Out of Order

  “Search me, O God, and know my heart, test me and know my anxious thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.” Psalm 139:23-24

 

   I began painting this figure, only knowing it was to represent making choices. How does an action get represented by an image? By the time I had finished painting the outline, I had my answer.

  God brought a stoplight to mind.

  Like a wave, it hit me…my red light is broken. I can’t describe the deep grief that followed this realization.

  It also dawned on me that I am not alone.

  “Why didn’t she stop him? She should have said, ‘No.’ It was her choice to get involved.”

  These are questions put forward around the circumstances regarding Hagar, the young woman who was abused by a much older Bruxy. I’ve been asked similar things on different occasions. I never had an answer until now. (Thank You, Lord, for this new insight, hard as it is.)

  While not sexual in nature, there was a bully who plagued me in grades six to eight. I’ve shared about her before but like all abusive situations, there is layer upon layer of hurt. The fact she was a girl is irrelevant because the message she sent was universal.

  The two times I fought back physically, I ended up in the principal’s office, in trouble for having hit her.

  The first time was early in our conflict. I hit her across the face out of abject terror because she had waited for me after school with a gathering of other students; enough to trap me in a large circle. She didn’t hit me but egged on the other students to shove me around.

  They were laughing the whole time.

  The second visit to the principal was in grade eight. I don’t remember specifics, I just know I had fought back and got in trouble for defending myself. Both of us were in the office that time. The principal informed me that my conduct was inappropriate while the bully sat beside me and smirked.

  Most of the time, I ran away from her. Most of the time, our altercations were verbal. I admit yelling some nasty things, giving back what she gave me. Fear can make us cruel.

  I sincerely doubt I attempted to defend or justify my actions to the principal. Speaking back to authority was something I couldn’t do for a slew of other reasons. More often than not, speaking up (being cheeky, disrespectful, etc.) had been resolved by me being punished. Not that it happened very often.

  Oh, how I hated getting into trouble! A harsh word was all the punishment it took to make me toe the line. Compliancy was my path of survival, to keep the powers that be from being angry.

  My stop light was broken.

  So was my ability to defend myself.

  Here’s the thing, if our red light is broken, so are all the others. How can a yes be a green light when we believe saying no isn’t an option? Even though I wrote this same thing in another post, I can’t say this enough!

 Women who are abused are, or have been, robbed of the ability to protect themselves. Boundaries are things that other people have!!

  Saying no to a second helping of peas isn’t part of this or maybe it is...I often ended up sitting alone at the supper table, unable to leave until the loathed, now cold and shriveled peas were cleared off my plate. This well-meaning parental tactic was used likely because peas were "good for you." Maybe, but the message sure wasn't.  (It wasn't the flavour that was so disliked, it was their texture. I don't care for grapes for the same reason. They taste yummy but need to be cut into pieces for me to eat them. Hmmm...most of the veggies on my dislike list are there simply because of their texture!) 

  The times I tried to say no or to defend a decision, it was swept away as irrelevant. 

  The little girl who was called to the principal’s office quaked in her boots.

  This leads to understanding the deep significance of a broken yellow light.

  It’s why we end up being victims of abuse time and again.

  A big part of this, for me, is that even eating peas reinforced the idea that my right to decide was irrelevant, my "No" was of zero consequences, and there was never an opportunity to even discuss the reasons for saying no in the first place. The only light that worked was always someone else's green.

  The framework that holds my lights is badly damaged. Oh, Lord, what a mess.

  That’s why this mindset is so hard to rise above.

  It’s why I hugged the doctor.

  

  Lord? Break out Your tools. There are lights crying out to be fixed, maybe even replaced if necessary. Your will be done. AMEN!