This, That, and Maybe More

As a young teen, I would self-harm before it was even “a thing,” not that person who inflict pain upon themselves do so for attention; I’m just saying that before cutting, punching and hurting one-self was known I would engage. (It’s not a contest, I’m not trying to “win” for those who might be suggesting. )

 I was taking any sharp object I could get my hands on to scrape and/or stab myself. I would lock myself in the bathroom after an argument with my mom to punch my legs or burn myself with a curling iron. I swear to you, the physical relief pain gives to emotional anger or pain…. indescribable. 

     I   question where or why this starts, and there is a part of me that believes I know the answer. There was a time that I once thought it came from the inability to show anger, sadness or any other negative feeling;  As in never learning how to express anything but joy.

     My parents say when in trouble, I would act as if I didn’t care. When scolded or punished, they say,  I would just stare ahead and not react, pretend I wasn’t bothered.

I will admit, I remember I would think to myself, ” Don’t cry, don’t cry,” only to repeat the words again, while the lecture droned on. I would sometimes pinch myself so emotion would not escape me. To dig my fingernails into my hand was common.  I was embarrassed to show I was hurt; I would feel humiliated if I allowed my parents to know that the words spoken to me settled in and affected me. No way did I want them to know it broke my heart that my actions disappointed them.   WTH??!! Who thinks this way at such a young age, and why?

     And you know, looking back it’s what they wanted. I think they parented by guilt. Be good, look good, make us seem perfect. In my eyes it would mean I lost.

The memories resurfaced on me about 15 years ago when I quit smoking cigarettes. My husband and I were having an argument over the phone, he hung up on me and would not pick up when I called him back. I immediately went to the silverware drawer, pulled a steak knife out and locked myself in the bathroom. It took a couple of swipes into my thigh before I realized I was going back in time.  The desire came up again today. What a day it’s been.

     I had an awful day at work, just awful. I had a report that took me several hours to complete returned to me, for the 2nd time. So really, this will be my third attempt at this report, and honestly, I’m gun shy.  I don’t like to feel stupid, who does?   The woman who returned the report and with whom I spoke was quite insulting, and repeated several ways, to return the report and “do it right this time”.  It’s a great idea, by the way, to return it done correctly.  Suddenly, this crap that I’ve been going through the past year plus, just smacked me, right in the face.  I wanted To throw myself at her feet, beg her for mercy and tell her I’ve been Effed over, please, tell me I’m not stupid, tell me it’s you who’s having a bad day, tell me it’s all okay. Please!

Do you see how the transfer of a bad day works?

     I want(ed) to find a pair of scissors, knife, something or anything sharp, to relieve the pain that sits on my chest, causing me to gasp for breath. I want to lay in the arms of rest, my comfort, my desire, and my rock. He, who knows my thoughts, fears, and even my needs, he waits for me to come to Him. He calls me by name; it is I who must listen to Him. He has a promise, for me, for you.

Where are you my rest, where are you?

John 10:27-30New International Reader’s Version (NIRV)

27 My sheep listen to my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 28 I give them eternal life, and they will never die. No one will steal them out of my hand. 29 My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than anyone. No one can steal them out of my Father’s hand. 30 I and the Father are one.”

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, I don’t know what happened, I just lost the oomph it takes to open my thoughts and put them into words. In addition to the holidays and the busyness, holidays bring, I just couldn’t gather the courage to face all these feelings that won’t leave me alone. They nag me over and over again, morning, noon and night. Awake or asleep they are there to remind me of what probably happened and magnified what could have happened.

What is it about being honest that BS can’t do? It’s a serious question. So many times, so many close calls, there are times when he isthisclosetotelling me the truth, and suddenly the crashing sound of a steel wall comes between us, reminding me that he just might not have the ability to be humble enough to admit his wandering ways.

So, what do I when that happens? For a while, I sit in the depression, some hours lasting longer than the last and turning into days and then weeks of hopelessness and fear. Burning anger on the inside, while I attempt to continue my life as if life is grand and only getting better. I continue to beg God for revelation.

I am suddenly “reminded” again who holds power, who is in  control.

Who knows how I feel without saying a word I am understood.  My Redeemer lives! He is the same yesterday, today and forever. My Hope hears me when I call, He listens to my words, even my thoughts. My Rock holds strong when I feel as if I am sinking in repetitive thoughts that won’t let go. He is my strength, He is my hiding place, and He is my Joy, even when I have slammed into fear and depression.

He has perfect timing, and this reveal might not be about me, it could be about my Husband. It is possible it’s  about preparing him to be at a place where he calls out to my Lord, asking for hope and strength and even forgiveness.

Hello friends, I missed you all.

I’m not exactly sure why but there is something about losing a loved one that causes days to look differently. It’s hard to explain, but most people will agree. I’m talking literally; for instance, driving in your car, pull up to a stoplight and looking to your left. There, in the car beside you sits a man, he could be a father on the way home from the grocery store after work. Maybe a mom, on the way to soccer practice, kids argue in the back. A teen girl, teen boy, whatever and whoever… you get my drift. But, as you look at that person you actually see them, you notice everything about him/her/them in the car next to you.

 

When our son was stillborn, I felt this way. In the past when I’ve had break-ups, I felt this way. My dentist, who was a dear, so sweet, someone I could easily confide in, just lost her life to cancer. She fought so.darn.hard.  She wrote a birthday card to me, and in it, delivered the news. I know she did so to not have to talk about it with me.

 

She wrote:
I’ve been put on permanent disability; I’m still fighting. I can’t wait to vote! The rest was more personal and  written just for me.
Her passing has been quite hard for me. Woke me, caused me to look around me. Caused me to listen to the words I speak. Forced me to hear what I don’t say.  Insisted I see what I look at every day. Her passing has enriched, strengthened, deepened, my love, hope, and desire for my Creator, who dearly loves me (and you). 

Be well, Friends,
xoxo

pretending not to know what was going on in your life, I would scour the internet, looking for the magic cure  “how to  love  your spouse.”

I read and re-read my journals and notes, looking for more information that I might have missed. I would search our conversations of when you returned from a weekend away, remember the times you said “we” instead of “I,” when telling me stories. “We went into town for a beer” or “We had dinner at” such and such. I would ask who is “we” and you would respond either that I misheard, you misspoke, or the one I fell for: You and the dog who quite literally goes everywhere with you. Eventually, you brought that phrase into all random conversations.

I’m not sure of the time reference when it comes to this specific event, but I’m pretty sure it was before “The Mothers Day” weekend. Again you were there to burn brush I sent a quick text asking how you were doing. It should have struck me as odd because, in the past, you would constantly hound me with texts, pictures, and phone calls, to keep me up-dated.

Suddenly, a picture of you came through, no words, just a picture of you tossing tree limbs into the fire. I sat staring at the picture, waiting for an explanation, “the neighbor took this” or “look who dropped by,” Something, anything. NOTHING.

I didn’t respond and continued to wait. NOTHING. My mind raced, my heart beat- fast and hard. “This is it!” I thought he will come to me on bended knee, declaring his everlasting, undying love for me.

NOTHING.   I got the same type of picture again the next day of you standing in front of a creek. Very blurry, cut off at the knees and I knew that one was taken by a timer. You came home later that Sunday afternoon and asked why I never responded to your pictures. You went on to explain that you accidently found the timer option on the camera and began to take pictures of yourself. Laughing, you told me that you thought to yourself: “She is going to think someone is here with me.”

“You’re right,” I said. ” I did think you had someone there with you.” I sighed in relief but knew in the back of my mind it wasn’t the truth. I couldn’t imagine him purposely sending me a picture of himself, why would he do that, unless he was too chicken to tell me and wanted to be found out. It never dawned on me that “she” might have pretended to accidently send it to me if she was sending it to herself, having only his camera phone to use at the time. In fact, it makes the most sense; my text came through at the same time she was taking pictures.  I’ve done that before, been texting someone, a text comes through and then I accidently send it to another person. In hindsight, that’s what happened.

So, here is something you do not know, Dear H. I had a plan and was determined to find out if you were willing to bring someone else into my home. The next time I came to our vacation home with you, when making the beds all guest rooms and master, I put the sheets on inside out. I  have never known you to wash the sheets.

Do you see where this might be going?

Remember, I have no idea what the speaker said to us, I couldn’t wait to leave quite honestly. I wanted to get home, sign on to the computer and poke around to see if I could find evidence she was there still.  I sat slumped in my chair; lunch break finally over, a couple more hours and I could go home. The annoying chatter of women,  the shrill laughter, loud voices was wearing on me.  I sat there trying NOT to hear them, asking God for freedom, peace, a sign …. ANYTHING,  I also mentioned a quick thank you, to God; the girls were away for the summer working as camp counselors, I believed I needed this alone time. I could not sleep, think, work; eating was a chore, making dinner for them would be impossible.  I was barely surviving how I would do this with them around I had no idea.

  

“I want to say something to you all, it’s important so, please, listen. God has put this on my heart so I’m just going to say it: There is a woman here, you are suffering, suffering deeply from hurt, past, and present; Ladies, she is bitter, I want to pray for her. But listen to me, you MUST let go of that bitterness, you must look at your part in this, you have held on to it for much, too long. I want for you to take a look at your part in this marriage, what you have  done to contribute to this besides not forgive,  you have done to cause this bitterness.

 

xoxo

I have filled many journals with letters to you. Page after page with words that seem to repeat themselves. Usually, after writing, I will close the journal, set it aside for a day or two and then go back to re-read before I hand it off to you.  Most of those letters have remained in the journal, but some of the pages have been torn out,  wadded up into a ball and buried under the trash; hoping they would never found.  I couldn’t help but think the words sounded pathetic after allowing myself a day or two. It would be frustrating because I carefully put those thoughts on the page for a purpose, so why can’t I give any of the letters to you?

I’m not sure why I can’t just express myself without worrying how I sound or what you might think.  Married for twenty plus years, and here I am, afraid that my feelings are too desperate. SMH

Dear you,

There is not a day that goes by that I do not think about you touching her, talking with her, giving her personal information about me, our girls.  When you leave the office to meet a customer, my stomach tightens; will he be meeting her? Is he telling the truth? What if_________?

I notice you spend time, around the area that she works. Sure, the stores you frequent for your fishing and hunting trips are there. Also the vendors are nearby too, but, what if_________?

I wish you could let go of the pride and tell me the truth; it would make things so much better for us.  I have given you countless opportunities, and yet you still insist that I am wrong, nothing happened. I wish you would hear what I have to say so that you could understand just how much I know and why I’m still here knowing what I know.  Your refusal to let it go creates a  wall between us. Just think, if things seem good now why wouldn’t we want them to be great? You probably feel safe and think the “awkward” is over, and maybe it is for you, but NOT for me, at all.

I remain prayerful about the truth coming out; I believe that God hears my prayers and knows my desires, so I must believe that the truth will come when it should, but it’s so hard. Very hard.  When I look back at the beginning,  in my heart knowing you were involved with her, I tried confronting you. Of course, you denied. I received counsel to wait, and wait some more , AND to be quiet while doing waiting.

 I was told to pray, given specific verses to meditate on, and I was able to trust that God would heal us. Through my prayers, it was revealed to me that if I would have made a huge stink, called her and demanded she tells me the truth if I  insisted you tell me the truth things would be different now.   If I packed your stuff and kicked you out or packed myself and moved out, our lives would not look as they do now.  Instead,   I pretended to believe you when you said nothing was going on and I remained here, serving and waiting. I now believe that if I did any of those things you would have chosen her. We would be now divorced, the kids a mess, our business and personal finances a mess, myself a mess.  I see now. That is why I know God is still working.

You don’t know this and I don’t say this because I don’t want to hurt you , but before your choice to have an affair I asked God for help. Help me to love him like a crazy, over the top love. I often wonder if your affair was an answer to that.