Wounded Healers

So, I guess it might be one of those "back to square one" moments.

Let me explain myself. I know this may seem rather annoying, but I just realized that, in so many words, something I'd thought I'd gotten over I actually haven't. It just came back with a new face. The name of this nasty "thing"? Listening to the Mirror.

Once upon a time the evil Queen asked her Mirror who was the fairest in all the land. Ever since that day, we humans have looked to mirrors, both real and metaphysical, to define us. Not that I'm bashing real mirrors. I rather like the real ones, because they're nice enough to tell me whether I look nice or like a slob, or when I have a pimple that looks like a third eye protruding from the middle of my forehead. What I hate are the metaphysical ones. Because the fact is the old saying, "Mirrors never lie" is false in and of itself.

Now, I guess in reality, I'm not talking about mirrors but about Satan. I'm talking about how he just loves to make me look at a warped view of myself, a destructive window to my soul, and then try to take away every single shred of joy or happiness I could try to have. He makes me focus on my failures to the point where I'm completely blinded to anything but them. And I begin to despair because of those failures. I guess I'm kind of good at that. In fact, from what my friends keep telling me, I tend to focus on everything I do wrong a lot. But, because I am me, a recovering perfectionist and a rather hurt soul, I see what I do wrong a lot more than I see what I do right.

And for me, because I know I struggle with pride, it feels a lot safer to focus on everything about me that I hate, that I don't like or that I do wrong than what I like about myself and what I do right. I know that it seems rather stupid, but it makes sense in my mind. Plus, after years upon years of doing it, it's become a habit.

And of course other thoughts revolve in my head about this, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to read them. Knowing and commiserating with my struggle is one thing. Hearing about it constantly, without any hope of resolution, of any healing or end? Well, who'd want to read about that?

Ironically, I was taught a truth about myself from the most unlikely place: Grumpy the dwarf. In the show Once Upon A Time, he says to Snow White that pain is important. Rather than take anything that could make him forget, he'd rather hold on to the pain. It made him who he was, became a part of his character. it made him Grumpy.

Now, I'm not saying being a grumpy person is a good thing! Been there, done that, looking for a lighter so I can burn the T-shirt. But the fact is that we "walking wounded," as Henri Nouwen might put it, are wounded healers. We know pain, we know hurt, and because of that we know how to help others with the pain. We know the pain. We know the deep, deep hurt. We wounded healers know the how deep the depths of despair can be. We know the feelings of hopelessness, so we know how to give hope. We see where people are, and we can show them the light by which we see so they can leave the pits, the valleys of Death's enormous shadows.

Now that may seem like wishful thinking on my part, but I know this to be true. Not that I have helped others, but because I have been helped by others. Others who have gone through the same things. And others who have found ways out of the pain of failure. People who have found victory.

These people have led me to Christ. He, who is the Ultimate Wounded Healer, knows the pain of despair. He knows what it feels like to lose hope. He knows abandonment. But He also knows how to heal those hurts. And it's to Him I point you all. It's Him that I praise, though sometimes my voice falls silent. But even in silence, hope and love are found.

Holy is the Lord, and most worthy of praise.

God, Give Me Strength

Okay, I guess I owe all you readers another apology. I haven't been posting regularly like I promised myself I would. I know, that's not a real big thing. I mean, it's not like I have a huge fan-base waiting with bated breath just for my next blog post. But I know that many blogs are started, but not regularly kept, and often just abandoned. I don't want to do that, but be faithful and do what I know I should.

So, I do owe you an apology. I guess I also owe one to myself. I made the promise to myself and broke it. And I know this seems all too personal and silly. After all, as long as I post who cares what resolutions I break or so on and so fifth. (I know it's supposed to be "forth", but it's my own small joke. Inflation goes up still, so why not use it in words, where number hide all the time?)

But one of the reasons I don't post very often I guess is because I'm not sure what to say. I don't know what you, my readers, need or want to hear, so I simply keep my mouth shut. That and dealing with homework tends to keep me on my toes, like it or not. I know, I signed up for this. Worse, I'm paying for it. But hey, I will persevere, somehow.

I guess one thing I will share with you all is my ongoing struggle with identity. Specifically, my identity in Christ.

Since I'm in college, I've been taking time to somewhat reinvent myself, try new things and figure out what is me and what is just me posing as someone else. I try to determine what I like, as opposed to copying what my friends like or what my family enjoys. And along with that, I'm trying to figure out who I am when my family's not looking over my shoulder. I'm trying to sort out all the baggage that came with me, both physical and emotional,(I'll admit, I moved in the end of August, and I still have a mess lurking in my closet because I haven't sorted and organized everything, though I know what all I brought) and figure out who I am besides just how I feel. I'm trying to look beyond what I feel to know what's true, regardless of emotion.

In that process, as friends have reminded me time and time again, I have to remember who Christ says I am. I can't say how grateful I am to my friends for their patience with me in this matter. Amazing I know. Born and raised in the church, having read the entire Bible through a couple times, and having gone to both a private Christian school and College, I still wrestle with knowing who God says I am and making that an integral part of my identity.

All too often I have this painful tendency to believe lies that have embedded themselves in my ID, like a parasite or a computer virus. It's almost as though whenever I'm faced with a challenge or become scared, I retreat to my old false self, the one that quivers in a corner, afraid of being discovered. Afraid of everything.

And living in fear hurts. Running and hiding hurts. I don't know how many times I have missed things that would have been fun and amazing because I decided "it would be best for everyone if I disappeared." Because I thought I needed to exit out of people's lives like an actor in a theater. And while doing that, I made myself lonely. I made myself be alone.

And one of the things I'll admit I fear desperately is being alone, living without friends or family. A picture comes to my mind of living in a large wood house, having every material thing I ever wanted, yet looking out the window of a dark library room to see dark clouds and driving rain outside. Inside the house is only one living soul: me. Only me. And that's how it always is. That's how it always will be.

That scares me because I can't stand the thought of living alone, my life wasting away because I deemed it "my lot" to be alone. Or worse, I found a way to drive off all of my friends and am alone because of my own foolish actions.

You want to know something ironic? That same house and solitude used to be a dream I adored. I thought all I wanted was peace and solitude to write. All I thought I needed was an office, a library and a large house and I would be happy. People? Who needs them? They'll only get in my way.

Now I see that such a life is empty, truly empty. If I gain all I thought would make me happy yet have no one to share it with, what have I accomplished?

Nada. Nothing.

And yes, I have gone off on a tangent, but I'm good at that. Really good. But to get back to my point, I struggle with not retreating back to the man I used to be. I try to remember the new man God created me to become. I don't exactly know who this man is. I know that I want to be him though. I hope that God will give me the strength to persevere to become that man He created me to be.

I wonder who his identity is. Or rather in Whom is his identity. Okay, maybe I don't wonder. I know. But I really desperately hope he's better at remembering his true identity that I am. I hope I become him. I hope God says, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

I admit that's what I want most. To hear God says he's proud of me.

Hopefully, I'll hear that someday.

Holy is the Lord, and most worthy of praise.

Scars

Hey all. Sorry I'm late this week. it's finals week, so I got a little behind. 

As I've talked about in other posts, I've been dealing with identity issues. One of those issues has been Whether or not I am lovable.

I'm really good at going back and forth on this one. I know at times that God loves me, but other times I feel completely unworthy of His love. Not in a humbling sense but in a wretched sense. More like I'm too horrible for Him to love and I don't deserve it.

Right now part of the issue I'm dealing with is my scars. Not physical ones, though I have plenty of those. I'm dealing with scars left from past wounds and pain. While the pain has healed, scars remain, deforming my heart.

When I look in the mirror, I see a scarred, broken, ugly man. When I see myself, I cry out in agony because I feel as though I have lost all claims to beauty in anyone's sight. Even God's. How can I be a wonderful creation of God when people run and hide at the true sight of my deformed visage. How can I be beautiful in God's eyes when I know people would cower if they saw the darkness in my soul and the scars crisscrossing my heart?

I feel like a two-faced person. Half of my face looks fine, with smooth skin covering my features. But the other half, the half no one sees, is deformed by scars from the wounds of cruel sadistic claws raking my face and soul.

It's a battle to find the truth. While I know countless verses telling me how much God loves me and how precious I am in His sight, I have a hard time truly believing it. I want to believe. But I hear another voice whisper in my ear, one that tells me of my scars, tells me how ugly and horrific I am. How unlovable I am. I've heard the voice so long it begins to sound like the truth.

How do you battle against lies that sound like the truth? How do you fight something that is branded on your soul? How do you win when your enemy has you pinned to the ground, impaling you in the dirt? How can you defend yourself when your sword is knocked away, your arm immobilized, while your enemy tortures you by whispering seeming-truths in your ear telling you how he's won the battle?

While I know you readers might be hoping for answers, I have to admit I'm still questioning at this point. I want to fight. I want to reclaim the beauty of being God's creation. I want answers. But I wonder if I'll get them. Or if I'll be able to hear them over my enemy's victory screech.

One day, I know I'll understand this. One day I will see God restore beauty to this scarred man. And for that I wait and pray.

Holy is the LORD and most worthy of praise.

New ID

Identity. Seems like an easy concept. In the military, you are issued a card with your name, birth date, Social Security Number, and picture, among other things. Sounds simple. But as I've painfully found out, it's not simple.

This last year, I've been forced to recreate my own identity. Some parts I've kept, but I've had to redefine who I am in many areas. It's not easy.

Half the process is tearing down the old Identity. Any lies I've assimilated or accepted as truth have to go. That process in and of itself is painful and difficult. It's like ripping off old wallpaper in a room to find the walls underneath.

Maybe not. That's a little too easy by comparison. It's more like peeling dead skin off a really bad sunburn on your back. Painful, disgusting, and messy. And you have to be careful not to rip off some living, healthy skin, since you can't quite see which is which. You can feel it, but you can't actually see it.

While dealing away with all the lies, I also have to find out the truth. I have to find true pieces of my Identity to put in the places the lies took. That's hard too. I have to test each one, make sure it's true, and then accepting it into my Identity. Of course, That's a lot like getting an organ replaced. In real life, you might have to take anti-rejection drugs to stay healthy and keep the organ thriving. I have to do that a lot with my new ID. Except I don't have anti-rejection drugs, which makes the process a lot more difficult.

This last week I've struggled with my ID a lot. Mostly with part of me, a very big dominating part, wanting to reject vital parts of the truth I have to live with. Parts of my Identity are painful and ugly. But I can't change them. The problem is I want to.

I have never tried to claim I lead a normal life. In fact, I have often thought of the word "normal" with a mental sneer. But after seeing what "normal" is, and how different and attractive it is as compared to my own life, I have to admit I want it. Even thought that would mean changing so many things in my past. No one is completely normal, mind you, but some people are closer to "normal" than others. They're closer to an ideal type of life, though that may be ideal only to me.

It's torturous to want to change the past to remove some of the vital parts of your ID. Changing the past is impossible. But that does nothing but make the desire to change it stronger and more painful.

Even worse is seeing the ID you want in your friends, coveting it for your own. It makes the pain less bearable because you see and know exactly what you want, but it is eternally out of reach. And if you're a Christian like me, it makes you feel guilty and worthless because you're coveting (and yes, that's EXACTLY what it is) something your friends have and breaking one of God's commandments.

That is my struggle for this week. And for Lord only knows how much longer. Hopefully, my identity will be complete one day. But until that day comes, I will be trying to love God with everything that is in me.

Holy is He and worthy of Praise.