This. This is a hard one. A post that makes it hard for me to swallow. Hard to breathe. Hard to be vulnerable and share from a place of STILL healing rather than being completely healed. A place where I can't say that after all of these years, I am not still in the trenches, dealing with the aftermath of a war in which for so long I felt my only choice was defeat. For deep down I was damaged goods and had somehow deserved such a status even if it was one that I had only given to myself. So here I am sharing from a place of transparency rather than expertise and that is HARD for me in and of itself.
It started small. As a young girl, in the form of unwanted touches in-between the halls. Unbuttoning my blouse somehow so slyly in a classroom full of people and yet no one saw. And yet I said nothing. I had had a crush on him so maybe I had asked for it? Because I liked him. I meekly tried to ask him to stop and he did not. My voice didn't matter. At that moment, my innocence felt taken from me.
Then there was the supervisor. The one that was more than twice my age. But he didn't really mean what I thought he meant right? He worked with children and everyone TRUSTED him. I trusted him. He told me that he "wanted to do...you know...what boys and girls are supposed to do" as he cornered me all alone. Had I asked for this again? I didn't want to make waves but felt as though I needed to speak out for other kids' sake. If he was saying these things to me, was he saying them to other girls? Younger girls? I told my boss and felt like a fool. I still had to awkwardly work with him. I ended up leaving one of my first jobs as a teenager.
At the age of 17, I was raped. When I confided in someone close, I was told that "That's what happens when you put yourself in bad situations". For years, in my mind, I believed them. It was my fault. And I had lost my voice.
My ill attempt at facing the situation (after a few self-destructive paths) was deciding I would never be a victim again. I was self-sustaining, tough, and trusted no one. I became a master at hiding my heart. I also had a very skewed perspective of who I was as a girl/ woman outside of being a sex object. Those lines were very blurred for quite some time. For awhile, I swung from being what I felt like men wanted me to be to being a complete man hater and not even allowing the opposite sex to open the door for me. I was never going to let it happen again. I was never going to lose my voice again. I would just speak LOUDER and STRONGER and FIGHT HARDER. I. I. I. All by my awesome self-sufficient self. Because if I would have just done a, b, c, and z...it wouldn't have happened once. Let alone the next time and the next and the... I tried to protect myslef and heal on my own.
The thing is, we can't do it on our own. Too often sexual abuse is something we chalk up as a norm for girls. Every one of us know of someone who has been abused or harassed in some way and so if it's normal it must be ok. If I've learned anything, it is that it is NOT ok. But it's not about woman power and banning together and burning our bras together and man bashing.
It's about coming to the feet of Jesus, in our brokenness, in our despair, in our desperation, in our cocoon that we have spent years and years and years building around ourselves for protection one thread at a time. Maybe. Just maybe, we can allow God to strip away each thread of false strength. Each self- built bandage and let the healing really begin. At our core. Because deep down out of that suffocating cocoon, comes forth life. Beauty. And Freedom.
So here I am, by the grace of Jesus, getting one wing out at a time, for my husband, for my little girls, and for me.
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Growth in pictures: Part Three
You can catch up on miss J Part One and Part Two. Eventually I promise to re-name them so they make more sense with her weeks/age but right now I'm just stoked to be able to weekly record what's going on even with the piles and piles of clean/dirty/clean laundry of three little busy girlies....that for now, can wait another day =)
Monday, June 24, 2013
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Confessions of a working mom
* This is a wordy one full of run-on sentences and random things capitalized lol Bare with me here. I left the filter out for the sake of being real my friends.
Yesterday was my first day back to work after almost three months being home with our three little girls. I took my maternity leave early due to complications and thus had to go back a tad early as well (just a few days before Jasmine turned 11 weeks). I tend to swing between two extreme pendalums internally- the one that says "You are doing this for your kids so they know that they can do ANYTHING they want when they grow up AND also be a mommy. You have more to give your kids because the time you have with them is quality time and not merely quantity" and then the other part of me says "Quit your job! You know you would be a better mom if you just stayed home. We could live in a cardboard box and be happy. You know if you really had a choice, you would be home all the time. What mom would CHOOSE to go to work."
I'm not sure what I was expecting but part of me half way imagined something like this- the girls all bawling in unison and me prying them off of me to head out the door. Feelings of guilt plaguing me all the way there only to get to the office and find I no longer remembered how to do my job. Will I remember how to collect audiometric data again? Or even know how to use my otoscope? These feelings had been building for the weeks leading up to my return and all I wanted was the gray cloud to part and an angel swoop down and tell me I could just stay home forever. And to be honest with myself...I can. I can stay home. I have a choice. Yes life would look differently but it is a choice nonetheless.
The morning was not the nightmare that I envisioned at all. It was smooth. It was uneventful and the girls and myself were all ready before 7am without a glitch or a meltdown from them or me (way earlier then the past few months). They were gracious and our snuggles were more sentamental but there was no work fairy who appeared like a grim reaper and snatched me from my girls. We said our goodbyes and Nevaeh in the most endearing tone explained to Ruby "It's OK. When you are a mommy you will have to go to work too. And thats OK because they will be your kids and you will always come back." while we all hugged. A part of me was crushed she was the one doing the explaining not to mention that she was telling our 3 year old that she would "HAVE to work" when she was a mommy. I try to explain that mommy helps people hear better- mommies and daddies and grandmas and grandpas. I tried to remember that explanation of why I do what I do but that morning there was no rational nor reason in my heart or mind. I simply got in the car and drove to work. And it did all come flooding back in an instant. Like riding a bike and not even thinking about where you are riding to. Or being too busy with patients to be able to think what my left or right hand was doing but somehow it came to me as natural as nurturing my newborn child. There were no big fireworks or tears...then.
I came home a little resentful that things had gone so smoothly. I packed up the youngest girls after work, headed home, played, and ate dinner, and then we were off to Nev's basketball game all as a fam. Maybe I half way wished that it was such a rough day that I could have said "SEE! I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!! I'm never supposed to work again!!!!!!!!!!" I may or may not have created drama in my heart. It may or may not have built up until the point that when the kids were in bed I cried to my husband and said some things I didn't mean. I may or may not have hurt his heart because I was hurting with my own internal battle. My go to place when I am dealing with something is I can do it on my own....Without Jesus, without my husband or friends. Just me and my girls in my little bunker. To be a hermet and just shelter and love on them forever because BY MYSELF I'm so much better off. Not my proudest moment but my sinful heart reared it's ugly face showing my need for a Savior. And in our flesh we like to hide our sin. So here I am exposing it for all the world to see.
Today was day #2 and I cried all the way to work. Because deep down in my heart I know I am doing the right thing but IF IT"S THE RIGHT THING WHY DOES IT FEEL SO BAD. And there are so many stay-at-home moms that would tell me that I am doing the wrong thing. That I should be at home. That I am missing out. To you I say- my family will always be my first priority. Always. And thank the Lord each day He promises to provide us with what we need even if it may not be what we want. That His grace is sufficient. I hope that I am brave enough to daily ask the scary question "What do you require of me today?" For today- for this season and for this time frame, this is what I am supposed to be doing. It is not the all or nothing that I make it out to be. It is not work OR be a mother. Right now for me it is doing both and as my six year old put it, it is OK.
Yesterday was my first day back to work after almost three months being home with our three little girls. I took my maternity leave early due to complications and thus had to go back a tad early as well (just a few days before Jasmine turned 11 weeks). I tend to swing between two extreme pendalums internally- the one that says "You are doing this for your kids so they know that they can do ANYTHING they want when they grow up AND also be a mommy. You have more to give your kids because the time you have with them is quality time and not merely quantity" and then the other part of me says "Quit your job! You know you would be a better mom if you just stayed home. We could live in a cardboard box and be happy. You know if you really had a choice, you would be home all the time. What mom would CHOOSE to go to work."
I'm not sure what I was expecting but part of me half way imagined something like this- the girls all bawling in unison and me prying them off of me to head out the door. Feelings of guilt plaguing me all the way there only to get to the office and find I no longer remembered how to do my job. Will I remember how to collect audiometric data again? Or even know how to use my otoscope? These feelings had been building for the weeks leading up to my return and all I wanted was the gray cloud to part and an angel swoop down and tell me I could just stay home forever. And to be honest with myself...I can. I can stay home. I have a choice. Yes life would look differently but it is a choice nonetheless.
The morning was not the nightmare that I envisioned at all. It was smooth. It was uneventful and the girls and myself were all ready before 7am without a glitch or a meltdown from them or me (way earlier then the past few months). They were gracious and our snuggles were more sentamental but there was no work fairy who appeared like a grim reaper and snatched me from my girls. We said our goodbyes and Nevaeh in the most endearing tone explained to Ruby "It's OK. When you are a mommy you will have to go to work too. And thats OK because they will be your kids and you will always come back." while we all hugged. A part of me was crushed she was the one doing the explaining not to mention that she was telling our 3 year old that she would "HAVE to work" when she was a mommy. I try to explain that mommy helps people hear better- mommies and daddies and grandmas and grandpas. I tried to remember that explanation of why I do what I do but that morning there was no rational nor reason in my heart or mind. I simply got in the car and drove to work. And it did all come flooding back in an instant. Like riding a bike and not even thinking about where you are riding to. Or being too busy with patients to be able to think what my left or right hand was doing but somehow it came to me as natural as nurturing my newborn child. There were no big fireworks or tears...then.
I came home a little resentful that things had gone so smoothly. I packed up the youngest girls after work, headed home, played, and ate dinner, and then we were off to Nev's basketball game all as a fam. Maybe I half way wished that it was such a rough day that I could have said "SEE! I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!! I'm never supposed to work again!!!!!!!!!!" I may or may not have created drama in my heart. It may or may not have built up until the point that when the kids were in bed I cried to my husband and said some things I didn't mean. I may or may not have hurt his heart because I was hurting with my own internal battle. My go to place when I am dealing with something is
Today was day #2 and I cried all the way to work. Because deep down in my heart I know I am doing the right thing but IF IT"S THE RIGHT THING WHY DOES IT FEEL SO BAD. And there are so many stay-at-home moms that would tell me that I am doing the wrong thing. That I should be at home. That I am missing out. To you I say- my family will always be my first priority. Always. And thank the Lord each day He promises to provide us with what we need even if it may not be what we want. That His grace is sufficient. I hope that I am brave enough to daily ask the scary question "What do you require of me today?" For today- for this season and for this time frame, this is what I am supposed to be doing. It is not the all or nothing that I make it out to be. It is not work OR be a mother. Right now for me it is doing both and as my six year old put it, it is OK.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Straight from my journal
Journal post 4/1/13
21 more days off...it's this fine line of being purposeful and just stopping and absorbing the moment for what it is- even if it means pjs and piles of laundry and snuggles and tucking the kids into bed with dirty feet every once in awhile...
John got me this journal as an anniversary present (9 yrs baby!) "I just want you to know I don't just see you as a mommy or as a wife...I see you as Leah. I see you as you." He was reminding me to take a closer look. A DEEPER look. I've always been concerned at my CORE about living a life of SUBSTANCE & teaching my children to do the same. It's been good and also a little scary at admitting exactly where I am in that process. Artistically wise- creatively wise I have been STUCK from moving past the age of 16. But I am 29!!!!! I cannot sing the same song and hang up the same artwork like I have been doing the last 13 years! It's as if I have never progressed artistically passed that point and that realization has been BRUTAL and hard. I actually wept after I posted "that" song on FB and it was this epiphany that I needed to MOVE ON! For myself and for my girls. I have also always feared turning into my dad in regards to being an artist of the past and not the present (love you dad). Jesus has created me to create. It blesses His heart. So why am I so terrified of this ability and inability all at the same time???? I don't want to be 60 and plagued with the same fears and same insecurities. I want to mature in those areas. Or more realistically CONQUER what I deem to be weak or the "incapable" parts of myself.
Today I started by doing some canvases for Shar & Ken's new home (as a married couple Woot!) thus the creative process starts. The doubting, the loving, the incomplete process, the vulnerable, the questioning what it is that my hand is going to paint and why it seems the art takes on a life of it's own. How it came from me and yet feels like I am just a liaison between the medium and the canvas- a steward. Now I must choose everyday to be a good steward or if I am going to bury my talents.
Maybe that's the point. I have been so busy digging them up for all these years rather then investing in what is given to me today.
Why does that seem so scary?
21 more days off...it's this fine line of being purposeful and just stopping and absorbing the moment for what it is- even if it means pjs and piles of laundry and snuggles and tucking the kids into bed with dirty feet every once in awhile...
John got me this journal as an anniversary present (9 yrs baby!) "I just want you to know I don't just see you as a mommy or as a wife...I see you as Leah. I see you as you." He was reminding me to take a closer look. A DEEPER look. I've always been concerned at my CORE about living a life of SUBSTANCE & teaching my children to do the same. It's been good and also a little scary at admitting exactly where I am in that process. Artistically wise- creatively wise I have been STUCK from moving past the age of 16. But I am 29!!!!! I cannot sing the same song and hang up the same artwork like I have been doing the last 13 years! It's as if I have never progressed artistically passed that point and that realization has been BRUTAL and hard. I actually wept after I posted "that" song on FB and it was this epiphany that I needed to MOVE ON! For myself and for my girls. I have also always feared turning into my dad in regards to being an artist of the past and not the present (love you dad). Jesus has created me to create. It blesses His heart. So why am I so terrified of this ability and inability all at the same time???? I don't want to be 60 and plagued with the same fears and same insecurities. I want to mature in those areas. Or more realistically CONQUER what I deem to be weak or the "incapable" parts of myself.
Today I started by doing some canvases for Shar & Ken's new home (as a married couple Woot!) thus the creative process starts. The doubting, the loving, the incomplete process, the vulnerable, the questioning what it is that my hand is going to paint and why it seems the art takes on a life of it's own. How it came from me and yet feels like I am just a liaison between the medium and the canvas- a steward. Now I must choose everyday to be a good steward or if I am going to bury my talents.
Maybe that's the point. I have been so busy digging them up for all these years rather then investing in what is given to me today.
Why does that seem so scary?
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
The truth is
The truth is I have tunnel vision and it's hard to envision anything but my limited viewpoint and perspective right now. I guess that makes me a 28 yr old with a mind of a 5 yr old? OR a hormonal preggo lady. All I can see is myself and my sickness all the while knowing that this sickness has a purpose.
The dreaded bowl and the IV bruises. The crackers that I am just now able to keep down after 3 1/2weeks. After all, this is supposed to be a joyous time to celebrate as there is a miracle- a human being growing in my tummy for pete's sake. And here all I can think is that I would be more grateful and more happy and more satisfied and more gracious IF IF IF. Whine whine whine. It's too easy just to see the symptoms- the COMPLICATIONS.
The dreaded bowl and the IV bruises. The crackers that I am just now able to keep down after 3 1/2weeks. After all, this is supposed to be a joyous time to celebrate as there is a miracle- a human being growing in my tummy for pete's sake. And here all I can think is that I would be more grateful and more happy and more satisfied and more gracious IF IF IF. Whine whine whine. It's too easy just to see the symptoms- the COMPLICATIONS.
Ironically when we are suffering, those are the times when we get real. With ourselves, and if we are brave...with one another...and with our Heavenly Daddy. Because He can handle it.
We are forced to have a reality check. Forced to see the gunk in our hearts. Because when I see the gunk in my heart...I see my need for Jesus. And that is actually a good place to be. And then I find I am not nor have to be miss tough or supermom or career ninja or sexy wifey or miss crafty. So there. I am just me and that is ok. I need my Savior and I need His grace...and perhaps another popsicle.Saturday, June 23, 2012
Surprise!
Sunday, April 22, 2012
MIA
This is a picture of a stent. I had 2 of them. One in each kidney after my 18th surgery involving kidney stones that were too large for my body to pass. Or was it the 19th? All I know is most of the procedures I can't pronounce like lithotripsy or Percutaneous nephrolithotomy.
So you have to forgive me- the blog was the last thing from my mind, especially after getting both stents removed with equipment that looked like this:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It was rather hilarious that John had actually whipped out his cell to take a pic before the dr came in. I think he was in a state of amusement and shock. I was neither amused nor shocked. I am however stent and stone free (for now) and ready to get back to life, my family, and my ever evolving projects =)
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It was rather hilarious that John had actually whipped out his cell to take a pic before the dr came in. I think he was in a state of amusement and shock. I was neither amused nor shocked. I am however stent and stone free (for now) and ready to get back to life, my family, and my ever evolving projects =)
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Rockabilly Easter
Nothing like a little belated Easter fun! Being in the woods is so magical and that's why I looove going out to my mother and father in law's house. The girls get a kick out of walking in various paths around their property along with getting muddy and helping in their vegetable garden. It was the perfect place to celebrate easter with our loved ones and more importantly our Risen King.
What can I say? The kisses along the way didn't hurt either!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Tears and a wet suit
I bottled up the emotions all day and when I got home I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I got in the shower and began to sob. Shamefully sob. It was our very first valentines day as newlyweds and I was supposed to be putting on a dress and getting ready to frolick through fields of flowers with my new husband or something like that. But here I was crying in the shower over a "hard day at work". John was already dressed in a silk black suit that his dad had brought back from Turkey when he was in the Air Force. His dreads were in a man pony tail (wow- I miss those dreads). And here I was crying over basically nothing. I put my hands over my face feeling silly and having the little girl fear of "being too much" for this man who I feared at that instance would wonder what the %$^# he was getting himself into. But that's not what he was thinking.
He took one look at me and didn't say a word. What he did next baffled me. Soaking his one of a kind silk suit and drenching his black dress socks, he got into the shower. Just so he could hold me. To comfort me. It didn't matter how stupid it was or petty it was...
This was eight years ago but it is a moment I will never forget. It was the first time I really experienced the heart of Jesus and it was through my husband. In the midst of my shame- He scooped me up and assured me that my heart was significant to him. How much more are we loved by our Creator?
Happy Valentines Day!
" Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails" I Cor. 13:4-8
He took one look at me and didn't say a word. What he did next baffled me. Soaking his one of a kind silk suit and drenching his black dress socks, he got into the shower. Just so he could hold me. To comfort me. It didn't matter how stupid it was or petty it was...
This was eight years ago but it is a moment I will never forget. It was the first time I really experienced the heart of Jesus and it was through my husband. In the midst of my shame- He scooped me up and assured me that my heart was significant to him. How much more are we loved by our Creator?
Happy Valentines Day!
" Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails" I Cor. 13:4-8
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Mosquito bites
Sisters. Love- hate-LOVE. It's already starting. As obvious as it is from this picture Ruby looks up to her big sister Nevaeh. Even though they are opposites in every way, I'm sure she even wants to BE her big sister at times.
At least I know that I wanted to be like my big sis. Like wanting the curve bang wave thing that my sis pulled off back in the days of grunge and plaid. Questions like how did the hair spray hold it in this perfect shape all day and how she was able to brush her hair for such long periods of time occupied my 10 yr old mind...I wanted to BE her. More accurately and in every way profoundly, I wanted to grow up and get boobs. I remember crying to mom telling her my woes and dread of having "mosquito bites" FOREVER (can you guess where that nickname came from?).
A shout out to you sis. Thank you for sharing your room with me growing up as I know how much of a sacrifice that is. For singing nerdy songs with me at night when I couldn't fall asleep. For playing with my hair and drawing shapes on my back. For warning me about boys. For making writing in a journal look so bad A. For being tough and showing me the ropes. For introducing me to REAL music. For all the times you let me tag along and adopt your friends as my own. For bringing me to some of my first shows and letting me mosh. For ALL of the joy rides and the times I forced you to take me places (admittedly in the middle of the night). For inside jokes. For being there. At my worst and at my best. At my wedding. Holding my newborns. You are so incredibly strong, thoughtful, and courageous and even after all of these years....I still look up to you and wouldn't mind being a little more like you.
Attempting to keep it together...
Several attempts later = final serious pic
From your little sis- A.K.A mosquito bites
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