We meet for coffee.
The one person I thought I could confide in, who encouraged me to confide with promises that it would not change anything and that it wasn’t “too much.”
Promises that turn out to be empty and false.
Tentative attempts to talk rebuffed with “you need to trust God more.”
I feel afresh the shame, the regret, the feelings that it was wrong to talk so ingrained for so many years by similar events…tell someone, ask for help, they promise it will be okay, they disappear and become distant.
The tip, though, happened…at church. The person who had done a Bible study with me every Saturday, who had slipped in and sat next to me Sunday after Sunday for over a year stopped acknowledging me. The irony being because I thought she was busy with the children’s care during church, I didn’t even know…until she told me she sat behind me one Sunday (via email), and yet had made no attempt to contact me…no touch on the shoulder as she passed behind me, not one word before I slipped out, nothing.
Then the comments from others like “are you ever going to be okay?” began to take on new meaning and pain.
And if I get an email, phrases like “I hope you’re okay emotionally” ring false and sting.
Once a month we meet for coffee, if she remembers.
Earlier this week I realized I was going to have to let go of a dream that I’m (1) never going to attain; and (2) is now hindering rather than helping me.
Another dream died because of now physical limitations so I guess it falls under both 1 and 2 above as well.
It’s time I accepted it.
Letting go hurts. It smacks of failure in my mind. More failure.
Two days ago I had a flashback at work quickly followed by a panic attack. It was dismissed as lingering effects from being ill so no one really said much when I exited quickly, crying. But I knew.
It caught me off guard because normally they happen at night…because all dark and scary things happen in the dark. I haven’t slept more than 2-3 hours in a row for well over a year now despite doing everything my doctor has asked me to try. He says it’s normal, that I’m making progress.
It doesn’t feel that way to me.
Friends say “you don’t trust God enough?” or “aren’t you better yet?” when I struggle with leaving the house for whatever reason or talking.
I want to hide. Or disappear entirely.
But something holds me back…
Even on tough weeks like this one.
Every new morning is a new beginning of our life. Every day is a completed whole. The present day should be the boundary of our care and striving (Matt. 6:34; Jas. 4:14). It is long enough for us to find God or lose God, to keep the faith or fall into sin and shame. God created day and night so that we might not wander boundlessly, but already in the morning may see the goal of the evening before us. As the old sun rises new every day, so the eternal mercies of God are new every morning (Lam. 3:22—23). To grasp the old faithfulness of God anew every morning, to be able—in the middle of life—to begin a new life with God daily, that is the gift that God gives with every new morning….Bonhoeffer
It’s easy to get distracted from the “issues” at hand, and equally easy to get swallowed up by the memories surrounding them. Somewhere between those two extremes is where the real work happens.
It’s a battle, moment by moment sometimes, to stay there. It’s hard and it hurts. It’s difficult to determine if time is a friend or foe.
Last night I failed and found myself swallowed up by memories even after trying to not go to that place.
The shame and fatigue in the aftermath of that failure are hard to describe right now. It’s another type of battle, but a real one nevertheless, to not isolate myself, to reach out and not lose touch right now.
I’m weary…from fighting…of life.
My honeysuckle bush has survived the cold, freeze-warning weather and is blooming already. The dogs, I suspect, are happy about the long break because it’s meant they have been able to stay inside on the very cold mornings instead of being pushed out the door.
I turned on the computer for the first time since before Christmas this morning…not that I haven’t been online or had access, I’ve just been relying on the phone and/or iPad. I also set the alarm clock for 5 am this morning in an attempt to make next Monday not quite so hard. I didn’t actually get out of bed until 6 (too cold) but I was awake and reading news, playing Words with Friends, and catching up on Twitter.
It’s been a nice break. I’ve done very little, but enough that I don’t feel like it’s been a total waste of time. Christmas decorations are down and put away. I even braved the ladder outside (alone) to take down the outside lights. Furniture has been moved, things re-arranged, and overall cleaned. I hung some artwork finally in the dining room, and the living room has new curtains. I finished one afghan and am almost half-way finished with another one. I had lunch with friends a few times, and coffee a few times too.
I’m ready to go back to work. I’ve enjoyed the time off, probably more than I have ever previously, but it’s time to get back into the routines of life. There are some major changes (that I can’t talk about yet) coming in the next several weeks, and while I’m not looking forward to them entirely, I’m also not dreading them as much as I thought I might when the reality of them happening hit. And, there are some hard anniversaries coming very quickly too. When people say time heals all wounds, they’re lying. They probably mean well and most likely have not lost anyone very close to their hearts, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s not true. It hurts…like being stabbed…maybe more so now than when it happened two years ago because the shock is gone and reality is harsh.
But for now, getting through today, savoring each moment, good and/or bad, and being thankful to even have them, is enough.