I once was told by by someone wise that if one doesn't process pain when it occurs, it never goes away because it's never been expressed. It kind of just lingers there; and then we shove, stuff, or compartmentalize it. Thus, when something new occurs that brings us pain, that new pain taps into the old pain. If one is still not expressing the pain, the repetitive event in some ways is like a slow simmering volcano. Somewhere along life's path, it's going to erupt.
It's not that I never cried in my life as I was growing up, but I think I somehow created this coping mechanism of some sort. If I didn't tell anyone about the pain, or the things I was suffering from, maybe they'd just go away. That's odd...until I typed those words just now, I didn't know it was possible for a child to live in a state of denial. But that's exactly what I did as a child and young woman. I lived in denial of what my actual reality was. That's probably why I "chose" to be a positive cheery person too. I was always trying to make others laugh, because I didn't like to stay in sad places.
I think God allows us to keep this pace for just so long, and then... I rewind in my mind to the day I got that call from my husband. At the age of 46, this "new pain" was it. There was no more shoving, no more stuffing, there wasn't anywhere to put it. I was so full of unprocessed old pain. The time was now to start doing "something" with it, but I had no clue as to what. It's like I had all these packed bags, one on top of the other. I didn't even know where to begin. All I could see of course was the new pain. I remember feeling like God had me sprawled on an operating table, chest laid wide open. One by one, he asked for the tools as He proceeded to operate.
The surgery wasn't completed in a day though. I felt laid wide open for some time, and thought I'd never get all the bags of pain unpacked. I imagine now as I look back, I think my heart stopped more than a few times while I was on the operating table. Each time, Surgeon God, brought me back to life and continued to work.
Finances were extremely tight back then. We couldn't afford both of us attending counseling at that time, so I read as many books as I could to compensate. I had all the typical unanswered questions a spouse would naturally have. So, book by book, prayer by prayer, the surgery would continue. I remember wanting it to be over quickly. Life just doesn't work that way, darn it! Seeing my husband healing and experiencing health and wholeness again gave me comfort. His recovery and hard work and effort he was putting forth made me feel more safe.
I remember telling his counselor that I wanted a "Guarantee" that this would never happen again in our marriage. The counselor looked at me, and with a gentle soft voice told me that no one can give that guarantee. He said the only guarantee in my life would be that God would never hurt me, and He'd always be there for me.
All my life I was running away from processing pain. Now I was in a place that I was learning to process it every day. I remember wondering if life would ever move on. As much as I wanted it to move on, I knew at the same time God was doing "good stuff" in the surgery. As painful as it was, I was learning about my own things that I needed to take care of.
Then there were three... A month or so after our marriage took a turn, I got a call from two friends within weeks of one another. One was from a young married couple of about four years, another was from a couple that had been married for almost the same as us, 20. The exact same scenario was occurring in their lives. As unhappy as I was to hear about their own circumstances, somewhere I knew we were going to be an encouragement to each other. Each living virtually in different states from one another, but each struggling to figure out what in the world went wrong. How could this possibly be happening to us?
Those two friends have no idea how their walk with me helped me get through that first year. Whether it was a call, an email, or a note in the mail, they inspired me. They'd encourage me, I'd encourage them. If they were dealing with some tough stuff, or I was dealing with something, we'd call one another. Ephesians 5: 20 "Always giving thanks for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father."
Today I remind myself of how far I've come, with the help and direction from the Lord. A road to any type of recovery is long. It's not like we have instant recovery like "instant rice". If one could invent and market it, I'm sure everyone would buy it.
Today I marvel at who my husband & I have become. We're "authentic" people. I allow myself to not be perfect, and it's OK. There is much freedom in allowing one to just---be--- He takes care of his own side of the fence, and I take care of my own side of the fence. That's a terminology I learned about when I attended "The Healing Path" at The Barnabas Center. The Healing Path is a wonderful support class for women who are sojourning on this type of path. Our jobs were to take care of what we could, "ourselves".
Till later...Stay In the Day ~CC
It's not that I never cried in my life as I was growing up, but I think I somehow created this coping mechanism of some sort. If I didn't tell anyone about the pain, or the things I was suffering from, maybe they'd just go away. That's odd...until I typed those words just now, I didn't know it was possible for a child to live in a state of denial. But that's exactly what I did as a child and young woman. I lived in denial of what my actual reality was. That's probably why I "chose" to be a positive cheery person too. I was always trying to make others laugh, because I didn't like to stay in sad places.
I think God allows us to keep this pace for just so long, and then... I rewind in my mind to the day I got that call from my husband. At the age of 46, this "new pain" was it. There was no more shoving, no more stuffing, there wasn't anywhere to put it. I was so full of unprocessed old pain. The time was now to start doing "something" with it, but I had no clue as to what. It's like I had all these packed bags, one on top of the other. I didn't even know where to begin. All I could see of course was the new pain. I remember feeling like God had me sprawled on an operating table, chest laid wide open. One by one, he asked for the tools as He proceeded to operate.
The surgery wasn't completed in a day though. I felt laid wide open for some time, and thought I'd never get all the bags of pain unpacked. I imagine now as I look back, I think my heart stopped more than a few times while I was on the operating table. Each time, Surgeon God, brought me back to life and continued to work.
Finances were extremely tight back then. We couldn't afford both of us attending counseling at that time, so I read as many books as I could to compensate. I had all the typical unanswered questions a spouse would naturally have. So, book by book, prayer by prayer, the surgery would continue. I remember wanting it to be over quickly. Life just doesn't work that way, darn it! Seeing my husband healing and experiencing health and wholeness again gave me comfort. His recovery and hard work and effort he was putting forth made me feel more safe.
I remember telling his counselor that I wanted a "Guarantee" that this would never happen again in our marriage. The counselor looked at me, and with a gentle soft voice told me that no one can give that guarantee. He said the only guarantee in my life would be that God would never hurt me, and He'd always be there for me.
All my life I was running away from processing pain. Now I was in a place that I was learning to process it every day. I remember wondering if life would ever move on. As much as I wanted it to move on, I knew at the same time God was doing "good stuff" in the surgery. As painful as it was, I was learning about my own things that I needed to take care of.
Then there were three... A month or so after our marriage took a turn, I got a call from two friends within weeks of one another. One was from a young married couple of about four years, another was from a couple that had been married for almost the same as us, 20. The exact same scenario was occurring in their lives. As unhappy as I was to hear about their own circumstances, somewhere I knew we were going to be an encouragement to each other. Each living virtually in different states from one another, but each struggling to figure out what in the world went wrong. How could this possibly be happening to us?
Those two friends have no idea how their walk with me helped me get through that first year. Whether it was a call, an email, or a note in the mail, they inspired me. They'd encourage me, I'd encourage them. If they were dealing with some tough stuff, or I was dealing with something, we'd call one another. Ephesians 5: 20 "Always giving thanks for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father."
Today I remind myself of how far I've come, with the help and direction from the Lord. A road to any type of recovery is long. It's not like we have instant recovery like "instant rice". If one could invent and market it, I'm sure everyone would buy it.
Today I marvel at who my husband & I have become. We're "authentic" people. I allow myself to not be perfect, and it's OK. There is much freedom in allowing one to just---be--- He takes care of his own side of the fence, and I take care of my own side of the fence. That's a terminology I learned about when I attended "The Healing Path" at The Barnabas Center. The Healing Path is a wonderful support class for women who are sojourning on this type of path. Our jobs were to take care of what we could, "ourselves".
Till later...Stay In the Day ~CC
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