I just said hello to my next door neighbor when we were both out in our back yards. She acted like I had just sprouted 3 heads and swung an axe at her head. She retreated back inside so quickly with such an utter look of disgust that it was almost comical. But it hurt my feelings. We've lived here for 19 months now and I don't even know her name. She's friendly with the neighbors on the other side of her and the other side of our house.....so I know it's not because she's simply antisocial.....so why not be sociable with me? Every time I've attempted to make conversation or even said hello to her, I've gotten the cold shoulder. She is very pretty and she is one of those "put-together looking" women. She's about my age...maybe a few years older. She's always well dressed....even when she's just sitting out in her back yard.
What bothers me more than the fact that this lady obviously finds me objectionable....is the way her disdain makes me FEEL. This evening, her reaction took me immediately right back to the way I used to feel in high school when one of the 'popular girls' would snub me or laugh at me. I know it's trite and pathetic.....but I feel that same level of intimidation that I felt when I was 16 and so unsure of myself. Poor, awkward, geeky, ugly, not-well-dressed; I felt out of my league - as if my living in a nice neighborhood like this was akin to a pig trying to wear pearls. I looked down at my Walmart t-shirt and gym shorts, my bare feet with chipped purple toenail polish and I actually heard myself think, "Maybe she can smell the 'white trash' from over in her yard and doesn't want to come any closer to the garbage pile." Ugggggggggggh. Why do I talk to myself that way??
How low does my self esteem have to be to take such a nosedive based on that lady's rudeness and complete lack of class? Even if I don't completely understand social graces or the finer subtleties of personal interactions as defined by some.....I do know how to be NICE to people. I strive to be nice to everybody....even people I don't necessarily have tagged as "BFF" material. One does not have to like someone or want to hang out with them to be civil to them. I hope I never make anyone feel this insignificant and inferior. Heavens knows we all carry enough burdens without having to lug those feelings around with us too...dragging them along behind us like heavy sacks of rocks.
I know that my past experiences color my own reactions. Years spent afraid of my own shadow, afraid of being laughed at, of being scared to death of rejection........years spent so lonely and sad that I was DESPERATE for someone to like me....years of trying too hard and crashing and burning. Awkward social interactions. Feeling inadequate. Hearing whispered (and not so whispered) giggles and being the butt of jokes. Feeling left-out, forgotten; feeling judged and found wanting,.... pathetic and mousy. Learning to keep to myself in an effort to guard my heart.....building walls around the tender, hurting spaces. Day-dreaming or getting lost in books to escape the reality of my own painfully plain self sometimes.
Making friends has always been a bit of a challenge for me. I've always envied girls who always seem to know what to say and how to say it. Girls who seem to just know what to wear and how to wear it........where to go and who to go there with. I usually feel fairly clueless about these things.
At this point in my life, I thought I'd dealt with all those misty ghosts of my teen-aged past. I thought that I'd finally figured out who I am.... and why I am what I am. I thought that all those petty fears and longings for popularity and friendships and being accepted were resolved and finished. Shouldn't all that adolescent angst completely disappear with the arrival of the first signs of crows feet and gray hairs? I'm middle-aged, for heaven's sakes!!! How can one lady's snub in the back yard send me into a such a tailspin and downward spiral of sad introspection...culminating in these same sad feelings of worthlessness and despair that I thought I'd overcome?
And I wonder.....do other people feel this way? Do other people worry so much about how other people see them? Or am I just very self-centered? Something Beth Moore once said resonates within my heart: "Constantly thinking little of yourself is still constantly thinking of yourself." Yes..when I sit quietly and clear my mind and really listen...... I do believe that's the actual problem...........ME, thinking too much about ME. Imagine that.
Maybe my neighbor lady was just preoccupied. Maybe she was busy and didn't have time to talk. Maybe she thought I wanted something from her. Maybe she just doesn't like the looks of me. Maybe she thinks I'm odd (and she's likely right). Maybe she's had a really bad day and is just hanging on by a thread and didn't feel like being social. I will probably never know.
Meanwhile.....I'm going to continue to pray that I can get a grip. I can't change the way other people act.....but I CAN change my reaction. I'm praying that I can move past these low-self-esteem issues and leave the pity-party behind. I am also praying that some NICE and FRIENDLY neighbors move into the new empty house across the street from us. When the new folks move in (whoever they are), I am going to make a point of taking a house-warming gift over and introducing myself. Hope I don't scare them too badly! hahahaha!!!
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Makes Scents! :)
Smells, odors, aromas, scents, fragrance, perfumes......boy do they have an effect on us! I was browsing in a cute little garden shop in downtown Franklin the other day and they had baskets of homemade soaps. I smelled one called "Roses" and was immediately transported back to my childhood...hugging my Grandfather's neck. He always smelled of Old Spice, tobacco and Rose Milk lotion. He used that lotion on his face and his arms every single day. There was another bar of soap called "Cloves" and it reminded me of those 10 cent candy sticks from The Cracker Barrel and also the packs of Clove flavored gum we used to get from the gas station when I was a little girl.
Isn't it strange how smells can do that in an instant? Think about the smell of a brand new box of Crayola Crayons...the 64 pack with the built-in sharpener on the back. Breathe in deep and smell childhood! Who could ever forget the faintly sweet plastic-ly smell of Play-doh? The smell of a brand new vinyl lunchbox? The baby-soft smell of Baby Magic lotion or Johnson and Johnson's No More Tears Baby Shampoo? Each of these smells are etched on our brains!!!
Some of my favorite smell-memories are the rich green floral smell of Prell shampoo that my Mamaw used to wash our hair with as children and the Tame Creme Rinse. She'd wash our hair and then comb it out and let it dry...making precise parts in our hair with an old pink rat-tail comb before braiding it. How about Toni home perms? Now THAT'S a smell that will take you back (not to mention make your eyes water!) Haha!!! Aqua-Net hair spray and Lux or Cammay Soap takes me back as well. Gee-Your-Hair-Smells-Terrific was my shampoo of choice as a teen.....and for my young teen-aged underarms. ..... I relied on Tickle Deodorant.....in a variety of pretty colors/smells.
My Mom always wore the perfume "Tabu" and my Mamaw wore "Sweet Honesty" from Avon. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still remember both in my mind. My Mom's purse always smelled good.....like the Spearmint Freshen-Up gum she kept hidden inside. At my Mamaw's house, we kept our out of season clothing stored i a giant wooden chest...filled with moth-balls. Moth Balls absolutely REEK, but I find that it's not an unpleasant smell to me now, because it reminds me of those days when the weather was either getting warm or getting chilly and we would change out our entire wardrobes from the depths of that wooden chest.
I can remember how the kitchen would smell every morning when my Mamaw would bake her homemade biscuits, brew her cup of coffee and fry my Papaw's eggs. A little bit of home-comfort haven, that smell!! I remember how the kitchen would smell when it was summer "canning" time. Sometimes sweet and sticky if we were making jam or preserves...sometimes vinegary when we were making pickles or pickled okra.....sometimes just like vegetables if we were putting up beans or tomato-vegetable-soup mix....and REALLY stinky when we put up Sauerkraut and REALLY, REALLY stinky when Mamaw made beautiful cans of what she called Chow-Chow. I remember listening for the hot jar lids to "pop" indicating that our hard work was magically preserved for the winter months. Oh, how I miss those cooking smells! It would be hot as blazes in that kitchen....a giant brown box fan from the 1950's blowing hot, fragrant air heavy with humidity and the scents of whatever was boiling on the stove. Such simple, happy times.
I remember the smell of our kerosene heater....but that was not a pleasant smell at all. I hated that heater! I loved the smell of our wood burning stove though...rich, warm and spicy smelling. I remember stretching out on my belly on the floor, covered with one of Mamaw's hand-made quilts and listening to the Braves games on the radio with my Papaw (back before the Braves were winners, mind you!). There were nights when my Papaw would holler out to my Mamaw, ''Bea! Pop us some corn! This ballgame needs some popcorn!" And my Mamaw would smile, go to the kitchen and take out a deep, black, heavy iron kettle and pour the grease in and very soon, I would hear her shaking the pot back and forth on the stove burner and then you could hear the faint pop-pop-pop....followed very closely by the amazing smell of freshly popped corn. Then she would melt butter...REAL butter in a skillet and pour it over those tender white kernels and top that with a generous helping of salt from her giant white salt shaker. Oh that smell was heavenly!! On cooler nights...on towards the World Series games, Papaw would instead say, "Bea....cook us up some chocolate!" And Mamaw would smile and go to the kitchen, pulling out a big pot and pouring whole milk in it....she's mix the Cocoa Powder and Sugar with just a pinch of salt and make magical mugs of hot chocolate that made our whole house smell like an uptown bakery!! I've never liked chocolate much....but her mugs of hot chocolate were a complete exception from that rule and a very rare and special treat that my Papaw and I shared, making it even more special.
There were other smells that I can very distinctly remember: The slightly oily, slightly metallic - but rich and clean of the inside of my Papaw's tool box; I remember the hot electric smell that the wall-heater in our bathroom gave off as it heated the freezing cold air of our tiny bathroom in the early mornings when I was getting ready for school on winter mornings. I remember the gasoline and paint odors of my Uncle JC's garage when we would go to visit. I remember the sweet, fresh smell of the sheets and pillowcases after they had been washed and hung out on the clothes line to dry. Is there a better smell than that? I loved the first few nights of sleeping on those fresh clean linens because they smelled so nice!!!
I remember Mamaw's cornbread smelled when it was baking (somehow, hers not only tasted better than mine does now, hers SMELLED better cooking too! Even though I use HER recipe!) <3 I remember the way Christmas smelled when I was young: Like the fruit and nut bag we got from church: Oranges, Apples, nuts and peppermint candy!! To this day, when I peel an orange, it reminds me of Christmas! Thanksgiving smells like turkey and Mamaw's "dressin"...rich with sage and celery. Afternoons smell like her little Fried Pies. When I open a new bottle of Dr. Pepper, it smells like my childhood after school snack time. My Mamaw would open a single glass bottle of Dr. Pepper and divide it between 3 teacups: 1 for me, 1 for my little sister and 1 for her. Then we'd have her homemade sugar cookies or maybe a Little Debbie cake to go with it.....all the while, answering her questions about what we had for lunch that day and what we learned in our "lessons" as she called them. I'd give anything to share a Dr. Pepper with her at the table again and just talk.
I remember school smells too! Anyone else my age love the smell of that blue mimeograph ink? Probably as toxic as nuclear waste, but it smelled SO good! And the papers would sometimes still be warm when the teacher passed them out! I remember the smell of a room full of yellow Number 2 pencils and the smell of those perky pink erasers.....and even the pine-scented sicky-sweet smell of that brown stuff the janitors would sprinkle over vomit in the hallways when a kid would throw-up. I remember the good smell of our elementary school store that smelled like candy-sticks, school supplies and ice cream! And the smell of our elementary school cafeteria when they baked those delicious rolls! The slightly musty, almost mildewy smell of an old library book still sets my nerdy heart a-flutter!
I have enjoyed sitting here, thinking back to all the things I remember mostly by smell. Weird isn't it? That one sense can trigger such vivid memories! Makes 'scents' to me! :)
Isn't it strange how smells can do that in an instant? Think about the smell of a brand new box of Crayola Crayons...the 64 pack with the built-in sharpener on the back. Breathe in deep and smell childhood! Who could ever forget the faintly sweet plastic-ly smell of Play-doh? The smell of a brand new vinyl lunchbox? The baby-soft smell of Baby Magic lotion or Johnson and Johnson's No More Tears Baby Shampoo? Each of these smells are etched on our brains!!!
Some of my favorite smell-memories are the rich green floral smell of Prell shampoo that my Mamaw used to wash our hair with as children and the Tame Creme Rinse. She'd wash our hair and then comb it out and let it dry...making precise parts in our hair with an old pink rat-tail comb before braiding it. How about Toni home perms? Now THAT'S a smell that will take you back (not to mention make your eyes water!) Haha!!! Aqua-Net hair spray and Lux or Cammay Soap takes me back as well. Gee-Your-Hair-Smells-Terrific was my shampoo of choice as a teen.....and for my young teen-aged underarms. ..... I relied on Tickle Deodorant.....in a variety of pretty colors/smells.
My Mom always wore the perfume "Tabu" and my Mamaw wore "Sweet Honesty" from Avon. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still remember both in my mind. My Mom's purse always smelled good.....like the Spearmint Freshen-Up gum she kept hidden inside. At my Mamaw's house, we kept our out of season clothing stored i a giant wooden chest...filled with moth-balls. Moth Balls absolutely REEK, but I find that it's not an unpleasant smell to me now, because it reminds me of those days when the weather was either getting warm or getting chilly and we would change out our entire wardrobes from the depths of that wooden chest.
I can remember how the kitchen would smell every morning when my Mamaw would bake her homemade biscuits, brew her cup of coffee and fry my Papaw's eggs. A little bit of home-comfort haven, that smell!! I remember how the kitchen would smell when it was summer "canning" time. Sometimes sweet and sticky if we were making jam or preserves...sometimes vinegary when we were making pickles or pickled okra.....sometimes just like vegetables if we were putting up beans or tomato-vegetable-soup mix....and REALLY stinky when we put up Sauerkraut and REALLY, REALLY stinky when Mamaw made beautiful cans of what she called Chow-Chow. I remember listening for the hot jar lids to "pop" indicating that our hard work was magically preserved for the winter months. Oh, how I miss those cooking smells! It would be hot as blazes in that kitchen....a giant brown box fan from the 1950's blowing hot, fragrant air heavy with humidity and the scents of whatever was boiling on the stove. Such simple, happy times.
I remember the smell of our kerosene heater....but that was not a pleasant smell at all. I hated that heater! I loved the smell of our wood burning stove though...rich, warm and spicy smelling. I remember stretching out on my belly on the floor, covered with one of Mamaw's hand-made quilts and listening to the Braves games on the radio with my Papaw (back before the Braves were winners, mind you!). There were nights when my Papaw would holler out to my Mamaw, ''Bea! Pop us some corn! This ballgame needs some popcorn!" And my Mamaw would smile, go to the kitchen and take out a deep, black, heavy iron kettle and pour the grease in and very soon, I would hear her shaking the pot back and forth on the stove burner and then you could hear the faint pop-pop-pop....followed very closely by the amazing smell of freshly popped corn. Then she would melt butter...REAL butter in a skillet and pour it over those tender white kernels and top that with a generous helping of salt from her giant white salt shaker. Oh that smell was heavenly!! On cooler nights...on towards the World Series games, Papaw would instead say, "Bea....cook us up some chocolate!" And Mamaw would smile and go to the kitchen, pulling out a big pot and pouring whole milk in it....she's mix the Cocoa Powder and Sugar with just a pinch of salt and make magical mugs of hot chocolate that made our whole house smell like an uptown bakery!! I've never liked chocolate much....but her mugs of hot chocolate were a complete exception from that rule and a very rare and special treat that my Papaw and I shared, making it even more special.
There were other smells that I can very distinctly remember: The slightly oily, slightly metallic - but rich and clean of the inside of my Papaw's tool box; I remember the hot electric smell that the wall-heater in our bathroom gave off as it heated the freezing cold air of our tiny bathroom in the early mornings when I was getting ready for school on winter mornings. I remember the gasoline and paint odors of my Uncle JC's garage when we would go to visit. I remember the sweet, fresh smell of the sheets and pillowcases after they had been washed and hung out on the clothes line to dry. Is there a better smell than that? I loved the first few nights of sleeping on those fresh clean linens because they smelled so nice!!!
I remember Mamaw's cornbread smelled when it was baking (somehow, hers not only tasted better than mine does now, hers SMELLED better cooking too! Even though I use HER recipe!) <3 I remember the way Christmas smelled when I was young: Like the fruit and nut bag we got from church: Oranges, Apples, nuts and peppermint candy!! To this day, when I peel an orange, it reminds me of Christmas! Thanksgiving smells like turkey and Mamaw's "dressin"...rich with sage and celery. Afternoons smell like her little Fried Pies. When I open a new bottle of Dr. Pepper, it smells like my childhood after school snack time. My Mamaw would open a single glass bottle of Dr. Pepper and divide it between 3 teacups: 1 for me, 1 for my little sister and 1 for her. Then we'd have her homemade sugar cookies or maybe a Little Debbie cake to go with it.....all the while, answering her questions about what we had for lunch that day and what we learned in our "lessons" as she called them. I'd give anything to share a Dr. Pepper with her at the table again and just talk.
I remember school smells too! Anyone else my age love the smell of that blue mimeograph ink? Probably as toxic as nuclear waste, but it smelled SO good! And the papers would sometimes still be warm when the teacher passed them out! I remember the smell of a room full of yellow Number 2 pencils and the smell of those perky pink erasers.....and even the pine-scented sicky-sweet smell of that brown stuff the janitors would sprinkle over vomit in the hallways when a kid would throw-up. I remember the good smell of our elementary school store that smelled like candy-sticks, school supplies and ice cream! And the smell of our elementary school cafeteria when they baked those delicious rolls! The slightly musty, almost mildewy smell of an old library book still sets my nerdy heart a-flutter!
I have enjoyed sitting here, thinking back to all the things I remember mostly by smell. Weird isn't it? That one sense can trigger such vivid memories! Makes 'scents' to me! :)
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Who do I need to forgive???
I was reading through some writing prompts and I came across this question: Who do I need to forgive? It cut at my heart and demanded an answer. An honest answer.
When thinking about this question.....the overwhelming answer is: My father. For abandoning me when I was 6 years old.
I have tried to forgive him a million times. I've prayed about it, I've tried to make peace with it. But he has hurt me probably more than anyone on earth has ever hurt me. As a parent myself, I can't imagine turning my back on my own child. I can't imagine leaving them at 6 years of age....not wanting to be a part of their lives. I can't imagine not wondering how they were doing, not loving them, not wanting to be in contact with them and not being a part of their young lives.
Did he miss me all those years? Does he regret missing me pulling my first tooth? Does he regret not being there at the school plays? Not seeing me be baptized? Not knowing or caring if I was in church? Not knowing if I was making all 'A's' in school or knowing if I ever learned how to ride a 2 wheeled bike without training wheels? Does he wish he'd have been there for the Father-Daughter dances I never got to attend? Did he ever think about these things then...does he think about them now? Does he know how I used to pretend he was out of town for business....or on grand adventures overseas as a secret agent ......I used to pretend these things to ease the pain of not being wanted. Of being left behind. Discarded like an old dirty sock....tossed aside. Because that's how I really felt.
I have wondered through the years what it was that made him want to leave. Was I a bad child? Too much of a burden? Too needy? Too _______? I don't even know what to put in that blank. Over the years, I've tried to fill it with every adjective I could think of to describe myself. What was wrong with ME that made him not want me?
It affected all my relationships with men throughout the years. I would smother any guy I was dating with attention and gifts....trying to make SURE I was the nicest, the best, the sweetest, the most giving, the most AMAZING girl they could ever imagine. Usually, it resulted in scaring them away.....how needy and desperate I was for their love!!! The first....oh....say, 20 years of my marriage, I spent in paralyzing fear that my husband would figure out whatever it was that my father knew about me and he'd leave me too. I'd imagine scenarios in elaborate detail and then cry for hours because I was afraid they'd come true. It's a wonder (and a blessing straight from heaven) that my husband didn't leave based on my insane emotional state alone!!
I have always thought of myself as "flawed." Something was wrong with me. Something that made me not be desirable. Not worth anything. Not lovable. Not worthy of being loved. Not wanted. Not enough. Maybe too much? Maybe too weird. Maybe too needy. Not pretty. Not worth sticking around for. Not smart enough. Not good enough. Not lovely. Not nice. Not quality. The note he left my mom said that he wanted to leave because he "didn't want to be tied down." Whatever the heck that means. Tied down. I was just someone who was in the way. A ball and chain around his ankle that weighed him down. A responsibility. A burden. Heavy.
I've worked my entire life to become MORE....to become someone that someone would WANT to be with. I studied hard. I made all A's in school. I dieted. I tried to wear make-up to look beautiful. I went to church. I tried to be good. I tried to be nice. I tried to be likable, lovable and sweet. I was obedient. I wanted to please EVERYONE. I always went the extra mile. I worked harder than anybody else. I wanted to be accepted......but my desperateness was awkward and off-putting. I was not popular..........unless someone wanted to copy my homework or get me to do something for them. It seemed that the harder I worked at being likable....the less likable I became.
Even now, as an adult.....the past still haunts me. My father has a relationship with my sister over the years...but not with me. He reaches out to her; he knows and loves her children. He only met mine a few times. He doesn't send them cards on their birthdays or even acknowledge mine. Don't get me wrong.... I don't want cards and presents from him...I just want him to know I'm here. I want to know that he cares at least a little about me. But now, there have been over 30 years of silence and distance. He never saw my children graduate, he never came to a single one of their dance recitals or a single soccer game. They never saw "Grandpa" on holidays or went fishing or any of the other cliche things that Grandpas are supposed to do with their grandchildren. I hurt for their loss too.
What is it that makes him want my sister and her kids but not ME and MINE? What is so terribly wrong with ME?
I realize that in many ways, I've transferred my feelings towards my father to God. I wonder if God can really want me, love me or cherish me. I've wondered if I continue to sin (and as long as I'm human, I surely will)....will he just abandon me too? I have wondered if I'm good enough for God to love me.....and the answer is... OF COURSE NOT. But He loves me anyway. Not because of my goodness, but because of His goodness. It's hard to understand the role of God as my "Heavenly Father" because I've had such a poor example of an earthly father. I've lost count of the times I've tried to pray though that and the times that God's mercy has shone through like the warming sun to ease my mind, to sooth my faltering fears and wipe away my tears and give me the grace and strength to pick myself up for another day.
It still hurts. I've prayed and prayed for years for a way to forgive him. I've said the words a thousand times. I've cried oceans of tears of repentance over the way I feel towards him. Almost 40 years and the pain is still raw and sharp and it cuts into the deepest part of who I am. It's shaped who I am. There's no way to escape that. It's the root of many of my deepest fears and insecurities. And oddly, it's part of what makes me who I am. It's what gives me a sense of independence and feeling that I can get through the hard times. I can lean on God for my identity and look to Him for my love and acceptance.
And I can look at the way my husband has been such an example of a Godly father to my two children...and I can be thankful for that blessing. I can finally understand God's love as a Heavenly Father to ME because of the way my husband loves our children. I get it now!!! And I am overwhelmed by the sweetness and the tenderness of being able to experience that through Steve's relationship with our own children.
I do forgive my father.......I will say it again. I forgive him. I don't want to harbor bitterness and resentment any longer. I want to be free from the hurt and the loss......we may never have a close relationship, and I have come to terms with that. But from here on out, I will not resent him, hate him or think of him with bitterness. I will probably never understand his decision to leave us and I will probably never understand how he feels about all of it. And yes, there will still probably be times I will long for a father's love...........but Lord, let me be satisfied with all the blessings you have given me instead! Blessings all mine, and ten thousand beside!
When thinking about this question.....the overwhelming answer is: My father. For abandoning me when I was 6 years old.
I have tried to forgive him a million times. I've prayed about it, I've tried to make peace with it. But he has hurt me probably more than anyone on earth has ever hurt me. As a parent myself, I can't imagine turning my back on my own child. I can't imagine leaving them at 6 years of age....not wanting to be a part of their lives. I can't imagine not wondering how they were doing, not loving them, not wanting to be in contact with them and not being a part of their young lives.
Did he miss me all those years? Does he regret missing me pulling my first tooth? Does he regret not being there at the school plays? Not seeing me be baptized? Not knowing or caring if I was in church? Not knowing if I was making all 'A's' in school or knowing if I ever learned how to ride a 2 wheeled bike without training wheels? Does he wish he'd have been there for the Father-Daughter dances I never got to attend? Did he ever think about these things then...does he think about them now? Does he know how I used to pretend he was out of town for business....or on grand adventures overseas as a secret agent ......I used to pretend these things to ease the pain of not being wanted. Of being left behind. Discarded like an old dirty sock....tossed aside. Because that's how I really felt.
I have wondered through the years what it was that made him want to leave. Was I a bad child? Too much of a burden? Too needy? Too _______? I don't even know what to put in that blank. Over the years, I've tried to fill it with every adjective I could think of to describe myself. What was wrong with ME that made him not want me?
It affected all my relationships with men throughout the years. I would smother any guy I was dating with attention and gifts....trying to make SURE I was the nicest, the best, the sweetest, the most giving, the most AMAZING girl they could ever imagine. Usually, it resulted in scaring them away.....how needy and desperate I was for their love!!! The first....oh....say, 20 years of my marriage, I spent in paralyzing fear that my husband would figure out whatever it was that my father knew about me and he'd leave me too. I'd imagine scenarios in elaborate detail and then cry for hours because I was afraid they'd come true. It's a wonder (and a blessing straight from heaven) that my husband didn't leave based on my insane emotional state alone!!
I have always thought of myself as "flawed." Something was wrong with me. Something that made me not be desirable. Not worth anything. Not lovable. Not worthy of being loved. Not wanted. Not enough. Maybe too much? Maybe too weird. Maybe too needy. Not pretty. Not worth sticking around for. Not smart enough. Not good enough. Not lovely. Not nice. Not quality. The note he left my mom said that he wanted to leave because he "didn't want to be tied down." Whatever the heck that means. Tied down. I was just someone who was in the way. A ball and chain around his ankle that weighed him down. A responsibility. A burden. Heavy.
I've worked my entire life to become MORE....to become someone that someone would WANT to be with. I studied hard. I made all A's in school. I dieted. I tried to wear make-up to look beautiful. I went to church. I tried to be good. I tried to be nice. I tried to be likable, lovable and sweet. I was obedient. I wanted to please EVERYONE. I always went the extra mile. I worked harder than anybody else. I wanted to be accepted......but my desperateness was awkward and off-putting. I was not popular..........unless someone wanted to copy my homework or get me to do something for them. It seemed that the harder I worked at being likable....the less likable I became.
Even now, as an adult.....the past still haunts me. My father has a relationship with my sister over the years...but not with me. He reaches out to her; he knows and loves her children. He only met mine a few times. He doesn't send them cards on their birthdays or even acknowledge mine. Don't get me wrong.... I don't want cards and presents from him...I just want him to know I'm here. I want to know that he cares at least a little about me. But now, there have been over 30 years of silence and distance. He never saw my children graduate, he never came to a single one of their dance recitals or a single soccer game. They never saw "Grandpa" on holidays or went fishing or any of the other cliche things that Grandpas are supposed to do with their grandchildren. I hurt for their loss too.
What is it that makes him want my sister and her kids but not ME and MINE? What is so terribly wrong with ME?
I realize that in many ways, I've transferred my feelings towards my father to God. I wonder if God can really want me, love me or cherish me. I've wondered if I continue to sin (and as long as I'm human, I surely will)....will he just abandon me too? I have wondered if I'm good enough for God to love me.....and the answer is... OF COURSE NOT. But He loves me anyway. Not because of my goodness, but because of His goodness. It's hard to understand the role of God as my "Heavenly Father" because I've had such a poor example of an earthly father. I've lost count of the times I've tried to pray though that and the times that God's mercy has shone through like the warming sun to ease my mind, to sooth my faltering fears and wipe away my tears and give me the grace and strength to pick myself up for another day.
It still hurts. I've prayed and prayed for years for a way to forgive him. I've said the words a thousand times. I've cried oceans of tears of repentance over the way I feel towards him. Almost 40 years and the pain is still raw and sharp and it cuts into the deepest part of who I am. It's shaped who I am. There's no way to escape that. It's the root of many of my deepest fears and insecurities. And oddly, it's part of what makes me who I am. It's what gives me a sense of independence and feeling that I can get through the hard times. I can lean on God for my identity and look to Him for my love and acceptance.
And I can look at the way my husband has been such an example of a Godly father to my two children...and I can be thankful for that blessing. I can finally understand God's love as a Heavenly Father to ME because of the way my husband loves our children. I get it now!!! And I am overwhelmed by the sweetness and the tenderness of being able to experience that through Steve's relationship with our own children.
I do forgive my father.......I will say it again. I forgive him. I don't want to harbor bitterness and resentment any longer. I want to be free from the hurt and the loss......we may never have a close relationship, and I have come to terms with that. But from here on out, I will not resent him, hate him or think of him with bitterness. I will probably never understand his decision to leave us and I will probably never understand how he feels about all of it. And yes, there will still probably be times I will long for a father's love...........but Lord, let me be satisfied with all the blessings you have given me instead! Blessings all mine, and ten thousand beside!
My Dysfunctional Anger Problem
I am going to admit something very personal. I have a very difficult time with anger. I have trouble feeling it; I have trouble expressing it and I have a LOT of trouble when it's directed at me. It's such a difficult emotion for me. I have (and have always had) difficulty with the entire emotion of anger.
With most people, this is not such a hang-up. Something happens that affronts them and they become upset. They get mad. They yell. They throw things. They vent. Then they get over it and go on with life. I wish I could mimic this cycle. With me, it goes more like this: Something happens that affronts me and I become upset. I get mad. I keep it inside and stew over it. I become indignant, then resentful and that leads to feeling bitter and then I feel guilty and ashamed...so I withdraw from activities and people and then I become terribly depressed, which leads me back to resentfulness and bitterness and perpetuates my very dysfunctional cycle. The fact that I've FINALLY (after about 44 years) figured out the pattern means that there might be some hope, with God's help...for changing it.
I was raised in an environment and culture where "nice girls" and "ladies" didn't really have the right to get angry. We could quietly endure and we could shoulder the responsibility for making someone else angry (as in, "Baby, WHY do you make me hit you?")......but when it came to our own feelings of anger, we were taught to swallow it down, along with our pride and to above all else, "be nice." Be a "good girl." No unlady like displays of yelling, screaming or throwing things. No ugliness. No scenes. Good heavens, we're NOT that kind of women! Only non-God-fearing, hussies and loose, brazen women would dare to act out (or as my Mamaw would say: "show-out") in such an uncivilized manner! Godly women were supposed to at ALL times remain dignified, composed and gracious. Bless their hearts.
To this day, I find myself silently following those archaic, insane and emotionally destructive guidelines. Someone hurts my feelings? On the inside, I'm fuming, I'm crying and screaming. I'm stomping my foot and spitting and my face is flaming red with indignation. I'm flipping them off. I'm calling them every bad thing I can think of. I'm restraining myself from throwing my shoulder out when I shoot my hand over to slap the ugly smirk off their smug face. I want to yell and cuss and cry and let them know exactly how wrong they are and why what they said wounded me so deeply.
But of course. I don't. Usually......I sit there, stunned for a second......then I compose my face into what I can only hope is a serene smile and become very, very quiet......and then at the first chance I get, I slink away to lick my wounds and berate myself for not reacting appropriately. After the fact, I can think of a million things to say....witty, intelligent, one-line zingers that would put even the most crass offender in their place. In the heat of the moment.....I just sit there like a mute manikin with no feelings at all...a painted smile frozen on my face. Dignified and composed on the outside...runny jello with a side of boiling arsenic on the inside.
NO wonder I have such a problem with depression!!! My goodness! It's not healthy to suppress and repress and outright deny all those negative feelings!! I don't know why I can't seem to break out of this pattern. When I'm not angry, like now.....it all seems so clear-cut and logical. In the face of hurt (intentional or perceived) it all goes flying out the window. I can't think a sane logical thought. I freeze. I am at a loss for words. I might be capable of a few tears.....but that only serves to humiliate me further. No one wants to show how emotionally weak and vulnerable they are to someone who's verbally bashing them right there on the spot! How pitiful, right??? The worse thing EVER is when the person I'm angry with wants to be all emotionally healthy had "talk this out." Man, oh man...those words strike terror in my heart and my mind becomes as blank as a clean chalkboard; incapable of forming lucid sentences, incapable of expressing anything genuine or thought-out and so I usually just end up crying and hating myself for doing it.
I am a fairly intelligent person capable of insightful thought and I can draw logical conclusions and can function in the business world and in my private and public life......until faced with becoming angry. This, I don't do well. I know I don't do it well.....and I've resigned myself to the very real truth that I need to study "How to be Angry in an emotionally Healthy Manner." Wish I could just take a class...If a local University offered to the community at large a class entitled "Anger Management for the Repressed Christian Southern Woman 101," I would be first in line to sign up!
All my life I've heard the Bible verse that says, "Be angry, but sin not!" from Ephesians 4:26. But honestly, I have no idea how that plays out in real life. How angry can I become before it turns into sin? How do I express said anger? I thought my way of dealing with anger was fine....until I read the rest of that same verse that says, "Don't let the sun go down on your wrath." I'm going to hazard a guess that my method of running away from a fight and then going over and over what was said in my mind until I resent the person I'm angry with and then ending up miserable for days.....isn't exactly what this verse has in mind. Touche. Guess what...even though I didn't "pitch a fit"....my anger still turned into sin, didn't it?
Another "anger-scene" that always comes to my mind is when Jesus confronted the money-changers who were defiling the Temple by cheating the worshipers and charging outrageous fees for the required sacrifices. He yelled at them. He called them out, overturned their tables, scattering their merchandise all over the floor and then Jesus chased them out of the Temple.... with a whip!!! That doesn't sound very composed or mild or serene to me at all. I certainly can't see myself overturning the conference room table at my office, scattering charts and care-plans all over the floor while I chase my lazy clinicians out of the building with a bull-whip.......any more than I can see myself knocking over the dinner table at home; the cornbread and sweet-tea flying willy-nilly over the hardwood floors while I chase my husband out of the dining room while snapping his backside with his Sunday dress belt! (And yes, I was going for the giggle there....I actually do realize that there was so much more at stake with the defilement of the temple .......especially in comparison to my own petty hurts and perceived injustices). But the Bible goes on to say that Jesus was sinless. He was angry...and He let everybody know it....but He did not sin. That is fascinating to me!! When I was a little girl (and honestly....even now) that Bible story always bothered me. Maybe it's the comparison in my own mind of being spanked until I had whelps and bruises down my backside with a belt by my own angry father as a child....maybe it's just that in my own mind (from what I've been taught my whole life) that righteous anger shouldn't "show-out" like that. But, the Bible is very clear on this.....He did not sin!!!! Blows my mind. Honestly, it blows my mind!!
So, what does this mean for ME? Obviously, I'm not going to start overturning tables and carrying a whip around.... but I really DO need to get a handle on what it means to "Be angry, but sin not." This is an area where I need some HELP and more than a little grace to overcome a lifetime of emotional dysfunction. I need to learn to confront the things and people who are hurtful, insensitive and mean. I am so tired of the destructive cycle that I so often (read: too often) find myself caught in. I allow people to walk all over me (in the well-meaning manner of being NICE) and I end up doing way more than my share of the work and carrying more than my share of guilt for things that I sometimes shouldn't even own. I'm tired of being Sad-Sue the Door-Mat. That said....I don't want to become (Please pardon my use of the word, but NOTHING else quite fits) a real 'bitch' either. I want to learn how to put into action the command to "Be angry, but sin not." Right now, I just don't have a CLUE what that looks like for me.
I'm asking for your prayers while I dig into my Bible and study and try to figure how how this works. On second thought....maybe we ought to pray for everybody that comes in contact with me while I'm figuring this out as well! It's bound to get a bit messy.
Trying to keep it honest...even when it's ugly,
Amanda
With most people, this is not such a hang-up. Something happens that affronts them and they become upset. They get mad. They yell. They throw things. They vent. Then they get over it and go on with life. I wish I could mimic this cycle. With me, it goes more like this: Something happens that affronts me and I become upset. I get mad. I keep it inside and stew over it. I become indignant, then resentful and that leads to feeling bitter and then I feel guilty and ashamed...so I withdraw from activities and people and then I become terribly depressed, which leads me back to resentfulness and bitterness and perpetuates my very dysfunctional cycle. The fact that I've FINALLY (after about 44 years) figured out the pattern means that there might be some hope, with God's help...for changing it.
I was raised in an environment and culture where "nice girls" and "ladies" didn't really have the right to get angry. We could quietly endure and we could shoulder the responsibility for making someone else angry (as in, "Baby, WHY do you make me hit you?")......but when it came to our own feelings of anger, we were taught to swallow it down, along with our pride and to above all else, "be nice." Be a "good girl." No unlady like displays of yelling, screaming or throwing things. No ugliness. No scenes. Good heavens, we're NOT that kind of women! Only non-God-fearing, hussies and loose, brazen women would dare to act out (or as my Mamaw would say: "show-out") in such an uncivilized manner! Godly women were supposed to at ALL times remain dignified, composed and gracious. Bless their hearts.
To this day, I find myself silently following those archaic, insane and emotionally destructive guidelines. Someone hurts my feelings? On the inside, I'm fuming, I'm crying and screaming. I'm stomping my foot and spitting and my face is flaming red with indignation. I'm flipping them off. I'm calling them every bad thing I can think of. I'm restraining myself from throwing my shoulder out when I shoot my hand over to slap the ugly smirk off their smug face. I want to yell and cuss and cry and let them know exactly how wrong they are and why what they said wounded me so deeply.
But of course. I don't. Usually......I sit there, stunned for a second......then I compose my face into what I can only hope is a serene smile and become very, very quiet......and then at the first chance I get, I slink away to lick my wounds and berate myself for not reacting appropriately. After the fact, I can think of a million things to say....witty, intelligent, one-line zingers that would put even the most crass offender in their place. In the heat of the moment.....I just sit there like a mute manikin with no feelings at all...a painted smile frozen on my face. Dignified and composed on the outside...runny jello with a side of boiling arsenic on the inside.
NO wonder I have such a problem with depression!!! My goodness! It's not healthy to suppress and repress and outright deny all those negative feelings!! I don't know why I can't seem to break out of this pattern. When I'm not angry, like now.....it all seems so clear-cut and logical. In the face of hurt (intentional or perceived) it all goes flying out the window. I can't think a sane logical thought. I freeze. I am at a loss for words. I might be capable of a few tears.....but that only serves to humiliate me further. No one wants to show how emotionally weak and vulnerable they are to someone who's verbally bashing them right there on the spot! How pitiful, right??? The worse thing EVER is when the person I'm angry with wants to be all emotionally healthy had "talk this out." Man, oh man...those words strike terror in my heart and my mind becomes as blank as a clean chalkboard; incapable of forming lucid sentences, incapable of expressing anything genuine or thought-out and so I usually just end up crying and hating myself for doing it.
I am a fairly intelligent person capable of insightful thought and I can draw logical conclusions and can function in the business world and in my private and public life......until faced with becoming angry. This, I don't do well. I know I don't do it well.....and I've resigned myself to the very real truth that I need to study "How to be Angry in an emotionally Healthy Manner." Wish I could just take a class...If a local University offered to the community at large a class entitled "Anger Management for the Repressed Christian Southern Woman 101," I would be first in line to sign up!
All my life I've heard the Bible verse that says, "Be angry, but sin not!" from Ephesians 4:26. But honestly, I have no idea how that plays out in real life. How angry can I become before it turns into sin? How do I express said anger? I thought my way of dealing with anger was fine....until I read the rest of that same verse that says, "Don't let the sun go down on your wrath." I'm going to hazard a guess that my method of running away from a fight and then going over and over what was said in my mind until I resent the person I'm angry with and then ending up miserable for days.....isn't exactly what this verse has in mind. Touche. Guess what...even though I didn't "pitch a fit"....my anger still turned into sin, didn't it?
Another "anger-scene" that always comes to my mind is when Jesus confronted the money-changers who were defiling the Temple by cheating the worshipers and charging outrageous fees for the required sacrifices. He yelled at them. He called them out, overturned their tables, scattering their merchandise all over the floor and then Jesus chased them out of the Temple.... with a whip!!! That doesn't sound very composed or mild or serene to me at all. I certainly can't see myself overturning the conference room table at my office, scattering charts and care-plans all over the floor while I chase my lazy clinicians out of the building with a bull-whip.......any more than I can see myself knocking over the dinner table at home; the cornbread and sweet-tea flying willy-nilly over the hardwood floors while I chase my husband out of the dining room while snapping his backside with his Sunday dress belt! (And yes, I was going for the giggle there....I actually do realize that there was so much more at stake with the defilement of the temple .......especially in comparison to my own petty hurts and perceived injustices). But the Bible goes on to say that Jesus was sinless. He was angry...and He let everybody know it....but He did not sin. That is fascinating to me!! When I was a little girl (and honestly....even now) that Bible story always bothered me. Maybe it's the comparison in my own mind of being spanked until I had whelps and bruises down my backside with a belt by my own angry father as a child....maybe it's just that in my own mind (from what I've been taught my whole life) that righteous anger shouldn't "show-out" like that. But, the Bible is very clear on this.....He did not sin!!!! Blows my mind. Honestly, it blows my mind!!
So, what does this mean for ME? Obviously, I'm not going to start overturning tables and carrying a whip around.... but I really DO need to get a handle on what it means to "Be angry, but sin not." This is an area where I need some HELP and more than a little grace to overcome a lifetime of emotional dysfunction. I need to learn to confront the things and people who are hurtful, insensitive and mean. I am so tired of the destructive cycle that I so often (read: too often) find myself caught in. I allow people to walk all over me (in the well-meaning manner of being NICE) and I end up doing way more than my share of the work and carrying more than my share of guilt for things that I sometimes shouldn't even own. I'm tired of being Sad-Sue the Door-Mat. That said....I don't want to become (Please pardon my use of the word, but NOTHING else quite fits) a real 'bitch' either. I want to learn how to put into action the command to "Be angry, but sin not." Right now, I just don't have a CLUE what that looks like for me.
I'm asking for your prayers while I dig into my Bible and study and try to figure how how this works. On second thought....maybe we ought to pray for everybody that comes in contact with me while I'm figuring this out as well! It's bound to get a bit messy.
Trying to keep it honest...even when it's ugly,
Amanda
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