When my baby sister was five, we were playing tag in my parents' house. I chased her around the kitchen, which had two openings, one to the hall and one to the dinning room. The hall and the dinning room were connected as well, making a perfect loop for our game of chase. We were laughing and all was well until my sister ran into the wall head first, and then ran to her room. I was yelling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," and chasing her still. My eldest sister was baby siting us for the first time while my third sister was away with my mom and her best friend celebrating her birthday in January. As my baby sister went to put her head on the pillow, I said, "Stop, you're bleeding." We took her into the kitchen, where my eldest sister and I became very adult. My eldest sister called everyone on the emergency list for help, and I cleaned the blood up and applied pressure to it. I think I was ten years old. We got a hold of help, my baby sister got her stitches, and my eldest sister and I had to convince my mom it wasn't a joke when she came through the door an hour later. (Cell phones would have changed the whole story.)
When crisis happens in my life, I am very good at dealing with it. I always have been. It's a good thing too. There have been a lot of crisis's in my life. It's only after the trauma subsides that I am left shaking, crying, and unable to cope any longer. I think paramedics term it shock. Once I know I am safe, I am able to start dealing with things instead of responding in the appropriate manner. In a way, this dichotomy has always lived inside of me. I am the carefree spirit until things go wrong, and then I am going to fix them as best I can. I will deal with the feelings later, privately, when I feel safe enough to grieve, to breathe, to know that no one else is in danger.
On Saturday night, I finally felt safe enough to cry about the abuse in my past and how it has shaped the way I look at things and respond to people romantically. I don't think I've ever had a completely healthy romantic relationship. This saddens me because it's the most important thing to me. My view of love, sex, marriage has been shaped by abuse. I finally made an appointment to see someone to talk it out and try to get healthy, but it terrifies me at the same time. I don't want to think about it, but I can't stop thinking about it. I'm not ready to pursue a career after graduation because I don't want to bring my issues with me into my professional life. First impressions are hard to change, and once you have a reputation, it's almost impossible to change the way others respond to you in that context. When I am ready to be known professionally, I want it to be the healthy me that others respond to, not the one that says inappropriate things at inappropriate times because I am broken inside and need to deal with my wrecked emotional landscape.
On Saturday, I felt overwhelmed, hopeless, and unloveable. When I have gotten this way in the past, I have become suicidal. My friend Mary said on Sunday morning in her post that no one can remove themselves from this life without tearing the fabric of other people's worlds. So I did something I have not done before. I posted to my Facebook that I was struggling, and you, my dear friends, responded with open arms. Just knowing that you were praying for me, that I am not on this road called recovery alone makes all the difference in the world for me. I isolate because I don't want to cause your heart pain as I go through this process, and sometimes I don't want you to see me as anything other than strong. Also, I only feel safe with a very few people. I need to know I am ok regardless of what I do because so much of my being accepted has been based on what I do or do not do. By-product of past abuse, I am sure. Sometimes all I need is a hug, or to laugh, or just to know you care. I don't always want to talk about it. I don't always feel safe with everyone. I'm not trying to insult anyone; it's just where I am at. Safe means confidential to me as well as not being judged. So if I don't give specifics, just know that's my choice to keep my heart safe for now while I am healing.
One last thing. If you meet someone who's behavior you don't understand or agree with, please don't take it as face value or personal. They may have gone through more than you possibly can imagine, and well meaning attempts to fix it may just be putting a band-aid on a broken leg. Listen to people. Love them as much as you can while respecting their boundaries. Know that God makes all things beautiful in His time, and sometimes healing takes longer than we would like. I've been separated from my ex-husband for four years and divorced for three now. I feel like I am just starting to heal in some areas. If someone medicates themselves in ways that are unfamiliar to you or harmful to them, pray about it before you talk to them about it. I know there have been a lot of times where I've been hurt further by well meaning people. The right answer isn't always the best one when people are hurting. This is why I love the way Jesus dealt with the woman caught in adultery and the woman at the well. He didn't condemn them, but he loved them out of it. Sometimes, that's the only thing that fixes anything. God's not intimidated by my sin. He understands it, AND He won't leave me there. He loves me out of it.
Thank you for being patient with me, for your support, and for listening. Thank you for your prayers. Thank you for respecting my boundaries. And thank you for understanding when I have not been ready to deal with it yet. This is a step by step process, and I'm glad that you have faith to believe in me, that I will be well again one day.
All my Love,
Amy
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