It is strange. I have many sad memories of my dad because of the year and a half he spent very ill. Maybe that's why it was somewhat easy to accept his death- because it was slow and painful and it felt easier to let him go than to watch him in misery all the time.
Because of the length of time he was sick, I feel like most of my memories are of him being ill, not the before when he was healthy. But recently, happy memories have started filling up space- but even those are sad. All 4 of us kids have my dad's insane sense of humor. I saw a funny post on pinterest and immediately thought of my dad and how hysterical he would find this!!! I remembered his laugh for the first time in a while- and it felt good...but bad all at the same time. I miss his joy.
You see, when they are sick, it's easy to let them go because the life they have coming is a million times better than the life they are leaving behind. But when I remember the GOOD, the funny, the happy- that's when I miss him the most. I can't help but wonder how he would be to my daughter, or how different our lives would be if he were here.
I find myself weeping more recently. It seems to come in waves. There are seasons where there is just numbness, and seasons where whenever anyone asks "are your parents still together?" Or "where do your parents live?" that I just cant help but cry.
I miss his laugh- I think his joy saved my life. My mom is a very serious person. I remember it used to always startle me when she would laugh- I would think to myself "man, I wish she did that more often." Now that my dad is gone- I'm left with the unhappy one. The wounded one who chooses not to get better- even though her family has paid the price. I'm left dealing with the one who takes her anger out on me just for being me. Just for having boundaries. Just for saying "no". Just for sharing my feelings.
So, I have to let go. I have to let go of the expectation that she will ever be different- because pressing for change is only making matters worse. But this is hard because that means I now have to grieve the loss of my mother and all that she may never be to me. The strange thing is that this has surfaced what has been there all along- the pain of not having her there in the first place. Me trying to change her or bring change . Now I have to let go of what will likely never be due to her own limitations.
But this is the only way I can love her- is if I choose to accept her as she is with her limitations. Im not sure if there is some "mental illness" involved, I hate using that label- but she definitely is not emotionally well- and her emotional unwell-ness is rubbing off and hindering my getting-well! Its like being on a never ending roller coaster ride while the other person is punching and kicking you all the while. The only way to be safe and get help is to say "sayonara!" and let them ride that one by themselves.
My hope will always be for her well being, her healing and restoration- but GOD ALONE can do that...God alone. No one else. Now- it's time for me to get my healing.
God bless.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Angry day!
Oh Lordy...Why do I have to learn the hard way...every time?! Okay, maybe not every time...but most times it seems I have to take the long, arduous, painful road. I'm learning that sometimes God delivers us FROM something, and other times He delivers us THROUGH the process. I call this refiners fire: the heat of the furnace breaks some of the chains that bind us.
For me, forgiving my mom has come in pieces. As memories surface, I get angry for a bit (or maybe longer than a bit depending on the day!) and then I have to choose to release them. It is becoming easier and easier to let things go, to forgive quicker than the last time, to pick myself up again after a fall.
I've mentioned before that when I was 13, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder- I was OBSESSED with being perfect before God. Everything I did had to be perfect, and when I messed up by thinking something awful or bad, I would punish myself. While there can be many factors that influence how this shows up in a persons life, I believe mine was largely influenced by the atmosphere of our home. I didn't have a place where I could go with my fears, my worries or anxieties, and on top of that, I had a mother who was often quick to lash out in anger and point out my imperfections. Needless to say, I didn't really feel like I was okay, or acceptable as I was.
What does this have to do with anything? Well, a lot. Our parents have a profound impact on our emotional, physical and spiritual health. They help us form our view of ourselves and God. If one is not accepted by their parents, then what makes them think they would be accepted by the perfect God of the universe? So I found myself just the other day, all worked up by the mountain that was beginning to form of all of my problems and imperfections. I was all anxious and up tight...almost spiraling out of control. I began to pray "God, where is this coming from?". I realize that is probably obvious to the rest of you- but for me, in order to get over the negative, it helps me to understand who spoke it, what the words were, and then I can give it to God and receive His truth for my situation.
I realize like this could easily look like I blame everything on my mother- and it is true, she did a lot of damage. But my real enemy was the devil. He invested a lot of time, resources and energy into ruining my life- but glory to God, it will not stay that way! He used her like a puppet on strings to poke, prod, speak evil and breathe lies.
Back to what I was saying- I realized that I would spend a great deal of time trying to be perfect so that my mom wouldnt' find something to pick on. I could have lost weight, looked awesome, gotten my hair done all nice, and she would pick out the ONE THING that was out of place. I would actually pray when my face broke out that she didn't notice, because inevitably she would point it out.
So began my fear of God. Not the good kind! I would spend my time trying to be perfect for him- hiding from His presence because I was afraid that he would pick on me. That he would see the one weakness I had forgotten to perfect and humiliate me for it. I began to dread my devotional times, because all my time was spent trying to earn something and hide something else. And then the flood of tears came.The pain of not being accepted. The craving to just be loved, and yet being terrified to open myself up because I had already been so wounded. The fear that I could somehow inadvertently do this to my own child.
I spent the day feeling angry- angry that I have so much garbage to sort through. Angry that it wasn't my fault and yet I am left with the wounds and scars. If I'm not careful, an opportunity for healing can easily turn into a pity party. So I'm learning to be quick to turn immediately to the Lord. If not, I open myself up to torment because of unforgiveness.
I am reminded of the story of the blind begger in the new testament. The disciples asked "what has this man or his parents done that caused him to be this way", and Jesus pointed out that it wasn't because of some sin, it was so that His power and glory could be manifested. I do believe sometimes God allows us to walk through things so that we can know Him in a deeper way. He doesn't always deliver us from, but He delivers us through. One step at a time. One moment of obedience at a time.
I can be honest in saying that I don't really like my mother- but I am learning to love and forgive her, and I pray that someday Jesus will help me to actually like her for who she is, accepting her weaknesses and failures, as we ALL have them, and we are ALL prone to failure.
For me, forgiving my mom has come in pieces. As memories surface, I get angry for a bit (or maybe longer than a bit depending on the day!) and then I have to choose to release them. It is becoming easier and easier to let things go, to forgive quicker than the last time, to pick myself up again after a fall.
I've mentioned before that when I was 13, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder- I was OBSESSED with being perfect before God. Everything I did had to be perfect, and when I messed up by thinking something awful or bad, I would punish myself. While there can be many factors that influence how this shows up in a persons life, I believe mine was largely influenced by the atmosphere of our home. I didn't have a place where I could go with my fears, my worries or anxieties, and on top of that, I had a mother who was often quick to lash out in anger and point out my imperfections. Needless to say, I didn't really feel like I was okay, or acceptable as I was.
What does this have to do with anything? Well, a lot. Our parents have a profound impact on our emotional, physical and spiritual health. They help us form our view of ourselves and God. If one is not accepted by their parents, then what makes them think they would be accepted by the perfect God of the universe? So I found myself just the other day, all worked up by the mountain that was beginning to form of all of my problems and imperfections. I was all anxious and up tight...almost spiraling out of control. I began to pray "God, where is this coming from?". I realize that is probably obvious to the rest of you- but for me, in order to get over the negative, it helps me to understand who spoke it, what the words were, and then I can give it to God and receive His truth for my situation.
I realize like this could easily look like I blame everything on my mother- and it is true, she did a lot of damage. But my real enemy was the devil. He invested a lot of time, resources and energy into ruining my life- but glory to God, it will not stay that way! He used her like a puppet on strings to poke, prod, speak evil and breathe lies.
Back to what I was saying- I realized that I would spend a great deal of time trying to be perfect so that my mom wouldnt' find something to pick on. I could have lost weight, looked awesome, gotten my hair done all nice, and she would pick out the ONE THING that was out of place. I would actually pray when my face broke out that she didn't notice, because inevitably she would point it out.
So began my fear of God. Not the good kind! I would spend my time trying to be perfect for him- hiding from His presence because I was afraid that he would pick on me. That he would see the one weakness I had forgotten to perfect and humiliate me for it. I began to dread my devotional times, because all my time was spent trying to earn something and hide something else. And then the flood of tears came.The pain of not being accepted. The craving to just be loved, and yet being terrified to open myself up because I had already been so wounded. The fear that I could somehow inadvertently do this to my own child.
I spent the day feeling angry- angry that I have so much garbage to sort through. Angry that it wasn't my fault and yet I am left with the wounds and scars. If I'm not careful, an opportunity for healing can easily turn into a pity party. So I'm learning to be quick to turn immediately to the Lord. If not, I open myself up to torment because of unforgiveness.
I am reminded of the story of the blind begger in the new testament. The disciples asked "what has this man or his parents done that caused him to be this way", and Jesus pointed out that it wasn't because of some sin, it was so that His power and glory could be manifested. I do believe sometimes God allows us to walk through things so that we can know Him in a deeper way. He doesn't always deliver us from, but He delivers us through. One step at a time. One moment of obedience at a time.
I can be honest in saying that I don't really like my mother- but I am learning to love and forgive her, and I pray that someday Jesus will help me to actually like her for who she is, accepting her weaknesses and failures, as we ALL have them, and we are ALL prone to failure.
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