Balancing Act

I remember when I could not cry. I remember when I would not cry. I remember when I learned not to cry.

I also remember the pain of learning to feel those emotions again, the pain of reliving and going through the memories that taught me not to cry, that revealed the depth of the defense mechanism, the height of the brick wall I had built block by painful block, higher and higher, stronger and more impenetrable with each passing hurt. The most difficult thing I ever did was to acknowledge the strength of the wall and that its ability to shield me from pain also shielded me from true life, from God who desired to cleanse my heart and heal the scars no one could see.

So now I am faced with more bricks in the wall, bricks I did not even know were there, hidden in the depths of my heart. Facing the hurt again without rebuilding or adding more bricks to the wall is a difficult proposition. With every fiber of my being, I want to run and hide and shut myself away behind the highest, strongest, deepest wall. I do not want to face that which is coming, but I know I have to. My obedience to God in slogging through the muck has lead to peace and healing I could have never imagined. That knowledge helps me to face this giant again, knowing the enemy is strong, but my God is stronger.

Facing the depravity, learning new details that will rock my world once again, and choosing to forgive... it is big stuff, huge overwhelming impossible stuff. I think about how I used to cope: drugs and alcohol to numb the pain, and later just shoving it away as far as I could and turning off my emotions so no one and nothing could hurt me. It didn't work out so well. Now, I turn to God. I cry out to him in my pain and I let the tears come. I honestly tell him I don't want to do this. I question why. I pray without ceasing and I pray with no words because words are not big enough to encompass this.

But the quandary is in balancing everything. Life cannot stop because I have to relive and slog through the muck of my childhood. I have obligations so I have to learn to compartmentalize. Driving to work talking over the night terrors with my husband, the tears fell. Sitting in front of my students yesterday, watching them work, the tears kept threatening. But I could not let them fall. Hurried silent prayers - desperate prayers. God help me. God this hurts. God how do I do this? God hold me, strengthen me. But God, help me to not turn off totally. Help me to be able to get through the day, but when I can cry, when I can hurt, to give it to you. I do not want to feel this pain, but I do not want to not feel, to shove it aside, for that pain is far worse. God, help me to balance everything I have to do and help me to turn to you in this season.

The War Begins, again.

Today in my devotional time, I couldn't even get through anything. I got stuck on the part where I admit my sins to God. Here is what I prayed.

What I admit today is that I do not want to go to the dark places again. I do not want to face my father's ever widening circle of depravity. I do not want to, although I know there is peace on the other side. This, right here, right now, this is the side that is hard, the going through part. The face to face with the past part. Reliving the nightmare in Technicolor part. I want to run and avoid the pain, shove the tears away, lock myself inside myself and hide from the reality of my childhood. But I won't. I will face the pain and I will process the horrors. God, you will be right there with me and you will hold me and comfort me. Knowing that does not make me want to go there, it's still hard. But the option... well, I've been there and it is infinitely worse. So forgive me father for not wanting to and strengthen me for the coming battle.