Today is a better day. It is better enough that one would begin to hope.
When your life consists of cycles, endless circles that go around and around, when the wheel begins to swing 'round to the other side, do you hope? Or do you just take a breath and hang on for the ride back 'round again?
It is not that I am not thankful to be coming out of this intense anger time. I am. Very thankful.
But, it is more a matter of heal what you can, bandage up wounds, rebuild what safety you can in the hearts of my children, get a little rest, and be prepared for the next cycle. It's coming again.
Time to evaluate, think through where the safety net failed here, and be ready for those things in the future. Time to try to figure out what was the trigger this time, and see if we can avoid that next time. Time to look and think about ways to diffuse a situation, and be ready for next time. Time to take a breath, but not relax. To rest, but not sleep. It's coming again. We won't know when, but it is coming again. The cycle turns endlessly. I could even sit down and predict the path of the next few days... anger, silence, relaxing, coarse humor, a few small acts of kindness, relative normalness, some great gestures of "gifts" or appeasement, normalness, growing irritation, tenseness, grumbling, and again explosive, unreasonable anger. Round and round we go.
I am just not sure I want to ride.
It is back to the question of what is enough water under the bridge. I posted about that before.
Today, I'm thankful the cycles is turning, yes, but I am not very hopeful. Too tired to be hopeful. I don't trust him. I turn my eyes up to God, and I trust, but the questions sit in my eyes, "Father, when will You respond? How long? Do You see us hurting here?" I know He sees. I know He does. I just want Him to hold my eyes. Let me see You. See me. See. The God who sees. This was Hagar's name for God when she was used, misused, and rejected. Alone in the desert with her son that she loved. Needing to protect him, and unable to. It was not her fault the choices that were made to create him. She could only do as she was told. She cried to God, and He answered. Then she gave God a name. The God who sees.
See me now.
I feel like one who has survived a storm; and now, standing in the destruction following it, I stand bewildered. Voices surround me saying different things. Some voices are silent, choosing to think it is not a big deal, I'll address it later. Others are absent. Others themselves shake their heads wondering.
My parents phoned me and suggested I think about separating from my husband. Others have, too. Others suggest that I just submit and become "better" and he will stop.
Today, I'm overwhelmed. I survey the devastation and question like those who live in a hurricane zone, "Is it worth rebuilding?" My heart looks like a mass of scars, one laid down on top of the other. Whip lashes, some open and still oozing, lashed across others, some partly healed, some angry red scars, and some faint white lines of old wounds. I don't always recognize myself when I look in my eyes in a mirror. Where is the smile? Where is the laughter without tears in the shadows? Why are the shadowy pools growing deeper and deeper? Who am I becoming?
Today, I'm overwhelmed. I lay in my bed this morning on my tummy, reading aloud from my Bible. Whispering verses aloud to myself. Praying the verses back to God. Saying them aloud to myself. This is what I believe. This is what I believe about You. I don't feel this right now. I feel stunned, hurt, bleeding; but this is what I believe about You.
Crying out to God, my Father, to pick me up, to hold me, to still my heart to hear Him. Crying simply for the storm to stop, to be sheltered so I can hear His voice. Heal me. Give me rest. Find me. Put Your hand under my chin and tip my face up to meet Your eyes again. Quiet me.
Interesting to me that at different times, I call out to God differently. When my husband hurts me, when he tells me I am worthless and damaged and unlovable, I struggle to talk to God as Jesus. It hurts. I turn and call out for my Father. Yet, when there are troubles with my dad, and I feel unsafe there, I struggle to pray, "Father....". It shouldn't be. God is not as man. But it is.
I'm stabilizing, begining to start the healing time.... but... the cycle continues.... the question is only how long? How long until the next time?
On the what is happening side - my husband changed his mind and is letting me go with my son on his trip. That is good. He is briefly talking to us at times - as brief as he can, but without total disgust in his voice. He has not taken away my computer again, but I have not given him that chance, either. I keep it out of sight. But he is not calm. He is only beginning that process towards things being ok.... He has the tools to use to solve conflict - he teaches others them - but he doesn't use them. He hasn't learned forgiveness and restoration in practice, only theory. It is back to waiting until enough water has gone under the bridge. The problem is I'm running out of water.