“Before you pass judgment on one who is self-destructing, it’s important to remember they usually aren’t trying to destroy themselves. They’re trying to destroy something inside that doesn’t belong.” --J.M. Storm

“You don’t know me!!!”

 

During my most rebellious phases I would insolently retort, “you don’t know me!!! you don’t know where I’ve been!”, to anyone who dared question my culturally encapsulated behaviors and attitudes. To this day I interpret the world through “trauma-colored glasses”. Every decision, every action and reaction, every opinion, every belief flow through a linguistic and cultural filter that has been polluted by trauma from the earliest stages of development. I’m not going to enter into details, I will simply illustrate my definition of trauma as:

• ·       Being forced to eat foods that offended my senses, i.e., texture, smell, taste, that developed into an unhealthy relationship with food and dysmorphia;
• ·       Having access to alcohol/cigarettes at an early age;
• ·       Sexual assault/abuse/misuse/exposure since age 4 or 5;
• ·       Unhealthy relationship with food or whatever substance that would anesthetize the pain- physical, mental, spiritual;
• ·       Obsession with the acquisition of information as a standard of knowledge and wisdom, ie, graduate degrees, multiple languages, travel, etc.

I am part of the third generation of ministerial families, on both sides. Appearance is everything. We had to be the perfect children, 24/7/365. There was no room for error, lest we meet a harsh stare, pinch or smack depending on circumstance, time, or place.

…are we connecting yet?

Being the product of perfectionism meant straight A’s, 1-12; going to college was non-negotiable. We lived in a large family bubble, where everybody knew each other’s business, yet we mastered the art of denial and secrecy, “for the sake of the congregation”.

Of course, we moved to the mainland as a “block” in the 70’s, living in close proximity to each other. My parents, who were considered professionals in the island, now had to work “blue-collar” jobs. It meant a new language, culture, schools, economic status, living circumstances. In summary, going from comfortable to ghetto was not my definition of fun. “Culture shock” is an understatement.

Still, going to college was a non-negotiable expectation. It was the only way to get out. I had to fight “tooth and nail” to get in, and stay in. Funding came in scholarships, loans, sometimes working two or three jobs. I learned to read and write for academic purposes thanks to the compassionate intervention of professors who were true educators and committed to the success of students.

Fast forward through the years spent in an alcohol fueled existence: military (medical discharge), turbulent marriage, dysfunctional motherhood, and graduate school. there were significant moments of sobriety, quickly followed by bingeing/purging.

... can you identify with any of this?

This is not shared in the spirit of competition or comparison. The pain is real, regardless of how deep, how long, how ugly, or how recent the wound was inflicted. I am sharing this as a point of connection, hoping that we can identify with each other and empathize.

Everyday is an adventure. Somedays I ride a roller coaster of fear and anxiety, climbing and falling as i struggle to overcome; to exercise freedom in Christ; to find hope in the midst of despair. Other days I hop on the merry-go-round of joy and peace, and I whirl, twirl, and dance to the beat of my own drum. Despite my weaknesses and insecurities, rebellions and setbacks, there has been one constant – God’s presence. He has been PRESENT, whether I acknowledge Him or not. Regardless of the situation, He protected me, He comforted me, He saved me from myself. He was relentless in His pursuit until I surrendered and fell into His arms.

These days I am content to co-labor in a loving community of faith, to mentor younger women, to remain on the mission as a Titus 2 woman warrior:

Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled. (Titus 2: 3-5, ESV)

now that you've read this far, do you still want to know me?

i just hope we can connect.