I've been avoiding this.

I know I'm waiting for a day when I will have some couragous, spiritual thing to say, sure that one more dark post will just be too much for everyone. I had a comment one day remarking on how pessimistic I am. I know I'm not handling this whole thing right, but the fact is that this is me right now and I don't know how to be anything else. And I feel ashamed because of it, and unlovable-defective. The truth about me is coming out for all to see. I just can't seem to get it together.

I saw a clip the other day in one of my classes. The researcher(Harlow) was studying attachment and its effects on development. They gave this little baby monkey a choice between two wire mothers. One mother had a bottle attached but no padding for the wire. The other mother had soft padding but no bottle. The baby chose the padded mother every time. She chose comfort over food. When both mothers were taken away, the baby just paced, holding her hands over her face, sort of autistic-like. She didn't know how to interact with her peers properly. She was just distraught.

This is how I feel. I was attached-in my fear, I chose a comfort that could never fill my hunger. And now my comfort is gone and I pace, with my head in my hands, lost.

Jesus knew I would starve to death rather than let go, because I only saw two choices in life. Empty comfort or comfortless nourishment. He is the only combination of both, isn't he? Once again, I recognize a severe mercy in my deliverance from this relationship.

I know the answer would be that I find Jesus as my source of comfort now-He would provide not only comfort, but true sustenance. How? How? How? Everything is just pitch black with pain.

The Great Physician

I've been running from God for so long. Afraid of Him and what I thought was His punishment. Afraid for Him to look at me in my frightful condition.

Like an injured child, terrified of the very doctor who wanted to mend them,I ran away. Not understanding that going through the pain of the treatment is the only way to begin to heal. I have hidden my wounds and they have become infected and lethal. If I ever would have been able to look Him in the eye,I would have seen the love that wanted to heal me all along.

I am tired and sick and ready to submit, ready to surrender the hidden parts so that I might be made whole. I'll let Him drain away all the poison from all the years of hiding this pain. I'll believe that this pain has a purpose.I realize now there is no other way but through.

And I will be in good hands.

Broken pieces

What can I do with all these broken pieces of my life?

Most, if not all of them are as a result of my sin and rebellion. I want to hate myself, hurt myself, punish myself somehow for being such a bad person, for making decisions that will bring hurt to my children for the rest of their lives. I don't blame him for finding someone else. I have been very selfish. What does a person do with this knowledge? How can I change? How could I ever make amends? It is so hard to face the kind of person I have become. How do people go on when their own sin has brought such devastation? How can I ever lift my head again?I don't understand anymore about what it means to lay things at the foot of the cross. Why can't I understand it?

It feels hard to write today. Hard to put words together. Hard to think. I wish I had some uplifting, funny piece to write-inspiring, thought-provoking things to say, but it's just more of the same. Be warned.

Later on in the day on Wednesday, I had a major meltdown. I ended humiliating myself with Steve, leaving him crazy, hysterical messages and just basically making a fool of myself. I told him I couldn't handle him coming over for Thanksgiving and that I really couldn't handle seeing him at all. It was a very sad, pathetic way to say good-bye to someone I loved for 8 years. He told me I was a selfish bitch and wished me well. There was truth in the things he was trying to say to me and I was just to crazed to listen.

At any rate, it is all over. No more friendship, no more phone calls, he won't be stopping by anymore. I've made him hate me.

So, it feels today, like he has left me all over again, only this feels so final. I know this is a boundary that will have to be upheld for quite some time. I know it needs to be like this. It just hurts so much.

There is a huge hole left in me, in my life. I don't know how to be today. I want to just fall in that hole and have the dirt filled in on top of me. How do I do this? How do I stand it? The depression is so black and dark and the practical details of this fallout seem without solution. I have no money, no income at the moment, school seems impossible. The past and future are two bottomless pits on either side of my path.

How do people survive these kinds of things? I have such admiration for those who have.

Oy vey

I wake today to realize that tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I am responsible for making it a nice day for everyone and providing the usual feast. My parents are making the 5 hour trip and will be here this evening. A few others may be coming as well. The jury is still out on Steve(I'm aware it makes no rational sense to have him here). He told the boys he wants to be with his" family" for Thanksgiving. The boys are set on him being here.

My house is a disaster. I have not done any shopping or planning. I wish I were in a hospital bed curled up in the fetal position staring at the wall. I do not want to do this. I do not have the will to do this, but I have to, and somehow, someway I am guessing I will. I imagine I will tap into the same energy that allows mothers to lift cars off their trapped children. Tomorrow afternoon, we will find ourselves sitting around a pretty table, in a clean house. I will be carrying a golden brown turkey to the table, my hair will be done and I will be smiling and talking, maybe even a laugh or two. There will be homemade pies and the usual oohs and ahs. And I will pray that those moments when I disappear to the bathroom, nobody hears my sobbing.

Still playing

My sister K prayed for me on the phone the other night(as she has so often lately). It was powerful and loving and fierce. K was always the stubborn one and thank God for it. She has become an amazing warrior who perserveres when others falter. She blazes with the Lord's fury against the enemies of those He loves. The next day she had some others at her church interceding with her on behalf of my children and me. And my sister E prayed. And then all of you have prayed.

I am stunned by such love. I feel it like arms around me. Yesterday started off so badly, but as the day went on I began to feel a calm come, not over me, but spreading through me. I actually questioned myself, wondering if I had taken a pain pill or something. Dear Lord, Help me to receive such love.

Last night, I took my boys to see Harry Potter. At the end, Dumbledore said something to Harry that went right to my heart. I can't remember the exact words but, he was warning Harry that hard times were ahead-that soon they would have "to choose between what was right and what was easy" and then reminded him that he would not be alone.

I sat there and cried. I did do the right thing. Separating from Steve was the right thing, and the pain, the hardships as a result of doing it, I will not have to face alone.

Thank you all for your ministry of love.

Game over

I can't see my way, don't know my next step. I can't believe I will actually survive this-this endless wilderness of grief.

I find myself alone in a vast expanse of highland, nothing in sight as far as the eye can see , but the grey gloom of wildness and crag-so small against the looming landscape. It won't do any good to run, to search, to seek-there's no where to go, it all looks the same. I can't even find a hole to crawl in. All I can do is sit in the midst of it all and wait and hope to sleep and wake up to find it's all just been a ghastly nightmare. Or maybe to be quick prey for a hungry wolf, a kind act of nature putting the wounded out of their misery.

I don't have any faith and I despise myself for that. I find myself not believing. And we all know that is a cosmic no-no. I wish he would send the lightening b0lt and get it over with-turn me back to dust. Game Over.

A Heart Song

Once upon a time in a halfway house far, far, away a young woman ravaged by hurt, by shame, and too much self-medicating tried to pray, yearned to pray, but knew that words could never embody the desire in her heart. She lay on the dirty wood floor of this dirty, despair-filled place and began to shake with the depth of her crying and bubbling up from amongst the tears-a tune. A familiar tune...from long ago-from a little girl's heart sitting in children's church singing " Lord, I want to be a Christian in My Heart".

This little song was my only prayer, but it was the truest prayer I ever prayed and I find myself praying this song again because the words won't come.

A tough nut to crack

Lately, I've been realizing that all the pain I've been feeling is not just about this situation with Steve. It's about pain that has been squirreled away for a very long time. It's had time to develop a very hard shell around such a tender heart. The day I found out about Steve's new girlfriend, was the day the hammer came crashing down with force enough to crack me wide open and now all that I had hidden inside has been exposed.A severe mercy. He saved me from becoming rancid and bitter and rotten, useless and good for nothing but the trash heap. There is treasure left in the heart of this little broken nut. Thank you for the death blow.

Nothing like a Root Canal

Nothing like a root canal to take your mind off your troubles-that's what I always say. The last 3 days have been tied up with a terrible toothache, visits to the dentist and subsequent root canal. I am terrified of the dentist due to a bad experience several years ago, so this was all great fun. Not to mention having to borrow $2000 from my mother(which may have caused me more pain than the tooth).

I'm not going to complain though, because the sedation they gave me before the procedure was the best I've felt for months.

I'm off to class. I have a 3 day seminar this weekend 8:30 to 5:00-Fri-Sun. Oh boy. More great fun.

Sorry in Advance

I am suffering. I have no one to talk to. I want to drink so that I don't have to feel the way I feel for a little while. He is with her this weekend-brilliant, beautiful her. On a trip to Leadville to finalize a plan for her new gallery(Rita is a famuous artist here in the Southwest and her paintings are truly stunning).

And I am here, my pain oozing out all over the place, making such a mess. I know this is probably too much disclosure and inappropriate somehow, but I hear so much in this blog world about ministering to the poor and needy and messy, and I, at this point, am that.

Please. Please help me. Please talk to me. Please, help me remember Jesus. Remind me of why I need to keep living this life. I don't want to be here. I've struggled all my life with not wanting to be here and this has just intensified the struggle immensely. Call it self-pity, lack of gratitude, failure to renew my mind, call it what ever you want and you are probably right, but still, the dilemma. The despair. I want to die. I can't see hope. My children deserve better. I've made such a mess of things that there seems no way to fix.

My most shameful fear is really coming to pass. I am alone. No family here, no friends, no Steve...nobody. And God, I don't know how to find Him. The church I used to go to would probably tell me that God is going to use this to teach me how to trust Him and to know that He is with me--and they are probably right. But really, do they have to leave me to myself completely?Is there not a time to have someone sit and hold your hand while you cry?I feel punished-like I'm simply getting what i deserve. The last person at church I talked to said that this is all consequences of my sin and choices. True-but yet...where do I go from here? I can't find my way. I'm sorry.

My dear sons

May the the Lord bless you and keep you and always shine His face upon you. May you know His peace my loves.

Orphan Train

Come all you broken hearted, come and lay your burden down
Come kings and queens, come royalty surrender up your crown
Come empty-handed come with nothing of your own to claim
Come naked, poor, come like a child to ride the orphan train

Chorus: Come ride, ride on the orphan train
Put your ear to the track, you can hear your name
Come ride, ride on the orphan train, it'll take you all the way home

The way is narrow, it is steep that brings you to the door
But love awaits there to embrace your heart forevermore

Come you abandoned, you forsaken
Friendless and alone, come refugees left homesick for
Some place you've never known
Here princes, paupers, criminals and saints are all the same
No more or less than God's beloved child aboard this train

It’ll take you all the way home
It’s gonna take you all the way home
Lee Ann Womack

It's hard for me to talk about feeling like a refugee, when there are so many people suffering right now, here and all over the world that really have lost everything.

I'm ashamed in a way of this pain I am feeling, when there is suffering in this world that there are not even words to describe. I have never had to hold my child in my arms while I watch them die of starvation or disease. We are not being ravaged by war and our poverty is wealth in comparison to the poverty of the poorest. We are all healthy. We have health care and clean water. We have a place to lay our heads at night. We have so much to be grateful for and such a responsibility to share what we have been given and yet...

Even with the knowledge of all this, my heart feels as though it has lost everything. The storm has come and washed it all away. I can't find a place to lie my head. Desolation-so lost I don't where to turn. I'm waiting for that train, sitting on the tracks, empty handed, waiting to go home, to some place I belong.

Will I ever stop this crying? It wells up in me , uninvited, the tears come, seeping out of me as though there's no room left for one single more. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I try to keep the boys from the worst of it. I try to be happy for them and try to keep their lives as normal as possible. I wonder if they see the floods raging and the fires burning through me when I look into their eyes? I pray not.

I don't know how to stop feeling this sadness or grief or mourning or whatever it is. It seems independent of thought, untouched by lectures or shaming or common sense or any effort at containing it. It seems to have a life of its own and it pounds in my chest, day and night, knocking to be let out.

I don't know how to pray-the old ways of knowing God seem useless to me now. I am silenced at the cross.

I' m just going to wait here by the tracks. I have nowhere left to go.

Trying Not to Call

This is a portion of a letter that Brennan Manning received from Betty Fusco. He elaborates on it in his book, The Wisdom of Tenderness.

Why, God?Can't you feel our pain? Do you really know how much we hurt?
When Joseph died, what did Mary and Jesus do? Was not their hurt so great
that they covered their faces with ashes, cried out in loud voices with weeping
and wailing, rent their clothes, and hired mourners to follow the body in the
traditional Hebrew fashion of mourning the dead?

And was it in this same Hebrew fashion that on Good Friday, the Father covered his face with ashes-the darkness of midday, the eclipse of the sun?

His earth screamed and groaned in the agony of an earthquake
upheaval-the earth trembled and shook-rocks split and mountains
fell-he cried out in a loud voice.

He wept-springs burst forth from the splits in the earth;rivers ran
wild as their natural courses were changed.

He rent his clothing: the curtain of the sanctuary, the Holy of Holies,
the place no one entered, the traditional Hebrew dwelling place of God
was torn from top to bottom.

He sent mourners to follow the body. "Tombs opened and many holy men
rose from the dead. And after Jesus' resurrection they came forth from the
tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to a number of people"
(Matt.27:53).

"Oh yes, Father, you know, for did you not shed tears and intone the
lament to show your own deep grief and observe the mourning for a
day or two and then were comforted in your sorrow" (Sir.38:16-18).

The Father knows.

So I will not call Steve, I will call on the Father instead.

Torrential Rain

I'm walking through my day today: school, studying(not really), babysitting little Lola, last minute items for the evening's torture, oh I mean festivities, spending too much( that I don't have) on candy, delivering caramel apples to #5's school, finishing a pumpkin #3 didn't have the patience to finish last night, trying to clean the house(I could swear it was clean last night), dinner?(the eternal question),etc.

Inside me: cascading sheets of rain, a thunder crack and it pours faster and harder, the dams are breaking, the landscape flooding, water everywhere. Grief is washing through me, winding it's way through every nook and cranny, on a crashing course that moves everything out of it's way.

I want to crumple down into it and just be washed away with it. Why do I have to keep standing?...

Boys that need me. Boys that do not need the legacy of a mom who quit on them. I'm hanging on to that guys. I don't want to leave you. Somehow we will be lifted up onto dry land. I'll keep holding on until help comes. I promise. I know it seems awful now, but it's gonna be o.k.

At least, that's what they all say.

Missing him

Eight years. Eight years we were together. We were best friends. We did everything together. Even going to the grocery store, he would follow me around and tease me. I know I did the right thing leaving him, but there is such an empty hole left behind. He was my partner in the pack(see previous entry). And when I left, he choose to stay behind. He found another to take my place. I can barely think of it.

I miss him. The pain of this loss is just stripping me bare, taking the breath right out of me.

Another man abandoning my boys. I will never put them through this again. The pain of realizing what I have done to them. The sobering reality of life without a partner, probably for the rest of my life is setting in. People say I'll meet a good man now. Right- a good man that wants to take on 5 sons and a woman without means. I hear in my heart that I will be alone. My only hope for them is trusting that he means what he says when he says he will be a father to the fatherless. Please pray for my sons. They have never known a good man in their life. Hell, I have never known a good man in my life. Do they exist?

Running with the wolves

Once upon a time I was a little lamb, gave my heart and my sins to Jesus and became part of His fold. I was so relieved and I loved my dear Shepherd. I always wanted to be near Him.

After a while, I began hearing rumors, rumors about keeping clean, being good, staying out of trouble or He couldn't love you anymore. He wouldn't let you be by His side anymore until you got cleaned up.

There were so many things I had to do, because this was a destiny I couldn't bear to think about. I got so busy, worked very hard, and the harder I tried, the further away from His side I wandered. I failed over and over-became so discouraged. I felt so different from the rest, because I was struggling with what seemed to come so easily to the other lambs. I will never fit in-it's useless. I couldn't stay in the fold anymore, because I was hopeless. And besides, there is "no rest for the wicked" the other lambs would say.

So I left, wandered off and decided to run with the wolves, they didn't seem to know anything about all this good and bad stuff, sin, rules to follow. I decided this is where a lamb like me belongs. I tried so hard to put the Shepherd out of my mind. I was sure I could become a wolf, adapt to their wild ways, but I could never forget, never ignore it for long. I came to know in my deepest heart that I could never be a wolf, never forget I was a lamb who wandered to far from home. I made a decision to leave the pack. I would never belong there, but how do I find my way back? And will they let me back in when I stand at the gate?I know the other sheep will tell me to go away. I will stand and bleat and bleat with my little broken lamb's heart until He comes.

For now, I stand alone. The wolves come at night and howl outside my door, calling me to come and run, but now I know, now I can see. They just want something to devour.

I hear the rumble

In his sidebar at So I Go Now, Jeff shares his image of the Jesus of our day.The Rider. I can't get it out of my mind.
I call out for Him, "Jesus, where are you?" He says,"don't you hear the rumble darling?" He wants to take me for a ride, but oh, I can't. I won't be able to look him in the eye,won't be able to lift my head, because I am ashamed. I am the woman at the well, the adultress waiting for the first stone, the woman with the "issue" who just wanted to touch his robe, I am Magdalene with the seven demons. Don't you see Jesus? It's all over for me. I have left you too many times, betrayed you like the whore of Hosea.Why would you want the likes of me? I don't want to shame you anymore.

I sit on my porch, torn and yearning. There He is just waiting for me at the curb, reving the motor now and then as if to say "Come unto me, let me give you rest".


(Obviously, I don't know how to create links yet, please forgive, but do find this blog)


Pain

Learning to deal with pain. Hmmm. It's a toughie and not something I've ever wanted to do, hence addictions of various kinds and mental illness galore.

I am feeling pain, I am going through pain. I am believing everyone who says there is another side to it. I want to grow up. I want to get better and I realize there is no way to get there but by going through this. One day at a time.

LIttle Inklings

Little inklings today, of more-of something deeper, something richer. Of purpose and meaning. All the ingredients of my life, a big mosh dumped together, finally being mixed up into something. Yes, lots of stirring going on-can hardly believe it.

See this guy's blog, oh my goodness:http://soigonow.blogspot.com/

Listen to this, Les Choriste- a soundtrack, oh my, my goodness

hangin' on by the fingertips

I don't have much to say really, I just want to keep up with this and be consistent with it whether it's anything significant or not. As much as I'm tempted to isolate, I have to stay connected. I am just terrible at this loneliness thing. The feeling of being all alone in the world sneaks up on me sometimes and just swallows me whole.

I've been better lately. It seems like I've made it over the hump as far as the crying goes and I've made a few steps forward into this unknown new world. It's a tightrope, but okay as long as I don't look down.

I'm still making my way through school and doing pretty well so far. Things are going to get much harder now that the research project is heating up and I have another research paper coming up too. Tonight I have to finish the introduction section for my project and I'm panicking somewhat. I have the information, but just can't seem to put it together. It's due tomorrow and we also have a test tomorrow so I'm feeling the usual procrastinator's pinch. I go back and forth between freaking out and saying "I can't do this", to deep breaths, and "Okay, I've got this covered". It's the old "act as if" technique. Act as if you are a calm, competent college student who takes a silly paper in stride. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I hate anxiety!

Pray for drummer boy. He has been so depressed and irritable lately and he won't tell me what's going on. In fact, he won't talk to me at all. This weekend the Booster club is honoring the senior soccer players and parents at the game. I feel the lump in my throat already. I can't believe he's going to be graduating this year. I have no idea how to do all this senior "stuff"-pictures, colleges, etc. As much as he drives me nuts, I will miss him so.

Can't sleep for crying

It's 2am. I woke up crying and can't stop.It seeps out of me like blood from a deep wound,pumping with each beat of the heart. I miss him. He doesn't want to even see me anymore because I'm such a mess.He makes love to someone else now. The sickest part is that it's the frenzy of a baby whose mother is pushing it away. The one who would comfort you doesn't want you anymore-turns cold, becomes a stranger, doesn'
t remember you anymore. Where once there was an open door, is now, a brick wall with no way around it. Eventually, the baby stops crying, stops struggling and pleading. lays down to die in a stupor of neglect. It is a sick joke to let someone trust you, and then once they do, humiliate them with it-act like you don't know what they're talking about. Oh, how funny, you thought I loved you. It's horrifying to realize you've been had, betrayed, set up,made the fool. The shame of it. Letting someone see your need, feel your vulnerability,touch your weakness and then stab you in the back with it. What remains after this? You begin to disappear from the inside out, a pernicious shriveling, until there is nothing left but a shell. I'm still trying to find my mom, aren't I? Still trying to find a lap that will welcome me. A face that will recognize me. There's a ghost of a child roaming around inside. Can't be laid to rest until she finds her mom. She can't find her anywhere, so she wails and screams,cries the possessed sobs of mourning. I want to help her. I want her to be at peace. She is looking for something that has been gone so long. Somehow she won't accept it. How to comfort this little one?

oh help

My heart is rent-like the veil, split down the middle-in pieces-passing away. Will I see God now? Will this usher me in at last to the place that I've looked for my whole life-that holy of holies. Is this when I'm gonna get it-that Jesus died for this rent heart. I've been told I have a new life ahead of me. Now that Steve's really gone, it will be better. I don't believe it yet. I can't see it. I can't see anything. I'm about as lost as a soul could be. I miss him so much and I don't want to believe that he's not coming back, that he won't love me anymore, that I'm alone now. I don't know how to live life without him anymore.

Yes, the word idolatry comes to mind. He was a god I could see and feel and touch. He was there when I was sad, and sick, and crazy-when I didn't know what to do. He was there. He would fix it. He held me,and stroked my hair, and told me everything was gonna be okay. He called me "baby girl". He told me I was beautiful, that I made him want to be a better man. He took care of me.He defended me. I had moments of melting into trust and security like I had never known. What did I have to give in return? My life, my soul, my very self and I paid it too. Anything to have the smallest drop of love and affection. I know it wasn't real love, on his part or mine. I think I always knew, but I was good at pretending and wishing. It was selfish and desperate-a twisted give and take.

And I am alone. I have no friends here really, not friends that I could lean on. No family, no one who isn't paid to be in my life. Alyson comes to see me. She's helping me live the days. She steadies me when I don't want to live or breathe another breath. I know she cares. She is a godsend, but I can't get too attached, because ultimately, she's an illusion. A friend who can't really be my friend. I was watching a show with Seth the other night about a woman who raises these little orphaned kangaroos. She couldn't let the little ones become to attached because they were to be released back into the wild when they were ready. This is my terror-that I can't be attached to these dear people who have been so good to me, who have saved my life in a way because I'm going to have to be released back into the wild of this terrifying world and make my way on my own. I don't know how to stand on my own. I've always had someone taking care of me, helping me, rescuing me, making the way easier. I'm so afraid and lost and deeply, deeply ashamed of my inadequacy. It is a wound that never healed properly, that wasn't attended to, that has left me defective, crippled, an oddity-a grown woman who can't take care of herself or her children. A grown woman who still needs mothering. I don't feel 42, I feel 8 and so small. I am bereft, without comfort and inconsolable. Abandoned.Alone. I could call out,please, please don't leave me. I could beg and plead and still there will be no one. No one. Little children should not be left alone to their grief. I may be 42, but there is a little child in me who is feeling the loss of her only hope and comfort in life all over again, actually, finally feeling it for the first time. It takes me over, wave after wave until I can't breathe. Please don't leave me here-please let me go with you. Where are you? Oh my God, I despise my weakness and need. How does a person go out into the world without first knowing the comfort and security of being loved? It's magnetic, a pull to find something that isn't there, that never will be there, that can never be there.
I know, I know, God is the only one who can heal a thing like that. Right? Well, I can't find God. ANYWHERE. This is the thing I don't understand. Years of crying alone, calling out with the truest heart I could muster-where are you? What have I done that you can't come to me? I'll be good. Please. I'm sorry God. I need you.

Attempt #3

I believe this is my third attempt at blogging. You know what they say, right? I never know how to get the damn things started though. Do I give background or do I just dive right in. I suppose it all comes out in the wash. I guess the most important thing is that I just start putting words down. It might be a bit of a rough start, so buckle your seatbelts.