"And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them." Romans 8:28
Before getting into the meat and potatoes of today's post, .
There's something special about this time of year. As the days shorten and the sun sits lower, the sky turn this incredible shade of fathomless blue. The trees don their autumn finery. The crimsons, oranges and yellows appear all the more vibrant against a blue that defies description. It's beautiful.
I am thankful for beauty and for the eyes to see it in the midst of everything that is going on.
A friend brought us an autumn selection of cut flowers a week ago. They are just about finished. I hate to throw them out because they've been lovely to look at.
While looking for creative ideas for workshops, I came across a way to use cut flowers. It involves laying the blooms face down on a piece of paper then covering them with wax paper. Using a hammer to pulverize the petals causes the colours to transfer to the paper. The end result is pretty cool. It's like taking flower fingerprints. No two are the same.
But these imprints are a mere shadow of their original beauty.
While experimenting with this technique this morning, it was interesting to realize the whole process was a description of how I was feeling.
That's what abuse, narcissistic or otherwise, does. It takes what is beautiful, hammers it to a pulp, and leaves nothing remaining but a vague impression of its original form.
Too bad it's impossible to hammer a piece of the sky onto the paper as a back drop. That would be stunning!
I did something unusual today. I spoke up.
It took two weeks to prepare myself. I practiced. I made notes then made other notes then wrote something else down. I wept over the fact that this is so very hard. But most of all, I was afraid of what might happen.
Speaking up was part of making a decision. It involved the new therapist I've seen and what happened in our second appointment. I think I wrote about someone saying, "I don't like labels." It was my therapist.
Before I decided whether or not to continue working with her, I needed her to know what that meant to me. She needed to know how it had put me on my guard. She needed to know how it left me feeling: compelled to watch what I say or how I say it.
That's what I know. That's what the hammer taught me.
It went really well. She apologized and thanked me for saying something because the moment I did, she saw things from my perspective. It gave her a better insight into my messed up world. Next time, it's okay to email her sooner, if and when I get triggered, and am left feeling unsettled. It's bound to happen again. It's part of being human.
It's been a huge relief.
I will continue what has been started.
Although, in writing about it, it feels as though I made a mountain out of a mole hill...or maybe I will simply celebrate this amazingly successful venture into unfamiliar territory: speaking my truth.
Praise God! The One who guided the conversation and gave the strength to say what needed to be said. AMEN!
PS. I was going to mow the lawn but I think I need to pulverize some more flowers first. Maybe even raid the garden for some greenery. What would Japanese fern fingerprints look like? Or Hosta leaves?
Oooo, this is going to be fun! And that suits me just fine.