This is where I am at. Only I don't want to admit that nothing will be able to fill that hole except a combination of openness, introspection, God, and time. Time. It certainly took time to create this hole. Six years of trying every way I could think of to make my marriage relationship work, only to see it fail. Yesterday I was reading a compilation of poems in which the author recounts how her mother used to say that when it comes to relationships, if you love someone, they will love you back. The author goes on to explain that she has found that to be true. I wanted to say "bullsh**"! (Excuse my candor.) If that's always true, then I certainly got gypped! But I know that's not always true. Some people want to love, and don't know how. Many people want to love and don't know how. We carry too much baggage from past hurt that keeps us from being able to give or to receive love well. Then there are those who have been so marred by pain, it would seem what they desire is for others to feel the same pain they have experienced. So they defensively put up walls, deflect everything that's uncomfortable, and throw blame where it doesn't lie. They have sort of given up the fight to believe truth. Knowing how to love well after relationship trauma is hard. The challenge lies in knowing how to respond without aggression and destructiveness toward ourselves (first and foremost) and then to others.
But there is also another challenge. And this is where I struggle. I mentioned six years of trying to make a relationship work, but let me rephrase. Six years of trying to gain favor. Six years of trying to figure out how to be favorable. Six years of fearing the answer to the question, "Am I deeply loved?" Six years that robbed me of precious things--things that I needed to survive. I loved someone with all the love I had to give. And of myself, I also gave all. "Here, you can have every part of me. If what you see is not enough, then I will work to be the most beautiful person you've ever known. I will improve myself. I will change where change is needed. I will face and wage war with any ugly truth about myself no matter how afraid I am to do so." I gave all of me. And now it would seem I wasn't good enough, because he is gone. Gone. And I am left. No, pieces of me are left. And this is what I mean by holes. Relationship trauma leaves us with holes--pieces missing. At least, that's how I feel. What I am getting at is that my struggle now lies in coping with those feelings. My coping mechanism is an addiction of sorts.
How does one cope with the frightening questions that are left about his or her value? How does one cope
with viewing the long, seemingly endless road of healing that lies before them. How do I cope with the uncertainty of the future financially, relationally, emotionally and with the doubt that accompanies each decision made. Will I ever feel whole again? Will a man ever be able to see me, to love me unconditionally, to love me deeply and passionately, and to willingly offer all the work that is required. Will I have lasting value in a man's eyes? Or maybe I am too annoying and ugly. Maybe he will feel enamored at first and then lose it. Am I enough to make someone stay? These are the anxieties left with me. These are the the kinds of demons that haunt me, the lies that flirt with me. These are the holes. These are the scars.
I feel bad. What I mean is that I don't feel good, at all. And though I am aware of which road ahead of me is healthiest to tread on, for the first time in my life, it takes everything I have to walk that path and still I can't walk it well. And the reason is that wanting to feel good pulls at me from every side. Even with a promising music career and things falling in line there, I often find myself addicted to feeling good. The craving doesn't just invade my mind; it's attached to me in a pervasive and aggressive way--a leach that wants to suck any peace that would manifest. My inside screams to do whatever it takes to feel ok. And so I step off my pathway toward health in order to feel that. When I choose to hobble back to the path that leads to healing, this craving knaws at my legs and pulls at my limbs. How can anyone resist that? What am I to do with that? I feel so weak. I am starting to unravel. I am starting to crack. I am exhausted from trying to swim upstream, yet not making it anywhere. I want to distract myself from the fear and confusion. I want to feel good. I want to be touched. I want to be held. I want to be caressed. I want to be carried. I want to rest.
It is confusing to know how to respond. The best road seems too hard to walk on. I feel I can't live up. I want to do things that aren't really in my best interest at the moment. But even though I fall off the pathway quite often, I know I am still trying. Even though I feel shame, I truly do believe God sees my tries and has only grace for me in his hands. I think that right now what is needed is that I embrace the mess I feel I am, instead of resisting it. It is ok. I am ok. Deep breath. Imperfectly struggling along the path of healing is ok. And where humans have taken and destroyed, God gives and breathes new life. I hope in his grace and I trust that his arms are strong enough to carry me; though my hope and trust are so meager and small, the lies so loud. But God will take faith the size of a mustard seed. It's not about the amount. It's about the fact that it is even there at all. For the first time in my life, I get that.
God, love me and show me how to love myself, because no one else's love is enough right now. Help me not to stand paralyzed in despair, staring at the long road of healing ahead. Instead give me strength of will to focus on one step at a time. Help me as I stop this striving to figure it all out. Give me grace to just be, to rest, to live patiently. Help my exhaustion. Fill in my holes. Repair the damage these scars reveal. Breathe new life into me and redeem this mess.
