by an unforseen clobber of fear, dread and panic attacks.

Pain throbs forth from the marrow of my bones, causing a fear so great at times I’ve been unable to leave my house. I even missed seeing a friend for the first time. She was visiting from Ukraine.

My overwhelming frailty at once angers and breaks my heart.

I don’t know why the resurfacing pain of abuse surprises me.

I guess I thought I’d given it all to God. That my path of healing had finally smoothed to a forever flat road–even slightly downhill–instead of the craggy uphill one I’d been on for years.

Alas, though the Holy Spirit provided a smooth road for a time, it seems I must once again find my hiking shoes; cinch up my crampons and begin another upward trek.

Healing isn’t neat and tidy and complete for incest survivors.

Not much in life is, for that matter.

Sure, moments and seasons come when I smile and function “like everyone else,” and no one would suspect the knives slicing away at my heart. But if you look closely enough, you might see my skin is iridescent with tiny, shattered slivers of my soul.

I’m more solid and pieced together than ever, thanks to God working mightily to restore so much of me.

But I am still broken. Hurting. Weary.

And God feels so far away . . . like a pinpoint of light at the bottom of a hole I keep falling down . . .

. . . and down . . .

. . . and down . . .

. . . but impact . . . touchdown . . . never comes. I claw at the nothingness of air, toward the outstretched, nail-pierced hand of my Savior. And the free-fall of fear makes me suck in my soul, unable to breathe.

So here I am.

Hoisting myself toward the crevice of pain above me. Searching for a foothold. Praying my harness of faith won’t fray and snap. The build-up of lactic acid burns in my thighs, wobbly from ascending this new, unfamiliar–yet too familiar–escarpment.

Why bother? Why not let the foggy blackness envelop me? Why not fall back into the thick, miry arms of depression?

Because I know the radical taste of freedom awaits at the summit of this unexpected bend in my journey. 

And so I begin another climb.

Because the path of healing is out of my control.

But the choice to pursue it is mine.

“When the pretense that the good life is a matter of hard work and fair play is stripped away through victimization, we are faced with the awful fact of how little, if anything, is in our direct control . . . the inability to redirect the family heartache, stop the physical touch of the abuser, or silence hollow screams inside the heart, is a reality endemic to all humankind, but is faced by few. We are all helpless, but only those who have been radically deprived of the inherent freedom to choose and the legitimate desire to redirect that which is wrong will know how truly powerless we are in every endeavor that matters the most to us.

“Powerless is no gift, but the consequences of facing our helplessness, as victims of abuse and even more as sojourners in a world that is not our own, can open the door to new vistas of power and a radical taste of what it means to be free.”

~Dan Allendar, The Wounded Heart

Surviving the Holidays, Part 2 of 4: You are enough!

Welcome back to this little series on surviving the holidays. Whether you’ve experienced tragedy or abuse, holidays are rough.   

The first post discussed the importance of guarding your heart and starting your own traditions, as a means of coping with overwhelming, post traumatic fear and vulnerability.  

"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me."

Today, Stuart Smiley is here to help us through the second topic in this series: worthlessness and inadequacy.  

Abuse survivors have a warped impression of themselves, and others. Self-hatred and worthlessness are caused by actual or implied accusations hurtled at us during and after the abuse:  

“You’re so stupid (bad, ugly, helpless, selfish…”
“You’ll never amount to anything.”
“You can’t survive without me.”
“You wanted it.”
“No-one will believe you. You’re such a liar.”
“You made me do it.”
“Nobody could ever love you.”  

Brainwashed into believing we can’t survive or do anything–let alone celebrate–correctly outside the powerful family circle, building our own traditions feels like trying to walk up an ice-covered hill in smooth-soled shoes.  

” . . . verbal affirmation of self-worth is a valuable tool, however silly it may seem. Another way to build self esteem is to try something new, but easy – again in a safe environment free of criticism and judgment. . . ” –Grace Alexander 

As much peace as I’ve found starting my own family traditions, feelings of inadequacy still creep up and devastate even the most serene, tender moments. If I don’t recognize it early and call it out, the feelings of emptiness turn me into a sucking, nagging, complaining, despairing woman, lashing out at those who love me–and whom I love–most. 

Recognizing and acknowledging these emotions are the first steps in reclaiming your life and potential as a beautiful, unique, and precious child of God . . . . . . and important ingredients for surviving the holidays.  

"It's easier to put on slippers than to carpet the whole world." --Stuart Smalley

Please know I’m not a counselor, and for that reason, I implore you to seek professional help if you have thoughts of self-harm or more serious symptoms of depression. Hotlines and links to other resources are posted at the bottom of this blog. Even your family doctor can help. Don’t be ashamed to seek it, if you need it.   

Otherwise, here are four ideas for immediate application:  

1. Start small. Don’t try to create a Pottery Barn Christmas. Do bake Christmas cookies (slice-&-bake’s are totally cool). Try to catch a snowflake on your tongue.  Light a scented candle. Learn how to knit and be satisfied, even if you only complete a small, slighty-holey dishrag. Read the Christmas story from Luke 1: 26-2:20. Outloud. 

2. Copy your kids. Be on the lookout for what makes your kids smile during this season. Is it a little nativity set they like to arrange and re-arrange? Is it building a fire in the fireplace in the middle of the day–just because? Making a snow angel? Reading The Littlest Angel, The Polar Express or The Christmas Lizard (one of my favorites)? Savor what they savor. Reclaim their joy and make it your own.   

3. Music. Download your all-time favorite Christmas song. Dance to it when no one else is home. Sing the silly Christmas songs with your kids (Alvin and the Chipmunks come to mind. I used to hate them until I watched my kids laugh and love them.) Play instrumental, sentimental Christmas music as you fold laundry and go about your daily activities. Breathe in deeply with your ears. 

4. Help someone less fortunate. Have you ever seen tears well up in a mother’s eyes when you take gifts to a women’s shelter? Seen gratitude melt the wrinkles on a shut-in’s face when you bring them sparkly Christmas cookies? Heard a homeless man choke back tears as you serve him food at a homeless shelter? Other people are hurting all around us. 

We can allow the darkest parts of brokenness overwhelm us in vain, or we can morph it into radiant, healing compassion. 

The choice is yours, this holiday season. 

As the angel Gabriel said to Mary all those years ago, the Lord is with you. Do not be afraid. 

You are beautiful. 

You are enough. 

And you can be free. 

My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. –Luke 1:46-48