Faith, Belonging, and Community

May18

It is no secret that I have struggled with being in relationship and community with others. I have struggled with myself, God, my family of origin, my children, friends, co-workers, acquaintances. Relationships have never been my strong suit.

It has been a lifelong struggle to feel like I belonged somewhere, anywhere.

The primary relationship I had with my mother was difficult and detached. I now understand that it was her own attachment and depression issues that created the emotional and psychological distance between us. Being disconnected from my mother, not having my father, continually moving and changing schools every year or two, and then no longer having any relationship with my mother and being under the guardianship of my uncle whose relationship skills and relationships with all of us around him were impaired and dysfunctional, meant that from a very early age and going all the way through adolescence, there was no relational tether to any one person or community that taught me I belonged.

I became the girl who tried too hard, stood too close, interrupted, talked too much, always had the answer, reacted too easily, and eventually acted out my pain by either getting too physical or using my words and intellect to establish dominance and superiority. When the going got tough, I got going and let go of the people who should have and could have been my strongest supporters because I believed that no matter how hard I worked, no matter what I tried – rescuing, fixing, having the answers, being the problem solver – it was never going to be enough to fit in. I didn’t fit in with the rebels and screw-ups because I wanted to do good and be better. I didn’t fit in with the achievers and winners because I was too guarded and unable to believe in my own worth and value.

I’ve spent the last 20+ years trying to be accepted, be loved, and be included. All the while, the things I tried to make it happen just fell short and I pushed away and let go of those who wanted to be there for me. I chased after the relationships with those who I thought would accept me because of the value I could be to them. Meanwhile, the critical relationships with my children and other family members were neglected and damaged in ways similar to how mine had been damaged by the adults in charge of me. None of whom were any more available or capable emotionally and psychologically than I have been.

The ENTIRE time, there has been One who has chased me down in so many ways, with so many faces, time, after time, after time to convey to me that I am loved, I am known, I am accepted, I am understood, and I belong.

Marc Shelske, the pastor of Bridge City Community Church, has been doing a teaching series on Ephesians and I have had the privilege of being present the past two weeks to hear his insights in person. Thankfully, when I need to revisit and recall what was shared, these messages can be found on the Bridge City Media YouTube channel.

Last week he talked about the fact that Zombies are biblical concepts and not just a current entertainment trend. It was very enlightening and a good reminder of things I’ve known intellectually, but never internalized on a personal level. This was the “before” picture of how I have operated with my lack of personal understanding and acceptance of God’s grace and mercy for me, in my life.

He continued the conversation this week and spoke about the “after” picture. What he described was exactly what has been happening inside of me, in my life, and in my relationships over the course of the past year and a half or so.

“As we get closer to God, we have the capacity to get closer to other people.” ~ Marc Schelske, 5/18/13, Bridge City Community Church

I was “saved” when I was 8 years old. I’ve been being “saved” my whole life. I’ll be 44 next month and I’m just now internalizing that being “saved” isn’t about not doing wrong or doing good, but it’s about God’s absolute acceptance and love for me because I am His creation, and that creation is not static, but an ongoing work of art, displaying and revealing the character and nature of God, the artist.

As I have allowed these realizations and understandings to sink into my being, without me having to work and strive through my own efforts, God has been closer to me, naturally and organically. As I have grown in my ability to just accept that God is with me and present in every aspect of my life, no matter what, my ability to connect and reconnect in relationship with others has been improving.

I started with the internet and the online communities available here in the blogosphere and on Facebook, with people who didn’t know me or my past who I felt safe exposing my self and my truths to. Slowly, others who have known me and shown me they care and want to be in relationship with me have gotten to know this part of my identity.

The lines are now blurred and I am fully engaged in supportive online communities which include people I see and engage with in person, in significant and meaningful ways. It is also increasing my connection to others who sincerely care, accept, and include me as part of their community, simply because I accept that I belong, I AM because GOD IS.

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What do you mean it’s Mother’s Day?

May12

Once again all my writing is taking place on the miniature touchscreen on my phone, due to the technological dysfunctions that seem to have become the rule, rather than the exception in my life. Moving on.

Last night, LaLa gave me this card and I couldn’t NOT cry as I read it.

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Mother’s Day is one of the many holidays I’ve felt disconnected and disassociated from for most of my life.

I don’t have any tangible memories of my own mother. If I think really hard I have a couple of memories of memories, if that makes any sense. Overall, though, that place where a sense of “mom” or attachment to someone who loved me in that way should be, is empty, blank, formless and void.

I’ve always kind of known it was true and not “normal” by the standards of the rest of the world. But it has been my normal for as long as I can remember. I accepted it about myself a long time ago. What else could I do?

Mother’s Day always seems to highlight my lack of attachment to a maternal figure. It also brings into consciousness the struggles I’ve had with being the mother my oldest kids could have an attachment to.

Just like celebrating my birthday hasn’t ever truly been something significant or meaningful for me, neither has celebrating Mother’s Day been something I anticipated or felt was something that was relevant for me.

This is the time of year when the faces of Facebook become the faces of moms who have passed or smiling images of loving and happy mothers embracing their children. It’s a painful time for those who grieve the loss of their mom’s. It’s a joyful and happy time for those who celebrate and are celebrated within the interconnected generations of mothers, daughter’s, grandmother’s, sisters, aunts, and granddaughters.

For those of us who grew up disconnected from these relationships and roles, this can be a time of profound insignificance – a time when it feels more than ever that we are on the outside looking in.

If I’m less excited and responsive to your cheerful, “Happy Mother’s Day,” greeting, than you might prefer or expect, it isn’t because I’m churlish or grumpy, it’s because I’m struggling to work through all of these things.

I have struggled with believing I’m a good enough mom to deserve the honor of being celebrated. I’m finally on the verge of accepting the truth and reality that my mistakes and the damage I’ve done as a mom do not disqualify me from being celebrated and honored alongside all the other moms.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be truly comfortable and engaged with this holiday. What I do know is that it is feeling more and more like I am connected and included among those being honored this day and less like a pretender and one unworthy of anything more than scraps.

For today, I will wipe away the tears of grieving what never was and cherish the snuggle time with Luna, appreciating the gift of love LaLa gave me last night, and trusting in the knowledge that the relationship with Marco is growing.

I am a mother and this day is mine to celebrate.

Pre-forgiveness: Continuing the conversation

May8

A few days ago, I posted a SUPER long post about forgiveness in response to a writing prompt from my friend, Marc Schelske. Later he requested I respond to the post he had written, “OK, I admit it. I hate forgiveness too,” as a result of responses he had received regarding his original post, Does the church hate forgiveness? (Like Jonah).

He talked about things, which I think we all struggle with, Christian or non. Things like holding onto woundedness and the need to have the offending party “pay the price” or “feel the pain” for the original offense.

I’m not going to lie. I’ve spent a lot of my life caught up in that kind of thinking.

As a teenager, having “lost” my mom when I was twelve years old and being in my uncle’s custody, a lot of things that shouldn’t have happened did and a lot of things that should have happened didn’t. I was made to be responsible for and exposed to things that a young teenager should be insulated and sheltered from, in an ideal world.

I wanted out. I wanted away from my “white trash” beginnings and the dysfunction of weird, convoluted relationships, alcohol and substance use and abuse. I wanted to have a life where I didn’t have to move every year or two and try to integrate into a new school with new kids. I wanted to be involved on the flag team, the gymnastics team, and the dance team. I wanted him to show up and care, to fill out the forms, attend the events, and offer me support and encouragement for the things that meant something to me.

He wasn’t able to do those things, for a lot of reasons I couldn’t see or understand.

I watched him pursue and engage in toxic and co-dependent relationships with bent, broken, and damaged people while neglecting his responsibilities to me and to my baby cousin. I watched my grandmother take responsibility for us when she wasn’t well enough to do so. For a brief period of time, which felt like forever to my 15/16 year old self, I handled parenting and life responsibilities, which were his, because he was absent. Yet, when he showed up, I was subject to his authority.

It was bewildering, infuriating, and absolutely unfair. I desperately wanted to graduate from high school, get my college degree, and leave everyone and everything I was going through far, far behind me.

Instead, I wound up running away from home at 16 and became a mom at 17. Then I had a second child when I was 24.

I repeated all of the same patterns and made similar choices that passed on the damage I had experienced to my children. All the while I held onto the stories of what I had gone through with all the resentment, bitterness, judgment and unforgiveness which had become imedded in my heart, mind, and soul.

I watched myself say and do things that wounded and harmed people I loved with all my heart and I fought as hard as I could, trying to change the direction of our lives. Church, counseling, education, and 12 Step Recovery processes (secular and faith-based). None of it ever seemed to change what I was doing or what I was experiencing.

When my son was about fifteen years old, he chose to move out of my home because of how overwhelmingly dysfunctional and painful it had become. I saw myself and my uncle and the things that had transpired between us. It was then I realized, the harm he’d done had happened because he, himself had been wounded and damaged, and that he did not know any better than I did how to make the changes that needed to be made.

In the last eleven years, I have learned to do two things, partly as a result of the 12 Steps:

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1. AIM – Assume Innocent Motive: Whenever someone, anyone, says or does something that affects me in a painful and destructive manner, I think over all the times I have done the same, without ill intent but just because I was too screwed up to do different. I know that, most of the time, whatever it is that has been done was not intended to cause me harm. Yes it still hurts, but it helps me to let go of the false belief that their choices and behavior are about me.

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2. Understanding. By seeking to understand who the other person is, where they are coming from, and the things that are informing and driving their behavior, I am able to let go of expectations for them to be other than who they are.

Finally, it has taken me the better part of the last 17 months to work through a lot of deeply rooted guilt, shame, bitterness, and resentment. It has been a long and arduous journey to truly believe and receive in the forgiveness of God through Jesus. Until I could internalize that, I was filled with self-hatred and unforgiveness of myself.

What Jesus did on the cross, the plan that God set in motion from the foundation of the world was a supreme act of Pre-Forgiveness. Once I understood that, I began to choose, in advance, that whatever pain and suffering I experienced at the hand of others, especially those I love, I was going to forgive and let go of. I love them. I want them in my life. I want them to know that, no matter what, I am not going to forsake or abandon them as I have done before. I am going to be with them in all ways, the way Jesus promised to be with me, with us, always.

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Pedestrians, Drivers, Church, and Forgiveness

May5

I suppose you want to see where I go with the, doncha’? Well, so do I. So, let’s get started.

Approximately an hour before I began writing, I was ranting, raving upset over an encounter I’d had, as a pedestrian, with a driver who decided it was appropriate to yell at me as I was crossing the street, holding my little girl’s hand and carrying a heavy tote bag of groceries.

“Why don’t you walk as slow as you can? It’s not EVEN a crosswalk!”

“As a matter of fact, it IS a crosswalk,” I yelled back at him as I hobbled the rest of the way across the road, glancing over my shoulder to notice the nice, shiny, red pickup truck he was driving. “You need to read your Oregon Driver’s Manual,” I muttered and mumbled under my breath. I planned to come straight home and write a rant post about it. I am not going to rant, although I AM going to provide the chapter and verse of the 2012 – 2013 Oregon DMV Driver’s Manual, which specifies who has the right of way in these kinds of circumstances.

Section 5: Sharing the Road, Pedestrians, pp. 79: Drivers must recognize the special safety needs of pedestrians. Drivers should be especially alert for pedestrians who are young, elderly, disabled, or intoxicated. . . Generally, pedestrians have the right of way at all intersections. There is a crosswalk at every intersection, even if it is not marked by painted lines. [emphasis mine] . . . By law, the area included in the unmarked crosswalk is not less than 6 feet wide and exists even if there is no sidewalk or shoulder. . . At an intersection where pedestrians are crossing, you must wait until the pedestrians have cleared your lane and the entire next lane before you may go. . . . You must stop and remain stopped for pedestrians on the sidewalk when entering or leaving an alley, driveway, or private road.

The area where I was crossing had the sloped ramp for wheelchairs to get on and off of the sidewalk. I was crossing a one-way road along the pathway of a street, which often appears to the uninitiated to be a private road from the medical complex that goes into a parking area for medical center staff and visitors. It is actually a street, complete with a street sign. I was in an unmarked crosswalk, with my extremely tired and less than cooperative four year old daughter (very young) and I have fibromyalgia and have provided medical documentation to the transit company to qualify for an Honored Citizen Bus Pass (disabled). I had waited for the bus to move and began crossing when it appeared oncoming traffic was more than a block away.

Yet I was yelled at and criticized for “taking my time” to cross the road where no crosswalk was labeled.

I was hot, literally from the 85+ degree weather we had today, as well as emotionally and psychologically, in physical pain, frustrated and exhausted from trying to cope with an overtired, hot, cranky, and recalcitrant four-year-old, I wanted to do WAY more than just yell at him that I had been in a crosswalk. Knowing or believing that it is unlikely he will ever read whatever I wrote, I had it in my head that I was going to write a full-on, scathing rant about drivers who think they own the road because they have a quarter ton of metal surrounding them on four wheels.

First the child had to get settled in. Groceries needed put away. I tried to take a five minute break to myself, which got interrupted. So, I got into the shower to wash the dried sweat and layer of griminess that invisibly coated my skin. Finally, I sat down at the computer and my phone rang. It was a friend experiencing a bit of a crisis and he just needed me to set aside my mental to do list and be a friend in that moment.

*Sigh*

33 minutes later we said our goodbyes and I was left wondering what exactly I was going to write about this whole thing, because something inside of me was saying I needed to write and I needed to write about this incident, even though I no longer had the fire of passive-aggressive, righteous indignation fueling my ire.

Why? What’s the point? It’s not like that driver is likely to ever see this blog post, right? Perhaps. Okay, then, well, why?

Then it hit me, forgiveness and church.

Say what? How in the world is this connected to THAT?

My friend, Marc Schelske, an author, blogger, and pastor of Bridge City Community Church recently welcomed me into a circle of writers who are willing to engage in discussion and conversation about matters of spirituality, faith, church, the bible and other topics which may come up along the way to intersect and relate to these. He posted a prompt question that was derived from a recent blog post of his, Does the church hate forgiveness? (Like Jonah). The question is, “Do you hate forgiveness?”

My simple, straightforward answer is, “No, I need it every day.” I need it when I snap, snarl, and yell in frustration at Luna because something she did, just because she’s a four year old little kid, inconvenienced me or tripped my last nerve because I was beyond my limits and ability to cope. Sadly, embarrassingly, exasperatingly, I have to confess it happens daily, often multiple times a day. I’m doing a lot better job with her than I did with her older sibs, but there is still a LOT of room for growth. I’m a good mom, but even good moms lose it more often than they like or want to admit to themselves or anyone else.

Here’s how it relates back to the incident with the driver vs. pedestrian scenario. I’m also a licensed driver, I just don’t own a vehicle. Occasionally, I get to drive and when I do, I cannot tell you the number of times I’ve failed to yield the right of way to pedestrians . . . even though I know better. Occasionally, a pedestrian or two have shared unkind words and gestures with me when I’ve unintentionally scared them with my failure to follow the words written in the Driver’s Manual.

The Driver’s Manual is a list of rules and the instructions for following those rules with identified potential consequences for failing to heed the words in the book. It’s fairly straightforward and everyone who obtains a driver’s license must pass a test in order to legally get behind the wheel of a vehicle and drive. Each licensed driver signs off and is certified that they know the rules of the road and agree to obey them.

Yet, there are still so many drivers who do not share the same understanding of what a crosswalk is and what their responsibility is to pedestrians, even though it is laid out in no uncertain terms.

The Bible is often identified as an acronym, Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth. It contains rules, instructions, and consequences too. However, there’s narrative, metaphor, literal and figurative all wrapped around the rules, instructions, and consequences. There is so much disagreement there are multiple religions that use it and within each of those religions there are sects or denominations that can’t agree on numerous points.

However, the bible says anyone who believes on/in Jesus is part of the body of believers and the body of believers is the church. That’s it. No test. No signed commitment or agreement to follow the rules. Believe in Jesus and let Him in. This means I am the church and anyone who claims the name of Jesus is the church, even if we interpret it differently, forget to do what we know, or get to caught up in what’s right in front of us too much to pay attention to what’s happening around us.

It’s possible Mr. Red Truck is also a believer who was having a bad day. Even if he isn’t a believer, my instruction manual tells me to forgive him.

Matthew 5:44 “But I tell you to love your enemies and pray for anyone who mistreats you.” ~ Contemporary English Version, via Bible Gateway

These words are attributed to Jesus. He not only said it, he gave the strongest example of it when he hung on the cross, facing the jeers and cheers of his fellow Jews, watching some of his friends and confidants, his students and fellow travelers turn their backs on him and deny him.

Luke 23:34 “Father, forgive these people! They don’t know what they’re doing.” ~ Contemporary English Version, via Bible Gateway

Whoever he is, whatever he believes, the guy in the red truck did not know what he was doing. He didn’t know me, my situation, or my circumstances. He didn’t know how his actions and words affected me. He obviously didn’t know that particular portion of the Driver’s Manual. Neither do I know him or what’s going on in his life. None of it matters. Enemy or friend, stranger or brother, I am called to forgive as I am forgiven. I receive grace and forgiveness daily. That means I have plenty to give, once I stop to think about it.

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May: Six Word Friday

May3

Hello dear readers and friends for Human In Recovery blog.

As part of my new skill of putting together videos, I decided that today’s Six Word Friday entry would be done in the form of video. I hope you enjoy it.

Click this image to visit Adrienne at My Memory Art for more Six Word Friday fun

Click this image to visit Adrienne at My Memory Art for more Six Word Friday fun

What do you mean my journey isn’t about me? or How self-promotion CAN benefit others

May3

28 Days to a New Me: Day 2 A Purposeful walk . . . and unlikely gratitude was how I began my day. It was, for the most part, all about me and what I’m doing on my path to increasing my health and wellbeing through walking and how I have to motivate myself to do good things for me by attaching them to something I see as more of a priority – such as applying to get Luna into a full day pre-school program at our neighborhood elementary school.

The process of making the accompanying video and getting it completely set up on YouTube (captions and all!) was also primarily about me. I LOVE learning new things and I’m pretty ecstatic over the way I’ve been able to figure out how to put together a decent video as part of my process of developing technical skills, building my portfolio, and even, dare I say it?, “branding” and “platform building.” If I want to become competetive and “saleable” as an employee or as a free-lanceer with my writing, I absolutely HAVE to be able to provide evidence that not only can I write solid and interesting content, but that I am capable of engaging an audience in a myriad of ways via social networking and visually engaging content as well as written content. I’ve been working on increasing my familiarity and skill with image creation AND I’ve been learning to swim instead of sink in the seas of social media. However, Video content, well, that was not something I had ever seriously considered doing. However, thanks in large part to all the work I’ve done here, with the help and encouragement of many of my readers, I finally had the courage and a modicum of self-confidence to take that leap of faith.

Me. Me. Me. My health. My wellness. My journey. My dreams. My goals. My hopes. My growth. My development . . .

Well, THAT was fun! Where was I? Oh yeah, talkin’ ’bout me.

About eight months ago, I shared about a conversation I’d had with a pastor from a small church I was attending at the time. You can read about it here if it of interest to you. However, since it’s just more about me and I’m trying to change the subject, please don’t feel obligated.

Here’s where I was, inside of myself and in my ability, or lack thereof, to engage in relationship with others:

I also know that I’m at my limit and just trying to be present and show up in my life takes everything I have, so I don’t have much of anything to give to anyone more. So, if I can’t reciprocate in the investment of time, energy, and caring in building new relationships with new people, how can I expect new people to do that for me and in my life?

He counseled me with facts and information about relationship building that I already knew. He explained that just genuinely and sincerely asking someone else about what’s going on in their lives without winding up bringing the conversation back around to myself, my life, and my woes would go a long way to building relationships.

Not something I was capable of then, no matter how much I wanted to or how hard I tried to force myself to play by relationship-building rules. Believe me when I say, I have lost more good friends because of my inability to not make everything about me, than I care to think about. Some have walked away, others I have pushed away, the rest I just let go of and since our relational connections were tenuous at best, they didn’t even know I needed them to hold onto me.

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Thanks in large part to the work I’ve been doing here and learning, not just about me, but also about online relationship building via social media tools and communities, I’ve had some people who had moved on . . . come back into my life. Sometimes it’s been very positive and edifying. Other times, not so much. However, even those times brought with them opportunities for learning, growth and change. I’m learning to be thankful for the unlikeliest of things . . . including learning that my journey isn’t about me, or at least not all of it and probably not most of it.

Which brings me to the first title questions: What do you mean my journey isn’t about me?

It was, in the beginning, sort of. Sure, I wanted to feel better, and to stop being so full of bitterness, anxiety, and fear all the time. However, those fears revolved around another human being, Luna. I was desperate to raise her better, different, happier than LaLa and Marco got to be while they were growing up – in large part because I wasn’t better and my kind of different was very problematic for both me and them. As for happier, happiness and I were on about the same terms as I had with self-esteem and self-confidens. In other words, not in the very least.

However, the 12 Steps and 12 Traditions of Twelve Step Recovery processes, in most of the “Anonymous” organizations are not about the person in recovery, but about how that person interacts in relationship with those around him or her. Steps 8 and 9 are about making amends to those whom we’ve caused harm or damage to in the past, as long as our efforts to make amends do not compound the harm or damage. Step 10 states: “[We] Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.” These steps are about how we deal with those we are already in relationship with.

The 12th Step is about service to others:

Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

It sounds like proselytizing or evangelism. However, the spiritual awakening inside of us allows us to practice all these principles in all our affairs, which is the biggest and only message that anyone caught in the throes of addictive or compulsive behavior will likely recognize as something life-changingly different.

If I, with all my faults, foibles, hang ups and fears can risk exposure and show the true person behind the mask; if I come out of isolation and hiding, sharing the realities of what it’s like to be a co-dependent crazy, addicted to toxic relationships as well as a compulsive binge eater, who is clueless about how to be in relationship with her God, her self, or her own children, then I am opening myself to receive healing. More importantly though, others who are like me in any, all, or any combination/variant of those things sees, reads, and can “experience” through my words and my willingness to be exposed, will have a spark ignited within them as well.

I hope that my journey of learning how to self-promote does help others as much as I have been helped.

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10 Things Most Americans Don’t Know About America

May1

I coudn’t NOT share this. As an American I am evidence of a number of these things. As an American, it is time for me to do what I can in my life, in my home, and in my way to make the tangible and relevant changes, which will, hopefully, spread out to those around me.

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Throughout history, every dominant civilization eventually collapsed because it became TOO successful. What made it powerful and unique grows out of proportion and consumes its society. I think this is true for American society. We’re complacent, entitled and unhealthy. My generation is the first generation of Americans who will be worse off than their parents, economically, physically and emotionally. And this is not due to a lack of resources, to a lack of education or to a lack of ingenuity. It’s corruption and complacency. The corruption from the massive industries that control our government’s policies, and the fat complacency of the people to sit around and let it happen.

via 10 Things Most Americans Don’t Know About America.