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"An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile, hoping it will eat him last."
Sir Winston Churchill

12.10.2006

Perspective and a Good Husband

Thanks for all your comments and prayers.

I went back to my therapist last week. I hadn't been... or had to... or, er, admitted to having to in 6 months. I've made progress. But there are still issues I'm working on. Aren't we all.

I know I've been beating around the bush when it comes to what the issue really is. It's not my ED (that aspect has become much more manageable); it's not depression; not an inability to look past myself and help people; not a lack of faith; not the nasty family dynamic I always thought was normal until about 3 years ago; it's rather a mourning of sorts.

I'm not a quitter. I'm not weak. I don't need help from anyone. I figure things out on my own. I thrive. I push onward. I grow despite the outward forces craving my implosion. Because I think things are okay. It's not that bad, I say to myself. I can do this, I think. I've never stopped to ponder: it's not okay, it is bad, I can't do this. I need help.

Not with everyday functions, mind you. I've never been one to stop completely. The house still runs. I still shower and dress. My problem is kinetic. I have to be told to rest. I have to be coaxed and yelled at before I stop. I don't like not doing. Being lazy is something I have to work at (ha!) and something I feel incredibly guilty for afterwards. But I'm learning. I need to rest. It's okay.

And I need to mourn for a little while. I'm in that stage of the grieving process. Denial is gone. My family is screwed up. And they seek total control of my life. My past was really painful. And messy. And it's going to be hard to make this stand so that my children are healthy and don't have to endure the hell I did. That's what this stage is about. I have to mourn for a little while. That's why I'm always busy. So the voices won't catch up with me. I have to turn and face the voices now. I have to talk to them and let them know who's boss. Or I'm going to to run until I die.

It's interesting. So many things that don't seem to be connected in life really are. All the rabbit trails of action and reaction are tributaries of the same motives; fear drives control; self-loathing drives manipulation; love drives discipline. And they are all enmeshed. We don't realize how fragile and concentrated the web of our existence is. Or how resilient. It's amazing how wicked we can be to one another. But even more so how our souls can rise from the ashes of brutality like seraphim.

What has been done to one and by one can be undone.

We just have to have Hope.

And I do.

And I have such a partner for the road! After Satan abducted all our fish, the UPS surprise truck showed up with an aquarium. For indoors. Where owls and kitties can't stalk. All the equipment arrived with it. We're already shopping for new goldfish. The water quality should be right for them around Christmas. We've even got water sculptures for the fish to run around in. Little caves to hide in and sleep. Little columns to slalom. There's a fishy at PetSmart that I really hope is still there at Christmas. He's gold and orange and has a little black "mustache" right over his top lip. I've nicknamed him Hitler.

Despite everything going on right now, there is such laughter and love and intimacy in our home. We have such a good time. I don't think I could love anyone more. I don't think I could trust anyone more. I want that for everyone. It would make the world a better place. To be seen and accepted for who you really are. To laugh all the time with someone you really love. To want to do things for someone because they're them, not because they expect it or because you're afraid they'll withhold love from you if you don't bend to their whim. Complete love. Not fractured or strained. Not a shadow of the real thing. The light that casts shadow on anything dark. That's what I have. And it is as life-giving as air.

And we will have children. We're just meant to. I can't explain how I know that. I just do. Like I know my own name. A thousand upward steps lead there.

This season is for our benefit. Our discipline. Our growing and learning and strengthening. We are being pruned to bear more fruit. I don't know when the news will come. Or how. But it will.

Although they go forth weeping, carrying the seed to be sown,
They shall come back rejoicing, carrying their sheaves.

Another Child is coming soon.

And it is His arrival that has made this possible.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

4 Comments:

Anonymous karen said...

Beautiful, WG.
Not just the post.
You.

9:53 AM  
Blogger Missy said...

Beautiful.

2:58 PM  
Anonymous Kate P said...

Enjoyed this hopeful post. Good luck with the new aquarium (funny, I was just discussing the idea of having an aquarium to entertain my cat--just to look at, mind you--and there you go mentioning it).

And that paragraph after the aquarium one? I hope your wish comes true--at least for me and my longing heart. You have a lot of trust in the Lord and I'm trying to as well. :)

8:18 PM  
Blogger WordGirl said...

Thanks, y'all.

XOXOXOXO

6:55 AM  

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