What it's like to grieve an abuser Part II

I'm going to expand on my previous post about grieving an abusive parent. I started the book "Motherless Daughters: The Legacy of Loss" just a few months after my mother passed away. (You can read about how I happened to land upon that here), but due to being in my last trimester of pregnancy, dealing with some behavior issues in our first born, and then HAVING our second child and the whirlwind that is parenting, I had to put it away for a while. I wasn't neglecting my grief, I just couldn't delve into the book at the time, in spite of it's helpfulness.

It has been almost a year since my mother passed away. I was in a funk last week and I couldn't figure out why and then all of a sudden it occurred to me....'ohhhhh yeah....this was the time." And I began to wonder, have I even processed that? I know it's time to deal with something when it replays or comes forward with a rush of emotion. I'm not sure I even know how to put it in words. I have to resist the urge to want to shove that in a mental box, never to be opened again.

When it came time to say goodbye, I was terrified...I mean, I haven't seen this woman in years, and for good reason.  She finally conceded to let me have my husband with me and I knew it was time. She had, up until then, refused to let me have him present because SHE was afraid of HIM. He had only ever protected me, and she was the one I needed protection from. I didn't know if she would use those final moments to be awful, or if somehow God would restrain her- so I wanted my husband there.  I had a group of friends praying about the whole thing and surprisingly, all I felt was peace once I got there. But, it was so hard. I cried immediately when I saw her. She was just a fragment of what she once was. She was rail thin, emaciated. Her skin was gaunt, and her eyes sunken in. She had tubes everywhere. Her intestines were greatly affected both by the cancer but also from the chemotherapy. She couldn't eat because she couldn't digest anything. She would take a sip of water and seconds later, it would come pouring out of a tube that protruded from her stomach. I am a nurse, so this largely didn't scare me. But...truly, her death was terrible. It broke my heart to see how greatly she suffered in the end. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. She alternated between lucid and incoherent. At times it felt like I was talking to a child, and others she was present and even made some sense. She would babble on about what items in the house she wanted us to have, and then burst into tears at the thought that she was leaving. She wanted to do it all over again. She wanted to go back and be the mom that we needed. All I could do was nod to that. I didn't try to make her feel better about her choices or belittle our experiences with her. I just simply nodded.  At my response, she quickly said "well, I did the best I could. I was so broken." Her mental illness again running the show. To me, seeing her in that state was like seeing a very physical representation of her state of mind. Her mind was, too, ravaged by disease- just a different disease. I reassured her that I had forgiven her, she was not in my debt. I wanted her to know that when it was time to go, she could go in peace knowing that I held nothing against her. She nodded, tears filling her eyes.

I've been trying to figure out why it took me so long to grieve. I don't judge myself for this, it is what it is. I think a majority of it is because while she was living, whenever I felt the pangs of not having a mother figure, my not having a mother was a much better option than having a mother like her. I couldn't really look beyond that. I realize what I'm grieving now is what I had always wanted and needed.  What I had always hoped I would get from her or that our relationship could be. In many ways, what I'm feeling now, the absence, mirrors how I felt all growing up: She was physically there, but emotionally absent. Her emotional absence was preferred to the constant boundary violations or her abusive presence, but both left me without the mother that I always wanted and needed. I couldn't acknowledge that longing deep inside or that feeling of emptiness or absence that I had been carrying for a very long time. I feel it when parenting is hard and I really wish I had someone to call and get advice from. When I'm trying to make a decision and just need a listening ear, I feel the absence. When my daughters do something amazing and hilarious or absolutely terrifying and maddening, I feel the absence. The longing. Its incredibly weird to be in my very early thirties and have no parents. To feel like you still need their support at times, or guidance and there is no one there. It's very hard.

I am incredibly grateful for the friends that I call family. Those who have stepped in and and filled in the gaps. It has made all the difference in the world to me.

Dismantling Shame

I want to talk about some past experiences that I have learned from, and gained insight into as the years have passed by. A few years ago, I was on the receiving end of a very bitter dissolving of a friendship. I had reached out to a friend after the passing of my mother, and decided to be vulnerable and let her know what my needs were. This was a HUGE step for me in my healing process, and something I would have never done before. I knew that she could say no, and I made my peace with that. I was prepared for her to not be able to be there for me. What I did not expect however, was to be told that I wasn't allowed to have needs, and that my needs were inappropriate and wrong, and that I was only to take those deep things to Jesus. Now- there is a God sized hole that we all have in our lives, and there are certain areas that only he can feel. But we cannot deny the need for community and relationship- we were designed for it. And in many regards, we only heal from past relationship disasters through healthy relationship interactions.

Now, a healthy person may be on the receiving end of this and say "well...that is a load of poop! I don't believe a word you say!" That was not my reaction, however.

You may be wondering as the reader, why did it stick? Why did I believe it? Shouldn't I, a grown adult woman, know what is true of myself? Well, not necessarily. For starters, I was raised in an environment where my intuition, my feelings and perceptions were constantly in question. I was rarely validated, and thus I never learned the importance of validating myself. As I've said in many previous posts, my mother suffered from Borderline personality disorder. It was pervasive and permeated every corner of her life, and subsequently our lives. I was wired for dysfunction, to put it lightly. I tend to feel that I am responsible for the reactions and responses of others, because that's how I was raised. It was my fault if my mother flew into a rage. It was my fault if she was sad, or distressed or just didn't want to be a mom that day. As I got older, and TRIED to individuate and differentiate,  as children are meant to do, my every move, and intention was questioned if it did not suit her needs. This made me feel crazy. I was told, on a regular basis, how I ought to feel, that my feelings were not normal, that I was crazy and incapable of making decisions, etc. These were all projections, but I believed for the majority of my life that there was something was profoundly wrong with me on a very basic level. I was raised to believe I was incapable of handling life. 

Fast forward, and what do you get? I was terribly anxious about making decisions...even little decisions, like where to go to eat. I would look around at the reactions and responses of others who would be affected by my decision.  God seemed to strategically put people in my life who would challenge this and force me to make decisions, and I'm grateful he did! I believed the lie that I couldn't handle the outcome of my choices  and thus would just sit like a paralyzed goat, unable to move or think. 

In healthy relationships, this wouldn't  be a problem because I would be surrounded by people who believed in me more than I believed in myself and thus "called out the gold", so to speak. I began to slowly believe that I was capable of making decisions, and thus my anxiety diminished. I began to create a new history of making good decisions and being able to handle it if I made a poor one. The same has been true for trusting my perceptions. When you are raised in an environment where you are made to feel crazy for how you feel, think and process, when you are told that certain traumatizing events never happened and that you just made it up, you find it nearly impossible to trust your own perceptions and intuition, which is our  God-given gps system.  Again in healthy relationship, this wouldn't be a problem because I was surrounded by people who worked as hard to understand me as I did them. There was mutual respect and a desire to grow and be the best humans we can be. 

What happens when this is challenged? When you are told that your perceptions are wrong, your feelings are invalid, and therefore you don't deserve to be in relationship because you are somehow so terribly flawed? If there is a giant crack in your foundation, as I had in mine, you will feel profound shame, and perhaps even self hatred.  I believed the lie that on a very basic level, I was flawed and therefore unfit for relationship. That I didn't deserve kindness, comfort or nurturing. My big question at that time is "why do I believe this lie"? It had to come from somewhere. And sure enough...it did. Not just one time, but many times through the course of my life. I had been kicked out, for lack of a better term, and deemed unfit. Not worth fighting for. Easily discarded. It's no wonder I believed that I deserved the treatment from this friend at a time when I genuinely needed someone. 

I began to look at my shame and decided I didn't want it there anymore. I was kicking it out- no matter how long it took me. I began the slow and grueling process of dismantling shame. This is not an easy task, and for me required me to look at my past and get healing from some hurts that I was unknowingly carrying around. I believed the lie that if I showed all of myself, even my flawed parts, that I would be rejected. And I was- by humans. But I have never been rejected by God. And through this, I have found pieces of my identity that were hiding underneath my fear.  The fear of losing that caused me conform or become a chameleon. I see some areas where I began to hide my true self out of fear of being rejected or misunderstood. Times where I was teetering on the edge of allowing myself to be controlled for another persons comfort. Don't get me wrong- there is nothing worse than betrayal or rejection. It HURTS. It has been one of the most painful experiences of my life, but I also see some strength emerging that was not there before. I am no longer willing to NOT be fully myself. Brene Brown talks a lot about this in her book "I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn't!)". You cannot have courage without vulnerability, and I am not willing to pretend to be perfect in order to avoid rejection. I am not willing to be less of myself in order to make others happy or comfortable. 

So, how do we heal? How do we face our insecurities and fears and not hide from the world when that seems like the easiest solution? 

For starters, throughout this whole ordeal of losing one of my closest friends during a time of need, God has been faithfully speaking and ministering to me through dreams and scripture. I would often wake up with a verse floating through my mind. I have learned to plant myself there and craft prayers out of those verses. I would stay there until he dropped another thought or dream into my head. As Graham Cooke says "I'm going to get a lot of mileage out of this problem." I became determined to heal. To not walk around with this undercurrent of fear and shame. I have learned the value of process. That God isn't asking us to be stoic or perfect. I think the Psalms  are a perfect indication that we are permitted to process. That it is necessary! To cry out to God in our distress, lack, misery and as we turn ourselves to him, He heals and restores, and shows us more of himself. I will be honest and say that at times it has felt like what he has given me has not been enough. 

One thing that I have been SEVERELY challenged by is that God often gives me a word that is in direct opposition of how I feel. For example, the day after "the incident", I woke up to Psalm 63 floating in my mind, specifically the verse that talks about being satisfied with marrow and fatness. I thought "ha! yeah right...all I feel right now is loss and lack and absence and I'm afraid it might just consume me."  So I have learned, however begrudgingly, to follow His lead and even if all I can do is whisper the promise- I do. I declare it. I WILL be satisfied. I WILL lack no Good thing. It may not be today- but always eventually.

I would HIGHLY encourage you to buy or rent from the library Brene Brown's books...any of them. They are pure gold! 

Heartache and Finding Healing

As I've mentioned before, this miscarriage has been a lot tougher to recover from than the first. I've been caught off guard many times by how deeply invested I was in this pregnancy. Of course, I had about 6 ultrasounds in a 5 week period of time so I got to see the little guy move and grow much more frequently than any previous pregnancy due to the bleeding.

I have a tendency to repress or suppress emotions as a habit, but over the last 3 years in counseling and learning to process many events from my past, I've learned that there is value in the process. It is unpleasant, painful and incredibly hard to do sometimes. But I know that if I don't process it now, I'll pay for it later.

I had a dear, close friend call me the other day and tell me she is pregnant with their third child. I was not prepared at all for how sad this would make me feel. Of course, I am so happy for her! But I am sad for me. It would have been fun to be pregnant with a friend. It brought to the surface the fact that I would be finding out the sex of the baby right about now, and gosh darn it, I still just want to be pregnant! I had to keep moving with my day because I have a preschooler to raise and I can't just fall apart in front of her. I saved my tears for later and just let myself feel it all. I ugly cried and it felt good. The memories of laboring with babies I would never get to love on, and watch grow to be amazing and frustrating creatures. Letting that life slip from me because I had no other choice but to let them go. Ugh. I didn't know that one could grieve like this over something so "small".

I have a strong sense that this most recent baby was a boy. I don't know why I felt that way, but I felt it from the start. And I'm really mad at myself for not examining to see if my suspicion was true at the moment of delivery.  The pathology report didn't list whether it was female or male and that bother's me.

I think one of the more frustrating things about miscarriage is the sense that what you experienced isn't real because no one talks about it. No one mentions it unless you bring it up that you lost a child in that way and then they are quick to chime in and let you know that they are part of the illusive miscarriage club too. I think, in general, grief is something that is minimized, poorly understood and looked down upon in our culture. You're expected to behave as normal in spite of what you've just been through, be it the loss of a child, spouse, friend...and it's not healthy. We are human. We will experience a wide range of emotions and feelings while grieving. It won't last forever. What if instead of assuming that we should feel or be a certain way, we focused instead on processing WELL.

How does one process well? Well, the first thing that comes to mind is one has to feel safe enough to feel frightening emotions like anger, sadness, immense pain. And some of us can't do that alone. I am now at a place where I have learned how  to comfort myself, and I've learned when it's okay to reach out for comfort from others. The second thing would be that you need to have a strong support system. Even if it's just two solid, strong support people. They will help you to have a sense of groundedness when you feel like the bottom just fell out from underneath you. The third thing- at least for me- is to give yourself time and space. Don't rush things. This has been the hardest thing for me to do. I want to be in any other season but the one I'm in- where so many people around me are popping out babies like its nobody's business and  it feels like everyone is moving forward and you're stuck at the train station.Not only that, people ask questions- that are well meaning-but cause pain, such as: "Arent you guys ready for number 2 yet?"...I can't help but bow my head in sorrow..."yes...of COURSE I'm ready for number 2. I've BEEN ready for number 2."

This verse has been etched in my heart and has become my prayer for this season: Habakkuk 3:19 "The Lord God is my strength, my personal bravery and my invincible army; He makes my feet like hinds's feet and will make me to walk [not to stand still in terror but to walk] and make [spiritual] progress upon my high places [of trouble, suffering or responsibility]!.." Even if, God forbid, I should never have another child, my prayer is that my HEART would remain full. That I would be able to make progress upon MY high places which right now happen to be painful and troublesome.

There is always hope in the middle of loss and chaos- even when it doesn't feel like it. We just keep moving, one foot at a time, one moment and day at a time. I'm choosing to live more purposefully on a daily basis so that I don't miss the GOOD there is in each day that I'm left waiting.

No matter what

Last week I kind of hit a low point. I started feeling a bit depressed and hopeless about the future. I wanted my heart to believe what my head knows- which is that God is good...all the time- but my heart was refusing to believe it, for whatever reason.

I began looking back at some promises. Promises that I know to be true for me. I know this because it resonates with every fiber of my being- yet they are things that I have not seen come to pass yet. These pomises have kept me going in times of drought or flood. I could hear the accuser making his case, and he made a strong one:  "See...look at all God's let you go through. Would a kind and loving father do that? Would he? Doesn't he know you've been through too much? It's all just been too much. " I could hear it- but before I realized it, I began to partner with it. I began to believe the lie "you know, you're right. It has been too much! This is too much! What kind of Father allows his daughter to go through hell and then keeps giving her more? God- these promises should be mine by now!" and this continued until I was covered in a thick blanket of hopelessness.  I then began to take on the responsibility of making those promises come to pass- have I done something wrong? Did I miss a turn somewhere? What could I do to convince God to bring these promises to pass sooner? And on top of that hopelessness was laid another thick and heavy blanket of false responsibility. I couldn't even pray- my mind was filled with fears of the future like never before.

I went to a friends house so our kids could play together while we just chatted about life and nothing in particular, and as I got ready to go, she said "hey, I wanna pray for you." So, of course I wasn't going to deny that! Boom...immediately the weight was lifted. I realized that I had partnered with the accuser and judged the goodness of God- she didn't say this, or insinuate- I just knew that I had. I don't honestly even remember what she prayed, but there was an immediate and permanent shift in my heart and outlook. I was suddenly able to embrace the truth with my whole heart that God has never failed me. He entrusted me to my parents who, for numerous reasons, left me with wounds and scars- but that was never his intent. People fail me. My body fails me- but he never has.

I want to be clear about something- there is NOTHING wrong with having an open and honest conversation with God about how you feel (read Job if you need some reassurance! Job lamented... God put him in his place but it was the relationship God was after and he loved Job for being honest before him.) It's perfectly ok, normal and even good to be angry, to be sad, and disappointed. There have been many, many times in my own life when self pity was the only way I could truly open the door to grief- simply because I wasn't often allowed the expression of deep emotions, so in order to truly "feel" my feelings, I had to go there. I don't stay there though. What I'm talking about is the enemy. He made a great case for God being an awful, unfaithful liar- and I believed him for a bit. It was easier than accepting the harsh reality of the circumstances and knowing there is no way around- just through.  I didn't want to be brave. I didn't want to fight anymore. I was tired.  I didn't want to have to walk through the fire anymore. My current circumstances were coming in direct conflict with the promises God made and I had a choice to make. I couldn't make that choice without some help, though, because there was something MISSING from my relationship with God. You see- from a very early age, I learned to be responsible for myself. I was child and parent in a lot of situations that should never have been. I provided for myself a way out, I protected myself. I made things happen so that I wouldn't experience pain... God knows this. He knew that I needed a revelation of Him as FATHER. Papa. As someone who was fully capable of taking care of what belonged to him- and wouldn't burden me with something that was no longer mine to carry. He knew that I needed to know this part of his character, otherwise I could make no further progress, and I would always be fearful of crumbling underneath harsh circumstances. But- when your Father is big and strong and loving? There is no room for fear

At the same time all of the above was happening, there had been placed on me a burden of false responsibility in regards to my mother, siblings and grandmother. All the SHOULDS and things I did wrong in their eyes came flooding forward. I noticed a distinct shift after my last conversation with my grandmother and that thought "it's all just been too much" was suddenly on repeat. I couldn't seem to get out from underneath it. 

After my friend prayed, I had an immediate understanding that I had been carrying around this responsibility that had been placed on me through guilt and shame. I had internalized all the guilt, shame, condemnation and judgement that had been thrown at me by my family- all the things a "loving" daughter should and shouldn't do. Not only that, but I kept myself from experiencing the good and healthy relationships he has surrounded me with to HEAL me because I felt I didn't deserve it. Well- after that prayer- that thinking was gone. I had an understanding that I was HIS child, and that those things that had been placed on me by others were things I was no longer to partner with. Whow. It blows my mind!

Not only that- but I was able to internalize his kindness and compassion over the loss of my babies. There came a deeper understanding of the will of God- and this was not his will. Death, disease, etc- those were never in His will for us. Instead, I ask Him "Who do you want to be for me RIGHT NOW?" and the peace comes. The comfort comes. I can be disappointed and angry and sad with Him. I can feel my feelings, the sting of pain that comes unexpectedly- and he cares. He loves me.  He is not indifferent to our suffering.

So, my prayer for anyone reading this is that you would have an experiential understanding of who God is for you right now. That we would sink our roots down deep into the love of God in such a way, that we would know that NO MATTER WHAT COMES- we are anchored in the One who loves us.