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Fear…and overcoming the awful dread

Penned on February 4, 2013

Words teeter on the edge of my fingertips. My heart bursts with so many things I’d like to say, but when it comes right down to letting those words out, I can’t. I wonder…what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just write what is there, waiting to be released? Why do I continue to allow fear to taunt me?

Broken Window

Fear is an awful dread.

A little girl, who must have been about eight or nine years old, hung for dear life to the back of an old couch. The couch, shoved against and facing a wall, became life support. Brown-haired child hung on to that couch for dear life, as her mother beat her mercilessly and hurled hateful, hurtful words.

She cried, that little girl. Begged for mercy. But the beating was endless, as were the dagger-words.

Tears streaked her face. Knees trembled, threatening to give way to the beating. If not for that old couch, the child surely would have been in a heap on the floor by now. The beating hurt. Oh, it hurt awful.

Her heart hurt more than the lashes. In her little mind, she couldn’t understand what she’d done that was so awful, so terrible, to deserve the beating and berating.

Why can’t I make her happy? The little girl questioned herself about the mother who couldn’t stop. Why did I have to be born into this world, if I make her world such a terrible place with me in it?

That beautiful blue-eyed babe, whose life so young and full of life, dreaded living already at that early age. Those eyes had seen pain, that body had known pain, that mind had known more fear than any child should know.

And. It. Hurt.

The hitting hurt. The words hurt. But more than anything, she just wished she could be good enough for her mother to love her back. To be pleasing enough to put a smile on her mother’s face. To do enough to just not make her mad anymore.

Sweet girl couldn’t see. She was too young. Too innocent. Too loving.

Sometimes the only thing one’s life has to offer is hurt and pain and mistakes and failure. But that failure does not have to link from one generation to the next.

So that little girl made up her mind one day (finally) to forgive. Release the hurt and move forward. To be the link in the chain that would break free from the hurt and pain and anger and unhealthiness.

Because being free is better than living in fear.

If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. ~John 8:36

Filed Under: Heart Matters, Life, Spirit, Walking by faith

How to embrace the right now {Part 3–Releasing Control}

Penned on March 5, 2011

Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here.
Aftermath

Photo by A. Blight

“How hard is it for you to put your empty clothes hanger back in the closet?!”

Boiling anger seared my veins. I snatched the plastic hanger from its perch on the bedroom door knob and flung it across the room.

Why can’t he do things the way I want them done?!

Angry thoughts rapid-fired in my mind.

Such tiny, insignificant things seemed to light fuse within me and set off explosions.

When I look back on moments like these, I’m amazed at my husband’s patience, and thankful for his grace towards me.

As a child, I always felt out of control. I couldn’t control my environment. I couldn’t control others. I couldn’t control myself.

I felt hopeless.

I entered adulthood with a new-found freedom. It was strange and wonderful all at the same time.

I was finally in control.

Then I became a wife; nobody informed me of the give-and-take this special relationship requires. Before long, those same old out-of-control feelings from before welled up again.

I felt like a caged animal. Locked behind bars. Hopeless. Helpless.

And so I did the only thing I knew. Became obsessively controlling. Of everything.

The laundry had to be folded a certain way.

The floor swept and mopped just right.

The babies’ schedules followed perfectly to a “T.”

Dinner served at a certain time.

As I became more and more controlling, my grip on the the neck of my marriage nearly choked the life out of it.

In my mind, releasing control meant giving in. My childhood taught me to fight to the end. I was simply doing what I’d been taught.

Control really doesn’t make me a winner. Control puts a murderous blade in my hand and causes me to destroy my own life.

It took many years for me to see my own obsessive need to control, and longer still to learn that when I release control, I allow God to take control.

5 ways to release control (practice, practice, practice…)

  • Ask yourself why you feel so out of control.
  • Think about what you’re really afraid of losing. What is at the root of that fear?
  • Allow others to be themselves without judging their actions.
  • Pinpoint some personal insecurities that might be the cause of your need for control.
  • Graciously accept that everything won’t always go the way you expect and people will sometimes do things in different ways than you.
Filed Under: Life
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The Dark Hours

Penned on February 22, 2011

light in the darkness by cassehn, on Pix-O-Sphere

Photo by Cassandra Ake-Bradley at Pixosphere 

I dragged through the day. Seconds ticked by like hours. The heavy cloud loomed above my innermost being; poured down rain.

Depression. Such an ugly word to swallow. Even more difficult to say aloud: I’m depressed.

I’m a Christian. I’m not supposed to be depressed.

The deceiver’s hiss seared my mind.

Worthless.

Useless.

Waste of space on this earth.

God doesn’t care; He’s forgotten you.

Lies.

I went through the motions, barely making it through simple daily responsibilities.

Wash dishes. Fold clothes. Feed kids.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. That day, I couldn’t take any more. I retreated to my bed. Pulled covers up to my chin. And I just lay there. Lifeless. Staring. So empty.

Sleep evaded me. I didn’t need sleep anyway. I just wanted to be alone.

My sweet husband wanted to help me. He tried to pull me from the muddy pit I’d been in for months. But this was beyond his help.

This pit of depression was of my own making.

I’d been wrapped up in mourning what I’d lost. Hating the present and longing for the past.

I’d been shaking my fists at God. How could You? If You truly loved me… Why won’t You…?

This anger, bitterness, and doubt turned inward caused an implosion of depression. I couldn’t see any goodness. I didn’t want to be happy. I wanted things to go back to the way they were. I wanted my way, not His.

The depression and sadness and anger deepened. Choked life. Withered my soul.

Those of you who have experienced depression know what I’m talking about. These dark hours seem endless. Hopeless. So very hopeless.

Only when I fully surrendered my will to Him—when I started trusting Him again—the fog finally lifted.

Trust—that which does not come easy for me. Trusting in God means surrendering myself—my will, my heart, my mind—to Him. Trusting God means acknowledging this life in not my own, but His. Bowing to His awesome majesty and saying Yes! to what He has for me, instead of holding on to something that wasn’t mine to begin with.

Some days I forget about the dark hours. When I walk hand-in-hand with my Creator, it’s easy to forget how low and lost and lonely I was.

Some days the dark hours threaten me again. Taunt me with their gnarled fingers, beckoning me back to the wallowing place to lament over times past. I refuse. One step forward, closer to Jesus, pulls me away from the darkness one more time.

If you are in the middle of your own dark hours, look for the Light. It’s there. It might be a speck of a pinpoint, but it’s there. God is there, especially in the dark hours.

Filed Under: Spirit
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Running on empty

Penned on February 15, 2011

Running On Empty

Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/laffy4k/

Months had passed and I was more depressed than ever before. Sad. Unhappy. Miserable.

Angry.

Anger bubbled beneath the surface of my being. I was angry at God.

How dare He pull me from a place where I’d felt loved…content…purposeful…and re-plant me where I felt useless and so very unhappy? How could He?!

I resented God. I resented that He would choose to remove happiness from my life and replace it with such an intense feeling of loss and emptiness.

I couldn’t understand His purpose.

“Casting the whole of your care [all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all] on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully.”
1 Peter 5:7 {Amp}

Have you ever felt like that? Like God’s ways were crazy, off-the-wall insane? Have you ever doubted all the things you thought you held to be true?

It’s difficult to understand how some things happen that just don’t make sense. It’s hard to trust God, when you feel abandoned and confused.

I wrestled with anger for months. Almost a year. I kept God at arm’s length. Stopped talking to Him. I was going through the motions, but totally ignoring God.

I was running on empty.

I tried to make sense of this nothingness I felt my life had become. But none of it made any sense. And more than that, I was tired of living with anger and resentment. I didn’t want to cry myself to sleep another night. I needed peace. I needed to accept that His ways are higher than mine, even when I don’t understand or like them.

What I could not see was that God had moved me to that place of happiness for a season. I wasn’t meant to be there forever. It was a season of learning, growth, and development {spiritually}.

When I finally realized that, I also understood that my anger and resentment was also another season of learning and growing. God was teaching me to trust Him. I had to look beyond my hurt, anger, and confusion, to see His purpose.

I had become so accustomed to planning out every detail of my life, that I stopped seeking His will and purpose for my life. God wanted to teach me that my life is not my own, but His. He was calling me to a deeper place in Him; a place where I stop trying to figure out my life on my own, and trust Him {fully} with my life.

I’m still learning every day to trust Him. There are moments when I have to pause and say, “Okay, God…I don’t understand this, and I’m not happy about it, but I believe You know what’s best for me.”

An important lesson I learned from all of this is that when I start feeling a little low on fuel, it’s time to head to the Master’s table. It isn’t healthy to wait until I’m running on fumes to decide to trust God. I need to be filled daily with His word. I need to communicate with Him often throughout the day. I need to trust Him.

If you feel like you’re almost on empty, it’s time to pull up to the filling station and re-fuel.

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Filed Under: Spirit
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