I’m struggling

(first published March 2009)

I’m struggling today, as with many days. A friend sent me this link from Holy Experience(one of my all time favorite blogs BTW…how *does* she read my heart on a daily basis, and turn it back out onto her page with such beautiful turns of phrase?). This talk of “being known,” “being seen”…she says:

God sees me, and I am loved: His child, chosen and redeemed, bought with a
price and free from condemnation, a citizen of heaven, called His friend,
appointed to bear fruit. It is only in the silence, we are fully seen, that we
hear Him serenading us to our real selves. … who we are in Christ.

“God sees me and I am loved.” How do you believe that? I certainly feel tolerated, like a pesky little sister, but loved?? Ann even shares a handy link to convince me, and I remain, I suppose, hard hearted.

I don’t WANT to be hard hearted. I try. I cry out for love, but only feel used. I pray like a madwoman, and God remains silent, or at least unseen by my searching eyes. I try to trust. I try.

How does one love and feel loved when she has been treated as an object all her life?Used? Or downright vilified? When one has been told all her life “She loved you so much she did this for you?” Did what? Abandoned me? Oh yah, that’s love.

So from the moment of my conception, I’ve been treated as an object of disgust, fear; a complication, a problem. Then, while I know my parents did *truly* love me, I was also an object for their “use” – “We need a baby. We want a baby girl with blue eyes and brown hair. Here’s one. Perfect.”

Except I’m not perfect. I’m human. I’m the most *imperfect* person I know. So now add “disappointing” to the list of things I am. “Oh, I didn’t think this baby girl would have *problems*. Eesh. We didn’t sign up for that.” So hard in a family that is about things looking just right, about image, about ease. I was none of that.

So “love” to me is from the beginning associated with fear, revulsion, abandonment, disgust, resignation. What does real love feel like? I only know the stuff that got taken away when I showed my less than perfect side. By, like, um, being conceived. Or asking to go to a friends house when someone wanted me to stay home. Or (heaven forbid) getting one C.

I expect God’s love to be different. But I don’t feel that either.

I got married and had a family, hoping that this “new family” would really love me. But my kids don’t listen, treat me with respect, obey. Isn’t that how kids would show love? My poor dh, too, jokes that “If I were twice the man I am I’d still be half of what you need.” (it’s from song lyrics). He’s probably right. The hole he’s trying to fill is bigger than the both of us.

I try so hard to be a good mom, but I guess my kids are sensitive to the fact that it’s all “faked” – ’cause how can one give what one doesn’t have? It’s no wonder they are mostly screwed up. Chalk up one more failure on my board.

I’m oh so tired.

Like I said, I’m struggling. Thanks for listening. I think I’m all talked out now.

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