Today...

I am focusing on the moment. This moment. What is my life, right now? I am God's, and I'm learning to take ownership of myself. I am Christian, and Jesus Christ is my Savior. I am an abuse survivor, which colors everything. My hope is that in sharing my struggle, someone else will feel like they are not alone, like they will rise above the past. I've lived almost half a century. My furry children are no longer with me. I miss them. The career choice I thought would take me through the next decade is vanishing. I've seen a lot, done a lot, learned a lot. I'm nowhere near where I dreamed of finding myself. I've lived at home my whole life, with stints on three different continents. Today, I found the front door open, closed it and locked it. Not the first time. I've worked more than a dozen different jobs, mostly unrelated to each other, and am looking at starting something new, again, but that's for another day. Today is about today. I'm overweight. My back is a mess, a reflection of my life in so many ways, but I'm learning to accept and make the best of it. I have limited eating options that don't fit the "world's" concept of healthy. I have a deep and abiding love for cooking that has survived all my changes and explorations, a love that started before my Easy-Bake Oven, which sealed it. My wide-ranging interests have waxed and waned over the years, but this one is ever present. And I'm good at it. Experimenting with recipes and taste-testing food is fun. I am a bibliophile. I have read over a thousand different authors (in the last five years alone). I have a list of 725 authors I probably won't buy again, and 62 authors that are currently on my must-buy list. And I keep exploring new ones. Books open doors to places and people I want to visit. I am conservative, really conservative, regardless of growing up in a very liberal home. I have a king-size cathedral-window style quilt that I created, because my sister started it and didn't want to finish it. I have pillows and a lap quilt on my bed that I designed and created. I enjoy my interesting collection of dishes, related to the cooking thing, I'm sure. I tend to avoid sleeping, in an effort to dodge nightmares. I have an absolutely amazing circle of friends, who have blessed me beyond measure in more ways than I ever imaged possible. My interests are more varied than ever before in my life. I'm embracing my interests more wholeheartedly than ever before in my life. It's helpful, from time to time, to take a moment and take stock of one's life. In this Easter week, the last supper has occurred and the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus knew what was coming, and accepted it because of his boundless love for each and everyone of us. I cannot earn my way into Heaven by being perfect, by doing everything expected of me, by making sure everything is always right. Jesus Christ beseeches me to become as a little child. An abuse survivor doesn't understand the concept. Innocence was destroyed and forgotten. I am asked to give my heart to Jesus. It wasn't so long ago that I tried to do exactly that. I visualized myself gathering up all the broken pieces and handing them to my Savior. I stood in a wide open field, and to my dismay the pieces kept blowing away. The faster I tried to gather them, the more they scattered. When I paused to look about me, to see where the pieces had blown, my breath stuck in my throat to see tiny shreds sprinkled like confetti as far as the eye could see, and I knew the pieces reached far beyond what I could see. How could I possibly gather up all the pieces? How could Jesus make my heart whole when there were so many pieces seemingly irrevocably lost? At the time, I felt hopeless. Gradually, I'm endeavoring to remember that Jesus knows where all the tattered pieces may be found. He asks me to do as much as I am able, not because He can't do it, but because He knows how much I will learn and grow through the journey. He's already walked the path, and has volunteered to traverse the road with me. It is up to me to accept His help or not. It's good to remember that His idea of help is not always my idea of help, but His way is perfect. Today, I'm not where many would think I should be, including me, sometimes. Today, I look back, and reflect and learn and accept. This is where I am right this moment.

Remember...

As I reflect, this week, I realized that part of the mourning process required remembering, a lot of things. I've considered all the things I did and went through to accomplish what I needed to do, to ready myself for my dream career. Then, it didn't happen. And it won't. I'm learning to come to terms with that. I grieve the loss of those dreams, and yet it isn't as painful as it used to be, when I first realized the dream was over. I'd had hints, from time to time, for much of my life, but I was determined to visualize what I wanted and act in faith. I firmly believed and had been taught that it was a worthwhile dream, all the while ignoring the hints that led away from it. Not trusting myself, and not trusting God. As I've struggled to be honest with myself, to stop lying, I've found that my faith in myself and in God is growing. I'm surrounded by plenty of people more than willing to tear down that faith, unwitting or no, because the direction I'm heading doesn't suit them, doesn't make sense to them, isn't what they envision. I learned long ago to reveal as little as possible because it's safer. By holding close what's important to me, it can't be used against me, ridiculed, or used as a whip. There are those who think they know and understand, and I find myself at their mercy. They plead ignorance, while I must live with the consequences. They think I'm overdramatic, exaggerating, misunderstanding. Somehow, my feelings don't matter. My boundaries are meaningless. My hopes and dreams are somehow wrong. They have free will, as I do. I forget that though I have changed, they have not, and their expectations of me remain the same as they've always been. So, I must remember that the world I live in isn't safe and never has been, especially for my dreams. That being said, I choose not to stop dreaming, especially in order to spare the hurt that is sure to come. Pain is part of living. God will provide a way, but I need to look at my dreams through His eyes, instead of mine. His vision is clear, and He sees so much more than I am able to imagine. And He has provided so many incredible people in my life, who love and support and encourage me, with honor and respect. If the breadcrumbs were any more abundant, I'd be drowning in them. I'm grateful God is allowing me this time to mourn, yet already feel His gentle, guiding hand, pushing me forward.

I am God's. What is my purpose?

I am also an abuse survivor, fearful and brave, imperfect, flawed, hopeful, tenacious, creative, optimistic, reserved and friendly, a fighter, of worth...

This week, I will mourn the dreams I held dear for most of my life. God has been leading me along in the direction He wants me to go, and truly, I'm looking forward to the new adventure, but I think it's been a struggle because I haven't properly mourned and released the old dreams. They don't fit anymore. I don't think God minds.

Carpe diem... and starting...

...at the bottom.

Laundry: Done. Defrost fridge: Done. Check blogs: Done. Reading assignments: Done. Make better food choices: Done. I didn't do well on that last one, this past week. I did much better, today.

Sigh... I wrote "the bottom" and then deleted, knowing that I dared not post here... I suppose that's the real bottom. I struggle to own my feelings, but I must step carefully, every moment of every day, lest I find myself on the wrong end of a disagreement. I want to give the advice to others to create a way, when they are young, to be independent, and yet, I know all too well that such broad advice isn't truly helpful. It's like the quote I heard long ago: If a philosophy can fit in a nutshell, it should probably stay there.

So, I'm endeavoring to strip away all the lies and all the old dreams that no longer fit, to face the truth that I am not and never will be what I was taught I should be, and even my own image of myself is wrong on many levels, but not all. This means figuring out what I may keep, what is right, what is true to me, and then decide where I go from here, but that is for another day. Today, it is recognizing where I am and who I am. I have to start somewhere, someday. Today is as good a day as any.

This quote came in an email, from a friend, today, and it seemed remarkably fitting for the beginning of this journey:

"Faith is not about everything turning out OK;
"Faith is about being OK no matter how things turn out."

Thank Goodness It's Sunday #49

~Palm Sunday, and the coming Easter week.

~The Great Exemplar, the Eternal Healer, the Sacrificial Lamb, the Son of God, Jesus Christ my Savior and Redeemer.

~The Sacred Romance by Brent Curtis & John Eldredge page 154: When we face trials, our most common reaction is to ask God, "Why won't you relieve us?" And when he doesn't, we resignedly ask, "What do you want me to do?" Now we have a new question "Where is the Romance headed?"

With that question in mind, this week, I'm stepping back and searching first for where I am. I already have a fair idea of where my Sacred Romance with God is headed, in countless breadcrumbs left for me to guide me. I'm realizing that my search for who I am is actually an exploration of what lies within me to better serve God's purpose for my life. What am I overlooking? What am I not recognizing as an additional asset? What are my assets that I'm not using to the best of my ability?

~Friends and family who enrich my life, inspire me, strengthen me, remind me of what matters.

~Remember.

Looking deeper...

This morning, I woke with the plan to begin looking at myself and my life differently. So, what was the first thought that came to me? The old image I've kept in my head of what I "should" be. *rolling eyes* In frustration, I pushed the image away and decided not to think about it at all, yet.

God has other plans. I was checking the various blogs I visit. Stopping in at Fellowship of the Minds, I found a post about a man who converted to Christianity when he was 60 years old, Malcolm Muggeridge. Mother Theresa touched his heart, and I recognized a God incident.

It isn't going to be easy, because the old image keeps popping into my head, but I have several inspiring books I'm looking forward to reading this week.

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.

Who am I? I am God's.

I was awoken at 4:30 in the morning by this thought. The rest of the day has pretty much been a wash. I make plans; God laughs. I did finally manage to finish my work, mostly, by about 7:30 p.m. I'm barely able to keep my eyes open, but know that if I go to bed too early, I'll be up before the birds, again. So, staying awake as long as I'm able, which isn't going to be much longer. My voice is still iffy. My head is still stuffy. I don't know much more today than I did yesterday, but I'm feeling more peaceful.

In the last two days alone, what have I discovered or re-learned about myself and who I am? I enjoy cooking. If I'm cooking, then it's a sure sign I'm feeling more like myself. I made pancakes and buttermilk syrup, yesterday. Yummy!! I've done some catching up on some reading. I've been enjoying the gourmet-a-day theme on my iGoogle page. Today featured Ron Ben-Israel Cakes. Oh, wow. And at the other end of the scale, I was asked where I stand in regards to Israel. I was blessed to grow up next door to a Jewish family. I made some hurtful and thoughtless comments in my arrogant youth. Thank God, I grew up, and we remained friends for many years. I also became better acquainted with my Bible. As an adult, I'd watch what the media would say, and then I'd call my friend and ask, "Okay, now tell me what really happened." I stand with Israel.

Who am I?

I have read dozens of books... hundreds of books... thousands of books... I keep the ones that speak to me, the ones that lift me, inspire me, challenge me, change me. All the books that explore my history agree that there are things I didn't learn and should have, and now it's too late. There are things I learned that will be stumbling blocks for the rest of my life. There are things I should have learned in order to be healthy that I didn't. I'm finally accepting the truth. I'm no longer lying to myself that I can overcome the mess that's my life. I've tried to make something of the wreck of my life. I can't. There's too much. It's too big. I will not pretend anymore that there's any chance for the life I always wanted. I'm done.

In the last year, I've been working, slowly but surely, in this direction. I can't make anything of my life, but God can. It isn't too much for God. It isn't too big for God. It isn't too messy for God. It isn't too broken for God. God created the world and all that is in it. God created light. God can create something from my life. It isn't going to be easy, but I know all about that, and I'm not a quitter. Okay, God, what next?

Sigh... this lying thing is tough...

I wrote yesterday that my voice was pretty much back. Spoke too soon. Growing up, it was always advisable to be sick as little as possible. On average, colds last seven to ten days. I try to be optimistic and say I'll be well in seven days. Here's the truth: I usually have the cold for at least ten days. Then I end up with a sinus infection that takes another two to three weeks to clear up. No antibiotics. I'm already allergic or unaffected by two families of medications. There aren't that many. So, I drink lots of water and try to rest. I feel better accepting the truth. I'm not quite as featherbrained as I have been, which is always a relief. I've managed to accomplish some tasks on the To-Do list. I repotted my rosemary to a larger pot for living outside. It wasn't surviving well in my window. I hope I wasn't too late.

This and that...

I was watching P. Allen Smith's gardening show. He talked about creating terrariums when he was a kid. I thought: How appropriate! Then I wondered what I did as a kid: I made up stories in my head. I also loved to cook. Hmmm....

I'm feeling better, i.e., the head isn't as stuffy. My voice is pretty much back to normal. Thank God.

Brain is scattered. Don't know why. Not as worried about it as I was yesterday.

Yesterday, I found myself bitterly regretting how I allowed things to happen, after high school. When I say allowed I mean I didn't fight for me. I wanted to pursue the culinary arts, but was told that women couldn't make any money as a chef, only men could. I was told to major in engineering (regardless of the fact that I almost flunked high school calculus). Instead, I changed my major to home economics. Again, I was told that I couldn't make any money doing that, and I should become an engineer. (I turn numbers around.) Add to that, if a class was difficult, it didn't occur to me that I needed to find a different way to approach the class. I thought I was too stupid to figure it out, so I'd look for something easier. I had to pay someone to type my papers, and they pointed out all my deficiencies in spelling and paragraphing. I finally gave up on college because I thought I wasn't smart enough. When I finally went back I took only classes I was interested in and nothing too hard. Then I discovered the wonders of going to school with an available computer. By this time, I'd worked for Corporate America. I learned that just because it was hard didn't mean I was stupid. I learned to work harder and more efficiently. I discovered I had some amazing problem-solving skills. Yesterday, I wept because I'm not where I had wanted to be, ever. Today, I'm back to accepting what is and endeavoring to move forward from where I am.