Have you ever written a letter to your future husband?
I heard that some girls do, and on a fancy I write letters in my diary every now and then.
I was just going back over some of theses (to laugh and wonder at myself, mostly) when I realized that these letters were one place where I let it all hang out. I wanted to be completely honest and open to the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.
Here is one that I am frankly amazed at. Amazed because it is all so familiar, so frank. I did not think I was that honest with myself so long ago.
April 12, 2007
"...I fear you may never want me because of the blackness within me. If I didn't fear these (letters) falling into the hands of some big-mouthed individuals I would elaborate. I hate someone –passionately... I really do not know what I have become. My heart is curled up in it's snail shell glad to creep out for a split-second and try to kill/maim any passers-by. I feed on slime and trash and tell myself that they don't care, and that it is their fault....
I am maiming myself too... I hate my present, I want to destroy my past. I am seriously considering running away—maybe making myself into something I can live with...it is one way of forgetting. Suicide really stopped being an option after a while. I did not have the gumption and I couldn't bear not being around. (I almost laughed here if I wasn't crying so hard for myself)
So—how do you like the (pity) party? If you have not yet dropped this and run like all evil was pursuing you have my permission.
I am this
This is me right now: angry, hurt, and yes—bitter to the very core. Never satisfied, uncontent—yet a master at wearing false faces!
Here I wallow—pity and anger—I am telling myself that there is no tomorrow. That if there were it would be as black as today.
Why did you want a person like this? What worth is there in me? Are you sure of your sanity? I am not of mine. I keep waiting to snap. To loose the mind which I cherish, tear out the hair I prize so vainly and blind the eyes I'd do anything to keep. The ones which are right now producing enough tears to keep them red for an hour or two. Why was I born? What use is there in life? How can I face death? When will it all be over?
I don't know what you'll say.....and I don't know if I can face you. Perhaps, this afternoon, I'll write with another tone and tell you that this was all rubbish. Perhaps it is—perhaps that will be...perhaps both are true. What am I? Really! Inside! I don't even know—if I really cared. Don't tell me dumb things to make me feel better! Don't murmur nonsense! Salt may hurt but it cleanses. I'd prefer harsh words and a stout slap to any fakeness. I have to face what I am—yet here I am—on the floor in a muddled heap—weeping!
Does life matter? Does He really care? IS He there? Why doesn't He speak?
Why isn't He with me?"
At the risk of showing how little I have progressed from this state of depression, self-hatred, and crippling pain, I shall say that times like this still come over me. And truly, the next day I laugh them off and remember them like I would a nightmare.
This is where healing needs to come. This is where I am. This is where I am working from.
4 comments:
As I read this, I couldn't help but see the familiarness to many psalms written in ancient days. That and I can see it written to and for God rather than just another person. It's in these times of brokeness and hopelessness that I see the ever so gentle nature of God. It's hard for me to step outside of myself and see myself as anything but broken but those things don't even face Him. That for me, is the gospel right now. God can look at my life and He wants me and it's not that he wants me apart from my mess, He wants the whole of me. How beautiful it is and so hard to grasp.
This image has helped me during some rough nights:
http://jeffkern.typepad.com/jeff_kern/WindowsLiveWriter/16Fathers%20Arms.jpg
This hard place where you are spiritually, emotionally etc.. will prove itself to be really formative in your life, just keep walking through it. :)
*faze not face
I share some similarities with you...
I underwent very similar psychological and emotional trauma and abuse in my formative years, only it wasn't in the name of God...just a messed up (single) parent who did it to me.
During my teen years, I kept a spiral notebook for a journal. I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote. My reason was that I needed a "witness" to what I was going through. The only way to explain my pain to anyone, in a way that could be understood, was to simply narrate the details of my existence in full. I couldn't describe my life and my parent in a few neat sentences. What I wished was either that some person could live as an invisible fly on the wall in my house (then they'd get it!), or, that I could open up my brain and do an information dump so that the world could just SEE what I was going through.
But these things weren't possible, so I wrote and wrote and wrote...
It's about 10-15 years later now for me, and I am so grateful that I wrote. I still have the journal. It's in a big spiral notebook. I keep it in a drawer next to my bed. As I've been reading your blog, sometimes I wonder if I should email you some of the stuff I wrote. Not because I think I'm so interesting, but to show you that the particular kind of abuse you are going through produces the kind of inner suffering you're experiencing right now. You are not crazy! You are surviving.
A couple of thoughts:
You are very intelligent and perceptive. And caring (loving), and strong. You might think that you should be stronger than your depression. After all, you are intelligent and strong, right? You "should be progressing"...
Just recognize that you're hurting more than you think you are, and don't make demands on yourself, that you should be "progressing". It's so true what you wrote, that this is where you are. You can only be where you are right now. It's not wrong, it's not bad, it's not stupid, it's not crazy. You're hurting. That's completely valid.
The other thing is,
I resonate with something you wrote up there, about fearing your future husband would not want you if he discovered the blackness in you. I also lived with a fearful certainty that if anyone discovered who I "really" was, they would reject me. When I made friends, I felt like an imposter. If they liked me, it was only because I somehow fooled them into liking me...but if they got really really close, it would all be over.
If that describes how you feel, I know how much it hurts.
Please know that there is someone who understands the complexities of your suffering, of your thoughts, your feelings, your fears, your "blackness" within. This someone is also a witness to every tear you shed, and every tear you repress (do you frequently feel a hollow ache in your chest?)
I'm referring to Jesus. He GETS you. He's that "person" who already sees and knows that "blackness within" you. He's the one who knows, and sees, and understands...and what He sees inside you will not EVER drive Him away. You may be so depressed you can hardly think straight. But Jesus doesn't have that problem. He knows you with perfect wisdom, and He loves you.
@ Vedodili...that picture is wonderful. Thanks for posting the link.
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