What a difference a day makes!
After my crying and typing, I decided to take a shower.
First off, that's a big deal for me. Self care, baby!
As I was drying off I had an epiphany. Or a spiritual impression. Whichever being you want to accredit such phenomena: yourself or the Holy Spirit. Either way, it hit me: what if my feelings have nothing to do with two years ago? What if it's just like that because that's what my body knows and it's trying to tell me something else? Something more forward thinking? Something more in the now?
What if my inner self is trying to tell my outer self that I need these friends now?
That's it. I feel it in my bones. A manifestation of the truth. I was triggered and reliving past emotions because my soul was crying out to be comforted in the here and now. It wasn't just rehashing to drive me crazy-though, in that it was definitely succeeding. It was rehashing because I want those same friends that wouldn't/couldn't be there for me two years ago to be there for me now.
So I texted one of my friends that were on my hurt mind and invited myself to her house. (More or less.)
It was wonderful. And strange. Strange because I know I'm depressed and hurting and my MO is to isolate myself. And though I acknowledge that I need a certain amount of isolation to heal and deal, I also need a sense of grounding and normalcy:connection. I need to be reminded that though my trials are for me alone, I am not alone. I am loved. I am someone. I matter to others. They want me to be ok. They don't only want me when I am ok. They want me when I'm real.
That's a beautiful thing.
So this morning I'm feeling much more hopeful. Eventhough after a while of visiting yesterday I wanted to be alone again and took leave, I wasn't alone for a while. And I spent time with someone that does calm my aching heart.
The bittnerness and resentment feel as if they were never here.
It wasn't bitterness and resentment, but it was loneliness and isolation.
That's pretty deep.
I'm grateful for therapy. I know it has greatly affected how I deal, how I process things, how I work a problem.
With this experience, though, I'm realizing that my surface emotions don't necessarily tell the whole story. I'm grateful.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Monday, January 30, 2017
#12 My peace I give unto you
Let's start at the end.
It's a 12 step program. I've been through it maybe 4 times in the last two years. Some days I feel I have come so far. Other days I feel so lost. So damned. Progression stopped. Today is one of those days.
Here I am, supposed to be processing my husband's confessions. Here I am, supposed to be working toward a better marriage. But here I am, unable to move forward from a time over two years past. The time where I went down my own hole of bad choices, immobilizing fear, and soul wrenching heartache.
My best friend tells me it's not my fault. I was a victim. I believe her. Mostly. There were still choices I could have made. People I could have reached out to. But I was a victim.
And here's my problem: no one knows I was a victim. They all believe I am the bad guy. It hurts. I hate it. I want to scream at them all: It's not my fault. I didn't want any of this. I didn't go out looking for this. It found me. Where life was supposed to be safe. Where I was supposed to be protected. He came into my home. Infiltrated my safe places and ran my show. And I was too afraid to stop him. I was too afraid to reach out. I was too afraid to make changes. And my fear was his invitation to move in closer and take a firmer grasp on my soul.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate what I did. I hate whom I hurt. I hate the backlash. I hate the distrust I now have in everyone around me. I hate the skepticism. I hate not wanting to let anyone in. And mostly I hate that I harbor resentment toward all my friends who vanished when my world crashed around me.
I tell myself it isn't their fault. I tell myself they did their best. They really are such great people. They still love me. They still talk to me and smile at me. Even if they didn't for a time. I did my best and I failed them. They did their best and they failed me.
I've got to let it go.
God, why can't I let it go?
O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because thou desiredst me:
It's a 12 step program. I've been through it maybe 4 times in the last two years. Some days I feel I have come so far. Other days I feel so lost. So damned. Progression stopped. Today is one of those days.
Here I am, supposed to be processing my husband's confessions. Here I am, supposed to be working toward a better marriage. But here I am, unable to move forward from a time over two years past. The time where I went down my own hole of bad choices, immobilizing fear, and soul wrenching heartache.
My best friend tells me it's not my fault. I was a victim. I believe her. Mostly. There were still choices I could have made. People I could have reached out to. But I was a victim.
And here's my problem: no one knows I was a victim. They all believe I am the bad guy. It hurts. I hate it. I want to scream at them all: It's not my fault. I didn't want any of this. I didn't go out looking for this. It found me. Where life was supposed to be safe. Where I was supposed to be protected. He came into my home. Infiltrated my safe places and ran my show. And I was too afraid to stop him. I was too afraid to reach out. I was too afraid to make changes. And my fear was his invitation to move in closer and take a firmer grasp on my soul.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate what I did. I hate whom I hurt. I hate the backlash. I hate the distrust I now have in everyone around me. I hate the skepticism. I hate not wanting to let anyone in. And mostly I hate that I harbor resentment toward all my friends who vanished when my world crashed around me.
I tell myself it isn't their fault. I tell myself they did their best. They really are such great people. They still love me. They still talk to me and smile at me. Even if they didn't for a time. I did my best and I failed them. They did their best and they failed me.
I've got to let it go.
God, why can't I let it go?
O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because thou desiredst me:
34 And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him.
35 So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses.
O God. Where is my compassion? Why won't my heart forgive?
"Forgiveness is a path-not a destination." -Me
These are the questions I asked myself last night while working on principle #12:
Am I ready to let go of "justice"?
Am I ready to trust God?
Am I ready to let go of the control?
God, I am ready. I cannot handle this burden of resentment, of bitterness. I'm so tired. So so tired. I'm so tired of the fear. I'm so tired of the personal shame. I'm so tired of it all. God, take this trauma from me. Heal my heart. Heal my mind. Grant me peace again. Let me find joy. Where are you joy? Why do you hide from me? I never wanted these feelings in the first place. I'm always the first to forgive. I forgave him. I forgave her. I forgive my husband constantly. Why not these people? Why not my friends? Why not those that lived on the outskirts with no real knowledge of events. In my mind they should be the first and easiest to forgive. But in my heart they are the hardest. I don't understand. And even when I think I do understand, nothing changes. The knowledge doesn't destroy the fear.
Jesus take the wheel. Let me be me again. Happy. Loving. Trusting. Fun. Energetic. Social. Helpful.
All I am now is tired. And drained. And sorrowful. And fearful. And hurt.
I don't want it. Take it please. Take it now. Fill me with thy ever-loving everlasting peace.
Please.
My first poem
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Who do I blame?
What have I done to deserve this?
When will I be able to let go?
Where do I go from here?
Why am I so bitter and resentful?
How can I let go and find the peace God promises to send me?
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