I'm Tired, Lord help me in my desperation

The last week has been...difficult.

The anniversary.

The minefield of not only my emotions but the potential explosions from family members.  Last year, the family's behavior almost destroyed me.

This year, it was much, much quieter...to the point of being ignored.  Avoided.  They don't consider me in the inner circle of dealing with Mom's passing.

Oh well.  It's the pattern of this family.

In my current situation (irresponsible soon-to-be-ex with his head in the clouds living in another state and visiting my struggling with his health dad who lives in his own la la land) I feel very stuck. frustrated. and I am struggling to make sense of this life.

Where do I go from here and how do I get there?

My father has started with his criticisms.  I cannot stomach it, not as an adult who is doing her best to take care of him.  I won't tolerate his downward spiral of bad behavior - never have and never will.  It takes its toll on me.  And my babies suffer for me not being at the top of my game.  I'm weary. Sometimes desperate.  Today I drank for relief, after prayer.

Childhood was lonely except for my rich imagination.  I had my books and dolls.  In my teens I still escaped into books.

I got used to not having anyone else.  But it sure felt great to have a friend.  I have awesome friends now, but in the end no one can figure this out for me.  I have to walk this thing out.

I am so tired.  I don't want to mess up for my kids' sakes.  They deserve the best, and it breaks my heart  that they've already endured such a bad example of God's ways.  He's so not the author of confusion and craziness.  In taking them away from the madness, my desire is for them to see His Hand in the midst of all of this, His provision, His goodness and grace.

Lord please don't let me falter or fail.  Please let me be stronger, better, a good example for them.

I want God's best for my kids.  Their life should be about stability and fun and dependability and security.  For years I have been the one making Christmas and birthdays happen, often challenged by him and alone in it.  I've wanted to make every holiday matter, to make school rich and field trips fun.  When I run out of steam, they suffer.

My kids are so amazing!  Truly God's gift to me.  I long for them to have the happiest childhood memories, of tradition and warmth, a sense of history and family, their feet firmly grounded in God and walking closely with Him from a young age.

I've stood between them and my Mom when she couldn't control herself and took her wrath full on.  I've shielded them as much as I can from a foolish dad who puts them in crazy situations.  I haven't even scratched the surface about the precarious places/situations we've endured because of his choices.

By Your grace and goodness, Lord please let me step carefully, full of Your wisdom and guided by You.  Help me, God, for my children's sakes to make the best choices and forge a life of stability.  As You have helped me before, please help me again.  Be my Loving Dad and Nurturing Mom, My Guide, Shield and Protector.  My Lord and Friend, the Shepherd of my life and my kids' lives.

A Release of Emotions before the Anniversary

Tomorrow is the first anniversary of my Mom's passing.

My emotions about it surfaced this afternoon as I was putting on make-up.  The memories of getting my Mom a job at the office I worked at and later letting her take over the care  of an invalid somehow started the tears.  Weird how grief manifests sometimes.

Then the realization hit. 

My Mom used to sequester herself away at home with no initiative to find outside activities.  I was the last child to leave the home.  She often complained about not having places to go, though she intentionally drove her friends away and refused to make the first move towards them.  She felt sorry for herself.   She resented my social life as a single woman.     

Though she wouldn't put forth the effort to make changes in her life, she looked to others to make the changes happen.  And it became our fault if she remained unhappy.

I remember how happy she was when she started working at my office, tidying up on a weekly basis.  I was glad that it worked out and that she had a reason to get dressed up and out of the house.  And when she suggested taking over for me towards the end of my time working with a girl in a body cast, I was glad to do that.  Her beaming face, filled with purpose...it was almost worth doing anything to see that face and experience the lightness in the house.  

But it didn't last, and I couldn't consistently be the one bringing purpose or meaning to her life.  The source of much conflict.  Numerous expectations. Demands. Consequences for not fulfilling them.

There's an insect or animal of some sort that after its young is born, they eat the body of the parent for sustenance and nourishment.

In my case, I'm not the parent.  But I recognize that pattern in my life.  From the time I was a child, my Mom depended on me for counsel, comfort and help.  I was supposed to make her feel better and anticipate her demands/expectations/needs.  Woe to me if I missed it.  Major problems came as I grew up and pursued my own interests, developed my own ideas and opinions, and was different from her.

Years of tug of war.  Wanting her acceptance.  Groomed to always consider her, I still had my own sense of self.  Nervous, never knowing when the outburst would come.  The angry arms striking, the hate in her eyes, disgust in the words she spat at me.  Years and years and years of this.  Up until a few months before she died.

I knew early on that I'd never be enough to make her happy and that I wasn't responsible for that.  Of course I didn't mind helping her and wished I could have done more.  But she required blood and all of me for sustenance, a price I wouldn't pay.  The cost was not having her approval or warmth for long, long, long periods of time.  She did emerge from the darkness to show her love at times, and I cherish those memories.  

I realize now that standing on my body to be elevated, to sacrifice my needs and peace in order to gain your own, to demand everything and not give anything, neglecting, stealing, letting me rot to get fat...these patterns are WRONG.  They were familiar enough refrains from childhood, so I participated in them in my marriage.  But the same me that had a sense of self that preserved me from childhood eventually emerged enough to say ENOUGH.  

And I don't raise my children in that same way.  I won't let them consume me to the point of my malnourishment nor will I extract my identity or purpose from them.  Only from God.  They are a big part of my purpose, but I am not them and they are not me.  

My sorrow melts into peace as I imagine Mom full of joy.  A year ago I held her, kissed her and whispered words of love before she departed.  I put my head in her lap and wept, and finally left her room.  The song "I Can Only Imagine" played on the drive home.  I'll never forget it.  One of the hardest days in my life,  but in perspective one of the best in hers.  

I think my processing these things, healing, letting go and growing will make her glad.  I am determined to be all that God has intended for me to be and to fulfill His purpose for my life.  

My Mom is at peace, fulfilled in every way in the presence of Jesus.  That makes me so happy.  My prayers for her peace have been answered.  Slowly I continue to process the damaged areas, allowing God to heal with Light and Truth.  Mourning lasts for a night but Joy comes in the morning.  The darkness fades, the illumination cleanses.  

I love you, Mommy.  I miss you.  I wish I could chat with you in Japanese - the loss of that connection is still so painful to me.  There's so much I want you to know about me, but in the many conversations we've had over the years, despite the difficulties in our relationship, I know that you knew me.  It's amazing when you think of the Bible studies we had together and how God swet up things so that you'd come to know Him.  I choose to hold on to your voice telling me how proud you were of me and let time erase the other words.  I have your letters urging me to be strong and courageous, to never give up, to continually challenge myself.  You'd be so happy to see me slender again.  I miss you, Mom.  When I sew or make something, you are still the first person I want to show.  I can't go into a Japanese restaurant yet because you're not there - that was our special time.  I know you tried to be the best Mommy you could.  Jesus, please step in and be the Mom I need until I see her again.  

Alone Again...Naturally

To think that only yesterday, I was cheerful, bright and gay,

Looking forward to, but who wouldn't do,

The role I was about to play

But as if to knock me down,

Reality came around

And without so much as a mere touch,

Cut me into little pieces

Leaving me to doubt, All about God and His mercy

For if He really does exist

Why did He desert me In my hour of need?

I truly am indeed, Alone again, naturally

It seems to me that There are more hearts

Broken in the world That can't be mended

Left unattended

What do we do? What do we do?                                                  

Know this song?  One of my favorites when I was little, probably at 7 or 8.  I remember singing along to the cassette and feeling the melancholy wash over me.  I've always been drawn to sad songs.  Another favorite song from childhood was a lesser known track on Debby Boone's "You Light Up My Life" album called "Micol's Theme," so very tragic.

Micol, there was a time for us

Long ago there was a time for us

When the fields were green and the sun was warm

and the days of love and laughter went on and on

But now it's changing, all around I see it changing

When there's nothing left, there's nothing left to say

The laughter dies, love fades away

...Now the days turned cold, all the love is gone

Loneliness. 

A familiar theme throughout my life. My earliest memories, being secure in my own skin but feeling always very alone. I remember at three, contemplating the world around me yet feeling somewhat removed from it. An observer. Influenced certainly from being displaced several times at that early age, sent to live my aunt when my mother went through periods of illness as well as the birth of my sister. Sent away to a cherished aunt who doted on me but not understanding why my own mother wasn't there. And the feelings have remained since she was never accessible to me for the rest of her life. The stage was prophetically set at that early age.

Loneliness. 

A faithful companion. I am not uncomfortable in its presence because I know it so well. I discovered a long time ago that God truly transcends even that place - He has walked with me in it. I've often longed for human companionship to banish that state but no longer expect it. God has faithfully communed with me there. The holes in my soul, He will make whole. In my frailty when I long for more or try to fill it myself and fail. My feeble attempts making messes, He gently comforts and heals. The holes in my soul, He will make whole. Until then, He is enough.

Adventures throughout history and all over the world were at my fingertips in the books I devoured as a child. Dancing with abandon in my room as a teen, escaping the confines of my life by flipping on the strobe light and losing myself in the music, comedy and tragedy, playing every role to an invisible but captive audience. A lonely graduation from high school, then having to figure out my life's direction, alone of course. Grace intervened and welcomed me back with open arms. God was with me. But still the same aloneness. 

Off to Bible school, I didn't know how alone I was until the first time I was invited into a group and saw how others lived. My experiences had been school, work, home, bank, grocery, shopping, always by myself. Driving here and there, chatting to God. Just me and God. But I started to wonder why I was always alone and wished for a real friend. Graduation from Bible school...oh the loneliness stung! Thousands of miles from home, not a face in the crowd. No celebratory dinners or proud smiles just for me. But the Lord sent His Word to me through the commencement address, the reminder of the priceless value of even a damaged Picasso and how He uses chipped vessels that have endured versus beautiful but fragile porcelain ones. Thank You Lord. By the time I boarded the plane to Africa, being alone was a matter of fact. Totally expected. I embraced it. 

Preparing for my wedding and even the wedding day...never expected the loneliness then. I pressed through it, pushed down the sadness like I always did. But the sorrow lingered. I tucked it away. 

Pregnancies weren't so bad, but the first moments of motherhood and the fragile weeks afterwards were tremendously lonely times. The pain from those days still brings tears. Abandoned by most of my family during the first birth, I had to figure out everything on my own. Then I lost my hair. First baby, bald head. Alone. Bad. After the birth of the second baby, a long period of isolation due to post partum depression - like screaming behind thick walls that no one could hear or penetrate. The hospitalization of my third baby days after birth in a strange new city. No friends, no family. Could a shattered heart ever be pieced back together? I held onto my little ones and pressed through it like I always did. It's the only thing I knew to do.

At some point, the loneliness in marriage and disconnect from God seemed too topsy-turvy. I wanted to be intimately close again to the God Who had always been there for me in the shadows, the only Light to ever penetrate the gloom. As I drew nearer to Him, the dawn started to emerge in my soul. Weights lifted off of me, literally. The things that promoted destruction in my life had to be let go of to embrace the things that produced life. Today, I am faced with navigating many changes for me and for my children...and there are still moments of loneliness. But as always, the faithful Presence of God is so near. And He has sent dear friends to help. I ask Him into the dark hours and try to at least address it in some way. Even a flickering candle penetrates the black.