Tired and hungry

Me: “I’m just so tired.”
Friend: “I keep hearing you say that.”

It’s true. It’s all I could really muster up. Typically I am described as: excited, moving, anxious, nervous, energetic, going, busy, persistent. I definitely had periods in life when I was deliberately "still" but it was exactly that, deliberate. January-March 2015 was different, “still” was demanded of me. Any chance I had, I slept!
This sleep, was like no other sleep I had ever experienced in life and there was a lot of it. Without a doubt my brain and body benefited, yet this rest was primarily intended for my soul. Like a doctor administers anesthesia to a patient in surgery, God cradled my soul into a deep resting place while working to heal me. 

I slept many, many hours and woke up with just enough energy. I got through everything I needed to be awake to get through and then when it was time, God lured me to back to sleep with the lullaby; his word in song. I slept so good!

I had this amazing sound track of beautiful, prophetic, songs that I kept close to me. Every moment I could I would just rest and listen to God use wonderfully talented artists to draw me close, soothe me, hold me and uplift me. 

**My soundtrack for the season: All Sons and Daughters: All the poor and powerless, brokenness aside, reason to sing, the longing, rising sun, dawn to dusk, for your glory & for my good. Bethel Music: You make me brave, Come to me, You don't miss a thing, A little longer, We dance, Your presence, Wake up, I am set free, It is well. Jesus Culture: Come away, Set a fire, Let it rain, mighty breathe of God, my soul longs. Hillsong United: Oceans, Desert song, Came to my rescue, Like an avalanche, Broken Vessels.**

My favorite song of the season:

Whether it was a "full of faith" day or a "crumbling into a pit" day God was near. God was near, and God was holding me. This is one of my most treasured memories of my healing season: being definitely sure that I was held. 

Another treasured memory is: early mornings, me, God, an epic, life changing book, The Original Pancake House, a stacks of chocolate chip pancakes, coffee, fresh strawberries with homemade whipped cream and hash browns, all in one sitting. It was my favorite meal of the season. Every time I ordered, I wondered if I would actually finish all that food on my own. Yep. Finished it! all on my own. Every time I went out, I wondered if I’d be brave enough to sit alone. Yep. I did it. alone but not alone.

My whole life I’ve really only ate what I had to eat, sometimes I’d finish my plate. rarely I’d have seconds of something. I’ve been in front of some really appetizing food but I never had the appetite to enjoy more than what my body had to have to survive. But that’s just it, I was no longer simply surviving, incredible healing was happening within and my body knew it. No more eating just because I had to for survival. It was time to eat because the food tasted good, and it was time to enjoy a second plate if I could! 

Differences to note:
Hunger is a cry for survival. When you are hungry, your body is remembering the flesh needs fuel. Having an appetite feels different, it remembers there’s delicious food to be made, had, savored, shared even. I've become a "foodie", I'm trying new foods and cooking even!

Tiredness remembers that the flesh needs sleep to survive. Rest remembers the father’s arms and the peace that comes from melting into them. I crave more rest than ever these days. It's heaven-ish! It takes me to a place of deep comfort and extravagant joy. 

BIG take-away from this season: 

Healing takes time, in American 2015 life, it takes a long time! AND a huge benefit of spiritual healing is our physiological response to it. It's pretty radical! 

Getting through it

My past had caught up with me and my life was a mess.

How do you get through such a season? Alone, but not alone, and one step at a time. 

In life I have had over a dozen mountainous piles of shi-, I mean poo, placed before me. If you don't work your way through it...Well, hear me when I say this, it'll sling shot it's way into the present! Splat! Poo in the face! Splat! Poo right before you again. Ew, gross, nasty. Maybe poo is a bad metaphor...

A hundred people can cheer for you, they can be there to talk you through the steps, carry you in their prayers and equip you with God's word, but they cannot carry you through your messy situation. The only way you're getting through it is if you take that first step. Oh, and the next step too, and the one after that as well, and all of them, every, single, one, however many there may be, until you get through it.

  Dang. I know! Whys it gotta be like that? So crazy difficult and all that. 

I'm not gonna lie facing the past is difficult and all that.

If you should ever brave such a task, beware and prepare! 
For it is soul-crushing. Prepare to be devastated. 
It is heart-breaking. Prepare to re-familiarize yourself with the fetal position and cry buckets. 
It is mind-blowing. Prepare to learn and re-learn. 
It is tiring. Give yourself permission to get all the healthy rest you need and refuel yourself. I'd like to recommend mini-feasts for one and yummy treats. If there's ever a season to enjoy eating, this is it!

And finally, it is lonely. Those hundred people can only do so much and that's why you're alone but not alone. Find a huge comfy pillow you can hug and cry into. Remember to reach out and find someone who will simply let you say what you need to say. Even if you feel crazy, it's surprising how much crazy talk people who love you will listen to. Talking helps. Even if you cannot gain another persons understanding simply being heard, it helps.

Whether you planned to go through it or it's poo in the face, you can get through it. 

I got through it. One step at a time I got through it. 

Coffee with my Sister

It was hard for me to understand my sister. We had the same up-bringing her and I yet we both approached life so differently. I saw a lot of heartache in my sister's life and I wished so much that it would stop. Admittedly, I wondered why she didn't do things as I did or would. Clearly I was with out such heartache...so my ways were better!...or were they?

Truth be told, I've struggled with pride and I can be such a fool!! "My way" came with a slough of heartache, it just took a long time for it to all catch up with me. Many times I sat beside my sister in her heartache and failed to understand any of it. This didn't keep me from being by her side but it kept me from looking into her eyes and fully empathizing with her.

Empathizing with another human being is special. It connects us, it unites us, it reminds us that we are not alone, and I think it has the capacity to remind us that God's eyes are on the situation, that God sees you. Oh how I love this! I hope not to withhold the fullness of it from anyone.

After the flood gates of pain opened up in my own life, I sat in what felt like a giant puddle of hurt. There in that puddle my little sister began to make sense to me. I finally understood! I more fully empathized! I couldn't wait to share this with her. We met up as soon as we could and over a cup of tea I got to tell her how sorry I was for failing to understand her.

I can't say I always like "different" but I do like my sister even though she is different from me. I respect her more now that I understand her better. I love her more completely now that I know her deeper. This is what it looks like when pain produces beauty.

Sibling relationships can be complex. I can't say ours was horrible but I think it was lacking. Lacking what God would desire for it. I hope for others, what I feel I have with my sister now, a more loving relationship.

Trauma drama

There is a lot to be said about trauma! I began learning about the effects of trauma a couple years ago when I participated in an “Emotional First Aid” seminar provided by Trauma Intervention Programs, Inc. (TIP). I learned a little more about trauma from some training I received through the Department of Human Services and then a little more through first hand experiences and observations while working in the field of child welfare. I’ve also been digging into some of the literature and research available, but slowly.

 As you might suspect post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety, panic attacks and depression are all typical symptoms associated with trauma. For a while now I've been well informed about what these symptoms entail, as I am sure you are. However it was good to give each of these a hearty review as I aimed to understand what exactly I was experiencing when this momma's trauma caused her some drama.

 Dr. Sheela Raja describes PTSD as being caused by a traumatic event that involved death, threat of death, injury or threat to your physical safety. You reaction would involve, intense fear, helplessness or horror. The after math is:

 • Avoidance. Going to great lengths to avoid reminders. Not thinking about or talking about the trauma, avoiding people or places associated with the trauma or remind you of it.
 • Re-experiencing. The memories are vivid and cause you to feel very emotionally or physically distressed much like the flashback I described in my previous previous post.

Additional symptoms of PTSD could include, feeling constantly anxious or on edge, difficulty sleeping or concentrating, difficulty managing anger, feeling irritable and feeling always on guard. 

Dr. Raja describes anxiety as something that effects your whole being.
 • Physiological: rapid heartbeat, sweating, muscle tensions, dry mouth or queasiness.
 • Psychological: apprehensive state or uneasiness
• Behavioral reaction: sabotages your ability to act, or express yourself, or deal with certain everyday situations.

 Dr. Edmund J. Bourne says “Anxiety can appear in different forms at different levels of intensity. Anxiety that appears to come out of the blue is called free-floating anxiety and in more severe instances it is called a panic attack.” The following is his description of a panic attack:

 • Shortness of breathe • Irregular or rapid heart beat • Trebling or shaking • Sweating • Choking • Nausea • Numbness • Hot flashes or chills • Fear of dying • Feeling like you’re going crazy 

Depression is also strongly tied to trauma and involves: extreme sadness, weight gain or loss, difficulty concentrating, general loss of interest in the things you used to enjoy. All this accompanied by feelings of guilt, hopelessness, irritability or anger.

Each of these are general descriptions that can contribute to a diagnosis of, but these descriptions are not diagnostic material in it's entirety. Just FYI :)Dr. Sheela Raja is the author of Overcoming Trauma and PTSD and Dr. Edmund J. Bourne is the author of The Anxiety and Phobia Workbook, both of which I’ve utilized in my studies of trauma.

Hopefully you can appreciate this brief review. I think it’s well known that Americans in general have a real struggle with anxiety and depression. With so many suffering from the effects of each of these, and so much talk surrounding each of these, I can see how it might be easy to become less sympathetic. How could we genuinely offer our sympathies to each and every one, and every time the topic presents itself, without exhausting ourselves? By becoming less sympathetic, that’s how.

Flashbacks

It was December and there I was sunk into my couch, comfy in sweatpants with my daughter’s head resting in my lap. I loved feeling the weight of her on me as I ran my fingers through her soft, stringy hair. As we warmed ourselves by the fireplace we watched the flames dance. It was dark and I was hoping my daughter would soon be lulled to sleep by some Christmas music we had playing. It was the quieter, gentler, deeper, Christmas music about Jesus and the precious day on which our savior was born.

My daughter kept her eyes closed longer each time she blinked. I was thankful for this, her feeling safe enough to rest so well. I found myself thinking about my recent  investigation, my shame and how I was going to begin the process of ridding myself of it. If peace were something that could be gift wrapped it would be the very thing I’d want to see beneath our tree Christmas morning. I looked at my daughter, she looked peaceful. I began thinking about life when I was her age. When I was her age…

I became wide eyed and while I stared directly into the wall before me I began having flashbacks to the time in my life when I was her age. I began to feel lost in memories, some were good but one was particularly unsettling. I became panicked and I had this sudden urge to move yet I couldn’t! I felt temporarily paralyzed, frozen, stuck, in what I’m sure was just minutes, though it felt like a lifetime. My face was warm from the fire but cool tears streaming down my face drew me back to the present. I noticed I had stopped running my fingers through my daughters hair and unbeknownst to her, many tears and fallen upon her head.

There in those minutes I experienced a flashback to a time when a guy thought it’d be fun to touch and feel my little girl body. From the outside looking in you wouldn’t be able to tell, but I felt the experience all over again in that flashback. The touch of my abuser, his weight on me, my scrawny arms across my chest resisting his closeness, feeling weak, feeling powerless. I could feel my voice shaking in nervousness and awkwardness as I tried to figure out how to articulate that this, that what he was doing was wrong. I could only muster up a word here and there at first but then I was upset enough to say “stop!” He did, and then that was that. 

After being drawn back to the present by those cool tears, I was pissed! (No I didn’t piss my pants, but I could have!) I mean I felt angry! As I went back to running my fingers through my daughters hair, I thought about how good it might feel to pull out my own. I felt sick, I felt dirty and I contemplated how much soap and scrubbing it would take to feel clean again. I began to quietly sob.

This was the first of many flashbacks that I’d endure over the next few months. This experience marked the onset of a very painful season in my life. These flashbacks were immediately followed by numerous nightmares and panic attacks. All of these symptoms were somewhat unpredictable and uncontrollable causing me great distress. I dislike unpredictable, i dislike uncontrollable. 

It became painful to live in my own body, I wanted out of it. I wanted it destroyed. I felt ashamed of my body. I felt hurt, my heart felt irregular in this season, it ached, and jumped, and sunk, and it stirred so much I often felt nauseous. My stomach hurt too. I began to process being victimized, and more than anything I wanted to go back in time and protect myself. I became angry about having been vulnerable. I didn't want to be a victim. 

Along with all this, I felt confused. I didn’t understand what was happening. I had always been aware of this event. I knew every detail, my memories had not changed and I had openly shared my past as very matter of fact, many times over. It was dumbfounding that here I was a couple decades later re-experiencing it differently. Why!?!? 

With the help of great doctors and therapists, I understand trauma better now, and I understand why my little girl mind wasn't able to process the event and I am coming to understand my current situation. Still, I'm with out steady, constant, peace. This process is so  not peaceful!

Just thinkin': I heard it once said that if we find ourselves disappointed, then we have misplaced our hope. I agree! I won’t be putting my hope in answers and reason. I've received a lot of both lately and neither have fully satisfied. So I’ll place my hope (every shard of it) where I know I should, in God! 

Onward with the journey

Here, there and everywhere. Friends, the last few months have been a whirlwind experience. If my experiences were a rollercoaster ride, it would not be found at Disneyland but you would come off of it floored with dizziness!

Figuring out how to articulate ALL this season of life has entailed is not necessarily overwhelming but it does require thought, lots of thought. Yet I’m determined to document this season of change. For my sake but also for truth’s sake.

I want to remember these last few months vividly, least I forget. For in this season I have learned brokenness, freedom, authenticity, repentance and forgiveness. I felt deeper joy, deeper suffering, deeper love, and I have got myself some deeper friendships. I better know grace and mercy. I better know what it is to experience restoration, redemption, and even resurrection! I desire to keep these outcomes fresh in my heart, mind and soul.

The painful outcomes however will be difficult to recall but I want to keep these fresh too, least I forget. For in this season I also learned about flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks and post-traumatic stress disorder. I felt deeper rage, deeper despair, deeper agony and how is this for dark, at times I felt like life was literally being choked from me. I know sorrow, I know the pain and devastation of betrayal and abandonment. I better know what “religious” looks like, what rejection looks like, what shame is.

Should another share with me their life’s encounter with these emotions, these experiences, I want it to evoke empathy. This way I can say, truly and honestly, "I understand what you are going through." For nothing would have sounded sweeter to me in this season than the words “I understand.” I think those two words are mighty great at obliterating loneliness and inviting relationship.

In an attempt to muddle the giganticness of sex abuse, I introduced and entwined my own experience with topics such as marriage and ADHD. In hindsight, I can’t believe that was the best approach I could come up with but what can you really do to change the past with hindsight? I’m pressing on with much less muddle along the way. I may revisit the distant past with more clarity and detail, I may not. I will however, be speaking from here on out about healing from childhood sex abuse as an adult. Woohoo! I’m excited for this.

So onward with the journey!

Breif Hiatus

Friends,

Thanks for reading my blog. I’ve loved having your support thus far. What a treat it is to share my life, to be vulnerable in this way. It’s truly a gift, one I hope every person comes to revel in.

Sex abuse is a tough subject to be in contact with in anyway: hearing it, seeing it (maybe in a movie or T.V series), reading about it, simply knowing it happens out there, way out there, seemingly far away. It’s a hard topic to write on without perpetuating trauma, and the last thing I’d want to do is cause you to turn your face away from the topic, (though I’d completely understand if you’d need to). I’ve had to be creative about introducing the topic. I wonder if you’ve noticed the vagueness of it, my subtle hints toward it, in these two blog posts: The journey begins! and About a boy (and a girl too!).

Still, it’s the topic I hope to shed light on in this blog. Thanks for sticking around while I hash out some of the messy stuff that led me here, before you. There’s plenty of beauty to come, I promise! You're support has been heaven sent.

For this reason it saddens me to announce, I’m taking a brief hiatus. I’m a student and this semester is packed with 18 credits! All accelerated classes, 3 of which will start, finish and overlap, during these next 6 weeks. Whoa. What was I thinking? I wasn’t. I let my academic counselor think for me. Maybe I should have been a little more involved in the process… Oh well! I’m pretty organized. I’VE GOT THIS! But it’ll take all my extra energy and focus, every. single. shard. of it. I’ll have little leftover to invest in decent blog post but, I’VE GOT THIS.

I like blogging. I like you by my side. For those of you who can be patient just know that, very much like The Terminator, “I’ll be back!” Here’s to hoping for all A’s! Temporarily signing off, Lion Heart