We create our own realities, part two

I have been pondering about perspective a lot lately. Perhaps it is the class I am taking or perhaps I am taking this class now because God knew it would fit with my growth pattern. Anyway, this week we have been discussing positive psychology and whether or not it influences personality. There have been some profound statements from my classmates and other statements that I consider to be really out there. It is based on my perspective.

A while back at church, our pastor did a series on worldview. I now carry a Christian worldview or perspective; however, I struggle against the humanistic worldview that reflects my upbringing. When I mentioned this struggle to my husband, he was surprised and said he didn’t see that in me at all. So, do I do a good job of hiding it, or am I truly giving that part of me to God and let Him help me through those struggles? It’s probably a little of both.

My perspective on me has changed so much over the past decade. When I first went to group counseling for the abuse, I tried to bring my faith into the process, but it was discouraged. Without a strong church support, I just tried to learn as much as I could. I gave everything I had to the process, and I did experience growth. However, I did not experience healing. I learned tools to deal with the pain, but the pain was not healed. I learned self-empowerment, but not submission to my Lord. I learned to manage the nightmares, the body memories, the flashbacks, but I was not free.

The next time that I pursued counseling for the abuse it was through a recovery group at church. Although I was scared to go down this road again, I felt the push to dive in. The last time was awful. I turned to anti-depressants; I pretty much did what I had to do to get through the day. But so much suffered: my marriage, my kids, my faith. When I thought about joining the survivor group at church, I had a long talk with my husband first. He felt that he almost lost me from the last foray into my past. In his love for me, he encouraged me to go forward, knowing it may again cause a disconnect as I delved into the pain. Looking back, with a new perspective, I see that it is the fact that God was in the midst of this process that made all the difference. As Frost would say, it was the road chosen. I not only learned about the destructive patterns I had that were symptomatic of the abuse, I learned how to give those patterns to God. Learning to trust again was huge. It was overwhelming and seemed impossible. I would sit in church and sob, wondering if the pain inside would ever really be gone. Slowly, the miracle occurred. There are moments of epiphany I can point to, moments of holding on for dear life, and seasons of putting one foot in front of the other and taking one step at a time. It all led to the place I am now; on a new journey of helping others walk the same path. My perspective has changed, and I thank God that I took His road, the road less traveled.