The Broken Record

Vinyl Revival

You would think I would know how to prepare when I see it coming. You would think I would know how to let it “roll off my shoulders”. But holidays are spent with family, laughs, food and traditions. What if you are uninvited to your own family get together? No word, no call, no letter, nothing.

I have talked about this a little bit before. I knew the email was coming. I had a gut feeling but what I did not know is how much it really does effect me. It wasn’t until I had an anxiety attack at church this Easter Morning I realized the severity of it. Easter is a time of rejoicing, praise and worship. So why was I asking certain songs to be muted and certain phrases to be not be spoken?

My ears cringe every time I hear someone say or shout, “He is RISEN!” or I hear the song, All in All or In Christ Alone. I finally have figured out why it throws me into a swirling sea of emotions- it is because of my mother.

Every Easter when I lived with her or visited her she would say this phrase and I had to reply back with another phrase. If I did not- I would be in trouble. I cannot stand that phrase even though I love the meaning behind it. I love Jesus and I am so thankful he took my guilt, my shame and all my sin away. I beyond happy that he defeated death and rose again. But just that phrase or those songs that she used to play all the time just make me want to hurl or lash out in rage.

If you have been reading my blogs you know that I do not get emails (/contact) currently from my m. at all and if I do they are generic greeting cards. And that I do not have contact with her by her choice. So in the middle of worship at church the triggers were thrown at me. I had to sit down and try to calm my anxiety attack down.

I had a normal day today besides the fact I am still mourning family members’ passing and being away from my family. My husband’s family came, we had a great dinner, some time to talk and an all around nice time together. My heart longed to be with my sisters or to at least have them included in my life.

I received an email from my m and of course- I saw it coming. I knew it would happen. All it said in the message was “He is RISEN! He is Risen Indeed. Love, Mom.” That’s it. You know how that made me feel, EVEN THOUGH I KNEW IT WAS COMING- it broke my heart. Not even signed with love from my sisters or step dad. Not even signed with a thinking of you, or love you.

At first it didn’t bother me but sitting there thinking about how I am not wanted in part of my family’s life- just tore me apart. I wanted to scream and to email a quick response back with something snippy and clever like “Why don’t you try sending a real email next time or just don’t bother at all- I only hear from you on holidays anyway. At least I had the nerve to call you and wish you Happy Easter.”

I didn’t even respond but that is what I would of loved to say. I did call after that email was sent and of course had to speak to the voicemail. She screens her calls and decides when to answer. And it is always so awkward for me because normally you say “See you soon or talk to you later” well, in my case that is not true at all. I won’t see her or my sisters soon and I mostly like will never talk to them again until she decides to let me.

It burns me. It really burns me. I am going to bring it up to the therapist when I go this next week and see what she says. This happens every year and I get the same crash afterwards and you know it probably doesn’t even bother her. She is just thinking “Okay, I did the bare minimum to still remain the title of Mom.” At least that is what it feels like to me.

This happens every single year and I can predict down to the WORDS of what she will say to me or how she will say it. You think by now I would be okay with it or not care. I wish I didn’t care. For my birthday card one year I got in my 20s she signed it: “Thank God you are here one more year to serve him.” That is ALL SHE WROTE ladies and gents- ALL SHE WROTE. Not an I love you, not Happy Birthday or anything else personal.

I was in disbelief when I read it. I just couldn’t believe it. Aren’t you some what thankful for me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me? You can see now how easily it is to have animosity towards God because that is how her abuse and control is delivered. It is so hard for me not to cut myself right now. I have so much bottled up- even the tasty cheesecake can’t comfort me.  Don’t worry- I won’t. I haven’t cut for years because I made a promise to my father to not cut anymore but the urge is getting stronger.

 

The Little Girl

I am sorry for not posting in the last day or two, after No Noise- I had to emotionally take a break. That incident was really traumatic for me. Since Easter is literally just around the corner I thought this would be the perfect time to tell you how I got to know the real Jesus. If this is the first blog you are reading of mine then you wouldn’t quite understand that statement.

I have setup a time to regularly see a counselor/therapist for my anxiety, depression and traumas. One of the forms of abuse she pointed out to me was my Spiritual Abuse I get from my m. Spiritual abuse is hard to overcome because it turns God into the bad guy when in reality he is not.

The Abuser will switch or manipulate God’s word to make you fit into the mold they wish for you to be in. So for example, my abuser always wanted to be right and be in charge. So the passage “Children obey your parents with all your heart-” is forever engrained in my brain, as well as “spare the rod, spoil the child.”

In my opinion that is a horrible way to grow up. I was taught about God and all the “Sunday School” stories but it was never about his tenderness or his true love. Love to me was a foreign concept. We would discuss it just like it was a thing, not an action.

Of course I have heard the story over and over about how he died for us and rose again and we are saved. But that sounds quite generic to me. It doesn’t have any personal attachment to me at all. I was more so taught of his anger if you didn’t obey him.

When I was little I accepted Jesus into my heart to please my m. Not because I understood what I was doing but to see her smile, to be proud of me and to draw me closer to her. It didn’t work. The spiritual abuse- the memorization, the stories, the fakery was getting worse- so I forgot about Jesus.

When I was 10 I was attacked by our dog in the face and skull (The Trees’ Secret blog). I remember sitting there in the hospital bed and truly feeling his protection over me but I still didn’t quite get it. I carried on without him. When I was 14 my dad received custody of me, which I talk about in The Switch blog.

My m. still had visitation with me and when I was about 14-16 I harbored some serious anger. I still don’t quite understand why I am so full of rage at times but it was bad. I drifted far away from anything that reminded me of Jesus because that reminded me of the abuse and the abuser.

All my life I just wanted someone who I could speak to freely and understand my pain and just be there. But no matter how many times I tried to explain- I just couldn’t find the words. I had no idea what I was going through or why I felt the way I did.

When I was 18- I was raped, which I talk about some of the flashbacks in the No Noise blog. I still didn’t heavily rely on Jesus at all. I wanted to do what I wanted. Why was I to listen to someone who was forced down my throat and was all about rules?

After the rape I became very promiscuous, sleeping with dozens of men. I got a thrill out of being wanted and desired. It made me feel sexy, powerful and fulfilled my need of being wanted that I longed for. It wasn’t until I was around 21-22 that I met my future husband and things changed. We both weren’t living the way we were supposed to but it was just something about him that made me want to be with him. I had never had a serious boyfriend before and didn’t really ever truly want one- he was the first.

It wasn’t until my cancer scare and being told I had a sexually transmitted infection that brought me to my knees. I felt nasty, dirty and filthy. I had to get a biopsy to check if the tissue on my cervix was indeed cancerous or not. We got the results back and it was clear. Nothing was there and the infection cleared up with antibiotics. I knew right then and there God had protected me. I had not had a single real pregnancy scare in all the times I had have sex, no STDs and no cancer.

It still didn’t really sink in about God’s love for me until I realized one day that all I ever wanted was someone to be there.  To know what kind of experience I had gone through. I always felt too scared to talk to anyone in the family because no one ever saw what my abuser was truly like. No one ever felt the loneliness I felt growing up. Who would believe me?

Everything with my m. is so rehearsed. Even at Easter Sunday Church or dinner she will say “He is Risen” and you are supposed to say “He is Risen indeed”. I am sorry but since when does it matter what you say or how you say it? Why is it a rule? It just feels completely fake and impersonal. Why not tell the story of how he spoke to your heart? Or of how he was treated?

There is a country song called The Little Girl by John Michael Montgomery, I had heard it before several times but never actually listened to it. I don’t want to spoil it for you if you haven’t heard it but even though that isn’t my life at all- the meaning at the end is the same. Jesus was there.

That melted my stone cold heart of bitterness I had towards everyone. I didn’t like anyone, I didn’t trust anyone, I didn’t care about anyone but when I listened to this song- it all melted away. My future husband and I got back into church, closer to our family and really started to understand God’s love for us. He pulled us both out of the darkness and God offered me a shoulder to cry on.

He knows everything I have been through, he still loves and cherishes me even though some people still despise me. He took everything that I was ashamed about and wiped it away. I still remember the things I did but the guilt is gone because I know I am forgiven from all the horrible things I did to myself and to others.

I know it’s hard because he isn’t physically here to be with you during your journey or mine. And sometimes to be honest- I resent him for that. I doubt him sometimes. I lose faith. I get angry. I don’t have all the answers. I am not perfect at all. I don’t go to church every sunday and I don’t pray before EVERY meal but it is something I am not judged on. He knows my heart. Even though we don’t have the perfect relationship- I strive to be better.  I am  his and love him with all heart. Why? Because he was there and always will be there for me.

“Cause He was there in my old house-
He held me close to His side”

John Michael Montgomery

The Little Girl

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