It doesn't make sense...

I'm still not feeling well. I figure it's God way of forcing me to slow down, and focus. I feel like I'm all over the place. I was very bad and had eggs over-easy on toast. I love eggs. I'm allergic to eggs. I didn't care. I cajoled myself that I could "get away" with it, once in a while, and today was once in a while. It was yummy. I'm catching up on some reading.

I'm realizing that I have to be careful with my blog. There is much I do not say, and much I skirt, because I'm not safe. That was one of my toughest sessions with my last counselor. He asked me what would happen when my parents passed away. I live at home. We talked about how the house will be sold and divided among the siblings. I admitted I didn't know. I could see the shock on his face as he said, "You have no security." And then the dismay, "You have no idea what it is to have any security in your life." No. He then asked if I even knew what security was, and I replied that I had a very good working knowledge, as I do of many healthy concepts, but I have absolutely no idea how to apply any of those concepts in my life. As I have struggled to stop lying to myself, I have found myself stumbling, again and again and again. Then it dawned on me that lying is the only way for an abuse survivor to make sense of the insanity of abuse in their life. Abuse is not logical or sensible. What kind of sense is it to neglect a child and expect them to grow up healthy? What kind of sense is it to beat a child and expect them to grow up with a healthy sense of self? What kind of sense is it to sexual abuse someone and expect them to have healthy boundaries? What kind of sense is it to belittle someone and expect them to believe in their own self-worth?

I was reading another blog, and one of the commenters wondered how far was too far. How well I remember wondering the same thing, many, many years ago. If your boundaries have been repeatedly violated, if you have any boundaries at all, there is the need to have someone else define the boundaries. Now that I'm much healthier -- and yet, I've still such a long way to go -- but I realize now that healthy boundaries are created when you listen to yourself. What's too far for one isn't for another. For some people, holding hands is too far. Instead of defining how far is too far, wouldn't it be better to teach concepts like honor and respect for self and others? Wouldn't it be better to teach listening to that inner voice, the one that encourages rising above the baser instincts? I don't know. There's so much I don't know. I know my high school boyfriend pushed my boundaries whenever he had the chance. However, I had a line in the sand I would not cross, and it earned me the nickname Ice Queen. As I read Tara Tyler Quinn's It Happened on Maple Street, it was driven home that I was absolutely clueless about what it was like to be truly attracted to someone. I've had plenty of crushes, and several I thought I wanted to marry, but none of them because I was irresistibly drawn to them. They simply seemed like a good choice. I was hurt when things didn't work out, not because I felt I was less without them but because I felt like I had failed to be enough to begin with. I regularly thank God that I haven't married because any man I married before now would not have been a healthy choice for me. And now I've circled back to stop lying to myself. I know -- because I did it -- I would have molded myself to what I thought he wanted, rather than being who I am. And yes, now I am back to who am I, though I have a foundational answer now: I am God's.

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. I'm taking Easter week to do some soul searching. It seems an appropriate way to celebrate the season. I'm not sure what I'm going to find. I'm a little nervous. I don't imagine it will be easy. I've already had some hints, and it's painful, but God's way isn't the easy way. I think I'm finally ready to embrace that truth.