Smiley Faces Don’t Make it Sweet

So I received a group text addressed to myself and my sisters from my niece, Lily.  My brother Adam is turning 50 this year.  Lily’s flying in to surprise Adam.  Then she’s driving him 2 hours away to drive a race car but she doesn’t want him to know until they get to the race track.  Then she wants to surprise him with a dinner attended by friends, coworkers, and family.  She’s asking for at least $20 toward the race car and the type of car and amount of laps depend on how much we all pitch in.  She ended the post with “PLEASE DONT TELL!”. 

This says a lot about how my family has communicated historically. 

I’ve worked very hard to rid myself of gossip.  (Please see my previous posts on the subject.)  To my knowledge, I’m the only person in my family who has admitted I was guilty of gossiping. 

Eleven minutes later I received another message from Lily which stated she had sent me a long, group text regarding her father’s birthday.  She wrote, “Can you be sure to not talk about it to anyone other than your sisters?”  She stated she wants to tell everyone “in a timely manner (smiley face) word gets out fast and it has to be a surprise”. 

I was deeply hurt by this communication.  What makes her think I’m still a gossip?  I’ve not divulged any of her secrets.  Nor have I divulged anyone else’s stories to her. 

I responded to her group text that my husband and I will contribute and attend the dinner if our health permits. 

I responded to her private message to me.  I asked her not to share anymore secrets with me if she believes she can’t trust me with them. 

Ironically, Lily is the only person in my family who has attempted to get me to share someone else’s story (GOSSIP) with her, without that person’s permission.  She tried to manipulate me emotionally at first because she’s related to the person.  Then, she attempted to justify her demand for information because it’s unhealthy to keep secrets.  That may be so, but gossip is still gossip and I’m not going to participate.  He has a right to decide whether or not he shares his story.  If I respect him, I’ll respect his right to decide what he wants to make public or keep private.  She has to make her own choice.

Now, she’s saying she sent the second text to everyone because she “just wanted to say it separately to everyone”.  Which either highlights the fact that gossip has been a family problem or is her attempt to justify her accusatory text (smiley faces don’t make it sweet).  

Shifting the Blame or Avoiding Responsibility

Another characteristic of abusers is denial of responsibility. The abuser actively and constantly attempts to shift the blame for their actions or thoughts, from themselves to others. Abusers are unwilling to accept responsibility for their actions.

They minimize their actions and the aftermath. When I confronted my evil step-father Dick (by letter) about his abusive ways during my childhood (I didn’t have the courage to truthfully and concisely discuss the abuse, so my accusations were somewhat vague), he wrote back that he had “bittersweet” memories too.

Abusers claim others “made them do it” or “made them mad”. Dick was constantly talking to me about girls who were loose based on their appearance and walk. He made it clear that kind of girl deserved whatever she got. And all women are alike, so they all deserved maltreatment.

Abusers are rarely remorseful. Dick seemed quite uncomfortable with any show of emotion, except anger. I was encouraged to be angry with my siblings. When I was laughing or smiling, his demand was, “Why are you smiling?” When he didn’t approve of the emotion showing on my face, it was “Wipe that look off your face!” When I cried, he’d mock me or spank me longer. When I was bleeding due to an injury and crying, Dick threatened to let me bleed to death if I didn’t stop crying. I learned to deny my feelings for so long that eventually I couldn’t even recognize my feelings.

The abuser tries to make the victim feel responsible.

The victim is often expected to meet needs which are not their responsibility and often beyond their ability.  I never did anything to Dick’s satisfaction, my best efforts were always lacking. 

Once abusers are successful at making their victims feel responsible, the victims carry around an overwhelming sense of shame which makes them feel worthless. The abuser can then use that shame to manipulate and control the victim.

Often, other family members encourage lying or denial in dealing with the abuser; which reinforces to child victims that the abuser is somehow justified. When a victim tries to tell an authority figure about the abuse and is either not believed or encouraged to keep it a secret, they are led to believe they are somehow culpable for the abuse.

This is what the Bible says God feels about blame-shifting and the treatment of victims:

“Acquitting the guilty and condemning the innocent – the LORD detests them both.”                         Proverbs 17:15

Prince of Deception

My evil step-father Dick was a liar. Everything about him was a lie. He didn’t complete grade school, but he would use large words which he thought he understood. Often enough to make him sound ignorant, he would use them inappropriately. He didn’t want to be corrected: I tried.

We were told repeatedly that “we don’t air our dirty laundry in public.” We were taught to keep family secrets; at the same time, we were being told that God considers lying a sin. It is extremely common for abusive families to lie to hide the abuse.

Dick told me repeatedly that I was ugly, unlovable, stupid, of no value, etcetera, etcetera. These were all lies! Unfortunately, I entered adulthood believing all his lies.

Both of my parents and the church told me that a good girl would be a virgin on her wedding day. Dick took my virginity and when I realized it, I knew it meant I was no longer a “good girl” but I was confused because everyone talked like I had a choice in whether or not I was a virgin. I also had to continue lying to my mother because she didn’t know, and I felt a fierce need to protect her. I was profoundly confused.

As I got older, the sexual abuse stopped. When I began working, Dick knew when I got paid and would be waiting for me to arrive home. He would tell me he needed a favor; then ask to borrow my entire paycheck to pay a household utility. I lent him money every time he asked (I would have done anything for my mother and siblings); and he never paid me back. Once I realized what he was doing, I began going and spending my paycheck for what I wanted before I took it home. It didn’t occur to me until I was an adult looking back, but how did he pay the utilities before I started earning a paycheck?

As a teen, I purchased a vehicle using a bank loan. Either, I couldn’t have a title in my name or I couldn’t get a bank loan in my name due to my age. I did go pay on the bank loan every time I got paid until it was paid off. I was so excited. Until I saw my car on the corner with a For Sale sign in the window. (I had been grounded for breaking curfew and was riding the bus.) I asked Dick about it when I got home, and he told me he was selling. When the car was no longer there a little while later, I asked Dick if he’d moved it. He’d sold it. I asked him where my money was from the sale. His reply was “What money?” Lying, stealing, manipulative, abusive, evil man sold the car I paid for and kept the money. (Just when I think I’ve forgiven him, I feel angry all over again!)

I’m still confused by the level of lying in my childhood home. As a child, I lied all the time. I lied about my home. I lied about my step-father. I lied about my siblings. I lied to my step-father. I lied to my mother. If my lips were moving…I was most likely lying.

At some point, I stopped lying. I think it happened when I started to realize that Dick was evil. I think this was when I stopped overtly lying and began learning to deny the reality of the bad things that had happened in my life.

I became more and more verbally honest as time went by and even flipped too far the other direction; using the guise of honesty to say very hurtful things to people I claimed to love.

My mother (who has a pure, loving heart) doesn’t always embrace the truth. She often shades reality by suggesting it’s better than it is. I don’t know if she was in denial or if she was afraid that by facing the problems honestly, she would make them worse. This added to my confusion about lying and honesty.

Today, I hate lying, I pride myself on honesty; however, I’ve learned to be more loving in my approach. Every day, I’m conscious of the fact that I lived most of my adult life in denial of my reality and I need to be wary of doing it now.

I can’t stand a liar. I just figured out why today. What can I say? Sometimes I’m slow on the uptake.

The 3/5-3/8 2019 School Week in Review

This week being a learning coach was mostly a blessing.  Last week, it felt like a curse.   

My 10 year old nephew Nathan is an everyday liar.  I’ve learned through conversations with other adult family members that this has been a problem for years and Nathan continues even when caught blatantly lying.  I hate being lied to.  If you lie to me and I know it, I’m going to call you out. 

This week, I remembered how much I lied at his age.  I was distrustful of everyone and lied to protect myself.  I’m like a reformed smoker who wants to force the rest of the world to stop.  I’m a recovering Control Freak!     

Nathan is lazy.  He’ll ask me for scratch paper that is the same distance from me, as from him, expecting me to retrieve it with a sly grin on his face. I haven’t told Nathan he’s lazy: he told me “I’m lazy” while smirking.  He consistently chooses what requires the least of him.  He’s in a remedial reading course (in addition to his regular Language Arts) because I was concerned he may have missed some essentials previously.  Yesterday, I observed him skipping through being read the stories and guessing at the answers until he hit upon the right one.  He lied about it even though I was standing behind him as he did it and saw with my own eyes.  It seems his reading skills problem is from his choice to do as little as possible.   

This week, we talked about how the bible says a person who’s not willing to work, shouldn’t eat.  We identified what Nathan’s work is school right now.  I’ve begun seeking opportunities to praise extra effort, regardless of the end result.  I’m a recovering Perfectionist, so I tend to be very harsh in my expectations and interactions.   

Nathan is disrespectful of his elders.  He argues with me every day.  He uses sarcasm and insinuates a lack of intelligence.  If I say get out your English book;   he responds with a sneer in his voice, “Do you mean Language Arts?”  If I tell him it’s time to take the test; he says “It’s a Quick Check.”  When an adult says no, he demands to know why.  He pulled the stitching out of one of my best chairs.  He uses other people’s belongings without asking.  He has strewn the contents of his school art kit about because he doesn’t put his belongings away unless I stand over him like a drill sergeant.     

This week, I realized that the adults in my family may be talking about and treating each other in ways that are disrespectful in front of him.  I have criticized the lesson content, the communication with people at the school, and the frequent class changes and cancellations in front of him.  Our attitude is often that if someone disagrees with us, they lack intelligence.  One of the things I said repeatedly in my former life was, “Stupid people annoy me!”  I’ve started trying to change this behavior in myself.   

Nathan rarely takes personal accountability for his actions.  He told me “Everyone lies.” when I confronted him about a lie he had just told me.  He has blamed shoddy schoolwork on myself and his grandmother.  He blames low assessment grades on poorly written questions and not being taught the material.  This week, we discussed the fact that we’re both Christians and will have to give an accounting to God someday and that God won’t want to hear what anyone else did when we’re discussing what we did.   

This week I put up new verses and we talked about what they mean and how they apply to us.  Luke 17:2 is my verse for the week, “It would be better for them (me) to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones (Nathan) to stumble.”  As an adult Christian in my nephews life, I’m a representative of God.  He learns who God is by observing who I am.  If I don’t behave in a way which is deserving of respect; how is he supposed to respect God?  If I use scripture (God’s word) to beat this child and fill him with shame; then he’ll believe God sees him as worthless and unredeemable.  

Nathan came prepared to listen and do this week.  He didn’t lie to me until Friday.  He didn’t attempt to skip lesson material without permission until Friday.  He suffered some natural consequences (instead of me trying to force a different behavior)  for not following directions and had to use “free time” to complete some assignments he didn’t finish during assigned school time because he was stalling or refused to follow directions.  I had many opportunities to praise him. 

Red Flags to Avoid

As pervasive as abuse is, it’s important that we’re aware of red flags while we’re selecting our life partners. Better to completely avoid becoming entangled with an abuser. Survivors can easily connect with an abuser because we’re comfortable with the relationship dynamics with them. It’s what we know.

According to “Mending the Soul: Understanding and Healing Abuse” by Steven R. Tracy, the general characteristics of abusers include denial of responsibility, deceitfulness, harshly judgmental of others and calculated intimidation. I agree with this conclusion as it’s what I experienced at the hands of my abuser.

My evil step-father Dick was extremely judgmental. He seemed to hate everyone. He was misogynistic. He had nothing nice to say about women ever. He was also racist. Basically, it seems he hated everyone but himself and other pasty-faced white men. Yes, I still have a lot of animosity toward him. In retrospect, I think he was comparing himself to others and finding reasons so he could believe he was superior to them. At some level, he may have known his behaviors were wrong; however, he never had to look at his own shortcomings because he was busy badmouthing others for what he perceived as their problems.

We moved to a town which had a sign on its border which said (I apologize profusely) “No niggers, spicks, or chinks allowed.” He would say the “n*****” were trying to take over the world by interbreeding with white women. I was astounded by his ignorance. He would see a girl walking down the street and proclaim she was a whore and he could tell by the way she walked and dressed. He would tell me all women were alike if you turned them upside down.

My evil step-father Dick also used intimidation to keep myself and my siblings in line. I don’t remember Dick making any direct threats: I just felt this constant, overwhelming sense of dread. I knew I was going to be subjected to more abuse because my best was never good enough. I’m in a constant state of alert because I’m always expecting more suffering to come my way.

When it was time for a spanking, Dick would send me to get his belt. If I was crying, he would spank me until I stopped. If I was not crying when the beating began, he would spank me until I cried.

I wasn’t allowed normal emotions. I was allowed anger.

I split my knee open playing tag in the dark and was crying when I came inside the house. Dick was there and told me to stop crying or he’d let me bleed to death. I stopped. He put rubbing alcohol on my open wound; and I passed out from the pain.

He was always threatening to “wipe that look off your face” or “give you something to cry about.”

Abusers are master manipulators and use all kinds of strategies to trap their victims for as long as possible. I believed I had little to no power as a child. At 11 years old, I began planning my escape by trying to save up enough money to leave my childhood home. I believed that was the only solution.

People were always complimenting my parents for how well-behaved their children were in public. We were terrified of being beaten by Dick when we got home.

No one knew the truth. I didn’t know how to ask for help. When I finally tried, I was dismissed by a health care “professional” as a dramatic teen. My maternal grandmother sensed something was wrong but didn’t know how to ferret out the truth. What my childhood family showed the world was a lie.

It Became a Butterfly

This is the story of my second tattoo.  I’d gotten my first tattoo at 18 years old and had been trying to decide what I wanted next for decades. 

I couldn’t decide.  I certainly didn’t want to put something permanent on my body until I’d found the perfect addition. 

In the meantime, it had come to my attention that my first tattoo no longer looked like a black rosebud, but now resembled a blue fish.  Not okay!  It seems that in order to maintain the original colors, tattoos need to be touched up from time to time.  Who knew? 

I needed to have it repaired; however, I didn’t want just anyone to do it. 

I was leaving the state of Idaho in just a few days when a group of friends threw a going away party for me.  It was so much fun!  The boyfriend of a friend’s daughter attended and drew “tattoos” on everyone who wanted them with Sharpies.  I’d found my tattoo artist!  He was able to fit me in and stated he could do what I was asking. 

I had him tattoo over the old tattoo with two beautiful blue butterflies with black-edged wings.  One is a large butterfly and the other is a smaller one. 

The colors are vibrant and the butterflies signify new life and personal growth to me. 

“Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” Anonymous

Blaming the Child Victim

Something I struggle with nearly every day is the belief that I’m not enough, that I’m defective, that I’m responsible for every bad thing in my life and the lives of everyone else.

Intellectually, I know it’s not my fault there’s a war in Syria or racism or a myriad of other evils but the soul damage I suffered at the hands of my evil step-father Dick has caused what seems to be permanent damage (unless God decides to miraculously remove it).

Ironically, I even feel like it’s my fault I can’t figure out how to overcome the belief that I’m to blame; this is a perfect example of my “stinking thinking”.

As I read “Mending the Soul: Understanding and Healing Abuse” by Steven R. Tracy, my dilemma was explained at long last.

Abusers blame their victims. My step-father believed everything was my fault and told me so every day of my childhood.

I believed the abuse was my fault. I believed it happened because I wasn’t good enough. I believed that if I was good enough, my evil step-father Dick would finally approve of and love me. I believed that I had the power to stop the abuse if I was just good enough. The abuse didn’t stop until I moved away as a young adult. I was never good enough in Dick’s eyes.

Rather than conclude that a parent is wrong or evil, children decide they must be bad and at fault for their parent’s abuse.

Children come to believe they deserve the abuse.

My reaction is common among victims of child abuse. They falsely believe the parent is good and they are bad. They believe their own bad behavior brought on the abuse and they can stop the abuse by being good. This gives them a sense of hope and power. They hold on to this belief tenaciously.

I had requested counseling because I thought I had a sexual dysfunction. We discussed the sexual abuse I suffered as a child in the broadest terms. The counselor asked if I felt ashamed of what had happened, and I burst into tears. Of course, I did, and I thought it was because some of it felt good to a child. Sexual touch was designed by God to feel good and it’s good for us when done within the boundaries of God’s plan for us. Now, I understand it was also because my evil step-father Dick had blamed me as a child, and I believed him.

I was attending Celebrate Recovery meetings for abuse survivors in Washington State. The first meeting, the facilitator stated if anyone was abused as a child, they were NOT to blame. I cried as if I was a child again. I needed to hear that so badly and didn’t even know it.

I would love to leave this habit I have of blaming myself for anything that goes wrong behind; however, I’m certain I’m not capable of leaving this shortcoming behind on my own. I’m totally willing to let God remove it from my life. I’m also totally okay with having God use this about me to help another person who has survived childhood abuse. What man intended for my harm, God will put to good use.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”     Genesis 50:20

Moving to Humboldt County

My son Fergus told me that he was moving to California with his girlfriend Joanna and my granddaughters. Joanna’s parents were offering to help set them up and Fergus would be able to work in their business.

Joanna’s mother hated Fergus so much she chose not to attend the birth of her second granddaughter because Fergus was there. Mrs. Hope had been working in property management in the same state we lived in but her husband had told her she needed to retire and return to their home in Humboldt County. He insisted.

Mrs. Hope had met her husband while he was a pastor and still married to his first wife. He left wife number one to marry Mrs. Hope.

I begged Fergus to reconsider when he told me her parents were illegal drug farmers in Humboldt County and had work for himself and his girlfriend, their daughter Joanna. I pointed out that the business is not only illegal but highly dangerous. I asked him if he realized he’d be in California away from his own family supports and surrounded by her large family. Fergus told me they would make a lot of money, enough to support their family and moved.

I’ve disagreed with marijuana criminalization since I’ve been an adult; however, illegal is illegal, and I don’t condone breaking the law. My biggest concern was the inherent danger involved. Humboldt County has the largest number of missing persons reported out of all California counties.

Fergus and Joanna claimed they would make good money working for her parents; however, they’re all broke. They started off living in a decent little home, which was older but charming. Fergus and Joanna seemed to bounce between being flush with cash or completely broke. They asked me for financial assistance on more than one occasion. I eventually stopped making loans to them when they didn’t pay them back.

They had to leave the house they were staying in when $100,000 was stolen from them in a drug deal gone bad. They had to move from their modest home into a travel trailer with their four children.

Joanna continued to work as a drug mule for her parents, taking their product across state lines. At this time, she may be unable to do this for them since she has suffered some mental health issues related to illegal drug use. Fergus is no longer involved in this business.

I don’t understand how parents can ask their child to do something illegal, which if caught could get her prison time. If you love your child, don’t you do everything possible to keep them safe? I understand they’re adults, but it’s hard to say no to your parents even if you’re grown. How can Christian parents raise their children to lie, cheat and break the law? This is not the fruit the bible says true Christians will exhibit.

I realize this is hearsay and there’s probably a lot I don’t know. This account is what I believe happened.

The Image of God Distorted and Mended

Recently finished reading “Mending the Soul: Understanding and Healing Abuse” by Steven R. Tracy. It was excellent and now I’m trying to distill what I learned to a shareable form.

My step-father Dick was abusive. He abused me physically, emotionally, spiritually, verbally, and sexually. Satan used my step-father’s abuse to separate me from God’s love and nearly destroy me. I’ve always believed in God, but I couldn’t trust him. I thought he was like my step-father.

God’s design is for children to learn about him through their experiences with their parents. My step-father taught me what Satan is like, but it has taken me decades to understand this. My mother is a godly woman, but she was unaware of the extent of the abuse and she was unable to protect me from her husband. My step-father convinced me that I was all wrong, stupid, sinful, unlovable, good for only one thing-being a virgin when I married. I believed I was unforgivable and hopeless. My step-father blamed me for his actions and I believed him.

I attended church faithfully throughout my childhood and on and off as an adult, but I was trying to earn God’s favor. Every time I heard the following verse, I again felt like the abuse had to be my fault, because what kind of father…?

“Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” Luke 11:11-13

If evil, human fathers give their children food when they ask, why was mine abusive? Why was he angry all the time? Why did he ravage my soul with his nasty, hurtful words? Why did he touch me inappropriately?

I believed in God and I had accepted Christ as my Savior, but I had no trust in God, so I ran from him, and was disobedient (I trusted my way more than I trusted him). I had very little joy in my life. I couldn’t accept that anyone could love the real me, so I was separate from my spouse and children.

Some of the common distortions abuse survivors battle are: God isn’t big enough, God isn’t good enough, God is mean and untrustworthy, God isn’t safe, and God’s love and approval must be earned.

It was almost impossible for me to believe God loved me. I’d feel it for a moment, then it was gone again. It wasn’t until a Christian woman loved me with Christ’s love (not sexual) that I could finally accept that God loved and accepted me as I was. This is what God says about me and all his children.

“The LORD your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17

It was not part of God’s plan that I suffer abuse at the hands of my step-father. Dick made sinful choices which created consequences for me. Jesus chose to be abused in order to save my eternal soul, so he understands my hurt. God is sad when his children are hurt. Here is what God says about abusers who cause children to stumble.

“If anyone causes one of these little ones-those who believe in me-to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.” Matthew 18:6

Today, I’m convinced God, my heavenly Father, my Creator loves me!

I Wanna Be Right!

As an abused child, my step-dad Dick told me over and over how wrong I was and led me to believe he might love me IF I did something, anything right. 

I became an adult abuse survivor who desperately needed to be right, so I could be worthy and loved. 

I learned in 12-step meetings to ask myself “Do I wanna be right? Or do I wanna be happy?”  Most of the time, this questions allows me to let go of an argument and my need to win it. 

Exception found. 

For some reason, having a 7 or 10 year old argue with me drives me to the edge of madness! 

Me:          On the next slide, you’ll be taking a quiz.

Student:   It’s a quiz check. 

Day after day, for crying out loud, it’s an assessment!  They’re all assessments and it doesn’t make you any smarter by arguing with me again and again! 

Me:          Go to the next slide and reread the text.

Student:   I’ve already done this.

Me:          Do it again. 

Student:   But I’ve already done this.

Me:          I know, read it again, the slide says REread.

Student:   But that’s not fair, I’ve already read it!

Day after day, lesson after lesson.  Quit arguing with me and do what I’ve asked you to do!

Me:          Let’s start with Math today.

Student:   Aw, I wanted to do Language Arts first. 

Another day. 

Me:          Let’s start with Language Arts today.

Student:   Can’t we start with Art today?

Day after day.  Power struggle after power struggle.

Me:           Why did you skip slide 10?

Student:    I didn’t. 

Me:           You were just on slide 9, now you’re on slide 11.  Did you watch the videos?

Student:    No. 

Me:           Why not?

Student:    I didn’t think I needed to.

Me:           Where’s your notebook (where he has written he won’t skip parts of the lessons without my express permission.)?

Student:   My brother took it home.

Minutes later, I pull out both of his notebooks. 

Me:           Why did you tell me your brother took your notebook home?

Student:    I didn’t. 

What am I missing here?  Day after day. 

And at the end of the day? 

Damn it! 

I want to be right! 

Slow to the Pace of Grace

I heard this phrase in a sermon when I lived in Washington state and it resonated with me. 

I was taught as a child that doing tasks was important and a possible way to win favor.  I was also taught that my best would never be good enough; therefore, I have no worth.  Sorry, I had an evil step-father named Dick.

Because of my childhood training, I have spent my adulthood doing.  And what I did was never enough so I could never slow down or stop. 

The pastor said Christians need to slow to the pace of grace.  We need to make time in our busy lives to do what God prompts when he prompts. 

His example was the Good Samaritan in Luke 10.  A traveler was beaten and robbed by thieves, and left naked beside the road.  The Samaritan was traveling but was filled with compassion when he saw the beaten man.  The Samaritan cleaned and bandaged the injured man’s wounds.  He put him on his animal and carried him to an inn.  The following morning, he gave the innkeeper some money and asked him to take care of the man, explaining he would return for the injured man. 

My first instinct is to say, “What? Who has time or money for that?”  And yet, that is exactly what Jesus expects from Christians. 

We need to get our priorities right.  In today’s world, businesses are pushing their employees to do more and more and more with less and less and less.  Sometimes, as Christians, we’re conflicted because we have multiple goals and we’re not sure which should come first.  But God tells us that his priority is more important than the world’s. 

“The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever.”

1 John 2:17

We need to stop doing what we think is most important and do what God is asking.  He will bless us if we obey him. 

As a Christian, the thing I desire most is to hear “Well done, good and faithful servant,” cross my Father’s lips. 

All I have to do is obey him and the most important command he gives me is to give people a glimpse of who he is by loving them in action. 

“Dear children, let’s not merely say that we love each other.  Let us show the truth by our actions.”

1 John 3:18. 

I can’t show love to anyone if I don’t slow down and give them my time and help when they need it.  

The Common Denominator

I was at another 12-step meeting.  I’d already been to one that day and now I was double-dipping. 

My husband had asked if he could use my car to go watch a soccer game his friends were playing in.  I agreed.  He didn’t come home for 3 days.  We only had one car between us, so I was stranded all weekend. 

He didn’t call me until he was out of money and had no gasoline to get back home from the casino, which was hours away. 

I sent him just enough cash by Western Union to get home (not like in the past when he had padded the amount he needed so he could go back in and gamble some more).  He had my car and I needed it to get to work. 

I was hurt.  I cried all weekend.  We’d been through this before and I was realizing I couldn’t trust him.  He’s a gambler and a liar. 

I didn’t know if I could be in a relationship with someone I couldn’t trust, (More on this later.) so I was freaking out. 

I didn’t really know the people at this second meeting but I was desperate.  I poured my heart out.  I cried.  I was distraught. 

Afterward, a woman asked me if I’d like to have coffee.  I did. 

We sat and talked.  I told her the sordid details of my three prior marriages and divorces.  I told her all about the issues my ex-husbands had.  She asked me, “What’s the common denominator?” 

I kept on telling her about the shortcomings of my exes.  I’d heard her question but only in the edges of my conscience because it didn’t make sense.  They had problems.  I didn’t. 

She asked again, just as quietly, “What’s the common denominator?”

I stopped.  Dumbstruck.  I sheepishly responded, “I am.”

For the first time in my life, I looked at my marriages objectively and realized I was the common denominator.  I chose each of those partners. 

This was a pivotal point in my recovery because I started taking accountability for my part, the part I can change. 

I realized that each of my chosen partners had addiction issues of some kind:  alcohol, drugs and gambling. 

I loved addicts.  I hated addicts.  I was comfortable with these relationships as I’d lived them my entire life.  I was miserable and wanted something different and better. 

I kept going back and as a result I’m no longer the person I used to be.  I make better choices.  . 

Journaling for Answers and Insight

One of the most beneficial things I learned to do in 12-step programs has been journaling.  When I first started attending 12-step meetings I was really sick emotionally, spiritually and intellectually. 

As I started learning a new way of thinking and behaving, I realized I had some really big decisions in front of me and I didn’t know how to make the decisions I needed to make.  I’d always believed I was a decisive person.  I was immobilized by fear.  I didn’t want to make the wrong decisions.

My sponsor had me journal through it.  Now, I’d heard of journal-writing before, and I loved to read and write.  However, I always thought there were more important things pressing for my time.  Writing was a luxury. 

I wanted to improve my life and what I’d done previously hadn’t turned out well.  So, I followed my sponsor’s advice and wrote about the topic until my last line was “I have nothing more to say about this subject.” 

She told me the answers to my questions were inside my head, I just needed to sort through all the thoughts and information to get to it.  She was right. 

I started making decisions with confidence and didn’t look back. 

I completed an inventory and shared it with someone I trusted.  I asked God to remove my character defects.  I made amends to people I’d harmed, as appropriate. 

I’ve continued to journal each day.  I reflect on the last 24 hours and write down a few things of note, so that later I can review my entries to determine if there are any new areas I need to ask God to help me with; and if I’ve harmed anyone, I can make immediate amends instead of waiting for my next inventory.   

I’ve realized that this blog is a type of journaling.  The big difference is that I’m sharing some very intimate thoughts with whoever decides to read this.

Do you journal?  Have you ever used journaling to work through a problem to find your solution?  

God is Love

I was so surprised to read “God is love” in the bible. 

I believed God was this all-powerful being who created mankind and then tormented his creation for his pleasure.  I thought God believed I was evil and unlovable and that he was just waiting for me to die so he could judge me and send me to hell for eternity. 

I believed I could fix this if I could just show God some success in my life at following his directions. 

I experienced Christians as better-than-me do-gooders who had perfect lives.  I felt shut down when I tried to share my real struggles.  I heard them saying my faith and obedience weren’t good enough.  I believed they were reinforcing my brokenness with their judgment. 

I finally God desperate enough to try something different and I went to a 12-step program where most of the people were at some stage of growth and healing.  These were a loving people and they welcomed me with love. 

I went back to church and found myself welcomed with loving embraces by the female leader of the singles’ group.  She knew I was living with a man, but she left that up to God and loved me where I was. 

When God invited me to surrender; I did no without hesitation or reservation. 

It was amazing. 

Then I started reading my bible and praying every day. 

People always talk about the love chapter in 1 Corinthians 13, love is this, love is not that, blah, blah, blah, human love.  Human love had failed me, that chapter left me feeling disappointed. 

I came across 1 John and sprinkled throughout the pages are explanations of God’s love, our love toward him, and how he wants us to love each other.  I’d read these verses before but my eyes and heart were closed, they didn’t make sense.  Now they do. 

Dear Father, I pray anyone who reads these verses does so with their eyes and hearts open.  I pray they understand the depth of your love for us.  I pray they understand what you’re asking them to do.  I pray they will see through Satan’s lies about love as he tries to take a beautiful truth about you and distort it to separate us from you and your love and mercy.  In Jesus’ precious name.  Amen

“God is love.  Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.”       1 John 4:16

“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.”                        1 John 3:16

“Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”            1 John 4:8

“Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar.”     1 John 4:20

“Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”

                                 1 John 3:18

God loves us and wants a relationship with us.  God designed us to love others and to be in relationship with them.  Satan tries to convince us that God doesn’t really love us and that we can have love and relationships that are better than God’s plan for us. 

Don’t be deceived. 

“He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him.  When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.”                           John 8:44

God and Satan want two different outcomes for you. 

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”       John 10:10

God wants you to spend eternity with him in heaven.  Satan wants you to keep him company in hell for eternity. 

I would love to hear from you.  Let’s share our master’s (God and Jesus’) joy with each other!

“Mending the Soul” Book Review

An important part of my relationship with God is connecting with Him each morning. I read out of a daily 12-step inspirational book, and out of whatever book I’m studying (either the Bible, a bible study book, or a topical book by a Christian author), and I pray. If I don’t start my day on this solid grounding, I’ve pretty much screwed myself. I’ll end up behaving in a way I’m not proud of or I’ll have to endure something alone when I could’ve had help from my Father.

Anyway.

I’ve been reading “Mending the Soul: Understanding and Healing Abuse” by Steven R. Tracy. He and his wife are the founders of Mending the Soul Ministries.

This is an excellent book. I recommend it to anyone who has survived abuse or works with people who are abuse survivors.

I don’t remember how the book came to be on my radar. I may have read about it in another book or I may have had friends who were reading it and talked about it on Facebook. Either way, the book made it into my bible study material.

I’m a survivor of childhood abuse at the hands of my step-father Dick. I spent decades trying to heal myself. I didn’t trust God because I thought he was like Dick. My life was a hot mess when an atheist friend suggested a 12-step program. God used that program to begin healing me and our relationship. He continues to improve me.

I know a lot of people at various stages in their healing process and I have a lot of compassion for them. This book seemed like a good fit for me.

The book outlines what abuse is and how it colors our perception of God. It describes abusers and their families. It discusses the extent of abuse and the origins. The author also talks about how abuse affects the lives of abuse survivors. He also goes into detail about how to seek healing and how to help others on their journey to recovery.

I’ve read a lot of self-help books over the years and received a substantial amount of counseling. This is the first book I’ve read that discusses abuse within the Christian community honestly. He doesn’t dismiss counseling, he explains how to help abuse survivors in a spiritually sound way that will help rather than further traumatize them.

There were some specific areas of interest for me, including: guilt versus shame, feeling like it was my fault, minimization, repressed memories, learning from the past, wrestling with God, how God feels about abusers, and forgiveness.

I plan to discuss this in greater detail and would love to hear your thoughts on the subject.

An Attitude of Gratitude

Where do I start? 

When I was in the Army National Guard, one of the call and response deals we did went like this:

     Sergeant:  “Company!  You all need an attitude check.”

To which we would respond:

     Company:  “Aw shit, fuck you, man.”

I have no idea why I like foul language so much.  I feel like they convey a deeper emotion than a more civilized choice.  It’s like, your feelings are so intense, you have to swear. 

I loved that I had been instructed by someone with more rank than I to say this phrase.  It tickles me. 

I’m so very grateful for the sense of humor God created me with.  Laughter is my main coping mechanism.  As a child, I loved to make my mom laugh.  I’d come home from school and regale her with stories chock full of humor. 

Oh and we’re a bunch of sarcastically funny people, my family.  I’ve been told the Greek root of sarcasm means to “tear flesh”. 

I have no idea how much of my life I was so focused on the negativity in my life that I totally missed out on many, tiny moments worthy of gratitude. 

After I started my recovery, I remember the first moment of gratitude to take me by surprise was seeing a tiny butterfly flitting about, sharing its exquisite beauty with me. 

What makes it really funny is I previously considered myself a positive, glass is half full kind of gal. 

Right. 

I find that if I start telling God what I appreciate and am grateful for, my focus shifts from the problems in my life to all the good in my life.  And in the reverse, if I let my thoughts and energy weigh on my problems; I don’t even notice my blessings. 

I can make a choice to improve my life by simply refocusing on the good until it becomes a habit. 

I’m going to face problems throughout my life on Earth, it will be easier if I do it with a grateful heart. 

I have much to be grateful for:  a loving husband for whom I have an enormous amount of love and respect, loving parents, loving siblings, two wonderful sons, seven amazing grandchildren, food, transportation, clothing, home, friends, eternal life, a unique relationship with my Heavenly Father and Creator. 

Yeah, I’m much happier when I exercise an attitude of gratitude. 

Not My Will, But Yours

For decades, I acted like I was God. I acted like I knew just what every person I loved needed from God. I had no idea what I needed, but I was confident I could fix anyone else; if they just listened to me.

When I prayed, I would go on and on about what they needed to change. I would ask God to give them patience or wisdom. I would ask God to fix what I perceived as their sins and/or shortcomings.

Bah hah hah!

I wonder what God thinks about my haughtiness! This is my basic sin. I set myself up in the position of God in my own life, and then the lives of the people who were closest to me.

If you shared a prayer request with me, I’d evaluate and judge, then start asking for what I believed was needed.

A 12-step program taught me to “Let Go and Let God.” It took some time, but eventually I added to the saying because it makes even more sense to me: “Let Go and Let God be God”.

I’m not God.

I must remind myself of this frequently because it’s easy for me to slip back into old, bad habits.

In Matthew 6:9, Jesus teaches us how to pray to God. We’re to ask for his will, not ours. So why was I giving God a laundry list of my will? Sinful pride. Blame shifting. A desire to control.

It’s funny how hard this simple thing is to do. People ask me to pray for specific things for specific people. When we do that, we’re putting limits on God. He can do and imagine so much more than we can! Stop telling God what to do! Get out of his way.

LORD God, you are incredible, always surprising me, always loving me. Thank you for all your creation, for the weird animals and the funny bugs. Thank you for your spectacular sunsets. I pray for your will to be done LORD, not mine. I pray you will keep me humble. LORD, thank you for providing for all the needs of my family and I ask that you continue to provide what we need, food, shelter, clothing, and relationships. LORD forgive me for the sins I’ve committed against you today. Please continue to remove my shortcomings as you give me the courage to face them. LORD, thank you for loving me in just the way I need. Please continue to protect me and my loved ones from Satan’s attacks. In your son Jesus’ name. Amen. Amen.

I’m Not an Effing Chair!

***WARNING: There is cursing in this one.***

It was early days in my 12 step meetings. I had gone from tentatively attending one each week; to attending multiple meetings a week on several different nights of the week. It may have been during a time when I was so desperate for change and serenity, that I was attending multiple meetings on the same day.

One person kept saying the same thing at meeting after meeting. (Over time, I realized I’m a slow learner when it comes to major insights into myself and God frequently uses at least three various avenues to teach me something or to get my attention.) I thought what he was saying was cute but not real helpful. Here’s the gist of it, “Just because someone calls you a chair, doesn’t make you a chair.”

And it finally hit me!

Just because my evil step-father called me stupid, ugly, unlovable, lacking in common sense, etcetera, did not make it true! All those years (and I’m talking decades) had passed, he had passed on, and I was still hearing his voice in my head saying those awful things to me.

I went home and thought about it. Was there any truth to the things he’d say about me? No. I got a three by five index card and a colorful marker and I wrote “I’m Not a Fucking Chair!” I taped the card to my bathroom mirror where I’d see it every day when I brushed my teeth.

I left it there for a year. Long enough for it to sink into my being. I rarely hear his voice anymore, but when I do, I respond to my step-dad like this, “I’m not a fucking chair and I never was.”

Disability Exam

Last Friday, my husband drove me an hour away to have a disability exam by a mental health professional.

I applied for disability when months had passed since the onset of vertigo without a diagnosis or treatment which will allow me to return to work.  One of the questions asks you to list all conditions which might interfere with your ability to work (or something along those lines).  I don’t want to get in trouble for lying, misrepresenting, or not providing full information, so although the big reason is vertigo, I included nausea (caused by the vertigo), migraines (because I’m having headaches virtually every day and migraines a couple times a month and one of the specialists said the vertigo may be caused by vestibular migraines), and anxiety (because I was under a great deal of stress when the vertigo came on and I believe the mind and body are inextricably linked; I’ve also experienced some pretty strong negative emotions since the vertigo began).  I was being seen by a mental health professional to address the stress prior to the vertigo.   

I’d had a rough week, with lots of vertigo attacks and I was feeling worn down. 

We stopped at McDonald’s on the way out of town and I ate a full meal.  This is the second time I left my town on a full stomach, with the same result.  I have nausea due to the vertigo and the effect is even worse when my stomach is full. 

On the way to my appointment, there is a significant change in altitude and sometimes it plays havoc with my ears.  I had an absurd amount of pressure in my ears and I couldn’t relieve it.  I tried holding my nose and blowing air with my mouth closed.  It didn’t work. 

I was overcome with nausea and discomfort and began to weep.  I desperately wanted to ask my husband to pull over, but how would that help?  We still needed to get to my appointment and it would only make matters worse to be late. 

We got to town and followed the doctor’s directions (down an alley) and arrived at my appointment. 

She asked me a lot of questions and I can’t remember them all but she did ask me the basics.  Name, date of birth, place of birth, state we were in, city we were in, current president and last.  She asked me to repeat three words and to remember them to tell them to her again later.  The words were house, boat and shoe.  We were in a town near water, so houseboat, and shoe.  I tapped my shoe through the rest of the interview.

She asked about my childhood, which was the first crying jag as I told her my step-father Dick was abusive physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually. 

She asked about my education:  three associate degrees and a bachelor’s degree. 

She asked me to explain what the idiom “strike while the iron’s hot” means.  For the life of me, I had no idea and I knew I should know and I was beyond frustrated.  It was one of the three times I started crying and couldn’t stop. 

She asked me if I’m worried about having vertigo.  No, worrying about it isn’t going to change a thing.  I want my old life back.  I want to drive and work and do normal things.  There was a brief period of time when I was really freaked out about not having any income, but we prayed about it, sold some things and covered our debts.  God has met all our needs. 

She asked about my military service and my work history.  The last place I worked was in child safety and it has left me traumatized.  I can’t talk about it without crying.  I cried when I told her I’d worked there a year and a half.  She didn’t ask any follow up questions. 

She asked about the feelings I’ve experienced since the onset of the vertigo.  I named a bunch:  confusion, frustration, worry, fear, dread, anger, embarrassment, depression, sorrow, hope, grief.  I could have gone on.   

At the end of the interview, she told me her husband had a three month bout of vertigo and it was definitely scary but he has since recovered. 

My husband and I got in our car and I started crying again.  He asked what was wrong.  I covered my face with my hands and tried to tell him through my tears.  I leaned over on his shoulder and just let it out.  He was just there.  Loving me.  Supporting me.  Not trying to fix anything, just reassuring me. 

Dishing Some Dirt About Myself

I’m a gossip. A tittle-tattler. A meddler.

My definition of gossip is now talking about someone when that person is not present in the conversation. The intent of the person talking has no bearing on whether or not it’s gossip.

Something had to change.

I talked to God about it and confessed it as sin. I asked Him to help me stop since it was a lifetime habit and I didn’t even know how to begin to change. I talked to my sponsor and 12 step friends about it. After decades of gossip, I knew I couldn’t possibly locate and make amends to all the people I’d talked about behind their backs. I decided to focus on the people I was most likely to continue to gossip about or with.

This is how gossip, typically, played out in my life. I have a loving mother and three siblings she gave birth to in my life. My Mom is Peony. My brother is Adam. My sisters are Tammi and Rhonda. I have a plethora of extended family. Tammi and I would be at Peony’s and we would end up talking about problems Adam was facing and how he could resolve them. Adam wasn’t present. Rhonda and I would go out to lunch and end up talking about problems Mom was facing and how she could resolve them. Mom wasn’t present. Rarely did I go to the person for whom we were brainstorming solutions to share our ideas with them.

I spoke with Mom, Adam, Tammi, and Rhonda. I spoke with my sons, Fergus and Samson. I explained to each of them that I had realized I’m a gossip and I was determined to change. I confessed I had gossiped about each of them. I apologized for being disrespectful both in gossiping about them and in thinking I could solve their problems or even needed to solve them. I told them, going forward, I would not be speaking about them unless they’re present.

It was awkward at first. What do you talk about when you’ve always talked about other people you both know when you get together? Well, you eventually start talking about yourselves. You share more deeply than you ever have before if the person you’re talking to is someone you care about and are safe with. Some family members were offended. Some were hurt. Some were glad I’d finally figured this out about myself.

It is something I still struggle with a bit. Sometimes my unwillingness to gossip is viewed as disrespectful to the person who wants me to tell them details about another person’s life. Sometimes it’s viewed as denial or keeping secrets. Relationships are complicated. My interactions with a loved one may affect me so deeply that I need to discuss it with someone else, now I talk to a 12 step friend rather than another loved one. Sometimes it’s unavoidable: a discussion between two family members must be had when a third family member is incapacitated by health.

I try to follow a few guidelines:

1) Don’t talk about the person if they’re not there.

2) Don’t share someone else’s story.

3) Choose a couple of  non-relatives who are safe to run things past. 

4) Ask myself, “What’s Your Motive?”

5) Direct the person asking for detail about someone else to speak to the someone else directly.

My two sons, Fergus and Samson, are examples of the opposite extremes people feel about the details of their lives being shared by others. Perfectly natural to ask a sibling about their children. Right? I have 10 nieces and nephews. It’s much easier to ask 3 siblings for updates on their children, than to contact the 10 nieces and nephews. It also conveys to the sibling that I love them, and I love their children. Right? My son Fergus could care less if you talk about him. If he’s having successes, he wants his family to celebrate with him. If he’s having problems, he wants our prayers. My son Samson is the opposite, he doesn’t want to be talked about whether it’s good or bad. Period. He is highly offended when he discovers someone has talked about him. Neither is right or wrong, it’s just their preference. I do my best to respect their wishes.

Today, my relationships with the people I love are more honest and respectful.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject of gossip!