Am I being punished?

Some days I feel like the world dislikes me a LOT.

Not because I am a Christian, though there seems to be an air of suspicion around that.



Rather, I feel like a child being punished for things I cannot change.

I feel punished for placing the care of my small children in front of getting a degree and having a career.

I feel punished for finishing my Master's Degree in my 40s, and trying to start out in my career field at this "advanced" age.

I feel punished for moving many times, going where my husband is sent by the military.

I feel punished because having a "later" start on my career means that things are tighter financially than they "should be" for someone my age.

I feel punished for not having a relationship with my mother.

I feel punished for not being an extrovert.

I feel punished for my PTSD symptoms.

Reading back through this, I see that I feel punished for being me, for *not* being who others think I should be, and for a myriad of things over which I have never had any control.

I *KNOW* that punishing me is not the intent of anyone.  However, being marginalized because of my age, because of my gender, because of my status as a military wife and mother, because of my traumas, and because of my personality really feels like an unending set of blows from which I am having trouble recovering.

Honestly, I know that somehow God is teaching me something through all of this, and that HE will work it all out in His timing...and because I know that, all of this is a challenge, but is not insurmountable.

I just have to remember that while I'm in the thick of it.

Underneath the "nice" Laura

Inside of me there is all kinds of not-so-nice stuff.

Very few people actually SEE the junk.

Like many (I suspect), I am very good at hiding the *real* me.

I smile when I'd rather cry.

I laugh when I'd rather scream.

I beat myself up when I am tempted to lash out.

I dress nicely, wear makeup, fix my hair, make small talk, all when I would rather be somewhere else, doing something different, away from people altogether.

The not-so-nice Laura breaks things, and swears, and screams mean names at people (and animals), and hits, and hurts, and really doesn't like herself.  It has been a lot of years since the not-so-nice Laura has escaped the confines where she is buried, but make no mistake - - she IS still there.  There is a lot of rage buried deep inside, and frustration, and too much hurt, and humiliation, and fear in there, too, and some days it feels like all of nasty, festering junk is pushing at the confines, and I am sure it is going to escape.

The ugly under-side of me is as much a part of me as is the nicely dressed mom at church, or the busy mom-playing-taxi-driver, or the chief-cook-and-bottle-washer.

A painful part of this is that too often believers say that my "self" should be gone...after all, I have accepted the forgiveness provided through Jesus' death and resurrection.  When people say those things to me, there is an unsaid expectation that I am not allowed to talk about my ugly side, because it should be GONE.  After all, I have been a believer for more than 30 years...I should have released them a long time ago.

And yet...I HAVE been a believer for more than 30 years.  AND all of the ugly IS still there.

Some days I wonder why.

Is there more I need to *DO*?  I don't think so.  After all, Scriptures make it very clear that my salvation is by FAITH, not works, and nothing I can DO, and nothing anyone else can DO will take me out of the hands of God.

Another question arises...is this the result of my PTSD?  Frankly, since I don't know life aside from PTSD, I couldn't say whether or not this is a direct consequence of my PTSD, and thus can be logically blamed on the source of the PTSD.  I just don't know if this is a struggle I would have even without my diagnosis.

I DO know that some days I struggle to keep my anger under wraps.
I DO know that some days all of my inherent negativity wants to spill over on everyone in my life.
I DO know that some days all I want to do is curl up in my bed, and drink until I can't remember anything.
I DO know that some days peopleing/adulting is the hardest thing in the world.

I also know that QUIT, and GIVE UP are not part of my vocabulary.
I know that, even though I am exhausted, and grumpy, and tired, tomorrow morning I will get up, and get my kids out the door to school, and I will do the things, and I will be a friend, and a parent, and a spouse, even though I want to sleep, or drink, or eat all the sugar.  I will keep putting one foot in front of the other, doing the things God gives me to do, being the person I am convinced He wants me to be, and trusting that HE will take care of all of that nasty stuff down inside of me, trying to force its way out.

My story

My story is MINE.  

It probably doesn't make a lot of sense to people who are not in my head.  Pieces of my story probably seem out of place, if you haven't been part of my life since the beginning of the story.  But, my story explains who I am, and how I got to where I am.  

My story is COMPLICATED.  

The pieces of my story are many and varied, like the different colored strings in a piece of tapestry.  Viewed from the back, or unfinished, or only a small piece, each piece may not seem to fit with the rest of my story...but God is the master-designer/weaver/artist, and He knows what the final picture will look like.  

My story is a WORK IN PROGRESS.  

I don't know the end of my story.  There is no way any other human can know the end of MY story.  Only the Designer knows what He has in store for me.  I can only trust Him to be designing something of beauty to Him, and work with the strings He has given me.  

I have been reading Brene' Brown's Rising Strong, and watching some of her videos, and one thing that has struck me is the importance of each person's story.  Not just the story that is polished for public consumption, but the internal story that is tied to their perception of the world around them, and the meaning they make of the events in their lives.  

In light of that, and the continued urging of a few, I am going to work on writing down pieces of my story.  I don't want to lose things that God has woven into my life because my memory gets fuzzy.  I want to be able to tell my children "look what God did here."  

Retreating

I have determined that this weekend I am going to retreat.










The dictionary defines the word retreat as:

1.

the forced or strategic withdrawal of an army or an armed
force before an enemy, or the withdrawing of a naval force from action.

2.

the act of withdrawing, as into safety or privacy; retirement; seclusion.

3.

a place of refuge, seclusion, or privacy:

The library was his retreat.

4.

an asylum, as for the insane.

5.

a retirement or a period of retirement for religious exercises and meditation.

Right now, I am withdrawing for a time from engaging in public interaction.
I am finding my place of retreat.
I am going to retire to my place of retreat, and I am going to engage in a different type of engagement.  

I need to spend time with my family.
I need to spend time with my Lord.
I need to *not* be concerned with engaging the "enemy".

So, if you need me, I'll be drinking a cup of tea in the blanket fort, coloring and singing with my children.  

Inspiration

This week I had the most amazing counseling session.

I really love my counselor.
It had been three weeks since I saw her, due to travel for my grandmother's memorial service, and holidays, and others' schedules.

I was dealing with a lot.
Grief.
Pain.
Frustration.
Anger.
Anxiety.
Life.

As I sat with her, this beautiful woman, and worked on my stuff, I was given a vision of a piece of art, something I MUST make come to life.  Today, 3 days later, it is as fresh as it was sitting in her chair.

The concept is one of allowing the Healer to do His work in me.
It is simple.
It is HARD.
It is a work in progress.

Can't wait to share it.

How does one grieve a relationship that never was?

I realized today (with the help of my therapist) that I AM grieving right now.

I am grieving the relationship I will not be able to have with my grandmother.  The relationship that was denied by years of my parents not allowing us to spend time with their parents.  The relationship impeded by distance, both geographically and emotionally.  The relationship clouded by the lies and misunderstandings of years of hurt on both sides, never explained to the children we were, or to the adults we became.

I am also grieving the relationship I have never had with my mother, and which became even more clear to me over the past month, will never happen.  I grieve the painful, incomplete, one-sided forgiveness for abuses heaped-on.  I grieve the human frailty that denies any chance at reconciliation.  I grieve the ravages of disease on a once-brilliant mind.  I grieve the loss of opportunity for my children to connect with this grandmother.

Yes, I am grieving.  I actually cried today for the first time since learning that Grandma had passed away...frankly, it was a relief to cry.

Two-week Recap

These last two weeks have been FULL.

BRIEFLY:

• Oct. 24, my last living grandparent died.  
• Oct. 31, I was up at 3:00 a.m. after 2 hours of sleep, flew to Charlotte, NC, where I was picked up by my in-laws.  I unloaded and repacked Frances' car, drove to Columbia, put 200 pounds more of her stuff into the car, went to the church's block party, drove back out to the house, unloaded and repacked some more, and finally collapsed into bed at about 9:00 p.m. 
• Nov. 1, I went to church with my inlaws, saw friends, and did final rearranging of the car.  
• Nov. 2, I packed up and drove to Black Mountain, NC, and went to Grandma's memorial, after which there was a reception at the church, and then a family gathering at my aunt's church across the mountain in Old Fort.  After that, I got to hang out with my aunts and uncles and some extended family for the evening.  
• Nov. 3, I met up with my friend Brenda, from middle school and high school years...and had dinner with Kathleen, a friend from Bible college days, and after dinner got back in the car and started driving...stopping for the night in northern Virginia.  
• Nov. 4, I finally arrived home around 4:00 pm.  

***************************

 Grandma Lucile Ratchford Hestir was an amazing woman.










Known as "Lucy", Grandma received degrees from the University of Texas and from Purdue University.  She worked as an aeronautical engineer, inspecting planes for release for combat duty in World War II.  She served as the Director of Personal Faith and Family Life for the Board of Women's Work of the Presbyterian Church U.S.  She finished her career acting as Volunteer Coordinator for the Texas State Department of Human Resources.

 She was mother to 4 children.
Grandmother to 7...I am the oldest.
Great-grandmother to 8.

She was a strong leader in a time when women were supposed to be homemakers.

She outlived her son Brent, and her husband, Bluford "Blue", as well as her twin sister, Louise.

The celebration of her life was on November 2, 2015, at Black Mountain Presbyterian Church.

**********************************

I was able to be at Grandma's memorial service, and to spend some time with the extended family, which was really good.  I was also able to catch up with some friends in the area, and then began the trip back to Massachusetts, driving my daughter's car, which was loaded down with many of her belongings.

I arrived back home on Wednesday afternoon, and welcomed a visit with a wonderful friend from Bible college days, Marcie Gustafson.  Marcie was able to stay with us for almost a week, during which time we were able to see the movie "Poverty, Inc.", and go see a very good rendition of the opera The Marriage of Figaro, put on by the Treble Chorus of New England's "Hands on Opera!"  We were also able to catch up on where Marcie is ministering these days (Durban, South Africa), and what God is doing there.  We were sad to see her go, but look forward to keeping in touch!

This week has been one of rest with spurts of craziness, including work for the two older girls, play practice and opening night for Justin, band practice and a football game for the marching band, a day off of work and school on Wednesday for Veteran's Day, and trying to catch up on laundry, email, and other errands.