i am so dad gum hard headed, just cannot get it right. this whole trust issue thing. for one thing it makes no sense, and everything and everyone around me is falling apart somewhere in their lives. just read a study on children with aspergers and the thinking of the past was to compared them to a sociopath, not capable of empathy, compassion or sensing how those around them feel….to me, this seems to be the exact opposite. this new study came to the opposite conclusion of the past twenty years. in the study they found they “do not lack empathy-rather they feel others’ emotions too intensely to cope”. these kids seem to have a hyper sensitive awareness, almost a super power of reading people and how they are feeling and what they are going thru, to the point of complete emotional overload. so they basically shutdown, as adults it pains them so deeply they learn to just check out. i know with one who owns my heart, my son, who is now 17, had at one time been so mis-diagnosed…they were saying these same things, that he had no attachment, no empathy, no sympathy, will “never” be attached or love. i believe she used the term “sociopath”, as i came around the desk and were nose to nose i inform her my son is no sociopath, he is quite capable of love and will find it and have a family…and b.t.w your hair cut makes you look like a dime store quack! i was so mad, i swear i could have punched her in the face. to speak such things over my sweet boy, my boy who we say has been kissed by angels. she had just lumped him into her learned psycho-babble framework, not this time. this boy had a heart bigger than most, and could read hearts within seconds of meeting them. the problem was, he was always hard to read, hard to get a good look at internally. i recall an incident…our middle boy (the 13 year old…at the time) came in extremely upset, he came in along with his 2 comrades…following behind, all wiping the tears from their eyes. i said, son what is wrong. they all, shoulders slumped, fell onto the couch and proceeded to tell me a group of boys had been in the creek behind our house..they had found a momma duck and her ducklings…well…they had, to the horror of my son and his friends, taken a bat and used several of those babies as balls. then had the nerve to bully my son and his friends for, out of sheer instinct, yelling for them to stop and then reacting by shedding tears over the nightmare of it all. the boys were twice their size, not thinking they were now in a position of being threatened themselves. what i didn’t realize was my oldest boy was listening and all of sudden he runs out of the house, face drawn and red, pain like i’d only seen a few times, mumbling he would find them and find justice for the innocent. i go after him and yell at him…yell it is too late, to wait, that these things have a way of coming back to haunt meanness like that. i could see he was determined to right this wrong, not with violence but with shaming these boys, making them see the vulgar act of hurting something that was totally defenseless and helpless. he would tell them, make them understand…he could not control the pain he was feeling, it was almost maddening for him. about an hour later he comes out of the garage carrying a box, and in the box it has the remains of those yellow baby ducks wrapped in cloth. he takes those babies to the creek, digs a hole and ever so gently (my son is 6’4) with my sweet boy’s large hands, scoops those fragile, lifeless ducklings up and lays them in the ground…my mind recalls the words of the psychiatrist…sociopath!!!
i received a message from a dear friend..funny i have so many i consider to be intimate friends that i have never met…meaning they are friends i have met online, thru my Instagram, tumblr account or blog. her husband was laid off right before christmas. i could feel her pain thru the screen as i read her message. do you know what she said, she said she actually deleted the message after she wrote it, she didn’t wanted to be a downer, didn’t want to burden me. that pained me even more. she was relieved i read it before it had gotten deleted. when i felt lead to start this writing…this blog, i was naive about the ramifications of putting yourself out for the world to see. it is a humiliation, that is, most times…no one wants to be exposed, not in the way i was lead to expose my life. we only expose the pretty, the good news, the great, exciting events, we leave out the lost jobs, the cheating husband, the child on drugs, the immense loneliness, the financial devastation. not a good read, and those who do read often times do so almost with a haughty attitude of better your life than mine. but, that was not my concern nor responsibility, my concern was telling my story with candid truth, as best i could, with the expectation of bringing someone hope. my story is a story of hope…hope and freedom, many dark and tearful times, but many times of laughter and joy as well, laughter and joy in the heart of the graveyard.
i had met with another one of my children’s doctors and this meeting was actually a good one. stunning, beautiful young woman. we began chatting and as the visit proceeded she began opening up to me about her personal life, and how wounded she had been by her mother growing up…how her mother had spoken things over her life that left deep wounds on her soul (she was the one heavy child in a family of very thin people) she would become a neurologist, marry well, accomplish everything, that is, from the outside looking in. she would never miss a day running, no matter how long her day, to get out her pain and frustration. she was an adult bound, chained to the words of her youth, words that had been spewed at her most of her life, “you’re inadequate, fat, not good enough, not pretty enough..” though she was in her early thirties, she seemed so small and child like as she stood before me, a 49 yr old with no degrees hanging on my wall, no accolades to my name, no successful business..there she was just looking at me, lost and longing for freedom, help from what had, for most of her life, enslaved her. she just could not get away from it. fearful to have her own children, fearful she was incapable of not passing this defect on to them. unworthy, not deserving of happiness, only shame, nothing she did could fix what had been broken in her. “freedom”, “redeemed”, what beautiful words, words she had never known, words i had known my entire life.
it was just a week or so later, i’m sitting writing and the cutest, littlest thang sits down across from me and i noticed, when i came in and made my rounds, she looked as if she could burst into tears. i knew, before she said a word, what it would be about…we had this conversation many times before. as she looks at me, I’m thinking how cute she is, how hard working, as the tears stream down her face she retells the story, the story of her life…it is not a very pleasant one. she lives with someone she gives her all to, she prepares his food, cleans his clothes, is up before dawn to get him off to work. he will leave without so much as a glance…a “thank you”, a “have a nice day”, nothing but silence. she lives with someone, yet she feels alone and abandoned. she lives this life of loneliness, she is a “fill in” until the next thing, til something better comes along. if she does address him, he acts as though she’s not speaking, like she is to be brushed off, that is until he wants to take her body to use for his pleasure. the child tells me she doesn’t understand why after they make love she feels lonelier…and shame is added onto the burden she already carries. “why doesn’t it bring us closer? i don’t understand, why it would make me feel worse?” my heart tightens, i can feel the tears form, if i truly care about her i have to be brutally honest, i can’t sugar coat it, she deserves that. she feels alone and worse, because every time he has sex with her, he confirms a little more that she is unworthy of being honored by a man, that she is not worthy to be acknowledged and listened to when she speaks, that is not unreasonable, not too much to ask. she tells me…ms. dyer, in a moment of weakness, after we had been together had sex, i felt i should tell him about my past, what had happened to me, it only made it worse…he used it against me, said i got what i deserved. you see, my mom left when i was 6 or 7 and my dad was so devastated he began drinking daily, i was the one that took care of him. i cooked and cleaned, got myself off to school, even woke him up for work. i loved my dad, and missed my mom so terribly. unfortunately, with drinking, my dad was often passed out and i was left to the sick pleasures of men that would prey on us. they came from many different places…they would see us a mile away, often robbing dad and molesting me. it isn’t hard now, looking back, to see how messed up it was, it was obvious he was a drunk, and obvious i was unprotected…an open house for abuse. i was only 12 years old when i was put on my first antidepressant. i have been on too many to count and none have lifted the darkness off my soul. my hurt for my dad…and he passed, never giving us the time to spend discussing what happened, although i have to think he knew, but just didn’t have the strength to change it. i always felt mom left for something i did, or didn’t do. i always thought dad blamed me as well. so much s…!! for a little girl to carry and try to make sense of. the one thing i vividly remember, because otherwise i was basically invisible, was getting praise for when i took care of him…by cooking, cleaning and waiting on his friends. the rest of the time i didn’t exist. i can’t stand it anymore, i reach over and take her hand…i won’t say “i am sorry” or “this shouldn’t have happened to you” or “i will pray for you”, no pithy little saying we all use in moments like these, all i will say is i hear you, i see you and i hurt with you. there is freedom from what has been seemingly predestined over your life, you can find hope, you can chase the ghosts away. you can be free of this. freedom, redeemed, what beautiful words, words i had known my entire life, i have never known such pain, desperation, hopelessness….growing up i had a father who would have fought 20 men for me…even knowing he might surely die. i felt love every second of every day growing up. what i did live with was seeing the man i loved most in this world slowly digress into a shell of man due to mental illness. i would see him drain almost every ounce of life out of the most joyous person i have ever known, my precious mother. i would see the results of darkness in the lives of adults, due to other adults who would take a small boy and violate his very soul. the physical was the least of his wounds. you see where there is no light, no hope, the innocent suffer, the innocent take the blunt force of this power. it only destroys, and i saw this come to fruition in my own father’s life. i saw this in this sweet girls life..this girl sitting in front of me, choosing men just like her father, just like her abusers. there was no light in her present life, in their home…no hope, no laughter, no healing, just reminders of her failures, regrets, of the constant struggle to live day to day, fight the darkness that loomed over every day. my father would fight it for years, suppress its grip, but it was always just below, festering and creating even bigger problems. it would make a boy, and eventually the man he grew into, incapable of receiving love..not capable of believing he was lovable. his shame and feeling of being unworthy was too deep, that voice was louder than any other voice in his life. not even the voice of my mother, the voice of someone who had loved him since she was 11 years old, was powerful enough. 25 years of being his mrs, he still would not believe. i would get my fair share of brokenness and pain, i would get a first hand view of what ghosts of the past, voices of the past, wounds of the past, would dictate and map out in a person’s future. freedom, redeemed, what beautiful words, words i have known my entire life. where does this freedom come from, what is redeemtion? what is true freedom?
liberty, liberation, release, deliverance, discharge,
verb: enable to escape from confinement, to set free
noun: the action of releasing
it seems, as my open sentence says, i am stubborn, hardheaded, however you want to word it, none-the-less slow to come to great ah ha moments sometimes. as i was headed out this morning for my usual walk as i went over all the pains and struggles of all the people i know and love i began to question and, almost with anger, shake a fist at God. after 5 years of overwhelming loss, it seemed as if life was slowly moving back in a good direction. we had taken our 94 4-runnner in for what we would have thought would be a routine check, it was running a little rough, it had just been serviced a few months earlier. i was sitting having coffee with kenny when he got the call from our mechanic as he walked outside something in my soul just told me that the motor was blown. now this truck had had no issues, 167,0000 miles. not pressure issues, no overheating, nothing! our mechanic was in shock as well! just as the sun began to shine and the skies opened with the most magnificent blue, i began to recall the past 5 yrs and how many times, true freedom came to our lives. how many times liberation had arrived just in time. how in moments of emergency we were discharged with no harm. how we have been confined and we escaped without a wound. how the action of releasing had been granted to us. how light had shown on our life when darkness was all around. when i would question why we would be in such a position, no job, not even the hope of a job, no influence, stuck in a holding place of nowhere. God now have you abandoned us? as i walked my mind became flooded with crucial times, times when real miracles were needed, not small things, but big things, we were confined, we needed freedom. freedom that only comes from God. freedom that heals from the wounds of life, gives you the ability to trust that God guides your life, and darkness has no hold over you, light will shine on you, hope will be spoken in your life. true hope, hope of a future that is void of shame, guilt, bondage, a future of good things. REDEEMED
redeemed : compensate for the failures or bad aspects of (something)
gain or regain possession of (something) in exchange for payment
i thought of the fragile girl, God calling and willing to regain, take possession of her life, wipe away every failure, every wound, redeem that child from what was taken from her. redeem her, give her a future of freedom!
redeem my doctor friend, redeem her form the failures of her mother, regain possession of her life. free her from all the bad aspects, set her free.
that’s the hope i saw in my own life growing up, even with the brokenness in my father’s life, i found a hope in God at a very young age, so i was spared by God’s hand…spared from damage that darkness should have been imparted in my life..darkness that had stopped just short of me, passed me by, redirected by the hand of God. light had been shone in my life and i had been the benefactor of a praying grandmother and mother. so as i write this blog, and i find the broken drawn to me, i do have influence, even in our present life i realize the true meaning of freedom, and redemption is knowing that God made a payment in exchange for all my failures, all my faults, all my wounds, takes me just as i am. true freedom from any confinement i could find myself in, He will liberate me, He will discharge, He will set me free. He is my freedom, my redemption. i will offer this hope to as many as will listen, even at the expense of my own defamation and exposure.