When I wrote my last post, I was in awe as to the number of kind responses I received. It's hard to tell people about something personal that happened to you and even harder to tell it on a mass stage. It was relieving to have my message go over so well, at least to those who were vocal about their reaction.
I thought over a lot as to what I wanted to write about next, if anything. While I love my kids and a lot of things that they do (let's be honest, I'm not so excited about the need to cry over who sits in what seat and even less impressed by the need to pull and/or push the offending person who dared to sit in the wrong seat out of said chair), I'm just not so excited to blog about it all. I love telling it in person so if you want updates of that kind, email me!
So that left scary things like my opinions and thoughts. Scary because that leaves me wide open to criticism, which is only natural since not everyone is going to agree with me. I get that, know that, and expect that. By no means does that mean I'm anxious and eager to have people yell at me, and say mean and degrading things to me. I'm used to harsh words. The world I grew up in revolved around people assuming that if you disagreed, you were judging, and the way around that was to shut down the conversation in the quickest means possible, which meant nasty or condescending words. Internet conversations tend to be the same. I have met few people who are willing to disagree without any loss of friendship or respect.
The other part of my dilemma is what those thoughts would be centered around. Here was a trickier problem. I could just write about whatever popped up in my head, but that would most likely result in a blank screen and no posts.
After a lot of thinking, I've decided to start a new blog. The new blog will be about my journey of healing from the abuse that I've suffered. I am not an expert on it. I couldn't even tell you where I am in my journey. Probably somewhere in the murky middle. What I do know is that abuse, particularly sexual abuse, isn't talked about enough. We don't talk about how to prevent it, how to deal with it when it does happen, and how to move forward toward full healing. These conversations particularly didn't happen in a way that was helpful to me as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I've read self-help books and found some things that helped, but there was a lot of things that went against what I believed. My goal is to help people, but at the very least, get a conversation going.
I will probably get rid of this blog in the next few weeks. I haven't completely made up my mind about that, but don't be surprised if it's just gone one day.
When I get the new blog up and running, I'll post a link.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Monday, July 14, 2014
Healing
I had a few realizations yesterday. I had found a beautiful quote from Elder Jeffrey R Holland some months past and I typed it into the Kindle so that I could have it with me. I saw it while I was in Relief Society yesterday and decided to read it.
"The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead and remember that faith is always pointed toward the future." ("The Best is Yet to Be," Ensign, Jan. 2010, 24.)
It was in that moment, as I felt the spirit of that message, that I realized that it had been a long time since I had reflected on memories that used to plague me. Embarrassing situations that I used to remember in moments of self-doubt that seemed to confirm my stupidity and unworthiness of love. It was a good moment.
Later on, I was reflecting on a conversation that Ashton and I had a few days ago. Most conversations with Ashton leave me scared and paranoid that I had said something wrong, that he'd be angry with me, and all kinds of irrational thoughts that really had no foundation to stand on in most circumstances. As I was reflecting, I realized that I hadn't argued with myself about whether he was mad or not. That brought about the biggest realization: I am healing.
Many of you do not know that I was sexually abused as a child by someone in my immediate family. It's not something I talk about often or with very many people. With that abuse, and many other problems, has come a lot of trials. The most ongoing has been doubting myself and my worth. Voices in my head have competed for attention. Some shouting that I am broken and faulty. Not worth fixing and certainly not worth loving.
Some voices tried to encourage me that I was ok. That I didn't mean to make whatever mistake it was that I had made and that I could do better, but ultimately that I was alright. Not perfect, but trying was the important part. Unfortunately, those voices got drowned out a lot. Most of the time, I could barely hear them. It's only been in the past couple of years that those voices have gained any real traction. If I'm being honest, it's probably only been in the past year that I've truly put my energy into separating the truth from the lies and paying attention to what I was feeding myself with my thoughts.
I'm not perfect. I make mistakes. I do a lot of things wrong. I say insensitive things sometimes. I'm not a perfect mom, I'm not a perfect wife. I'm not a perfect daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, or anything else. I always knew that I wasn't, but now I have such a strong faith in the Atonement of Jesus Christ and His love for me that I know that I'm not beyond hope. I have an easier time letting go of my fear and doubt, and asking what I need to do. Then I try to trust in my ability to feel the promptings of the Spirit and act on those feelings.
I have been blessed to see, and believe, that everyone struggles in one way or another and that makes us equal. Pain is pain no matter what form it comes in. How we deal with the pain matters, but we all have pain. These truths have slowly bought me peace in my head. So slow, that I didn't realize that it had happened until yesterday. There are still moments of doubt, but they are small moments instead of continuous. I still have a long way to go, healing is a slow slow process, but I have been blessed to have a break in the trees, and be able to look back and see just how far I have come.
When I told Ashton, he asked what I was going to do with this new leaf I've turned over. I can't say I know. There are really only two things to do with it: enjoy it and keep healing.
"The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead and remember that faith is always pointed toward the future." ("The Best is Yet to Be," Ensign, Jan. 2010, 24.)
It was in that moment, as I felt the spirit of that message, that I realized that it had been a long time since I had reflected on memories that used to plague me. Embarrassing situations that I used to remember in moments of self-doubt that seemed to confirm my stupidity and unworthiness of love. It was a good moment.
Later on, I was reflecting on a conversation that Ashton and I had a few days ago. Most conversations with Ashton leave me scared and paranoid that I had said something wrong, that he'd be angry with me, and all kinds of irrational thoughts that really had no foundation to stand on in most circumstances. As I was reflecting, I realized that I hadn't argued with myself about whether he was mad or not. That brought about the biggest realization: I am healing.
Many of you do not know that I was sexually abused as a child by someone in my immediate family. It's not something I talk about often or with very many people. With that abuse, and many other problems, has come a lot of trials. The most ongoing has been doubting myself and my worth. Voices in my head have competed for attention. Some shouting that I am broken and faulty. Not worth fixing and certainly not worth loving.
Some voices tried to encourage me that I was ok. That I didn't mean to make whatever mistake it was that I had made and that I could do better, but ultimately that I was alright. Not perfect, but trying was the important part. Unfortunately, those voices got drowned out a lot. Most of the time, I could barely hear them. It's only been in the past couple of years that those voices have gained any real traction. If I'm being honest, it's probably only been in the past year that I've truly put my energy into separating the truth from the lies and paying attention to what I was feeding myself with my thoughts.
I'm not perfect. I make mistakes. I do a lot of things wrong. I say insensitive things sometimes. I'm not a perfect mom, I'm not a perfect wife. I'm not a perfect daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, or anything else. I always knew that I wasn't, but now I have such a strong faith in the Atonement of Jesus Christ and His love for me that I know that I'm not beyond hope. I have an easier time letting go of my fear and doubt, and asking what I need to do. Then I try to trust in my ability to feel the promptings of the Spirit and act on those feelings.
I have been blessed to see, and believe, that everyone struggles in one way or another and that makes us equal. Pain is pain no matter what form it comes in. How we deal with the pain matters, but we all have pain. These truths have slowly bought me peace in my head. So slow, that I didn't realize that it had happened until yesterday. There are still moments of doubt, but they are small moments instead of continuous. I still have a long way to go, healing is a slow slow process, but I have been blessed to have a break in the trees, and be able to look back and see just how far I have come.
When I told Ashton, he asked what I was going to do with this new leaf I've turned over. I can't say I know. There are really only two things to do with it: enjoy it and keep healing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)