Giving Thought

Yesterday was Thanksgiving.  A beautiful day.  Spent with my beautiful daughters and wonderful husband.  Of coarse I cuddled with Krew and played with Madden.  Who by the way could not get enough of Grandma.  He would wander away for a bit to play with cousins, and soon be tugging on my pant leg and motioning me an invitation to join them in his room. 

This day was also spent with a heavy heart.  With recent declaration of needing some space and time away from my parents, my thoughts were constantly being drawn to this decision.

Oh how I long for a story book family.  One that begins with once upon a time.... and ends with forever and always, or for all of eternity, or happily ever after.  Perhaps I have this, and I just am so caught up in the middle of the story that I cannot see it for what it is. 

I must find a way to separate my existence with the experiences I have had.  I am more than a survivor of child abuse, I am more than the experiences I have had on this earth.  I existed before this time, and I will exists after.

Could it be possible that one of my most valuable experiences on this earth would be to be a survivor of child abuse?  Are there only some lessons that I would learn if only for this experience? 

How is it, that this experience could be some powerful that it could occupy so much of what I do, what I think and how I act? Do others have such experiences?  Or, perhaps; I am making this a bigger deal than it is?  Am I seeking attention by making this such a big deal?  Has this become my perpetual wound, that as soon as it starts to heal, I pick the scab off? 

I think things like this constantly.  My mind runs rampant with this poison.  Questioning everything about everything.  Not able to trust even the simplest of thoughts, of decisions, of actions.  What is the motive?  What will I get out of this or that? 

I feel guilty for leaving my parents. For moving on without them.  Less than a month, and I am wondering what I have done.  Have I hurt them?  Have I done this in a effort to protect myself, but really knowing how badly it would hurt them? 

I hear stories about my Dad being depressed and upset.  Secretly does it satisfy me?  How do I feel about this?  How should I feel about this?  What could I get out of this?  If I play things correctly, what would my gain be?  And then Mom.  What about Mom? Is she capable of even knowing how she feels?  Does it matter to me?  Should it matter to me?

Amy is upset, but stepping up.  Which makes me glad.  Glad that she is taking a turn. Maybe this time is for her, for her to grow.  Hell!  Why would I even think that this is my "job" to teach her something. 

I literally cannot turn this dialogue off in my head.  It goes non stop.  I pray for quietness to overcome me.  It does for moments.  But as soon as I recognize the silence, I put the thoughts right back into high gear.

Am I more than this experience.  I believe I am, if I can conquer the tug of war.

Ask and Ye Shall Receive.....

In the scriptures, we read: And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive. I believe that.  But I also believe that we have a Father in Heaven that knows what is better for us than maybe we know, believe or want for ourselves.  Does this mean that this scripture isn't true?  It doesn't say, ask in prayer believing, and ye shall receive if I think it is best for you. (italics added with a little sarcasm). I think it means, we will at some point have an understanding, or be given the peace that comes from forgiveness, or the talents when the time is right. 

I have petitioned the Lord many times for relief, understanding, to be healed from the cross I bear. And I have asked a lot, I have pleaded, tried to bargain, begged and even tried getting mad.  Still the cross is there. 

This big heavy cross I carry is making me tired.  So tired that at times, I cannot get out of bed.  It sometimes casts such a shadow that it is nearly impossible to see the Son (sun). These are the days that I pray for this to be over. One way or the other.  

Relief comes on occasion. I notice not such a heavy load. I seem stronger. An answer to prayer in the form of added strength or a load lightened.  If only for a minute. To give me time to catch my breathe.

“Healing blessings come in many ways, each suited to our individual needs, as known to Him who loves us best. Sometimes a ‘healing’ cures our illness or lifts our burden. But sometimes we are ‘healed’ by being given strength or understanding or patience to bear the burdens placed upon us.” Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “He Heals the Heavy Laden,” Ensign, Nov. 2006, 7–8.

We all have challenges, struggles and trials.  Some come and go, some linger, some are difficult and some a quick to leave their mark.  Some people wear their burdens well, others do not.  But they are there.   


I know that this journey that I am on right now, is a refiners fire for me.  I am either going to come out stronger and let the blessings of the atonement work in my life, or it will consume me.  I am confident that my father knows what is going on with me.  He has sent and will send, people along my way to lighten the load.  I believe that he prepared me as best a father could; as I prepared to leave is side to come to earth.  I cannot imagine him not sitting down with me and providing counsel and instruction as I headed out to my first day at "School".  A father's blessing was given, a hug and a wave good-bye as I began my earthly journey.  We both knew it would be hard.  And I agreed to come.


Now the work is at hand.  I must figure out how to endure, recover and rebound.  Slowly, ever so slowly I am remembering, and learning what needs to be done.  I am rediscovering who I was and who I want to be.  How this will strengthen me.


I believe all things, I will hope for all things, I have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of  good report or praiseworthy, I will seek after these things.

Pretending

I am tired of pretending that I am OK, that I don't hurt.  Wishing today that I could be invisible, that I could just disappear. Wishing in the most selfish way that I didn't matter. That I could voluntarily quit. Although I don't really know what that would look like or mean. I do however, wish I didn't feel so unimportant to myself.

I find myself worrying about what I am doing to Brian. He must be tired of all this crap. He must long for a better wife, mother to his children and better friend. All these things I feel so deeply. Slung over my shoulder as a constant reminder of just how broken I am.

I feel crazy, unsettled, unsure, unhappy, unemotional and confused. I don't feel good enough. Good enough for anything. But yet I care.  I care so deeply that I keep moving, trying to make some progress along this narrow path.

I am afraid of being vulnerable and being rejected.  I want attention. I want someone to care about me. I want someone to fight for me. I am so mad that my parents are respecting my space.  It feels like they can live without me.  Ridiculous I know, but I have always felt like I don't matter to anyone.

How could anyone really care about me when I am so ashamed of who I am. Ashamed of the secret that I have buried so deep that even I cannot let it out. Ashamed of what everyone will think. Maybe they will just think that I am not good enough for their affection. Or worse, maybe they will take pity on such a pathetic person. You know like take them under their wing and try to save me.

I feel lost, tired and ashamed of how I could allow myself to get to where I am. I feel like a fake. That perhaps, my facade will be discovered. I don't know how to overcome the weak scared timid little girl.  I fight it. I try to be different than her. I don't want to be anything like her. I want to be different.

I try to be outgoing, engaged, confident and strong. But truth be told I have no idea what my true north is.  Who am I??  Am I strong or timid, reserved or outgoing?

Ashamed is what I am. Ashamed of being mad at that sweet little girl. Ashamed of who I try to be.

I am tired of pretending.