Unlocking Truth

   "We thank you, O God! We give thanks because you are near." Psalm 75:1

  I cherish these moments, dear Lord, and thank You for allowing the truth to rise.

  On the way to work yesterday, a memory rose from the depths of forgotten days. Within it is a key that has helped me unlock the truth I so long to know.  

  Once again, it's Cricket who suffered. It may seem like a small suffering compared to some of the things we...I...have experienced. But, small keys can unlock big things. 

  Is that what suffering is, my Lord? Keys that unlock transformation? I suppose they are. In Your hands, they are. So I surrender this memory to You. Help me find the truth.

  I was playing with a pair of brothers in their front yard. They lived a couple of doors down from our house. We were playing tag or maybe kicking a ball around. It doesn't matter. We were having a great, fun time just being kids and enjoying the game. 

  Their dad was in the driveway doing something with their car. 

  The driveway was lower than the yard. A small, wood retaining wall lined the edge. The boys started bugging him, wanting him to be part of the game. I joined in, too. He laughed and gladly took on the role of bear/monster and began chasing us around the car. I was laughing. The boys were laughing. 

  I jumped up the retaining wall onto the grass and fell. The dad-monster caught me! I was still laughing, feigning mock terror. Until he grabbed my foot by the heel and toe and twisted it sideways. 

  He was still laughing.

  Pain has a way of silencing joy. 

  I cried out he was hurting me so he let me go. It had been excruciating and brought tears to my eyes.

  He let me go and I got up, limping.

  

  The memory stops here. It's a wall of nothingness.

  I was asked the other day if I had disassociated as a child. While I knew for sure of one event, this has surprised me. 

  So this morning, I am going to lay beside Cricket on the grass while a grown man/dad inflicts pain on her poor, wee ankle. What is going on in your heart and mind, love?

  "He's a dad! He's not supposed to hurt me!" (Betrayal.)

  "Having fun isn't allowed." (Punishment.)

  "It's my fault. I shouldn't have bothered him." (Guilt.)

  "No one will believe he is doing this to me." (Shame.)

  "It's okay for grown ups to hurt me." (WTF??????)

  "I mustn't tell anyone because I will be blamed or accused of lying/exaggerating." (Despair.)

  

   The attached emotions were added after I'd finished writing Cricket's story.

   It's no wonder I shut down in the face of such a toxic soup of emotion. Especially since it's only as an adult can I voice what was going on inside. God knew there would be a time and a season to revisit this particular memory. He had to prepare the way for me to be able to face it..

  Sigh. This hasn't been an easy exercise.

  My apologies for the profanity but that one line rocked me.

  It's a core belief, albeit a toxic one. "It's okay for people to hurt me." And, "I have to make allowances for their behaviour because inevitably, it's my fault anyways," is part of it, too.

  I am going to sign off. There's a whack of grief in knowing a lie that has shaped so much of my life. 

  The best part? I know it's a lie.

  I have one request of You, dear Lord. As this memory bubbles around in my head today, help me see where You were. I know you were there but Cricket needs to know, too. In Your name I pray. AMEN!

  PS. I'd barely finished typing the AMEN and He answered.

  Jesus was the author of the disassociation. He wrapped His love around me. It was a gift for a child utterly overwhelmed by the shadows that lurked in the bright sunshine of a summer's afternoon.

  PPS. A Christian once told me disassociation is sinful because what caused it wasn't taken to the Lord. Thank You for showing me, dear Lord, that it is Your gift for suffering children. AMEN. And it's a wonderful day knowing lies have been shattered into oblivion. Help me walk in Your truth, dear Lord. AMEN again!!

   

Into the Open

   "For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open." Luke 8:17

  My friend and I went to the local plant nursery. We were looking for a basil plant. This late in the season, there weren't many. We spent some time wandering around, checking out the season end specials.

  There were several Japanese Maples marked down considerably. It is a tree I've always admired. There's something special about their red and delicate leaves; how they move in the wind with shimmering crimson beauty. 

  It didn't take long to choose one. Somehow, the one meant to grace my yard had an extra level of personality and presence. And I felt somewhat sorry for her, too. The extremely hot summer had not been kind. Some of the leaves were dried and curled at the edges from too much sun despite the nursery's best efforts to protect the trees from the worst of the heat. 

  With guidance from staff on the best way to give her the best possible chance, it meant buying the right soil and a transplant fertilizer to give the roots a good start. I've chosen a sheltered place, both from the wind and the hottest part of the day. This beauty will get ample watering until the frost rolls in. It didn't hurt to pray a blessing on this newest addition to the gardens. (She has just now been named, too. "Beauty.")

  Maybe I chose this one because she represents how I am feeling: battered by the things I had no power over.

  There's grief in the stillness of being. It's a heavy, heart wrenching, profound sense of loss around what was never mine in the first place.

  I've learned something about trauma in all of this reflection. The Lord has brought some amazing teaching my way about the difference between PTSD and Complex PTSD.

  When there's an expectation of safety and that safe place/person/situation ends up going sideways, it's a traumatic event. Even when there is no actual physical harm.

  When the loss, or perceived loss, of safety is repeated over and over again, it can cause Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It is far reaching and not isolated to a particular event with a distinct beginning and end. That's what can cause PTSD.

  The child...I...did my best to manufacture the safety I longed for by staying small. 

  It didn't work. 

  I have been afraid my entire life, waiting for the other shoe to drop. After a lifetime of dropped shoes, it's not surprising.

  There have been well meaning people who have told me that fear is pride based. It's something I've struggled to relate to this situation. 

  The fear I struggle with is primal because it began before I had the vocabulary to even describe how I felt. If a toddler or child looking for comfort finds none, or worse, is rejected, what could they possibly know except to be afraid?

  And I learned to be afraid of myself because my emotions betrayed me and left me vulnerable.

  

  Into the open, dear Lord, with my singed leaves, no matter how painful it is. In You I trust. AMEN!

  

  

   

  

Being Small

   "I (Paul) pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope He (Jesus) has given to those He called--His holy people who are His rich and glorious inheritance." Ephesians 1:18

  My life has been an exercise in smallness. Smallness meant survival. Smallness meant peace. Smallness meant giving no one reason to criticize or ridicule. Yet inside my heart were big things. Big ideas. Big feelings. The biggest thing kept locked deep within my mind and soul was truth. It had to be made the smallest of all.

  To survive.

  I am in the unenviable position of reflecting on how the smallness was forged. 

  I can't remember when being small became a way of life. It's always been with me. As a child, I didn't understand why it was so important to not appear big. I only knew my bigness would hurt others.

  Smile. Perhaps there needs to be some clarification. 

  A young and talented artist who had capabilities beyond her years at five slowly held those skills back. By the time she was seven, her work was on par with her classmates. 

  I remember clearly doing a drawing in Grade 2. The task was to use straight lines to create the image. A horse happy girl drew, of all things, a horse. I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge. The mare's tail was drawn with short, straight, ruler guided lines that created the arc and flow of hair.

  The teacher held it up to the class to show them what could be done with a straight line...and I cringed inside. (This memory is so incredibly vivid, I can even smell the chalk dust in the classroom.)

  I cringed because my work made others feel bad about their own.

  I think the teacher held up other pictures, ones that "cheated" by using curves.

  And so began a school life of mediocrity. I stayed small.

  It's sad to think a child would even think this way. 

  Bigness meant believing you were good at something. Bigness meant showing emotion. Bigness meant being smarter. It was believing you were beautiful. 

  I didn't understand why it was so important to hide the truth of who I was or what I could do. I only knew it was a punishable offence when the truth leaked out. 

  My lifetime partner of confusion set up residence. He was nurtured and fostered and encouraged to grow because the ones who were most threatened by bigness had none of their own. And as long as they pulled the strings, the horse happy little girl stayed small.

  For sixty years. 

  But now I have entered the stillness: the place of being big...of being true. 

  Smile. This bigness is not borne of conceit or arrogance. That sort of bigness is built on lies and deception.

  This bigness is a simple, grateful celebration in two small words: i am.

  

  

  

Into the Stillness

   So Peter went over the side of the boat and walked on the water towards Jesus. But when he saw the strong wind and the waves, he was terrified and began to sink, "Save me, Lord!" he shouted. Jesus immediately reached out a grabbed him. "You have so little faith," Jesus said, "Why did you doubt me?" Mathew 14:29-31

  I went to see my family for a couple of days. It was wonderful to spend time with them and my grandchildren.

  It's a long drive to get there, around three and half hours without breaks. I used the opportunity to listen and learn as much as possible about narcissism, the tactics used, and my own role in the destructive dance of control and capitulation. I am far wiser than when I left a couple of days ago. There are some great teachings on YouTube. Some are faith based. Some are not. And not all of them are great for sure.

  Half an hour before arriving home, I turned it all off. The brain can only handle so much at once. In the stillness of the car where the only sound was the hum of tires and the wind whispering past my window, a stillness enveloped my soul. A strength rose out the quiet. Everything I'd been listening to silenced the confusion I'd been struggling with.

  I thought about Peter getting out of the boat and realized what actually caused him to sink. It was confusion. He was confused by the reality of his senses. In most cases, in the middle of the sea, wind and waves meant he would drown. Even though he had his eyes on Jesus the whole time.

  Faith is entering into the way of Jesus to silence the limiting or even destructive power of our human perceptions of what is real and true. 

  I was raised by a storm. 

  Up until a couple of weeks ago, the wind and the waves had kept my head below water. Confusion was the author of every suffocated emotion, the ever present guilt, the self-doubt, the second-guessing of every decision ever made. That's the point. As long as the storm raged, I lost sight of Jesus. As long as the storm raged, I was helpless to see His outstretched hand. I was unable to step into the stillness He offered. Like Peter, I didn't have faith to see what His outstretched hand really meant.

  That stillness is clarity. The ability to see truth and live in that truth. It is being able to see beyond the storm no matter how violent. Stillness is what drowns out the thunder that once had me cowering in fear. Stillness allows me to see the gathering storm clouds and be prepared to face the onslaught. Not by running away or by making myself small again, but by standing still in the face of it.

 God is not the author of confusion, but of peace. 1 Corinthians 14:33

  I have had glimpses of it, in the art and in the writing. In doing these things, confusion was forced to step back. Truth came in glimpses of revelation and understanding. I cherished the stillness of it all, how focusing on one bit at a time brought peace and healing. 

  But I wasn't living in it. I was still in the boat.

  Jesus is so patient with us all.

  He kept calling, watching me dip my toes into the water only to yank my foot back into the false safety and familiarity of the boat. I had no idea how rotten the wood was.

  

  I don't know if any of this makes sense. All I know is that I didn't feel obligated to buy supper for my family last night as a thank you for allowing me to take up space in their lives. They were the ones who decided to order pizza rather than cook.

  That's a first. Not the pizza, but realizing they actually want me there and I don't owe them anything for it.

  Dear, sweet Jesus, create in me a new mind. One where confusion has no place. Grant me discernment and wisdom to see when the whispered lies, conditioning and old patterns try to steal the stillness and peace only Your presence can give. In Your precious name, AMEN!

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Balance

   If you are wise and understand God's ways, prove it by living an honorable life, doing good works with the humility that comes form wisdom. But if you are bitterly jealous and there is selfish ambition in your heart, don't cover up the truth with boasting and lying. Such things are not God's kind of wisdom. Such things are earthly, unspiritual, and demonic. For where there is jealousy and selfish ambition, there you will find disorder and evil of every kind." James 3:13-16

  This morning's Scripture was found in a search for verses regarding walking away from a bad relationship. Scripture, some faith based YouTube videos and friends are helping me understand that it's okay to do this. The expression, "Let go and let God," finally makes sense.

  I have had to do some major repenting of my own in all of this. It was part and parcel of breaking the soul ties that bound me to my mom. It was a bond not founded in mutual love and respect but rather through control, ownership and oppression. It was a thoughtful, prayerful process and incredibly freeing. 

  I am grateful for the tender guidance of the Holy Spirit on this. And Google for providing the starting point for such a prayer.

  I have other things to repent of as well. As a believer, I thought I was doing the right thing by honouring my parent, by continuing to be in contact with her, by striving to make her happy. I realize now, I was simply waiting, filled with the false hope that she would change.  

  Her changing won't happen because of anything I previously did or didn't do. Only God can restore her. (Forgive me Lord, for trying.)

  Change begins with silence, with not playing the game any more. 

  Research into what it's like to be a narcissist has helped nurture some compassion and pity for the people who are like this. I can pity my mom because the only way of dealing with her own unfathomable inner pain and self loathing is to overpower and destroy anything that is better than she can either do or be. 

  They weaponize our love, our needs, our desires for relationship, our thoughts and ideas, and even our own identity and use it against us. They will not rest until we are utterly destroyed. 

  Narcissists are sick, sick people. Literally.

  It has been hard to face this truth about the woman who raised me. Seeing her need for power and the ensuing cruelty in action on a helpless, dying man was the tipping point.

  I once was blind but now I see. 

  The view isn't pretty.

  And a journey begins to extricate myself from the toxic lessons and automatic behaviours that are poison to my soul, heart and mind. I will ask for help from the Lord to increase my awareness when the autopilot is steering me the wrong way. 

  His way, the way of truth and life is the only path I want to walk on.

  It starts with grief. 

  Forgiveness will come in due time.

  

  

God's Blessing

   "God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Mathew 5:4

  It's been a long while since I sat here at the table. It's been a trying month. My step-dad passed away on July 29 in the early hours of the morning. His son was with him when he finally found peace. He had cancer but a series of falls in the previous month were what finally took him. Allan was 94. 

  The events leading up to Allan's, hospitalization are horrific beyond imagining. Enough so there was a coroner's inquest into suspected elder abuse by an elder. The only reason my mom wasn't charged was because Allan's son intervened and made allowances for my mom's age. She turned 92 yesterday.

  Nevertheless, I am here, faced with having to acknowledge a cold, hard truth. The woman who adopted and raised me is a pathological narcissist. It's only through the intervention and prayers of others that I am able to find a glimmer of pity for the woman who lost her husband of nearly 40 years.

  I have excused/justified and accepted her behaviour for years as coming from someone who was difficult to be with. It's only now do I realize the price that was paid to be in her presence. Once I was blind, but now I see. And it's left me reeling a bit.

  There was never a relationship with her. True of all narcissists, it's about power, control and possession. They will do or say anything to maintain the balance of power in their favour. Gaslighting is their weapon of choice. It's a cruel, cruel weapon that slowly strips their victim of their ability to trust the things they see or hear or feel or even think. 

  If a narcissist has done their job well, the one who has been broken smothers their own identity simply to keep the peace. It's a bitter peace, though, because the narcissist's voice becomes the one in your head. It is an ugly voice and a cruel master.

  I am going to get some therapy to overcome a lifetime of conditioning. Because not only was I raised by a narcissist, I spent 20 years with a spouse who was one as well. I am not surprised by this. He chose someone who was already broken in. 

  But I have a God who sees all things and will use all things for good. The terrible things that happened to Allan are what got him into the hospital and away from the cruelty of his wife. They are the things that made me realize my mom is a sick, sick woman. Her lies were exposed. The truth of her cruelty came into the light. The truth of what she is is utterly undeniable.

  It brought Allan's son, his daughter and myself closer than we had ever been before. 

  I know Allan is in heaven now. He was a good man with a deep and quiet faith. I am thankful he is free from the suffering he endured in his last days and months on earth. I am thankful he was free from pain in the end.

 His last words to me were, "Walk on." I thought he was talking about the song "You'll Never Walk Alone." I sang him the few words I could remember. This beautiful song became my anthem during the long days of waiting at the hospital. A couple of days after this lovely moment, I realized something. It wasn't about the song at all. His last words were a secret message, one he knew my mom wouldn't understand. He, my dad, was granting permission to walk away.

  I have had no contact with her since Allan's burial service on Tuesday. The guilt comes in waves. But that's her voice, not God's.

  In all the teaching about breaking free from a narcissistic relationship, the greatest weapon in my arsenal is silence. By not engaging, the narcissist is unable to utilize their own arsenal of gaslighting tactics to reassert control. 

  I have given her to God because only God can free her.

  "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." Ephesians 6:12

Perspective

   "You are all children of the Most High." Psalm 82:6

  It's been a long while but seeing as the laptop is on the table, it feels like a good idea to do some writing. 

  It's out because I spent a couple of hours online with a Microsoft support agent in India. He fixed what turned out to be a pirated version of Office. I thought I'd bought it from a Microsoft store. However, their phone was out of service and emails to them were fruitless so the support tech went the extra mile to set things right. 

  The pirated version has been uninstalled and the correct product has been paid for and installed so there should be no more issues. He took care of everything because it was too much for my limited technology skills. I am in awe of his skill.

  When I first reached out via the chat feature, there were almost 70 people in the queue. It was going to take almost an hour for my turn to come up. It would have been easy to get ticked off and frustrated but what's the point? Considering the number of people on the planet, 70 is a small number. I was able to make a lemon loaf for tonight's home church while I waited.

  I'd also approached this with the full knowledge it would probably take some time to fix whatever was going on. Add in a slower speed of internet and, well, it takes extra time to do anything electronically. 

  So we ended up having a conversation to pass the time while we waited for downloads or uploads or whatever loads were needed. I got to know this stranger from half a world away a little bit. 

  

  So, perspective. 

  Based on some of his comments, being treated kindly is a rare event for a customer service rep. 

  It's not his fault I got scammed. That truth is hard to swallow because I thought I was being so careful. There's a few lessons learned because of it.

  Yah, a bargain isn't always a bargain. At least the loss was only what amounted to pocket change these days. It could have been much worse. There could have been all sorts of technological boogeymen installed along with the program but hey, if someone wants to steal knitting patterns and landscape photos then they hit the jackpot!

  

  But, because of being scammed, I got to know a stranger from half a world a way just a little bit.

  How wonderful is that!