Strong One

     “God is my strong fortress, and He makes my way perfect.” 2 Sam 22:33

 

  “Strength is putting a smile on your face when you want to cry a river.” averstu.com

 

  “A Guide smiles and sings even under difficulty.” Girl Guide Law

 

  The second quote came from one of those inspirational posts on FB. I read it and was left feeling angry. There are countless others shared along the same line.

  For ages, there have been songs sung about this very idea…

  ”Smile, darn ya, smile…”

  “Put on a happy face…”

  The Girl Guide Law was a massive part of my life from Brownies right through to my teens before I was able to quit going. There’s been a massive amount of prayer work to overcome these “Laws” to live by. I may have even blogged about some of it a few years ago.

  I’ve started flinching internally whenever someone offers the “you’re so strong” compliment. It is meant as an encouragement but I’ve come to realize that being strong is not necessarily a good attribute.

  It’s why I have ended up here, in my late fifties, writing about things that happened when I was three, a teen, a young woman and a married one. I was strong because any sign of weakness left me vulnerable. Weakness was the worst possible attribute anyone could have. It’s right up there with being “needy.”

  I rather like being vulnerable now. It means I am surrounded by people I trust.

  The smiles I smiled meant forcing down and subduing any type of sadness or hurt. Ironically, this only adds to the burden of sadness. Un-cried tears have a way of gathering behind a coffer dam. In my case, it was more like the Hoover Dam.

  It could be one of the reasons I live with PTSD.

  Trauma is defined as a deeply distressing or disturbing event that overwhelms an individual’s ability to cope.   

  I’ve learned that trauma is subjectively personal. There is tremendous potential for anything outside our range of experience to be traumatic. If I had tears, circumstances justified them. I know this now.

  I was in my late teens when my dad died. Mom handed out Valium. Her way of coping was passed on to me. Numb it, shut it down, ignore it, by no means talk about it cause, girl, the feels you feel are no good.

  Smile for the camera!

  Dad died suddenly and unexpectedly on December 21st. I have a few photos of the holiday where we were smiling. The sadness in our eyes, the strained and tense jaws, and the unspoken grief turned smiles into deathlike, hollow grins captured forever on film.

  Mom went to a lot of trouble to make Christmas happen despite her, our, abrupt and shocking loss. We went away the next year.

  I never took Valium again but learned to rely even more heavily on numbing and disassociation whenever emotions got too much. It was my way to stay strong.

  Alcohol was my drug of choice when the first two seemed to be failing. God freed me before I even knew He was there. It’s been over two decades since my last drink because God knew (and I know now) how close I was to becoming an alcoholic. It’s not at all surprising, considering everything. All addictions begin with a need to turn off pain.

  Then came the day when I couldn't be strong any more. It's called a "nervous breakdown" even though it's nothing to do with nerves.

  How on earth did writing about being strong end up here, Lord?

  Maybe it’s because I have a better grasp of what being strong really is. Thanks be to God for that, too.

  Strength is admitting I am not strong.

  It comes from being able to say, “I don’t feel like smiling right now.”

  It is found in the prayers to my Abba Father saying, “I have a need.”

  It’s being just fine with telling others the same thing and asking them to pray!

  Strength comes from knowing there are days when there is nothing left in the tank. Sometimes I am okay with this, sometimes not. Sometimes I get annoyed at my lack of fortitude...hah...it's a process.

  Strength is admitting I can’t do it alone.

  The old way of being strong was fostered by an inability to trust because too many people broke my trust in terrible ways. Oh…listen to this!

  It’s far better to identify trauma as a time, an event, a circumstance, when trust is broken.

 

  Wow. 

 

  It all makes sense! It’s why there was so much shock! It’s why I couldn’t cope! It’s why so many events involving people have been seared into my memory! It’s why I have PTSD! It's a why, why and why everywhere and everywhen!

  Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Jesus!!

  A for real, gen-u-ine, ear to ear smile erupts on my face! 

  There is my greatest strength of all: trusting God, my rock and my fortress. He never fails to come through with answers to questions I didn't even know I was asking!