What is forgiveness?

"To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you." ~C.S. Lewis

"Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it." ~Mark Twain

"To carry a grudge is like being stung to death by one bee." ~H. William Walton

"Forgiveness does not mean excusing." ~C.S. Lewis

"Good to forgive, best to forget." ~Robert Browning

"Life is an adventure in forgiveness." ~Norman Cousins

"Take heed to yourselves: If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him; and if he repent, forgive him." ~Luke 17:3

"God's way of forgiving is thorough and hearty,—both to forgive and to forget; and if thine be not so, thou hast no portion of His." ~Leighton

"No matter how deep the stain of your sins, I can remove it. I can make you as clean as freshly fallen snow." ~Isaiah 1:18

"If we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive us." ~1 John 1:9

"I - yes, I alone - am the one who blots out your sins for my own sake and will never think of them again." ~Isaiah 43:25

"I will cleanse them of all their iniquity by which they have sinned against Me, and I will pardon all their iniquities by which they have sinned and by which they have transgressed against Me." ~Jeremiah 33:8

So, I've been a Christian for several years now, and I will be the first to say that I have a long way to go in my spiritual journey and that I have a lot to learn. It only came to my attention last night, though, that there is a very basic concept in the following of Christ that I don't understand. Forgiveness. It's such an abstract concept to me, and I don't think I really get it. I was in my session with my counselor and she asked me why I'm so hard on myself...the million dollar question. She asked me if there was something I had done in my past that I found unforgivable, and if I was still angry at myself for something, and that maybe that's why I keep the standards for myself so impossibly high. My response was just that I didn't know....I've definitely done lots of things I regret, and lots of things that bring up the issue of forgiveness, and lots of things I'm not proud of and that I wish I had never even thought of doing.....but have I forgiven myself? I don't know. What does that mean? How do you know if you've forgiven yourself or someone else? Does that mean that everything is okay now? Does that mean that you should never think about it anymore, and if you do, it shouldn't hurt? I know that in God's eyes, forgiveness is complete and total - He forgets what we have done and separates us from those things as far as the east is from the west. I know that, in my head, but what does that MEAN? And as followers of Christ, how can we be expected to do the same thing? When someone does little things to us, I can see how forgiving and forgetting is possible. When someone does something atrocious and unmentionable to us, though, how can we possibly forget it? And how do we know if we've forgiven them for it?

As an example, my counselor and I talked about something that happened to me when I was 15. Something really painful, which left scars on me that I still have to deal with every day, especially now that I'm married. The memory hurts, and I weep every time I think about it for any length of time or have to tell the story. The wounds feel as fresh as they day it happened, and that was 10 years ago. Do I feel angry at the person who did it to me? I didn't think so, until last night. I had thought I had dealt with it as best as I could be expected to, and that I would always feel a twinge of pain when it came up. As I thought about it, weeping into my tissue and feeling so confused, I started feeling angry again. Does that mean I haven't forgiven him? Does that mean that I'm still carrying around bitterness? I don't know. Naturally, to me, with something like that, it's always going to hurt. I don't know how some things can ever completely heal, but maybe my view on that is because I haven't forgiven him. I told Scott that if forgiveness means that I could sit in the same room, face to face, with the person who did those things to me, and act like nothing ever happened and not feel weird, I have definitely not forgiven him. I would get angry and upset and wouldn't be able to stand it. But I thought I had forgiven him. I don't think about it like I used to, and I thought - I really thought - I was over it. Apparently, though, I'm not.

So how DO you forgive someone? God hears our confessions and responds with the most complete and total forgiveness we can fathom, but I don't know how we are supposed to do that. I want to forget what happened to me, on one hand, but on the other hand, I learned from it and have kinda used it as a springboard. In some ways it's been god that I remember, but in some ways it torments me. So is it really a good thing to forgive and forget? Is it possible for us, as fallible human beings, to do that? I'm struggling with this idea.

If I haven't forgiven him, this could be part of what my problem is. The whole situation surrounding what happened to me presents so many things for me to be scared of.....so many things for me to be anxious about.....so many things to feel shame over. That makes me angry. That makes me really angry, but if I turn that anger inside then it eats away at me. It hurts me, then, as much as the original event. Depression has been called anger turned inward.....and that's kinda what it feels like.

My assignment for myself is to ask God to help me see what I feel, really see what I feel without any confusion or suggestion from anyone else, and to see how that is affecting me. He knows what's going on in my head, even if I don't.

Monday

Well, I'm doing pretty good today, though once again I was in an induced coma (not literally) because of my stupid new meds.....oh well. Since I got up, I've been doing well. The weekend was good, too, which I think helps some. Friday my sister was here until late, helping me around the house and making me laugh, which I needed. On more than one occasion I said something along the lines of, "STOP IT! YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE ME WET MY PANTS!" She has that affect on me. So we had fun Friday night, and then Saturday (which was an absolutely beautiful day here) Scott and I worked on the roof. We have another leak in the roof right where the chimney and the roof come together, so we were up climbing on the roof measuring boards and all. He even let me use the circular saw, which was pretty satisfying. I felt tough, and it was cool when my neighbor came across the street and saw me holding the saw and didn't make fun of me for it. I'd have thought there would have been some snide remark about the little girl holding a big power tool, but there wasn't, and Scott even said I did a good job cutting, so I felt good about my contribution to the home improvement project of the day. Then Saturday night Scott and I went to Nathan and Rachel's house, and my sister and her husband came over, and we all hung out and talked forever and watched "Walk the Line." I love that movie, even though Johnny Cash was a bid misled and made his share of bad decisions. We all have, really, and I love knowing how his life turned around later. It's a sweet love story, too. Anyhow, we had fun there, got home late, and then got up for church yesterday. Yes, even I got up and made it for church! It was good there - both sisters were there, which was really good. Yesterday afternoon we had a seminar at church on managing your money, which I thought was going to be torture and immensely boring, but it wasn't bad and I actually learned a thing or two. I could stand to learn a lot about managing my money......that's not exactly a strong point of mine. Came home, scrambled around to do laundry and stuff, since we hadn't done it all weekend, and I entertained Scott while he made sermon CDs for church by reading him poems from this book I got for Christmas. It was a really good weekend, though it was really busy, and I'm feeling good today. I have a counseling appointment tonight, which (to my shame) I actually considered rescheduling because I might get home late for 24....but Scott convinced me (or reminded me) that my mental health is a little more important than some TV show....even if it IS 24. =) So...yeah. That's where I am today. I'm working on a couple of projects here today, and I may even get up the courage to check my work email, for like the first time in FOREVER, though I have to say I still little jittery and jumpy and anxious when I even so much as think about work. I don't know what to think about that. I'm still trying to figure things out.

Failure of Epic Proportions

Okay, that's probably an exaggeration, but that's how it feels. Twice this week I planned on going to the Futurity (this rodeo-type thing that comes to Augusta every year), and twice this week I freaked out and couldn't do it. I wanted to go, too, which makes it worse. Last night we were going with our Bible study group, too, so Ashley, Rachel, Mark, and Nathan got to feel what it's like when I back out on something. Scott went ahead and went, which is good - he needed to, to have a little fun himself - but I have to admit that I kinda wanted him to come home to me. He checked on me, of course, and made sure I was okay, but I think I realized last night that something in me expects him to be my knight in shining armor to come to my rescue every time that happens. He has definitely been my rock, and when I started feeling panicky beforehand, I called him to get a pep talk and to hear a calming voice tell me I could do it. He was having an infuriating experience with one of his employees, though, so he wasn't in much the mindset for that sort of thing and I didn't even tell him at the time why I had called because I didn't want to add more to his plate. I realized, while I was laying in bed trying to nap so I wouldn't think about things anymore, what I really wanted was for him to drop everything and come home to me....and I instantly became kinda disgusted with myself because it seemed so selfish. He needs to get out and have fun, especially without me - because I think that's just good for him when I'm always dealing with some melodramatic ordeal - and here I am wanting him to stay with me in my self proclaimed "pit of despair." (I think if I were the psalmist David, I would have said something about muck and mire right there.) That's selfish, and I felt even worse after that thought had crossed my mind. He has been 100% wonderful through all of this since I started having these problems like 2 years ago, and I'm so selfish that I EXPECT him to be. He would have every reason to scream and insist that he get out of the house every now and then, but he never does. He stays with me, comforting me, talking with me, trying to understand what I'm feeling, and never wavering in his affections when it's clear he can't understand me. He's so good for me, and I guess what I realized last night is that I've come to depend on him, probably too much, and that a lot of the emotional baggage I heap on him needs to be given to the Lord instead. I didn't think about that until then, and now that it has occurred t me I feel terrible. I feel like I've been so self-absorbed that I haven't thought about what I've been dragging him through. Like the princess in The Princess Bride. So anyways, I don't feel like this has been a particularly triumphant week, what with realizing that I'm not being fair to my husband and backing out of two things (well, one thing - twice) that I really did want to do. I feel like a failure, and I hate that feeling.

Anointing

This morning at church was powerful. I say that sometimes and I have to wonder if it becomes overused....cliche somehow so that it doesn't mean quite what it did the first time. It was powerful, though, and it's left me with a different kind of feeling all day. Part of its hold on me could be due to my absence from church for the past two weeks - my weaknesses got the better of me and I hid from it all - and today, going back was so refreshing. I say where I never sit - up close to the band, where the music is so loud that I can't worry about whether or not the lady in front of me is thinking how atrocious my singing is or how silly the world might think I look raising my hands to God like that. I just let myself get absorbed in it, and let the music take me out of myself and carry me away somewhere. The sermons was on getting past the past which, if you know me or have read many of my posts, you know can be an issue for me. I realized through the message that God really, really wants to restore me and He really, really hurts when He sees me hurting. I came to understand that in order for Him to do anything about my brokenness, I have to cooperate and acknowledge that I am, in fact, broken, and let Him do what He needs to do (or do what He needs ME to do) to heal. I also realized more than ever how much brokenness from the past affects my future, which has been happening to me more and more lately. I can't just say, "I'll ignore it and let it go away," or, "Maybe if I don't think about it, it'll be like it never happened." That doesn't work, and today I had to face some of those demons. We had the opportunity to be anointed with oil and prayed over very specifically, by telling one of the two ministers there what we have going on and what God needs us to be healed of. We had to write it on paper, and I actually titled mine: God's Restoration Plan For Me. That's what it is. There are very specific things He needs me to be healed from so that I can live the abundant life He has for me, and I have to face those things directly, head on, before anything can happen. I received very comforting words from the minister (not my usual one - his line was forever long) and cried very healing, cleansing tears..... It was a good thing.

Why am I so hard on myself?

This question plagues me. Constantly. Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I'm always hard on myself, for little or no reason at all, and it takes a lot more than a simple, "It's okay, " to reverse the damage.

Take today, for example. I went to use the restroom and - forgetting the exact location of my cell phone at that moment - dropped it into the toilet. Yes, it was in my back pocket. As I heard the splash and crash that comes with an electronic device plunging into toilet water (which was, thankfully, clean to this point), I thought all sorts of horrible things about myself. Now, several hours later as my phone still sits on my dresser flashing and refusing to either turn on or off, I'm still furious with myself. I've only had the thing a couple of months. Like a stubborn, spoiled child, I insisted on getting a Razor, and now what? I essentially flush it down the toilet. I was so mad at myself after it happened that I literally had to leave the house, go somewhere - anywhere - but here, just so that I wouldn't be in surroundings that would force me to think of my own clumsiness and idiocy and make me want to do something equally destructive to myself. Yes, I have those thoughts, and yes, sometimes there is something of a plan that develops in my mind as I dwell in self-loathing. That's why it was so important for me to get out of the house. When Scott comes home I'll have to tell him, and he won't be nearly as upset with me as I am, but I dread it all the same.....like a little kid who broke something incredibly valuable. Scott is not materialistic, nor is he even half as impatient with me as I am (and as I believe he should be), but he won't be thrilled at what I've done. I, on the other hand, have been punishing myself all afternoon by replaying those few seconds in my mind and thinking how amazingly stupid I must be to do something like that, and how irresponsible I must be, and how this and that and the other thing I must be. Why do I do this to myself? I wish I were different.

A Breakthrough?

Okay, so I had another "visit" (as we like to call them) with my counselor a little while ago, and I feel now, more than ever, like a little kid who sticks the thermometer into a pot of boiling hot tea water while his mother isn't looking so that his temperature will read 150 and he won't have to go to school, but who, upon being found out (because no one in their right minds would believe that someone's temperature was 150) simply whines over and over again, "But I don't WANNA go! I'm sick! I don't wanna go! Don't make me go! You're MEAN!!!" Allow me to explain.

Apparently, I'm dissatisfied with my job. While this might not come as any particular surprise to some of you who read this, it came as a pretty big surprise to me when I found out this afternoon. This is the thing: I don't like not being engaged while I'm at work, I don't like watching the clock and twiddling my thumbs, I don't like being asked to do simply menial things because people don't trust me enough to do more important things on my own, and I don't like being stuck there feeling like I'm not needed. All of that, I think, makes me not want to go to work, because those things are all pretty much true of my job. It's frustrating, and I don't like it so much. Imagine.

That, combined with my generalized anxiety and panic disorder, has led me to simply NOT go to work. Knowing that when I DO go I'll probably be simply sitting and finding new ways to twiddle my thumbs, I'm not very motivated to overcome my feelings of anxiety and stuff. So I stay home. For weeks on end. Having a diagnosis that allows this to be possible, I apparently have been milking it. Somewhat.

Tonight, talking with Karla, I discovered all of this, and, on top of that, I discovered that the feeling of disappointing other people by not going to work is actually worse than the misery and anxiety I feel related to work.

So the breakthrough is.............................

I need to go to work.

Now do you see why I feel like a little kid rationalizing why I don't want to go to school? No good excuse not to, and staying home from school only creates makeup work and the fear that people will forget about you.......and that's where I am now.

I'm supposed to go to work. We'll see about that. I have to go lead Bible study now.....but I'll get back to you later.

Again

It's happening again. I'm feeling so overwhelmed and so frustrated, and I wound up crying like a baby again last night out of nowhere. I shouldn't feel so overwhelmed over nothing, and I shouldn't feel so out of control. I do, though, and it just hits me so hard sometimes that I just cry and cry until I fall asleep and then when I wake up again I do everything I can to keep from thinking of it again...which usually involves going back to sleep. I missed lunch with Vickie today - I was supposed to meet her, and shamefully, I stood her up. I couldn't do it. I couldn't get myself out of bed, and I couldn't make myself sociable. I feel like when someone asks me to lunch, they aren't asking for what they're likely, in all honesty, to get with me, which is gloom and sadness and deep psychological talk. People have enough of that going on themselves, so I feel awful sharing my heavy load with anyone, though I know that's technically what I'm supposed to do. I'm reminded of this part in this book I read once where the author said that a woman's ultimate fear is that she'll be "too much" for people to handle, and that's what I feel like is going on with me. I don't want to talk to people about what I have going on, unless I'm literally paying them to hear it all, and I don't want to dump it all on some unsuspecting person when all they really wanted me to say is that I'm fine. I don't want to become one of those people who people feel like is always moping around and never has anything positive to say, so it's easier to hide away, not talk to anyone at all, rather than keep putting on the act or risk being seen through....and having to tell it all anyway. I feel like I'm wearing people down with all of my junk - y'all included - and like everyone is tired of being dragged along on this roller coaster ride that my life has become. I don't want to live like this. It's so painful and frustrating and so scary. I feel like I'm disappointing everyone - absolutely everyone - and I don't know how to reverse this process I've somehow gotten myself into. I'm sorry, y'all. I know I'm doing now the very thing I'm saying I don't like to do, and I really do apologize. I didn't mean for this post to become like this, but something inside me is saying that I should write this because it's what's really going on and what I'm really feeling....I'm a little conflicted, if you can't tell. Anyway, I wrote this today.....

As day breaks, so does her spirit.
The sun comes up, bringing light into her darkness
and bringing hidden things into the open.
She has to face it all again. To think of it all and realize again how real it all is.
So she smiles a smile of having to
and lives the life of needing to.
The irony....
Her spirit must again wait for the safety of darkness,
the freedom of night,
when the plastic smile and synthetic life lose their meaning.
The day wears on and again she is covered
with the familiar softness of night's blanket.
It wraps around her,
she settles in, and
again, finally, she cries the tears of wanting to.

I don't know where that came from, really, but it rang so true with me. I'm sorry, y'all. I didn't mean to be so down on y'all today. Please just pray for me, okay? I need it, badly.

Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me, for in you my soul takes refuge. I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed. (Psalm 57:1)

I need thee every hour......

I need some accountability. I know it's hard for my regular blog readers to do so since we don't get to talk often and see each other even less frequently than that (poo!), but I need some help from y'all. I need you to help me get back on track. I'm sitting here listening to hymns on my computer, songs I've put on there from my worship cds and that I've bought because they spoke to me, and it's literally like I've been dying of thirst and someone is dripping icy cold water on my mouth and lips....giving me that taste I haven't had in so long and reminding me why I need it so badly... It's moistening my parched heart and spirit and making me want to sing and pray and cry all at the same time. While I know I need it and am constantly being reminded that I need to spend time with my Lord and to sit at His feet and know that He is God over all of my circumstances, I still never do. I just don't. No good excuses and no silly rationalization, but I just don't do what I need to do, and I need someone to hold me to it. I could ask Scott, and I have, but somehow girls are better at that than guys are, in my experience, and I need simply for someone to say to me periodically, "Are you spending time with Jesus?" That's all I need. The words "turn your eyes upon Jesus" are playing right now, and I know the truth behind them....that if I look into the full radiance of His face I'll see just how dim the things of the world are that have been occupying my thoughts and my time and my energy. I need Him, every hour, but it seems like unless I have someone to point me in that direction, I'm not going to do it. Why were we created with that stubborn vein in us that refuses to take care of ourselves the way we know we should?

Maybe This Time

I have a new diagnosis: panic disorder with agoraphobia. That's a big, long way to say that I panic when I have to go places with lots of people or crowds. I have two new prescriptions I've started, and I'm just hoping that maybe this will be the solution I've been looking for. It seems like I've been dealing with this forever, and yet when I'm talking to my psychiatrist and telling her about my symptoms and how long this has actually been going on, it sounds like no time at all, really. I still didn't really want to go talk to her, even once I was in the waiting room awaiting my turn to go talk to her, but I knew (and still know) that it's best for me to talk to someone who can get me on the right medications and get me squared away in that department so that my counselor can do her job and so that my prayers will be more fruitful. I think my own disorder, as I now know that it is, has been making me want God so badly, for obvious reasons, but it has also made me run away from Him harder and faster than ever before. Facing God with this means I have to really look it in the face, really own up to what's going on in my head and in my heart, and really deal with it once and for all. I can fake it with friends, I can fake it with family and sometimes even with Scott, but I can't fake it with God. That's a hard thing to deal with when all you're interested in doing is hiding. It's all about hiding when I'm like this - hiding from people, hiding from me, hiding from God. The hiding brings me down, depresses me, and makes it worse....but somehow it still seems like the best solution. All of that being said, I'm hopeful that maybe the medication I'm starting now will be closer to what I need for healing.

The other morning, something really strange happened. I woke up to Scott leaning over me saying, "What? What'd you say?" over and over again. I kept repeating what I had said, and only after I had said it probably six or more times did I realize why he couldn't understand me.... I was definitely talking in my sleep in Spanish. Upon further thought on the subject, I realized I had been dreaming in Spanish for the better part of the night. What's more, once I got up and was making Scott's lunch and starting my morning routine, I was still thinking in Spanish. this wouldn't have been weird at all a couple of years ago, when you know, I spoke Spanish all the time, but I have virtually no occasion to use any Spanish speaking abilities now, so I have no clue where that came from. Weird as it was, I kinda liked it. Poor Scott was pretty confused, though. Makes for a good story!