Love and Fear

Love. A powerful word. A loaded word. A foundational word. A revolutionary word….

John the Beloved said that, “God is Love.”

Paul said, “…these three will endure: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

Jesus said, “The world will know that you are my followers by the way you have love for one another.”

He also said, “The greatest commandment is to love God with everything you are; and the second greatest is to love your neighbor the way you love yourself.”

John the Beloved also said, “Perfect love cast out fear.”

In fact, in both his account of the Gospel and in his letters, John talked a lot about love.

So did Jesus….

I grew up in church. Sang, “Jesus loves me, this I know. For the bible tells me so.”

And, after half a century of thinking I knew what love was, I find it is not that simple.

Okay – this may be hard to get out and it may come out awkward, but here goes….

You see, love scares the crap out of me. When you grow up being sexually, emotionally and physically abused, love is a strange concept. For me, love is not necessarily comforting because those who love me may be cruel to prove a point – to teach a lesson. They may withhold affection to toughen and make me ‘strong.’ They may scold and they may punish. They may ignore until I make them mad. Those who love me may use a belt to correct even before wrongs are understood. In other words, when you tell me God loves me, I’m liable to cringe a little and hope his mercy outweighs his love……

And the flip side of that is, if I love, I will get out of bed in the middle of deep sleep to drive across town and get someone a coke with that ice they like. If I love someone, I will jump when they say jump…I will make all the bad stuff in their life go away. If I don’t take responsibility for someone else’s happiness, I don’t really love them.

And that is how I grew up. And let me tell you, being expected to take responsibility for the happiness of a malignant narcissist in the name of love is a recipe for mental breakdown. It is the ultimate double bind. And I find that now, I distrust this word ‘love.’

On an intellectual level, I understand that the love I experienced growing up and the love Jesus and John and Paul talk about are not the same….and yet…..I don’t know for sure.

I am realizing that I fear God’s love because I expect it to look like my parents’ love: always watching for errors to correct. The ever present ‘gotcha!’ I cringe before the Father, because I expect him to have the belt ready to punish….hmmm….you know, the church culture I grew up in contributed to this, as well. The whole concept of “getting your act together with God or he will take you out to the woodshed.” Yeah. That’s what the word love is connected to in my mind.

And yet…..

Deeper, there is a voice that tells me there is something different than what I’ve known. And the odd thing is, I have no trouble seeing the deep, compassionate, embracing, generous, wrap-you-up-in-warm-comfort love he has for other people. I can look in their eyes and feel the love of God for them…..but I cannot seem to translate that back to myself.

The Message puts John’s words like this: “There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.” (1 John 4:18). So…a fearful life is one that is not fully formed in love. So….love does not cause fear….it banishes it. Tilt. This is slowly seeping in through the cracks of my childhood-old walls of defense.

For me, this is a radical idea, that God loves me as I am – for real and not just hypothetically. Hmm…I realized, a couple of days ago, that one of the issues I have had with accepting God’s love lies in the fact that somewhere along the line growing up, I learned that if you did not earn something, you had no right to take it and if someone gave you something you did not earn, you needed to do something to prove you deserved it. This had a subtle effect on how I viewed God’s gifts of grace and love. I had the vague subconscious feeling that in order to truly enjoy it and let it settle into me, I needed to prove I deserved it. This is part of what led me into the bowels of a cult (and thankfully back out). And while in that cult, it led to the idea that it was not okay to do anything that was not spiritually focused. And now, I realize there is a subtle (and until now) subconscious belief that “sin is fun and God is hard.” And the thing is, I bet there are a few of you that read that and nod in agreement: yes, quite right.

But the thing is, it is not quite right. In fact, I’m beginning to see that it is quite backward. Sin is hard and God is fun. See, if we are in him and he is in us, then sin is certainly not fun. It hurts – it sucks. And if we are in him and really start to get that he loves us, he is fun – his burden is light, not heavy and tiresome. He is not against recreation. Playing games – having fun with friends. I had reached the point where I thought he was against these things – that my love for him had to be demonstrated in the complete sacrifice of self – likes, interests, fun…..anything outside of studying him…..and anything the ‘church’ said was ‘wrong’….

And I find myself back in the heart of this battle….what does he demand of me? Some old interests – things that I used to really enjoy pre-cult days – have been re-introduced into my life. And my initial reaction was one of excitement and wow, really? Can I? And now, I am fighting whether it is okay to have fun again. Is God displeased? Am I asking for the belt? Within the church world, I never saw anything to contradict the concept of getting the belt for getting ‘out of line.’

Sigh. Perfect love casts out fear. All fear. Including the fear of being in trouble.

And yet today, I find fear a companion like it hasn’t been for years. Fear of punishment. Fear of being wrong. Fear of being unworthy. Fear of ‘sinning.’ And I know that the primary thing that Jesus came to set us free from was that very fear. I’ve written about it in a previous post. I have lived led by fear and it sucks. It is superstition. It is the fear that God will communicate his will by means of tests that stretch your stress levels to the breaking point. Fear that if I get out of line, he will remove his favor, his protection, his love….turn his back and let me take my lumps…..teach me by sending trials…….

And I know this is not really what love should look like. Deep underneath, my heart knows what love should look like. But that scared, abused, broken little girl is still scared to death that she will be found out and the shit will hit the fan. Found out in what? That she is a fraud, of course. She doesn’t really deserve to be in this ‘club’ because she is ruined. She is tainted. She didn’t do anything right. And she will be the one that gets thrown out of the wedding feast for not wearing the right clothes. (see Matthew 22:11-13) And it doesn’t matter that she wants desperately to be with Jesus, to be close to God. Because she is a fraud – doesn’t measure up to the standard set – she will be found out and thrown out. She grew up in church living a lie that she was ‘pure’ when she was not. And the truth is, I really don’t want to try to measure up anymore. I want to give up. But I am afraid that if I turn my back on that (it seems so foundational in my life), I will also turn my back on God….There. That is the fear. But I know that is not Truth…..and yet the fear remains. And I am not sure how to unroot it.

And so, my prayer is that I would know what love really is. That the fear of losing it will be swallowed by the reality of it.

What if.....

This post is part of the April Synchroblog.

The question presented for the synchroblog is: What if the resurrection of Jesus was a hoax?

Well, the first thing that came to mind is that if he was not raised, he was not the Messiah - not the Christ. This would mean that everything from Matthew to Revelation (in the Bible) would be bullshit. There would be no room for the idea of viewing him as a good teacher, just not divine. Why? Because he made it very plain in the words attributed to him in the Gospels that he was the Christ and he would be raised. So, either he did not say those things and his followers made that part up, which would bring into question all quotes attributed to him, or he actually did say these things, in which case he was either a manipulative opportunist undeserving of being followed or he was a lunatic with delusions of grandeur whose teaching would be dangerous to follow. He said he was God, after all....there is not really much wiggle room here if truth is at all important. As C. S. Lewis pointed out in Mere Christianity, Jesus did not mean to leave any room for viewing him as just a good teacher.

But I want to take this in to a little more personal direction. If the resurrection did not happen, then I would not be here. For me, it is about more than  teachings and doctrines and theologies and debating - not that I can't get into that at times - I can go all theonerd with the best of them. No, for me, it is about him being there in the middle of the night when the demons want to torment a 9 year old girl. It is about knowing him more and more - and being known by him more and more. It is about him being a real, living, speaking person here, now in this present time. Forget following his teachings as a good moral code for living. For me, he was/is a here and now - front and center - holding my hand in the dark so I could/can sleep, singing softly in my ear to comfort - constant presence in my life.

Simply put, if there was no resurrection, then he would not have been there holding my hand and comforting me while I walked through the hell that was my childhood/early adulthood. And if he had not been there, I would not have survived. So - Jesus not raised? I would not be here. If he was not raised, I would not have seen him and I would have succeeded in taking my own life. And I think that is the most fundamental point.... Emmanuel - God with us - still. 

 -----

Other synchroblog participants:


Marta Layton: On faith seeking understanding, truth and theology
Carol Kuniholm: Risen Indeed? The Hermaneutic Community
Tim Nichols: How Would Life Be Different If Jesus Did Not Rise?
Glenn Hager: Kingdom Come or Kingdom Now?
Sonja Andrews: The Resurrection and The Life
Josh Morgan: The Role Of The Resurrection
Abbie Watters: What If The Resurrection Were A Lie?
Minnow: Resurrection Impact
Leah: Resurrection - Or Not!
Hey Sonnie: The Resurrection Hoax
Liz Dyer: The Resurrection I Firmly Believe In
Helen Haroutunian: Is There A Christianity Without The Resurrection?
Christine Sine: If the Resurrection Did Not Happen, How Would the World be Different? 
KW Leslie: Supposing Jesus Is Dead 
Travis Mamone: If The Resurrection Was A Hoax... 
Kathy Escobar: Jenga Faith
Jeremy Myers: What If Jesus Did Not Rise?

The Minefield of Mental Illness and the Church

The topic of how the church deals with mental health issues has been large in my mind the last couple of weeks. It started with a teaching I heard, continued with the comment thread on an article over at Her.meneutics, and ended with another teaching I heard. The things I have experienced in this arena all came flooding back and anger, fear, frustration, sadness...they all rode on the coattails of the teaching and comments.

So, some history. I grew up in a household - and in a broader sense, a denomination - that at best, distrusted the field of psychology and at wort mocked and ridiculed it. Now in the family dynamics, I understand that narcissists will nearly always have a great aversion to counselors/psychologists/therapists, etc., because they do not wish to be exposed. So my mother's aversion and ridicule of the profession is not surprising. But the church is another matter.

I understand that in the early days, a lot of people in the profession were openly against religion and that understandably created a reaction. However, that has changed even to the point that the American Psychiatric Association has acknowledged in their journals that incorporating a client's spiritual beliefs (and respecting same) is important to the treatment process. And some denominations have begun incorporating counseling into their staff. Cool. Great.

But, in my own experience, the "Christian" counselors put doctrine above psychological training - and in so doing, put doctrine ahead of the client's mental health. I have seen this. But what I saw in the comments and heard in the sermons is something that I find dangerous. Why dangerous? Because it sets people up to be abused - and it sets people up to be abusive - well meaning people end up using these doctrines and doing harm. So, what is it that I'm so worked up about?

Here are some statements:

- Depression is always demonic
- Depression is a sin
- There's no such thing as mental illness, it is all just demons

Okay, the sermon I heard laid out step by step instructions for how to recognize someone who was being overcome by demons and how to deliver them. I want to state, for the record, that I do believe that demons exist and that they harass and possess people. I've seen too much not to. But what was stated in this teaching was, to me, over the top. The description that was given of how to recognize someone who had fallen away from faith and was in the hands of demonic forces and needed intervention was identical to the list of symptoms of someone who is coming out of a cultish religiously abusive situation - reverting to old behaviors, cussing, not reading the Bible anymore... As I listened to this list, I realized that by the definition presented, they would have been trying to cast the demons out of me the whole time I was recovering/healing from the abuses of my past.

I was reminded that I have realized, several times over the last 5 years, that the religious people around me, if they witnessed one of my PTSD moments, would have been trying to cast the demons out of me. I actually was experiencing some PTSD symptoms while listening to this message and in the midst of this knew that if those around me knew what was going on, they would have applied what they were hearing and tried to exorcise me. Talk about some cognitive pain.

See, here's the thing: this teaching leaves no room for the normal mental/emotional effects of abuse or even just a traumatic event like an accident. An example that comes to mind is one of a 12 year old girl who was stood on a chair by the elders in her own home while they tried to cast the spirit of rebellion out of her. Within 18 or so months, she had run away from home, gotten pregnant - why? Because her father was emotionally abusive and her older sister was even more so and her home life was intolerable. But these church elders did not make inquiries - they just labeled her and tried to 'deliver' her and in doing so, made the trauma worse - and drove her away from God almost permanently.

This is the crux of what has me so angry and sad and agitated inside - this teaching can be emotionally deadly to those suffering from mental distress. For me, personally, it made it very difficult to even recognize that I needed professional help, let alone actually seek it. I actually reached the point where I tried to kill myself before I sought help - and then only because the only friend I trusted at the time insisted I get help or leave. And here's the thing - I was in so much emotional pain that in a combination of anger and just plain overwhelmed-ness, I took a bottle of Darvon and went to bed. As I began to fade into the blackness, I was afraid. I told God I was sorry - for everything, including not being strong enough.... And his presence flooded that room with such profound peace. I was settled - I was relaxed - I knew he was right there and as I faded out, I did not expect to wake up. 24 hours later, however, I did wake up and had to begin dealing with the reality that I was still here and my life was still a mess. If, in that state, I had been confronted by people who thought my problem was just that I needed to have the devil cast out of me, I think I might have gone insane. This was 24 years ago. I recently, because of the healing that has been taking place, realized that this incident happened within a couple of weeks of seeing the primary molester - the first time I had seen him in more than 10 years. And I had to interact with him in a family holiday setting for 48 hours - and no one else knew.... and it triggered an emotional meltdown. Well, duh!

That brings me to another point. First, I will say that there are some cases of mental illness that are demonic in nature. But to say all are is, to me, profoundly troubling. If you have read my blog, you already know this, but I will do a quick recap for those who haven't been around much before. As a child I was molested - repeatedly - by several people; first when I was 2 1/2 and then again through the period from 7 to 12 years old - all outside my home. In addition to this, I lived in an emotionally and verbally abusive home that was also physically abusive (whippings with a belt were part of potty training). All this in the midst of being in a deeply religious family with parents as church leaders. Straight up - this messed me up. Bad. Even now, after 4 years of therapy, I have trouble really admitting that things were really that bad.... And in order to just survive, I stuffed it all away in a box locked under the stairs in the cellar of my mind. But the contents of that box would not stay hidden (they never do). And finally, God led to a place - and put a friend in my life that would hold my hand through it - where I actually began looking at it and dealing with it. And that has required the help of someone professionally trained for that purpose, not unlike seeking an orthopedic surgeon for a crushed leg.

And I have encountered, over the last five years, religious advice on this. The first was that I had better go to Christian counselors. I asked God about that and got one of the biggest 'NOs' I have even heard/felt. Okay. Then I have been told by someone who was a family friend at the time all this was going on (in childhood) that I needed to let one of the elders at her church pray for me because he was gifted in praying for deliverance. No thanks. I know what that looks like because I grew up in it. If I had allowed an attempted exorcism or whatever, I think it would have sent me around the bend.

Here's another thing - In the process of surviving all these years, there have been moments that..... Well, one was about 20 years ago, I was in a position where I was living with my grandparents and sharing a bedroom/bed with my mother - a narcissist.... and I was sitting outside in my car one night and I began to recognized different facets of my personality - 4 or 5 of them - and realized I was just on the edge of having them shatter. And God reached out and told me I did not have to step off that cliff if I didn't want to. A similar thing happened 5 years ago, when everything was blowing apart with the church/cult I used to be a leader in. What was happening there was stirring up all the childhood shit again - the stuff that had only just barely been acknowledged and never dealt with. And there was a death in the family and my mom was in ICU in a coma.... and I sat in a dark side room in that church sobbing... and I asked God if I could please just let go for a while and go crazy - retreat inside my head. His response was so loving. He said that I absolutely could if I wanted to and there would be no condemnation attached - I had every right to. But he also wanted me to think about whether, if I did, I would be able to come back. He would not guarantee that I would. But just the acknowledgment that I had reason to be distressed did wonders in giving me strength to hang on.

Hmm.... I wish there wasn't this fear within the church that causes mental illness to be labeled demonic. It really has put me in a position that for my own mental safety, I need to pull back from a group of believers - again. And I fear that if any of them read this, they would be concerned that I was 'back-slidden' and in need of having the Word pounded into that. That is the other thing about this teaching that was so disturbing to me. The solution was to read the Word to the person in order to "pound on the rock until it breaks" (referenced Jeremiah 23:29 to back this). To me, that is giving people with more zeal than wisdom (and good intention) the idea that the solution to mental illness is to pound Bible verses into someone. Yikes! In the hands of someone with an abusive/controlling streak, this is a license to abuse with the Word. Is the answer to mental illness really to thump someone over the head with Bible verses? This truly makes my heart hurt.

And I have to say that after I walked out of the church/cult 5 years ago, part of the healing process (that is still in progress) required laying the Bible down and not reading it ... at all... for nearly 2 years. By the definition I heard today, that would be evidence of demonic influence. But I can say with absolute clarity that the reason I had to lay that book down was because it had been used to beat me down and control and abuse and scare me for so long that I could only hear the voice of the abusers through it. And it took almost 2 years of healing before I could read it without hearing those voices and the teachings that had so twisted me up.

And I don't know what to do about this. I know I need to remove myself from the teaching because it is causing too much pain. But the people. Damn it. I like these people and I am so tired of losing friendships over religion. But I don't know how to talk to them about it. To be honest, I am afraid to. I'm afraid they wouldn't understand. I am afraid they would apply the teachings I heard today. It's one thing to be called a heretic and told you're going to hell by some anonymous blog commenter that you don't know and probably never will. But it's a whole other thing when the attack is coming from a friend who thinks they are helping.

On Being Female....

This is part of the March Synchroblog

Hmm… I have found this post harder to write than I expected. When I first saw the subject for this month’s synchroblog – All About Eve: Women’s History Month, I was excited. After all, it was a topic I had requested. I thought about it and had my subject all picked out – I was going to de-construct the foundational issue in the patriarchal theology concerning hierarchy. At some point in the future, I may still write about that. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that my heart is in a different direction right now. I love to dig into theology and all, but there have already been some wonderful things written that deconstruct the ideas surrounding so called ‘biblical patriarchy’. At the bottom of this post, I will put some links for those of you who are interested.

So… what is on my heart? I have struggled with this post more than anything I have ever written. I’m not really sure why. I guess what's bubbling to the surface makes me feel vulnerable. Deep breath…. I am going to try to describe what it is like, for me, to be a woman.

The first thing that comes to mind is that I have never much identified with being a woman. I know that sounds strange. I have always (nearly 50 years) been female. Even typing that feels strange. It has only been recently that I have consciously recognized that I have never gender identified. That is gradually – oh so slowly – beginning to change. So why, during the bulk of my life, when I thought of myself, it was nearly always in terms of gender-neutral? Well… I think there are a lot of reasons.

The most obvious is probably the childhood sexual abuse. When I was a kid – 7, 8, 9 years old, I did not want to be a girl. For awhile, I even wished I was a boy. Boys had all the power. Boys hurt people – girls got hurt. As I built barriers inside to protect myself, especially after the sexual abuse stopped. I had no ability to relate to normal kid things – socially, I didn’t fit and didn’t know how to. And the pressure as you go into Junior High to start dating and liking boys, was confusing and sometimes excruciating. And I knew I wasn’t normal. I knew I would never be normal. And I knew that if anyone knew what had been done to me, I would never be accepted – I would have a ‘reputation’ – I would be pitied at best and rejected as ruined at worst. So, rather than trying to fit into those roles, I simply withdrew into my own world where gender was of no importance.

All of this happened in the late 60s and early 70s. So there was the added pressure of the very public feminist movement – Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem. And we went to a fairly conservative small town church. My aunt was a staunch feminist. My mom was critical – no, condescending – toward her. I remember when I was 11 and began to enter puberty, my aunt took me aside and told me I needed to decide, right now, whether I was going to start wearing a bra or not. My mom gave me no such option. My aunt would interrupt in mid sentence to correct from ‘lady’ to ‘woman’. She would go into lecture mode if any man in the public arena called her ‘sweetie’ or ‘sugar’ or some other such word. Hmm…. She would wear bib-overalls with no shirt or bra underneath. She really didn’t inspire me to her cause with these things.

Meanwhile, my mom was above all that ‘feminist nonsense’, as she seemed to view it. I think she felt like it made women look ridiculous, or something. She was definitely not a fan of Friedan or Steinem – and was not shy about expressing her opinion about them. I remember when Billie Jean King challenged Bobby Riggs to a “Battle of the Sexes” tennis match. King beat Riggs handily and I remember my mom saying some derogatory things about the match. But I was secretly rooting for King and felt a small sliver of validation when she won…. I was 10 at the time. Hmm… actually, what I felt was more like relief that she had won. Interesting.

This was all in the backdrop of being heavily involved in various Assemblies of God churches (my dad’s job required us to move a lot). I know A of G is supposed to be egalitarian and allowing women to be ordained and all – and the position paper they put out in August of 2010 is very cool – but the reality in my life in the 60s and 70s was that women needed to stay in their place. Maybe this was as much societal as church. I don’t know, but the reality was that no matter which way I looked, TV, family, church… It was just better – more profitable – to be a boy. And I did not want to be pressed into the female mold that I saw, so I retreated from gender as much as was possible. Hmm… when I was in 8^th grade, I was at a marching band competition. I loved band and marching band. I played the trombone and I was first chair. It was lunch time and the guy who sat second chair to me, Pete, and I were sitting under a tree eating our lunch. His mom came up to me and said, “You should play a more feminine instrument and let a boy have first chair in a boy’s instrument.” What? How did gender get in the middle of my favorite class? Pete was so embarrassed by his mom.

The message I heard growing up was clear. It basically sucked to be female. The message came mostly in subtle, not blatant and easily definable ways. It came from church. It came from the media/TV. It came from family. It came from society at large. It came from those that used me even when I was only 2 years old. And this what it said:

·         Girls are to be conquered, boys are conquerors

·         Girls are to be controlled, boys get to do what they want

·         Girls are to be used, boy can say no

·         Girls have no power, boys have all the power

·         Girls are weak, boys are strong

·         Girls, once used, are dirty

·         Girls should follow, boys get to lead

·         Girls are to blame, boys get sympathy

·         Boys are the boss, girls better get in line

·         Boys are designed to lead, girls are designed to follow

·         Boys get more privileges, girls are restricted

·         If a boy hurts you, people take his side

·         IF you hurt a boy, people take his side

·         Boys get away with things, girls get in trouble

·         Boys are celebrated, girls are tolerated

So how does that all shake out now that I am quickly approaching 50? Well, I have rejected church, in general. I have walked away from my parents – haven’t talked to my mom in close to 4 years. I don’t really watch much TV – avoid advertising to the degree that I reasonably can. I read a lot of different blogs and have gained a new respect for my aunt – and for Friedan and Steinem. And I have been in therapy for over 4 years. And I pursue God. And I am gradually beginning to believe that it is okay to be a daughter of God. I have begun to think of myself as a girl, a woman – tentatively, cautiously – like trying on a new coat, unsure if there is something in the pocket that might bite. I have reached the place where I kind of think it might be okay to be female….

Other synchoblog participants:

Michelle Morr Krabill - Why I Love Being A Woman
Marta Layton - The War on Terror and the War on Women

Ellen Haroutunian - March Synchroblog: All About Eve 

Jeremy Myers - Women Must Lead the Church

Carol Kuniholm - Lenten Submission: Rethinking Hupotasso

Wendy McCaig - Letting Junia Fly: Releasing the Called

Tammy Carter - Pat Summitt: Changing the Game & Changing the World
Kathy Escobar - Replacing the "f" Word With the "d" Word (No, Not Those Ones!) 
Melody Hanson - Call Me Crazy, But I Talk to Jesus (Thoughts On Being A Christian Woman In the 21st Century)
Glenn Hager - Walked Into A Bar
Steve Hayes - St. Christina of Persia
Leah Sophia - March Synchroblog: All About Eve
Liz Dyer - The Problem Is Not That I See Sexism Everywhere, The Problem Is That You Don't
Sonja Andrews - International Women's Day
Sonnie Swenston-Forbes - The Women: Named And Unnamed
Christine Sine - It All Begins With Love
K W Leslie - Undoing the Subordination of Women
Carrie Good - The Math of Mr. Cardinal  
Dan Brennan - Ten Women I Want To Honor

======================================================================

Here are some links if you care to dig into the answer to patriarchy yourself: God’s Word to Women, Suzanne’s   Bookshelf, Assemblies of God Position Paper on Women in Ministry – August 2010, Margaret Fell: Women Speaking Justified.

And here are some links to examples of some of the more tame, main-stream doctrines in the ‘biblical patriarchy’ camp so you know this stuff isn't made up: Vision Forum: The Tenets of Biblical Patriarchy, Council On Biblical Manhood and Womanhood: Evangelical Feminism and Biblical Truth by Wayne Grudem.

Tragedy....

Hmm.... this may be a difficult post. I've read two things tonight and both have moved me deeply. Hmm... and oddly, the topics are very closely connected although the sources have no connection at all.

This first is the 2nd piece in a series that Kathy Escobar is doing on the beautitudes called blessed are those who mourn.

This second is a 4,000 word suicide letter written by Bill Zeller telling (for the first time) about being raped as a child and how that affected him.

They both made me cry. At first, I thought it was for different reasons, but really, they are the same seen from a little different angle.

They are both about the pain of abuse and our need to examine that pain and let it out. In reading Kathy's post, I was reminded of the point I reached, 4 years ago, when I finally started giving a voice to the memories, the images, and they started to form a pattern... and I told someone, for the first time, what was actually done to me. It was like poison being drawn out. I am in debt to the friend who was willing to listen - who understood what was going on.... and for the next two days, I laid on her couch and cried...and slept....and cried.... and she let me. And that was the beginning of letting that incredible pain out.

And then I read Mr. Zeller's suicide note. And as I type this, I am crying. The words he wrote are very familiar. Very. And my heart breaks because he didn't find someone to tell.... and I went back 23 years ago when I tried to take my life. And I thought some of the same things. I really believed that people might feel a little bad for a couple of weeks and then get over it and be better off.... And I took a bottle of Darvon.... and told God I was sorry as I started to fade.... and woke up 24 hours later.... and I know that God had intervened. And, at the time, I was disappointed. Now, I'm not. I am glad I am still here. But then....

I think of Mr. Zeller and what he went through and I wish like hell I would have had a chance to talk to him - eye to eye - and tell him there is a way to get that fucking darkness out of the driver's seat. There is only one way. Shine the freakin' light of day on it and TALK ABOUT IT. It is the most difficult barrier I have ever broken through - when i went to my first counseling session after I had started to really remember details, my hands shook as I filled out the form. When I called a local hot-line to get numbers of counselors, I took the cordless phone and hid in my bedroom, scrunched up on the bed and could not speak above a whisper. I was scared. But I had had a taste of what it was like for the pain to bleed out and that gave me strength - motivation. And I had someone who cared - and who needed me. I had a reason to try. I had gotten a glimpse of an idea that maybe I wasn't just fundamentally bad....

It's funny. I was just talking to that friend this week about new details that have surfaced - I had come to the realization that at the age of three years old, I was faced with this dilemma.... at 2, I had been molested and told to forget it, never tell, big trouble.....and at 3, I saw a Billy Graham movie about teenage sex with a message of - at least the one that yelled at me was - REPENT! And at 3, how do you repent for something when you can't talk about it? I know, I know, I didn't do anything wrong - but that 3 year old didn't know that. And man, has that dilemma messed with me my whole life.... and I want to take that little girl and hold her and tell her she is not bad and that I am so sorry that happened.... And as I read Mr. Zeller's letter, I wished I could have done the same for him. Just held him and told him he was not bad. Hold on and talk about it and it will almost annihilate you - almost. But then, it will start to get better and the darkness will abate and lose it's power and the dark days will start to be outnumbered by the good days.... just don't give up.

But I also understand the soul weariness that says, "I'm done. I can't do this anymore." Bill Zeller, may God gather you in his arms and give you the true comfort and peace you deserve.

Don't Give Up & Other Random Thoughts.....

Hmm.... what a roller-coaster ride life can be.

I have been desiring for some time, to have clarity about the events that happened when I was 2. Last fall, I got a 'gut feeling' concerning the gist of it and touched on that in my post from October. But last night, while having an imaginary argument with my mom....

Me: Don't you understand how what you said to me - what you did affected my whole perception of God - made me feel like it was all my fault?

Mom: Well, it was your fault...

Me: What do you mean it was my fault? I was 2 freakin' years old! How was it my fault? I just toddled in on him while he was jacking off...


Then my brain shut down and I felt like I had been kicked. But the image of that moment was there as those words tumbled out and it is still with me. And I feel a little sick. I know there is more... but I have hope now that I will reach a place of clarity and resolve with this, even if I never actually talk to my mother again.

And then I wake up this morning to a debt collector calling.... and my car is in serious need of help.... and I still don't have a job... and unemployment benefits run out in about 10 weeks.....

And it is all very heavy. And yet, even writing about it, a little peace is seeping in. But the old familiar pain - the pain I haven't felt this intensely for a long time - is back, like a weight on my chest - ebbing and surging in waves.

Hmm... and through this, a steady conversation with God. And learning to relax in his peace and quit trying to "DO" something. Hmm... and that makes me think about how I have gotten to where I am with Him. It is definitely still a work in progress, but I realize that the past few years have not been about me trying to redefine who God is (Kripes, THAT is a tall and futile order). It has been about learning to let Him define Himself to me - not destroying what I thought I knew and building something else... It has been more a precess of peeling away the layers of definition piled on by Religion, family, society and getting back to what I knew as a very small child - getting back to WHO I knew as that small child.

And that has been a journey that requires willingness to look at my own history with honesty that alienates family and even friends (or so-called). It requires wanting to know what my mother said to me when I was 2 that twisted up that knowledge.

And I still struggle with GUILT, and FEAR and SHAME and all the usual suspects. After the phone call this morning, I had to fight through shear panic just to get showered and dressed and OUT OF THE HOUSE. Got some oil for my car and off to Starbucks to get online and look for a job and check in on friends and write....

And the only thing I am really sure of at this point is that, on a deep knowing level, God is real and the things I need will be on that path when I need them... and the only thing that is required of me is that I don't give up, don't quit - and to be clear, not quitting isn't about beliefs or religion - it is about living. Don't give up on moving down the path....

Update....

Wow. Time flies. Here it is 3 months since my last post.... and I'm sitting in Starbucks again using their free wifi....

Well, I have been unemployed now for 3 1/2 weeks. Waiting for (hoping) unemployment to kick in - looking for a job... and finding myself emotionally back in the grinder again. Hmm... maybe while I was working, I didn't have the energy to think too much... haha.

Seriously, the fears of inadequacy - of not being good enough, deserving enough - have surfaced again. And I feel like I have regressed 2 years, and yet I am not as bad as I was then (most of the time). But I realized I still fight the feeling, when I go in to interview for a job or apply for unemployment or register with the local jobs agency, that I have a fear of being in trouble - being told I did it wrong, and therefore not getting any help. And I recognize that goes back to when I was little and the parental tendency to tell me that when I messed up, it was my fault - no help. No comfort, just a lesson. Recognizing it helps some, but it is still tiring. And I am in the place right now where I have just paid November's rent and now have no money and am hoping unemployment kicks in this week....

And, I am back to remembering things from childhood... when I was 2. And I recognize what happened and who did it and that my mother and his mother both knew and covered it up. And that my mom insured my silence by employing religious threats - by somehow making it about hurting God if I talked.... shit! I can't remember exact words or the complete thing, but there are enough fragments that I am mostly settled on the gist of it. And I don't know what to do with it. Part of me wants to look the young man (he was about 16 at the time) and his mother up - I know where she is - and just ask them what the hell happened. But that is a scary proposition.... so.... I will have to work up to that, I think.

Back to the means my mom employed to keep my silence. Talk about a foundational religious twisting - I can't tell anyone or God will be mad at me because it will hurt the church... or something to that effect. And a 2 year old is supposed to be able to process that shit. I think the only thing that really stuck was that I had been bad and God was mad at me.... and that has stayed with me my whole life.

It boggles my mind that these two women, knowing what had happened when I was about 2 1/2, would, when I was 3, have me participate in the defacing of pornographic pictures on the perpetrators bedroom wall. I just can't get my head around how they would think that was okay... in any way... even if nothing had happened....

Ah, well. So , in the midst of this, my mom was taken to the hospital and in ICU for a few days. And there was no emotion for that. Only sadness at the lack of emotion, if that makes sense. I haven't talked to her in about 2 years. And I really have no desire to now. A friend suggested I talk to her about the things that happened when I was 2, but I don't think that would be productive. I think she would pretend not to know and try to convince me that I was mistaken, as she has with so many other things I have brought up. So, I will just keep processing - and job hunting - and trying not to panic... ;-)

You have no right....

Hmmm..... this one has been brewing for a while. In essence, it is simply this foundational belief that I have no right to sympathy or comfort. Why? Because if someone hurts me, it is my own fault for being weak or stupid or niave...

This concept has controlled a lot of my interactions in the past in ways I wasn't aware of. It has only been the last couple of months - through therapy both in a professional setting and with a friend - that I have even been able to pin it down enough to put it into wards. To many of you, it may sound patently ridiculous. But I have realized that this is a concept that was trained into me from the very beginning.

I was talking to a friend about it a couple of months ago, right after it first came out in words in therapy. As I was talking, it was almost as if my mouth was saying things my conscious mind didn't know.... I said, "This concept that I don't have the right to feel pain and ask for help - sympathy - comfort - goes back to when I was 2 and my mother said...." And at that moment, my mind shut down like a steel door slamming shut and I realized that I had almost seen something I've been trying to get a handle on for a while - what, exactly, it was that happened when I was 2 1/2. My mind is not ready to let me see that, but what I did get was a sense that whatever it was, my mother was aware of it and told me to essentially get over it, it was not a big deal... it was somehow my fault.... And I can get no further with that at the moment.

But as I have thought about it, there are other incidents. I remember when was 3 I found this stuffed gray cat lying somewhere. My mom let me keep it, but made sure I knew how gross it was to take a used toy you found laying around. She washed it.... And I named it Graytor. And I took him with me everywhere. It was almost like having a pet. :-) My mom has a picture of me sitting on the curb outside my aunt's house in Denver reading a Mad Magazine and the cat tucked under my arm - I was 3. Fast forward a couple of years. Still toting this cat around. And it is time for me to start school. I remember mom warning me to leave the cat at home. Warning that if I took it to school, I would lose it or it would get stolen. Warning me how horrible I would feel if that happened. But I never went anywhere without that cat. So, to school we went. And at recess, playing on the playground - there was this huge stump. It was the size of a table - at least to us little 5 year olds. And I left my cat lying on that stump at the end of recess. And even now, I can't explain how I forgot about it. But I didn't realize that I had left it on the playground until I got home and it wasn't there. I begged mom to take me back to the school. She told me that there was no way it was still going to be there, but she consented to take me so that I could be sure. And sure enough, it was gone. I was devastated. And I'm not sure what made me feel worse: the fact that it was gone or the fact that it was my own careless stupidity that caused it to be gone. And there was no sympathy or comfort. Only the stark fact that she had warned me and I should have listened.

There are many little incidents.

When I was 4, I gave my piggy bank to the neighbor boy in exchange for some toy (can't remember what). My mom was very up set. She made the boy give it back and told me I was naive and easily taken advantage of and needed to smarten up. I was 4! (I didn't get my piggy bank back - she kept it.)

If I cried, I was spoiled. She used to say that when I would go and spend a few days with either of my grandparents, it would take her two weeks to "straighten me out" after they had "spoiled me."

When I was in trouble, I was sent to my room (after being whipped with a belt) and told that I had to stay there and think about what I had done and not to come out until I was prepared to tell mommy I was sorry for hurting her. This started when I was 2 years old.

In a letter that I came across a few months ago that she had written when I was about 5, she writes about me getting in trouble and that she gave me a whipping with a belt and sent me to my room. She then wrote that the person the letter was to should not worry as it didn't do any damage as I only shed a couple of small tears. Yeah. I learned early not to let them see me cry any more than I could help.

When I was 8, my grandmother died and when my mom caught me crying in bed one night, she asked me what I was crying about. I told her I missed grandma. She frowned and told me to get over it.

When I was 13, my favorite teacher accidentally killed himself. No sympthay. Why should I be upset, I didn't know him that well.....

So many times, growing up, someone would hurt me - and my mom's response was always to tell me that I must have provoked them or I just needed to toughen up...

Is it any wonder, when my cousin began sexually abusing me, that I didn't tell anyone? I still struggle with the concept that it was my fault for letting him do it...

I still struggle with the idea that I do not deserve any sympathy or help because whatever the damage is - whatever the reason for the pain - it was my own fault and I should just buck up and move on and take my consequences like a good little girl.

Hmm.... today marks one year since I have seen my mom. And the pain is still just as deep as it was then. And there is still some guilt at not seeing or talking to her. And yet, to go back to the place where she actively controls my life.....no.

I guess there is still a lot of confusion and pain here. And that should probably not be a surprise.

And you know....hmm.... forgiveness. That is an interesting topic for me - toward my mom, my dad... and toward my cousin, and all those others who sexually used me. I have thought about it and I really do not want any of them to go to hell. But I don't want to have to be around them, either. And I think that is one of the ways that the church is messed up in it's doctrine of forgive and forget. That is humanly impossible. And it is the height of stupid arrogance to tell someone who has been abused to forgive and forget - something they cannot possibly do (how do you forget?) and then tell them that unless they do, God will not forgive them and they will be in trouble with God. That is called a crazy making - telling someone they will be in trouble if they don't do what they cannot do.

Anyway, I think I have begun to just ramble, so .....

Just Get Over It...

Hmm... this may be a tough one to write. It may come out angry and fair warning, if you have been abused, there may be triggers. It's something that has sort of been forming in me the last couple of days. This is directed at family.... church family... biological family... and all those who would tell a survivor of childhood sexual abuse to "just get over it." Do you comprehend what it is you are asking?

Okay, I would ask you this. Would you go up to a war veteran who lost their legs in battle and tell them to "just get over it?"  Would you tell a woman who has just had a double mastectomy due to breast cancer to "just get over it?"  Would you go up to a father whose only son was murdered and tell him to "just get over it?" Some of you may, at this point, be getting a little uncomfortable or even annoyed - how dare I compare what I went through to that. Well, that is part of the point... how dare you make a judgment on what I went through without talking to me about it.

In all of the examples above, there is no "getting over it." There is only learning to live with it - healing enough that you can continue to live. Get over it? How? It is the same with childhood sexual abuse. I think one of the biggest things people miss about this issue, including many victims, is that if you are a victim/survivor of childhood sexual abuse, you have lost something - something that can never be regained.

What have we survivors lost?

Well, for starters , our childhood innocence. This is something that, for me, went away when I was 2 years old. That childlike innocence that allows you to trust the people around you not to hurt you is ripped away. And once it is gone, it cannot be restored. I can never regain that place where I didn't know betrayal and confusion. And how do you even put into words what it is to have NOT had that as a child? And how the HELL do you "just get over" that? My childhood was warped - twisted - dark - frightening - desperate - and I can't "just get over it." I didn't get to be just a little kid. The wounds from it can heal (and I am working on that) and I can learn to live with the scars that will forever remain (and I am working on that, too). But it is something that will always be a part of who I am. I can't get rid of it (I tried!) and I can't "just get over it."

What else have we lost? Well, our ability to trust - our ability to function normally. For me, it is pretty severe - more than I had ever allowed myself to see. Hmm... I am 46 years old and I have never had a boyfriend - never been on a date. And I am thinking about going to a chiropractor (a friend has recommended him and I have met him and I WANT to go). But I will need her to go with me because I am afraid. Even as I type this, tears are forming, because just thinking about letting this man - a DOCTOR, for crying out loud - touch me is causing mild panic - just from the thought of it, not the actual doing it. 

That is another thing. The panic - the fear. To feel - and walk through - the feelings of panic that rise up every time I go out the door. I have dealt with that for so long that I had gotten to the place where I thought it was normal and hardly noticed it anymore. But it is NOT normal to feel fear every time you leave your house. I have rarely let it stop me from going somewhere, but it is always there. To feel panic every time a man is nice to me is not normal. The ability to have a normal relationship is another thing that is lost. My friend and my therapist tell me I will be able to, eventually. We'll see....

And then there is the pain - the anger - that you are not allowed to feel, not allowed to show - so you stuff it down deep. And your ability to see yourself as normal - as valuable - as not "damaged goods" or "tainted" or "spoiled" or "ruined." The church places such a strong emphasis on being a virgin. So did my family, for that matter (ha!). How is a 7 year old girl supposed to cope with that information - that demand - when that is something that has already been taken away from her?

Part of the process of healing requires recognizing what was lost, where the damage is. It requires being allowed to acknowledge what was lost and being allowed to mourn that loss.

Hmm.... I am reaching the limit of what I can process right now, so this will have to do. But those of you in churches - and families - please, please, do NOT tell someone who has been sexually abused as a child (or as an adult, for that matter) to "just get over it." It is, quite literally, like driving a dagger into their heart, emotionally. It adds to the damage....

Just Quit Being...

I'm damaged.

No you're not.

Yes, I'm damaged. It hurts.

Well, it's your own fault.

What? 

It's your own fault. You damaged yourself.

I damaged myself? 

Yes.

How...?

By thinking about it and dwelling on it.

Um, no... that's not what damaged me....

Yes, it is.

No. Someone else damaged me. I am not the one who put their your-know-what where it didn't belong.

Well (frowning).... but continuing to dwell on that is what damaged you.

No!

Well, fine. But now it's time to stop.

Stop what?

Being damaged.

Stop being damaged?

Yes. Fine, you were damaged. Now, stop.

Stop? How do I stop?

You just heal, then you stop being damaged.

Just heal? How do I heal?

By not thinking about it.

Not thinking about it?

Yes. Stop thinking about it. Then you will heal and quit being damaged.

I can't stop thinking about it.

You don't want to stop thinking about it.

Umm...?

If you wanted to, you would just stop thinking about it. Then you would quit damaging yourself.

Okay, but....

Now....

Um...I will quit thinking about it...

Yes...

I will quit being damaged...

Good...

I will quit being damaged....

About time, too.

I will quit being...

That's enough. Leave it alone, now.

It still hurts.

Well.... you just aren't trying hard enough.

How....?

You don't really want it.

But...

You don't care how you make others feel.

I'm sorry.

You make your own problems.

I'm sorry.

Don't expect others to help you fix your own stupid stuff.

No, I'm sorry.

Good...

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...

A Window Into The Mind Of One Abused...

Hmm... I have been reading some journals I wrote in around a year ago. It has been interesting. One in particular I wanted to share. It will give some insight, maybe, to what abuse does to the mental processes. 

I am open to comments on what you guys see in this. It is essentially an entry that turns into a written prayer and I think it is pretty revealing of the damage done. It was written about one year after I walked away from the church I was a leader at... I am not in the same mental space now - mostly - sometimes....

1-25-08

"Hmm... fears: that I'll end up acting like my mother - being like my mother... that no matter what I do, I will never be right and I should not relax - feel safe - because it will be taken away... ... Papa, I'm having a hard time seeing out of this one - I don't see the future anymore. I don't see my purpose anymore. I don't see the way up from here. There is a lot of emotional pressure and I don't know, even, if it is self-inflicted or what it is. Papa, I'm only human. I am not strong. I wish I was. I know Your Word says I am strong in You and the power of Your might. But I don't feel it. Papa, I can't live like this. Remember when I tried to die twenty years ago and I said I was sorry? I still am. I am so tired. I know. I'm supposed to just relax and trust you. I want to. I don't seem to know how to relax - how to trust. I know we're supposed to be thankful for the life we've been given. And I am thankful for the life Jesus gave. But I look at this pain... Jesus, how? How do I be thankful for being abused? It hurts and I don't see any prospect for relief. I don't seem to be getting better. My aunt and my friend say I am better, but I don't feel any better and I don't see any prospects in that direction. So what am I doing? Going through the motions of living. Waves of pain interspersed with patches of coldness. I just want to rest, but I don't seem to be able to. 

Okay. You said it's okay that I don't know how to do this. 'You've never walked through not being abandoned before. You're not being abandoned.' Okay. I'm not being abandoned and I don't know what that looks like to recognize it. Hmm... the implication is that up until now, I have been abandoned and that that is not my twisted imagination...

You know, we all need something to look forward to... small and big things. Achievable goals. Hmm... THAT brings a rise in the anxiety level. Hmm...

Yes, I know that all who are Christ's have a wonderful eternity to look forward to, but if that is the only thing I have to look forward to, then let's get on with it. Hmm... we need tangible things IN THIS LIFE to look forward to, or there is no joy, no hope - no life. Jesus, you said that You came to give us life and more abundant life - show me how to do that. I don't believe that requires ceasing to care about other people. That flies in the face of everything You taught. So... help me see how to do this. Help me heal. Help me not give up. Thank You."

Even Odder Space - Update...

Hmm... wow, a month since I posted. I guess I don't have much I know how or am comfortable putting into words right now.

Images that I grew up being taught were evil thoughts that needed to be resisted are turning out to be very early memories...

I experienced, over Christmas break, what it might mean to be part of a loving family. God, that is hard to say without feeling guilty - I mean, my family is loving (twitch)........ sigh.

I am in an emotional/spiritual/mental state of limbo... I'm not sure what is happening or what is next. Just putting one foot in front of the other... go to work, come home, cry... or play a video game or watch a movie to distract my mind from the pain, sleep (sort of), get up, repeat...

Feeling very alienated and alone and disconnected. Need more good friends. Don't have the emotional reserves to build that... my emotions - anger, sadness - are bubbling just under the surface (or not, as the moment may be) and I am not sure how to handle them...

Well, that's the update, such as it is. I have been assured that I am making progress, even if it doesn't feel like it. *shrug*

Life and stuff...

Wow, it's been a while since I posted. A lot going on. Sometimes the processing is hard to put into words.

So, I guess to catch you all up, I'll just try a little free-form itemized kind of recap....

My cousin sent me a copy of The Shack, which I have been avoiding because I just get stubborn when anyone tells me I 'should' read something. Takes all the fun out of it for me 'cause now it feels like there are expectations that I will like it as much as they do and want to talk about it... Well, it is a well written book with some powerful things in it and it has pissed me off. Because some of the issues that are in the forefront for me right now... the answers given in this book did not sit well. And I am not sure what to do with that.

My mind and emotions are not getting better as fast as I want them to. I feel like I am going backward. But when I brought that up with my therapist today, she said that I am making good progress. I am delving deeper into the issues. Okay. Delving deeper hurts more - makes it feel like I'm going backward when I'm not. I can see that logically, but it still hurts and I still have moments when I break down and cry - often.

Last Sunday (the 25th), my mom was taken to the hospital and put in ICU. Her throat closed and she couldn't breath. This has happened before. The docs can't figure out the root. She called me on Monday and told me she was in the hospital. I didn't much care (or at least it didn't feel like I did), and that bothers me a little. She went home on Friday, but in the meantime, my sis and I talked on the phone several times and I thought things were going to be good between us. She said she understood that I couldn't go see mom and she was okay with it. She would keep me updated as needed. but then she posted on her blog. Stark reminder for me why I blog under a pseudonym. What she wrote hurt - trust evaporated. Sigh. I did call mom once. She's as manipulative as ever...

I spent my first ever Thanksgiving alone. And it was nice to not have the family pressure.

I realized, while listening to a friend talk about a worship service, at least another part of why that (worship services - church) makes my skin crawl. I still don't trust myself not to be sucked in and deceived again. Ugh. And I am pissed off at preachers in general - the Institutional Church, in general - and the whole religious thing. I'm pissed off that I was used and abused and lied to. Bound in chains of fear from early childhood. I'm pissed that I don't know what the fuck the truth is. And it scares me that I don't know what the fuck the truth is. I'm still afraid that my mom and the IC are right and I'm going to end up having to grovel back. I'm pissed that my mom is telling my molester that she doesn't know why I won't call her or see her.

My heart wants to be lost in Papa - I want to hide  - disappear in Jesus, but I am not sure I even know what that means anymore. 

In a nutshell, I am a scared little girl and I don't know what is expected of me. And I just want a nice dark comfy closet to hide in - to be safe in. And I don't know where to find that.

So, maybe, after this post, it's a good thing I haven't blogged much lately. :-) Sorry for the rawness, but I need to get some of this out.

A Good Parent, Part II...

Hmm... Ever since I wrote the last post, this has been in my mind. I guess because it is foundational to how I view parents... Here's the thing...

"Don't bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need. This is not a cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek game we're in. If your little boy asks for a serving of fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? If your little girl asks for an egg, do you trick her with a spider? As bad as you are, you wouldn't think of such a thing - you're at least decent to your own children. And don't you think the father who conceived you in love will give the Holy Spirit when you ask him?" Luke 11:10-13 (Message)

This verse has always bothered me. It is supposed to be a statement - an illustration that gives hope - peace - that Papa God will not trick us and play games with us. But it has never had that effect on me. This week, I think I understand why - and why it is hard to trust the idea of a 'good' parent. See, I can imagine my mother (and even, on occasion, my father) playing this kind of trick on me. And finding it uproariously funny and not even noticing that it caused hurt and confusion. They were both, in different ways, practical jokers. Mom, especially, would go to great lengths to set up elaborate and complicated practical jokes all for that moment - the payoff - when the person - the victim - gets had - the look on their face - their reaction. And there is not any consideration of how this might affect them - if it might hurt them. All for the fleeting moment of triumph - gotcha - that is achieved. 

So... I struggle with the concept that Papa God will not lead me on to play a trick on me - and then leave me with no recourse, stranded and alone. Like I said in last week's post, I know He is not like that... but I am not 100% sure - I don't trust it... yet... I am not to the place where the little girl inside trusts that Papa God will not just use her for His own ends, too...