My Current Healing Journey
I have not posted anything recently because I have been on an emotional roller coaster. It's nothing new I say, but it is. This emotional roller coaster is the pathway to my healing.
Some days, my heart feels so raw. I likened it to open heart surgery, though I've never had it. I experience dull aching pains, then there are sharp pains. Other days, it feels like someone has taken a gazillion Thai chili peppers and rubbed them all over my emotional wounds. It isn't a fun process, but I know it is a necessary one.
I've never been good at feeling my emotions. I do everything, but feel. My main defense mechanism, in response to emotional pain, is repression. Right now, and for a while, I just don't have the mental or emotional capacity to take on anymore pain, even if it's the pain of others. I've realized it's because I haven't dealt with my own pain. It's all been repressed or suppressed. Therefore, I will often eat my feelings, minimize, avoid, or intellectualize. These are the ways I cope, but the feelings never truly go away and come out in different ways like me being angry, irritable, down, or on edge. The pain is stuffed down and hidden, but still very much present.
Even with all of these feelings, I am unable to cry. As a child, I learned not to cry because whenever I cried, I was told not to cry. I was not given the permission or space to cry. I do remember times when everything was so bottled up inside, that I would have huge outbursts and explode in tears. By that time I was crying and hyperventilating. Now as an adult, I've taken on the perception that crying is weak. It doesn't help. (Me) Crying is repulsive, and I couldn't even take it when my children would cry. Then it dawned on me, I am doing to my children what was done to me. I don't want to be intolerant of crying; I want my children to know that crying is okay. Deep down, I want myself to know that crying is okay.
Yet, I've gotten so good at not crying that I was unable to cry at my brother's funeral this past March. I was sad and I was devastated; yet, I was still not able to cry! My heart had been trained to be hard and calloused when it came to crying. At the same time, I was unknowingly becoming hard and calloused to God. I wouldn't allow myself to cry, which meant that I wouldn't let God into the pain. I knew I needed a good cry, but nothing helped. I purposefully watched sad movies to provoke my tears, but it was a failed effort. I shed a tear here or there, but my soul was looking for a good, deep, heaving, all-surrendering cry.
Last month, our church had a 3-day conference. God must have been working in me all three days because on the third day, I began shedding tears during praise and worship. Then, a few more during the sermon. At the end, I went up for alter call and couldn't help myself. The waterworks came and erupted in a great pool of long, overdue tears. I wept, wailed, and lamented.
It felt so good, so cleansing. You see, my automatic survival technique of not feeling, not crying, and hardening my heart had become a barrier to God's help and comfort. I learned these things to survive the childhood trauma and dysfunction that I witnessed, nearly everyday. My coping mechanisms and habits helped me to survive and to get where I am today. Luckily I realized, that they are not helping anymore.
I have been evaluating myself, big time, and also my relationships. I have had to confront myself, and I am learning, changing, and growing. I've learned that I don't want to be in relationships that are one-sided or not reciprocated. I don't want to waste time on people and situations that don't bring or give life. I don't want any additional baggage. I need to be built up and encouraged, not torn down and discouraged. I don't want to fight to be heard, or have to shout to get my point across. I don't want to be in relationships where I wait for my needs to be met. I don't want to be invested in anything or anyone that will hinder this healing process.
Now that I'm feeling my emotions, there is a lot of hurt, pain, anger, and sadness rising up. As I said above, my heart is raw and I am extremely sensitive. In this, I find myself speaking up more and being more assertive. There is so much that I've been holding in all these years, that I'm no longer afraid to say it. Instead of my usual staying quiet to keep the peace, I am speaking out. I am not so afraid of confrontations anymore or striving to keep the peace (to my detriment). Don't get me wrong, my goal is not to "tell people how it is" or explode at offenders every chance I get. But I am building boundaries. I am not accepting certain behaviors or relationships. I am not going to make excuses for people (or myself) anymore. I will not try to salvage unhealthy relationships, to keep the peace or person. No. I need more. I deserve more.
To those who continue to stand by my side during this new, healing phase, I appreciate you. I am not myself, and I will need time. Thank you for your prayers, checking in, and spending time with me. Time is so valuable because it's something that we never get back. Every bit counts! Thank you to those who have reached out have taken a piece of the load. I could not do this without you, and I know that I am not alone. Your actions and love does not go unnoticed, and I ask that God bless you abundantly. I am so thankful to God for the genuine, loving, caring, kind and supportive people He has placed in my life.
Through it all, God is ever-so present. He is healing me, though I feel lost, unstable, and unable to go on at times. I trust that He loves me, and this is what I need to go through to heal because His Word says in Psalm 147:3, He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Moving to CA has been a blessing because it has allowed me to really focus on myself and my needs. Here, God has provided so many resources, tools, and people to help me on this journey.
Sometimes, there are things that only God can help with and clinging to Him is the only option. Most people say and mean well, but nothing said truly hits the spot or brings the healing like God does. It isn't a bad thing. It's God showing us His strength, faithfulness, love, mercy, grace, forgiveness and power. It can feel lonely, but God will never leave or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:6). I am taking it little by little and day by day.
Let us pray.
Dear God,
Thank you for seeing my need for change, love, and wholeness. Thank you for seeing my value and worth. Thank you for wanting me to be healed and helping me to face my hurts. Thank you for your constant presence during these difficult times. Lord, whoever may be reading this, please also make your presence known to them. Bless them and continue to carry them through. Send people to help them as you have to me. May we grow in your love and truth. Help us in our struggles and pain. Take our burdens. Continue to open our hearts, so we can receive the help we need. You are the Great Physician, heal our wounds and make us whole again. Your Word says you are close to the broken-hearted and save those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). ""LORD, be gracious to us; we long for you. Be our strength every morning, our salvation in time of distress"" (Isaiah 33:12). We praise and worship you. In Jesus name, amen.
Prayerfully,
Pam
