My New Normal

My New Normal

Sometimes I like my new normal and other times it just really sucks. I know those words lack eloquence, but any other way too describe it presently eludes me. I perused my last blog entry and it made me wonder at how I came to that peaceful place on that particular day. I do recall that my new normal brings me coziness that I can wrap around me like a warm, fuzzy blanket on a cold winter's day. But, today is a different day. Today I am cynical about the idea of "freedom" from the past. If I could only package the clarity I had on that day into the form of a pill that I could take on those other days, days like today, when I question everything about everything in my new normal. Yes, it is true that there is a tremendous sense of calm that comes with setting boundaries. This peaceful spot of NOT getting entagled with the chaos and confusion of my old family system is only one side of the coin. And on the other side is loss. It is the Yin in my Yang.

Alright, I gave myself more than a week and it's time for a new season. If you recall, I had decided it was alright for me to mourn my losses. That was good, but I'm ready to put it on the shelf again for awhile. I learned, I grew, I am stronger. Anyone who ever says it's not o.k. to revisit the past is a liar. For how do we move on from it if we don't pick up all those jagged pieces and discover just how they tore at our hearts? There is much wisdom in this practice. It is a great teacher. I learned that I am not required to rescue or fix anyone. As I mulled over the messages I heard growing up I realized that I had taken a great burden upon myself at a very young age. No one asked me to take this burden with actual words, but there was a great expectation that I sensed from a very young age. How does this happen to one so young? I'll never understand this mystery. I know it happens to many and I am not alone in this phenomenon. It is one thing I can't wait to ask God about. So, I now have given myself a great big hug and told my little girl she can let go of this burden she thought she had to carry. The burden of being a "good girl" so as not too upset the household anymore than the chaotic state it was always in. The burden of listening to disparing tales of bad decisions made by older siblings and being asked for advice on how to remedy the consequences of these decisions. How was I to know what was needed to right a wrong? The burden of lying in my bed listening to drunken teenagers as a fear enveloped my little heart and mind as to who would take care of me if something really bad happened? The burden of knowing mommy and daddy were at work and I was left in the charge of young adults that were acting in very childish ways. And it dawned on me as I pondered this jagged piece of my childhood memory that this must be where I first developed the concept that I, not being drunk or stoned, was the only one sober in my house at a time when my parental units were not there to play that role. Guess what? That really messes with a kid! So, to make a long story short, imagine if you will an extremely heavy weight attached to a very long chain that is shackled to my ankle. On this heavy weight is the burden of "taking care" of my siblings. There are the words "responsible one", "quiet one", "one who carries the worry", "good girl" are all scribbled in child like letters across this weight and it dawns on me that I am no longer a child! I DO NOT have to drag around these beliefs any longer! And this revelation has enabled me to take an axe to that chain and severe it with one swift hack. I am letting go of all responsibility to my siblings, imagined or real. I am NOT responsible to help anyone but myself! Freedom!

The pain is palpable

Today I am surrounded by my pain. It is crushing my chest into the size of a shriveled up raisin, but leaving a big, black gaping hole inside of my heart. It feel so big that I swear if I were to walk outside someone would say, "hey, Jill, what happened to you, did you get shot?" It is so intense it is causing my arms to feel like lead and my legs to spasm with their own rhythm. It hurts. That is an understatement. I want to scream and shout and cry and swear and hit and run, and writhe on the floor. But,I can't because I have a life to live here. I have children who need a mother when they get home, when all I really want to do is curl up in a ball and beat my head against the wall. I have a life to live. And I wonder is this healthy? Do I keep pushing this pain aside? I don't have time to give it full credence. It sucks because it's making my body hurt. ALOT. How do I let it out without freaking everybody in my world out? For if I could really express what I'm feeling it would be the ugliest, blackest, most disgusting thing you have ever laid eyes on. I literally want to throw up this pain and get it outside of me. I don't want to carry this any more. It is robbing me of my joy and my peace. I find myself in a position of complete helplessness. I don't know where to go, who to turn to, how to proceed. I have no words, and so I say to my Jesus, take this cup from me! I am finished now. I can't hold it any more. I know if you are reading this you are wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Why this abrupt disbursement of words regarding my intense emotional pain? I got a letter from my sister. You know, the mom of my beloved nieces. I don't know what to do now. I feel so incredibly stuck and frozen in time. With this letter a flood of memories opened up for me. And kudos to my sister for writing in such a way that I actually gave myself permission to be really pissed off for the first time. I mean, really pissed off. All the things I have been pushing down, hiding away, not saying since I was a child, as to protect her from being hurt, well, all those things came flooding back into my memory. OH, and it is so incredibly painful. There was more manipulation, denial, and jealousy towards me than I care to remember. We never had a normal relationship. I always felt responsible for her. I can remember laying on my bed and begging, begging, begging God to protect her. I knew, even at 7,8,9 years old that things were really bad. I knew something wasn't right. I was burdened with something I can't even describe in words. It was a defining moment in my life and I will never forget it. I made the decision that I must be a GOOD girl in order to save my family. What the??? It is what one does as a child who is trying to control an environment that is so incredibly chaotic they fear they are going to disappear. And this is when the pain comes. When I remember how I decided to just shut up. I shut myself up. I closed down. I became mute. I stopped using my voice and did everything in my own childish perspective of power to right things in this very wrong world I lived in. Maybe if I was quiet enough than things would get better??? I can remember sitting at the kitchen table and imagining myself standing on the chair and screaming at the top of my lungs, "something is terribly wrong!!!! I am being molested, my brothers and sister are getting into some serious trouble and I am scared out of my frickin' mind". The feeling of powerlessness is so destructive. Who took my voice anyway? When did I decide to stop talking? When did I decide to stop asserting myself? HOw did this ever happen to me??? And so today I weep for me. It feels so selfish, but I think I might be onto something here. I weep for the lost little girl who gave up her childhood to child molesters and fear and sadness and abandonment and neglect. I am choosing to honor her today and tell her that what happened to her was so very, very wrong. It was so incredibly wrong. And that's all I can say right now. I just realized I need to be o.k. with allowing me my own pain. Yep, lots of people hurt me because of their pain, and in my home growing up that's all that mattered. You cared about the person hurting you more than you cared for yourself. Guess what? That's not working for me!!!! So, here goes: for the next week I am going to care about me. I am going to recognize that I had a pretty shitty time of it growing up.
This should be interesting....

Just to be me....

I made a promise to my G-girl. What was I ever thinking? She knew of my secret desire to be pierced and so she challenged me. She asked that I get pierced for her if she successfully completed her time at the ranch where she willingly submitted herself to a season of discipline and self reflection in Februrary of 2010. On June 11th, 2010 she had accomplished this. And now 9 months later, I have finally made good on that promise. There were so many reasons that held me back from doing this sooner. The first being the thought that I am getting too old and the second that it goes against all the "conservative christian" arguments in my head. What would my fellow christian's think of me? I was always taught that those who were tatooed and pierced AFTER knowing Jesus weren't acting very christian. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. What was I to do? I wrestled with the desire to be true to my word and fulfill my promise. Wondering if perhaps this action could allow me to be a vessel of the transforming love of Jesus? If I kept my promise perhaps I could give my G-girl just a sliver of a glimpse of His great love for her. Little did I know how much it would allow me to experience this same love again. Being taught that tatooing and piercing was wrong always troubled me. I was born a very creative and expressive person. I thoroughly enjoy expressing my faith through writing, music, dance, and even creating art for my home in the form of curtains, bed spreads, and even the colors I paint my walls. All of these things have GREAT thought behind them. They are an offering of worship, an expression of love experienced by Him and flowing out to others. And I also believe that God, being my creator, is the one who made me like this. And being this way leads me to experience God in very non traditional ways. Do I enjoy going to church to rub elbows with fellow believers? Absolutely! But, in all honesty the times I truly feel the closest to the Lover of my soul is when I am doing all the artsy things He created me to do. Being of the artistic persuasion also means that I see things in rich colors and feelings. I feel the most ALIVE and loved by God when I am expressing myself in an artistic way. Now, what's even weirder is that I actually feel the closest to his love for me when I am in physical and emotional pain. In those moments of agony I am broken and more open to hear from him than at any other time. I am sure some of you are thinking I may need to be committed after this confession, but I am nothing but authentic on this blog of mine. So, in pondering this promise to be pierced I sought God. I prayed and read the scripture and here is what I was led to over and over again; "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends" - John 15:13, New International Version, ©2011)'>John 15:13John 15:13, New International Version, ©2011)'> O.K., so I wasn't going to be laying my life down, but in keeping my promise to be pierced maybe I was being given an opportunity to give Gretchen a sliver of a glimpse of that great love. And so I did it! And, being the person that he created me to be, it was for me a spiritual experience. The moment I sat on the stool to be pierced and closed my physical eyes, my heart's eyes were opened. Before me was the broken body of my Savior and mere seconds later as the needle pierced my skin I heard "a promise is sacred". At that moment of intense pain I did cry but the pain was only a fraction of the reason for my tears, for when the needle punctured through my skin I saw written in red these words from Isaiah about the Lover of my Soul, "But he was pierced for our transgressions,he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53:5, New International Version, ©2011)'>Isaiah 53:5. As I felt the needle going through I was shattered by the realization that my miniscule act of love by keeping a promise, was grossly inadequate to what my Jesus did for me. This moment of physical pain resulted in the warmth of the great wave of love "crashing" down upon my head and spilling down, down, down into my whole being. This piercing experience has given me much to ponder and I anticpate will be the catalyst for great discussion with my God in the months to come. Dear Reader, may you know the depth, heigth, width, and breadth of his love for you. For when you do it will change your life.

Being the artsy person that God created me to be I have penned the following song :

C:\Users\JKarber\Music\Unknown Artist\Unknown Album (12-21-2008 4-40-30 PM)

No greater act of love is found
Nothing else makes the world go round, round, round
But love, love, love
Love makes the world go round
The world’s confused by his action
That He laid down his life,
but still he is hated
How can I fear that I’ll ever offend,
To not proclaim the love of my best friend?
So now I’ll shout it from the mountain tops

Chorus -

His blood flowed down
His blood flowed down
From the thorns on his crown
It flowed love, grace and freedom
If love His love were a color it could never be painted
You can try to cover it up, make it prettier than it was, You can try to shut up His love
But his blood will cry out
His blood flowed down
His blood flowed down
From the thorns on his crown

So many things to distract me
that take my eyes from the Prince of Peace
Who gazes on me with perfect love
He sees my heart and all my transgressions
Every sin that I've committed
He even sees the way's I've been mistreated
My shattered heart and broken dreams
Common sense says walk away
If God is love, why the pain?

Chorus
His blood cries out to the poor, the rich
His blood cries out to the beautiful, the down trodden
It can never be silenced
He came to seek and save what was lost
OH, you can never shut his blood up
You can never stop his love

His love flowed down
His love flowed down
from the thorns on His crown
It flowed love, grace and freedom
If His love were a color it could never be painted
You can try to cover it up, make it prettier than it was, you can try to shut up his love
But his love will cry out,
His love flowed down
His love flowed down
from the thorns on his crown.

Spinning, spinning, spinning

My head is spinning, my heart is churning, my tears again are falling. And I wonder today if they will ever stop.... We are still waiting for a sentencing date and last night I had the daunting task of helping Gretchen write her impact letter. Ugh! What sorrow, what grief, to have to relive again the horror of her childhood. I cried out for her again last night. Just as I cried out for Vera last week. Today I want to find more words to write, but I am at a loss. So, I am going to insert the letter I wrote to my sweet Vera on a day when the heaviness of loss was a boulder around my neck. Here are my words to her: Sweet Vera, you've been on my mind and heart so much this past week. I've dreamt about you, woke up praying for you with the burden of you so heavy on my chest I swear your name is tatooed there. And then I remember that I've always loved you this way. I am certain I loved you before you were even placed in the womb. I had a connection with you the moment I laid eyes on you that defied explanation. It was a secret I kept deep inside of me for fear others might think I was crazy. And besides you weren't supposed to be "mine", but damn if I didn't feel like you were! Of course, I was only a child then. One day shy of twelve years old, lacking confidence and pushed down so low that I had no voice. OH, but now I do! And if I could reverse the clock the story would unfold so differently. I would be tall and strong, full of faith and rage all at the same time. I would take you up in my arms out of your little incubator and I would run for our lives. I would shout and scream and remove any one who got in the way. I would make sure that all those who did not prepare for your precious life never had the opportunity to cause you such pain. You see, I already knew, even way back then that we would need each other. My Father had already prepared my heart for you and for such a time as this. He imprinted you upon my heart. He wrote your name there to teach me about His love. When I awoke last night with your name on my lips there were tears on the pillow and I asked God why you had to suffer so much. It pained me to the point of not being able to speak as my heart seized within me and I was unable to take a breath. Truly, God opened a window into the ugliness of sin and it's devastation on mankind. I was paralyzed with sadness and overcome by the blackness of all you endured. It caused me to gag and my stomache churned inside me. I know that as much as my heart is broken, it is nothing in comparison to what you have endured, my love. This is what I know, God meddled in my heart last night. Because of my faith, I cried out to God and asked the Holy Spirit to speak for me as all I could manage was a groan. God was allowing me to feel something I can't even put into words. This drives me crazy, of course, because it is one of the best ways I know to express myself. I can't fully comprehend or even express what God did, but I can tell you that I am changed because of it. It was for sure a glimpse of horrific pain, but there was also such compassion as I heard the voice of God say to me over and over and over again, "I am a father to the fatherless". And this is what I've clung too. And yet, I fear you may think I am trying to "christianize" your experience. Please know this is the last thing I want to do. I have learned I will never understand, nor pretend to understand why you've had to endure the trauma of sexual crimes. What I do know is that a song, a poem, a lament, whatever you want to call it, started in the core of my soul and it began to sream for you. A primal cry for healing for your soul, for joy and happiness, for a knowing of comfort and peace. For lack of explanation, all I can say is that this was a supremely spiritual experience. Today I decided to look up all the passages on fatherless that I could find. These verses came the closest to expressing what was in my heart.
"Time to get up, God! Get moving!
The luckless think they're God-forsaken.
They wonder why the wicked scorn God,
and get away with it!
Why the wicked are so cock sure
they won't come up for audit.
But you know all about it - the contempt, the abuse.
I dare to believe that the luckless will get lucky some day in you.
You won't let them down, orphans won't be orphans forever.
Break all the wicked right arms, break the evil left arms.
Search and destroy every sign of crime
God's grace and order wins; godlessness loses
The victim's faint pulse picks up;
the hearts of the hopeless pump red blood as you put ear to their lips.
Orphans get parents, the homeless get homes.
The reign of terror is over, the rule of the gang lords is ended.

Father of orphans, champion of widows,
is God in his holy house.
God makes homes for the homeless,
leads prisoners to freedom,
but leaves rebels to rot in hell.

Vera, I can never be your mom and Jeff can never be your dad, but you can be sure we will never abandon you. We will always be here.

Forever Yours,
Jillian

Some good news, sort of....

I found some time to call the assistant to the Prosecuting Attorney and quickly dialed the number. I needed to know if there was any "resolution" to the nightmare we've been facing. I was immediately rewarded with a rush of great relief when she quickly informed me that there had been a guilty plea given. And then there was the rest of the phone call.... At first glance it seemed we were nearing the end of a nightmare, but no. It only is another beginning, another section of the shitty tunnel we have to crawl through. So, dear reader, today I find myself battling to even want to start my day. Since we found out that my ex-brother in law is asking for "treatment" instead of prison time the emotions have come over me like waves crashing on the surf. One moment I don't give a damn and I feel peaceful, calm, and intensely focused on my husband, children, my friends, my good life. The next moment I am reminded again of shattered dreams. I see these shattered dreams in full color as I watch my niece struggle to live life just one more day. I mean, can you imagine? Does any child come into this world desiring for an abusive home life? Do they come into this world expecting to be severely neglected by their mother and molested by their father? How does one begin to pick up the pieces of the shattered dreams of a broken childhood. How do we "fix" this? I've come to know now that it can't be fixed. The harsh reality is that this is now our "new normal". The phase where we process and deal almost daily with the sharp pieces of painful memories that threaten to steal the joy of the present. Thank God we are still finding joy, although it seems so rare and is more often than not overshadowed by the pain. But, I digress! The point of this expression time is to release some of my anxiety over the possible "treatment" plan that could be granted to the man who contributed to the shattered dreams of my precious Vera and Gretchen. Perhaps I seem like a very bad follower of Jesus when I cringe at the thought of this man out and about in the world. Oh, I know he will be closely monitored if given treatment, but somehow it just seems so unfair to me. This is why I must leave it in the proper hands. I can't give him any more of my emotion. It's simply not worth it. I have to walk away now and place it in God's hands. l do this with my own trembling hands. I really don't want to "lay it down". I just know that I am done..... I have no more energy to care or worry about the outcome, so lay it down I must. This leads me back to some good news. That good news is that history tells me that every time I have "given up", even though I don't want to or feel like it, I have been rewarded by the loving embrace of Jesus. I don't know how he does it, but I know that inevitably I will experience his peace and presence in this giving up moment.

And now I just need to take a minute to thank all of you who have been coming on this journey with me. I am sure there are times you are tired of reading my sadness. I am impressed and blessed by those who have "hung in there'' with me. You are Jesus to me. Thank you!

Who will walk in the light with me?

I'm in a tunnel now, it's one of the grossest ones I've ever been through. By gross I mean extremely muddy and incredibly smelly. It's a tunnel full of sewer that represents the lies, cover ups, manipulation, and deception that has been a part of my life since I came out of my mother's womb. But, I have seen a light at the end of this tunnel. Oh, it's faint alright. It's the size of a pin head right now, but, believe it or not has ever so slowly grown a bit bigger than the pin prick size it once was. It grows with each day I give credence to all that I lost. I've actually been in this tunnel before and found my way out. I had forgotten that the way out was to acknowledge all the crap I had to wade through in order to move forward towards the light. Had I known that I would have to get back in this tunnel again after the first time of going through it I would not have gotten on my knees to crawl through it the first time. Ah, crap, no pun intended here, the truth is that it's probably only the second time of a thousand more I'm going to have to endure. I've now realized that this is just life. Well, at least if I want to actually have a life. A life that can have sanity, peace, serenity and freedom from the past. If I continue to honor my life altering, painful experiences than I will walk into the loving warmth of the light and the truth for longer periods of time. Yep, something else will inevitably come up again that I will have to grieve, but the louder and prouder I am in those moments of heart ache the longer spells of walking into the light I will be blessed with. The abundant life that God promised me is hard won because it takes the courageous step of picking up the crap that fills the tunnel and grieving over each loss that it represents. I am so thankful God has also provided others to go through this tunnel with me. Some of you know who you are, and some of you are my "secret" angels. You may be a stranger to me, but you have said something profound from the radio of my car speaker, or simply gave me a warm smile when we passed in the mall. These things, however small they may seem, were gifts to me. They were arrows pointing the way out of the darkness. I cherish them and pull them out when I'm feeling particularly afraid to take the next step forward. Then there are those of you who have willingly gotten into this tunnel with me. I am forever changed by your Christ like love and compassion. You have been Jesus to me. Your sweet embrace of all of me is the very fragrance of unconditional love. It fills my nostrils with a heady aroma of hope and goodness and kindness. You have held my hair when I needed to "barf" up the broken pieces of my life and you have held my hand as I wept over it all. And now, here I am again, needing to take another step towards the light. I decided to do this on my blog today. I'm afraid of the consequences, but I don't want to hold this in any more. Somehow that makes it feel more like a lie, because a lie is essentially hiding the truth. When the truth is hidden there is a covering over. There is darkness. So, for this moment, I am going to uncover the truth. I am going to take another step towards the light.
I was born to a mommy who didn't know how to bond with her children. She tried her damnedest, bless her heart, but she was so broken from the neglect in her own childhood that she was never able to truly connect with me. Oh, she could sure make me look pretty on the outside by buying me nice clothes and she could brush my hair until it shone, but those are all very robotic types of activities. What I'm talking about here is a heart to heart connection. An ability to reach into my heart and wrap it up with hers. When I became a mama that was the first thing I noticed.... I felt such a tremendous connection with my babies. And I felt them connect with me immediately. I could see in their eyes that their world revolved around me and damn if I wasn't going to do EVERYTHING in my power to really KNOW them. And that's when I had to grieve again because I remembered that I never felt truly "known" by my mama. I always felt like I was falling when I was a child. I remember such insecurity. Who was going to catch me? Mama, mama, where are you? My heart cried out for her. Will you come and hold me? Will you come and just sit by my side? Will you listen with your heart and not just your ears? OH, mama! I needed you. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I am so intrigued by the research that I discovered this year. It seems that when a child is able to bond with a strong and confident mama who models strength and resilience they have a much lower chance of being abused. OH, snap! You see, I was molested starting at the age of four and it continued until I was 17 years old. There is a long list of horribly damaging situations I faced and I will spare you the details, but it radically changed my life. Now, I have experienced healing and I've come to realize that part of that healing is recognizing that my innocence was taken from me. God heals and restores, but the fact remains that there are consequences that can't be reversed. Once you have been violated it is seared upon your brain and your heart. It hurts like I imagine hell to be and it leaves one feeling so naked, vulnerable, and really pissed off. I was violated in a way that NO child should ever have to endure. It felt as though they reached inside and pulled out my spirit, trampled on it and then threw it away. The great news is that it only felt that way and isn't reality. I know who holds my spirit in His loving hands. But, I wouldn't be "in the truth" if I didn't share how it felt. So, these horrific sexual crimes that were committed against me have been looked at extensively. They have been pondered over and responsibility has now been placed where it belongs, on the offender. And now I am in a new and different place. Now I find myself walking down this same journey with my nieces. I watch as they have begun to take the first steps toward the light. It sucks. I know it is the way out, but it sucks. It rips at my heart because I know how painful this process is. And yet I am so proud of them for their incredible bravery and courage. Where does that come from? OH, if I could only express the intense love and commitment I feel to them. There really aren't any words. There lives are so precious to me and I want to cover them with the gift of affirmation. I want to shout from the roof tops, "Vera and Gretchen, I BELIEVE YOU! And I am so angry at all that you have lost!!!! Oh, Dear God, rescue my precious ones." Most of all I want them to know how incredibly sorry I am that I wasn't able to intervene sooner. I would give my right arm to turn back the clock and swoop up my little Vera girl the moment she confessed that she was molested by her father. OH, Lord, it makes me sick to even write that. I have to hold back the vomit. What betrayal! Is there any other betrayal more horrific than this? I am shattered inside to say that there is because there is the betrayal of a mother who never took the steps to stop it. And this means it was allowed to happen over and over and over and over again. And because there was not a swift and immediate end put to this horrific crime there was another precious girl brought into this world who also fell victim to the same heinous crimes. Why???? oh, why???? Do you know how good it feels to call what happened to them a crime? It was not allowed for so long to speak the truth of what occurred in the home of my beloved girls. But what sweetness it is to hear the Prosecuting Attorney state the facts in black and white. Well, really, he is speaking the truth. The truth is that, oh if I can even write this without puking! The truth is that the crimes committed against Vera and Gretchen were child rape and child molestation in the first degree, people! I mean, come on! How in the world do I wrap my brain around this? Well, I have to! I have to go there so that I will give them the honor of grieving this horribly destructive thing. It is so painful to realize that the people you love were also stolen from. Their innocence has been taken and now they will have to crawl through this shitty tunnel as well. AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhh! That is the sound of the primal cry of my broken heart. I will cry for you, Vera and Gretchen. I will hold your hair as you vomit all of this heart ache and hold your hand as you weep over all you have lost. I will be strong for you and I will embrace you every day for as long as I have breath. I will walk into the light with you.