Weakness and Tears

"Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it." Albert Smith

I learned to fight. I learned to fight to survive. And to never show weakness. To show weakness meant defeat.

And he had taught me - his fist in my face, 'don't you dare cry.' I never did. I swallowed the fear. I forced myself to be strong. I cut my body instead to fight the urge to give in - to buckle - to fall.

When he beat or ridiculed me - I refused to let him see how terrified I was. And when the rapist held me in that house I cried only the first time - After that - I never did. I forced myself to be strong - to never let him see my fear. When I was detained - I refused to cry. I wouldn't show them I was afraid. Instead I fought. I fought to stay strong.

I was driving back from a friend's. My 13 yr. old, then just a baby, was in the back in her car seat. Without thinking, I pulled off to the side of the road and started crying. The tears kept coming. They wouldn't stop.

I wasn't crying because I had to fight someone to stop them from hurting me. I was crying because I felt inadequate as a mother.

This baby depended on me to protect her and keep her safe. I felt overwhelmed. I had no idea how how to be a mother. I only knew how to fight - I only knew how to survive.

I cried not because of someone's hatred towards me - not because someone was hurting me. I cried because I loved this child and I didn't want her to ever feel shame and pain and fear like I had. I cried because I was afraid I couldn't give her what she needed.

Love made me cry. Not hate, not violence, not having to fight to survive.

Growing in the Rocks

"Where flowers bloom so does hope." Lady Bird Johnson

When I went to visit my sister in Israel, she took me to the top of this rocky mountain. Nothing was there - just rocks, stones, and gravel. But it was still beautiful. Maybe because it was so isolated and high. Standing there I felt like I could touch the sky.

We sat there - just the two of us - bathing in the soft wind, the warm sun and the peaceful quiet. Then she started talking, telling me how awful it was for us as kids. She talked about the beatings, the constant bullying, ridicule and name calling, being left alone - the fear, the shame, the terror. She said she was sorry she didn't protect me - that she wasn't there for me.

I was still in denial. I didn't believe it had been so bad. She told me how afraid she had been watching me slowly die from the drugs, the eating disorder - not understanding why I wouldn't or couldn't talk. She had run to her friends. I withdrew into myself trying to become invisible.

I'm not sure why we hadn't noticed them before, but there a few feet from us, two flowers, side by side were growing in the rocks. We were stunned. How could they grow in the middle of all that hardness? How could those two flowers survive and grow?

Somehow they had managed to grow without good soil or adequate rain. I looked at my sister. "We survived." My sister is older than me. And more emotional. She broke down and cried. I forced myself to be strong like I had done since I was a kid.

"It was so bad." She said. "How did we survive?"

I looked up at ths sky. I knew. I remember when my mother was dying. We lived in a tight Jewish area. I came home from school and was surprised to see a nun sitting with my mother. I think that woman prayed for us. I think God heard.

Thinking about those two flowers, I wonder if God put them there for us - to show us - even in the hard places He's there helping us to grow, helping us to be strong, keeping us safe. I need to believe that.

Hope

"If you lose hope, somehow you lose the vitality that keeps life moving, you lose that courage to be, that quality that helps you go on in spite of it all. And so today I still have a dream." Martin Luther King, Jr.

We were about the same age. Both of us stuck on a locked pysch ward. Me - to serve out my sentence for drug possession; her - I don't know. They said she was an attention seeker. She didn't look any different than anyone else, but one morning, she poured lighter fluid over her body and lit a match. Her shrill screams, the smell of burning flesh and the sight of the flames engulfing her terrified me. Once medically stable, they threw her in an isolation room. I didn't get that. Why did they punish her? It was a pretty desperate act just to get attention. Why couldn't they just give her the attention?

They didn't know I had been raped or beaten. They didn't know I had been told so many times I deserved nothing and called horrible names. All they knew is I couldn't stop hurting myself, or shooting dope or throwing up. So they pumped me full of pills or tied me to the bed like an animal. What they did was instill more hate inside me. And all that hate made me hurt myself even more.

You can't force anyone to stop self-destructive behaviour. Stopping comes only from feeling safe, feeling accepted, feeling cared about.

It's like the story of the sun and the wind. They had an arguement to see who was stronger - who could make the man take off his coat. The wind blew and tried to force the coat from the man, but only when the sun shone it's warmth, did the man remove his jacket.

The warmth of God's touch cut through my pain, my hate, my fear. It didn't happen all at once. It took time. Time for me to feel safe. Time for me to trust. First, He broke the hold of the drug addiciton. I stopped shooting dope but I still wouldn't eat and I cut myself all the time. I used to scream at God, You want to kill me? Then go ahead. Do it. I don't care. Do it already! I dare you to kill me. In the gentleness of His love, He overlooked my attitude.

Hope. I want to reach out in gentleness like God did for me. Maybe what I lived can give hope to others who live in the dark.

Changes

"I have accepted fear as a part of life..... specifically the fear of change. I have gone ahead despite the pounding in my heart that says: turn back.... Erica Jong

I hate change. Even when it's good change.

We've moved to the new place. - I know I like it. I love the quiet, being surrounded by animals, woods and water - the neighbours are great. A few have warmly welcomed us, some even jumping in wanting to give us a hand.

Everything is different here - the layout of the rooms, the appliances, even the shower in the ensuite is on the opposite side to our old house. Things still need to be set up. Boxes are everywhere. I can't find some things I want. We still need to buy some furniture.

And I want to go running, but I don't know the woods around here. Where we were, I knew them really well and always felt safe but here I don't know the trails. I need to run. I need to run in the quiet of the woods. It calms me. It gives me a sense of safety. I don't know if these woods are as safe as the ones I ran in. I feel afraid. It's all so new.

Change. I hate it. Even when I know what I'm moving towards is better.
Why am I afraid? Something inside me just wants the familiar. And it's not like we've moved that far away from where we were. The day we moved, it was so hot, but I had to run. I went back to run in the familiar woods. I needed to quiet the fear inside me. I needed to hear God whisper, it's ok.

My heart tells me, trust. Don't be afraid. The little kid inside me feels like things are somewhat out of control. I think of some of the places I've been in my life. This is heaven compared to those places. I'm trying to breathe, to trust, to let go and know God never leads us where He knows we can't handle it. Maybe today I'll venture out in these woods.