Insight and glimpse into a Wounded Soul

Going through some boxes I had packed and shipped to my new home here in Minnesota, I stumbled upon a journal entry I had scribbled a few years ago after yet another fight with my former husband. I was blown away with the pain and wretchedness I felt at the time. Then I realized, with horror, that it still describes how I feel inside. Happily, there have been some positive changes in my life, but I wonder if I can ever truly re-wire my brain and think differently about myself and life in general. So, not that anyone will ever read this, I am going to post that sad journal entry here so that if anyone ever stumbles across it, maybe they will feel less alone and somewhat better about themselves.

Sometime in 2014 or 2015:

 

This is where it always ends up…I take to the bedroom in tears and defeat and he commands the living room and the tv and lords it over me…he is always right and I am always the loser. He is so arrogant, proud and cold. He seems to have no feelings whatsoever when we fight. I think he looks for opportunities to get offended by me, that way he can justify shutting me out and “putting me in my place”. All of my life, others have dictated to me whether I have the right to be happy or not. No wonder I live 90-95% of my life in my head. I feel so utterly alone. Even last night, in the midst of more than 150 people (my son’s karate test night), I felt completely and utterly separate and apart from everyone else. Sometimes I feel so desperate to make a connection with another soul that I feel like I might shatter into a million pieces. I feel like a complete stranger, an imposter wherever I go. I feel marked, as if there is some kind of visible sign to others that I am and always will be an outsider. It doesn’t make a difference where I am, I feel so alone as if there is a secret to life and everyone has the code except for me.

I think the children love me, but they don’t understand me at all. For that matter, I think they don’t really see me as a person; I am just mom, and maybe that is the way it is meant to be. After all, they are children and they rightly see the world through childish eyes. I worry obsessively that I will infect them with me. I don’t know any other way to describe it. I know that I am a complete mess. Not a beautiful mess like people are fond of saying about themselves. No, I am just a terrible mess in my head. I wonder if I am mentally unbalanced? I just don’t know anything anymore, especially what is true and real anymore.

I don’t question whether god exists, or if there is a heaven or hell. I am sure that there is both and I am equally sure that I am not heaven-bound. I envy the people who seem so self-assured and confident. I wonder if anyone else feels as out-of-place as I do? I reflect on my few friendships throughout my life and I don’t think any of them were real or true. I guess its because I do not know how to relate to anyone in a meaningful way. I just wait until the other person gets a glimpse of the real me and realize that I am nothing or worse, evil. After all, I drive priests away without even trying. It must be the stench of sulfur wafting from my soul. I just don’t fit. My own children have commented on how different I am and how I tend to think differently from everyone else. god! The pain of constant rejection is crushing!! The thing is, I just can’t seem to figure out what it is that makes me so different, that makes me an outcast.

There is so much  inside that I wish I could express or share with someone else, but I quickly doubt that I have anything ‘worth’ sharing. Life is so hard, empty and yet so painful.

Almost every human relationship that I have had was and is based on being used. Even my marriage is based on how useful I am to him. If I don’t follow the script, I get rejected. My role is to raise the kids, clean the house, do laundry, cook, grocery shop, pay the bills, homeschool the children and agree with him on everything. I sin when I have a thought of my own, or don’t want to watch tv at a certain time or don’t like one of his selections. I also sin when I rebel against this empty, confining life such as I did today (I honestly don’t remember now what this was over) If I felt that he actually did love me, not the servant me, then maybe I could feel less trapped and empty. But since his approval is tied directly to my behavior, then I know it isn’t love, but use.

I crave love. I long for affection. I dream about being cherished and having him (or anyone) actually make love to me. I long to be caressed and loved and cherished. But I know that is not meant for me. I AM NOT LOVABLE. PERIOD. I am damaged goods.

If god himself will not accept me, and love me, then I am doomed to an eternity of pain and emptiness. I feel more rejected than a poor strung out prostitute at a country club party. I swear that is how people see me. I am not judging that type of person either, because I have no idea how they got there, what pain and misery led them there. Me, I have always been too afraid of being ‘bad’ to ever step outside of the lines that I feel are the boundaries of an acceptable life. The joke being that I am not an acceptable person, no matter how hard I try to be ‘good’

Does anyone else ever feel this way?

Is there any type of social group that could or would accept me.

lost all hope…

should I even begin the painful subject of my mother? What would be the point? And my father?? Even more pointless…

I am just never going to be enough. Never good enough, smart enough, pretty or desired

Blank. I am just Blank.

If god  himself has turned his face away from me, what hope do I ever have? I will never be able to go to enough confessions or masses or say the right prayer the right way the right number of times to ever be a child of god. Maybe, once upon a time, I had the potential, but I wasn’t good enough or strong enough to earn god’s love. I know what the experts say,  that god’s love  is a free gift and that we don’t have to earn it. But I have not experienced his love no matter how hard I try and prayed and longed for it. He withholds himself from me for what I am sure is a very good reason. I just don’t know what it is…

 

Enough for tonight… I will continue the purge later…

 

 

 

What if…

What if you could actually live the way you truly felt was right for you? What if you said what you want to say, but are too self-conscious to say it? What if the dreams in your head could be lived out loud? How would the world be different? How would your life be different?

Maybe the vast majority of people do actually live and behave the way they desire? Maybe I am alone in feeling that my true self would be even more subject to derision than my toned down public persona? There is so much inside of me that has been stifled for so many years. Even within my family, I am often dismissed when I make the effort to share a piece of my heart and soul. I am a *dreamer*, an *idealist* even whimsical, as if these are all bad things. My interior life is so much more than what I am able to share on the outside. On the outside, I am a vanilla wife and homeschool mother who does what is expected of her. While I am still a wife and mother on the inside, I am also a lover of poetry, soul-stirring music, art and I have ideas about how the world could work and I have a deep desire to dance on the beach and walk in the rain and truly love God as He deserves and desires. But I don’t. Because people see me as so much less, and I feel constrained by what my station in life dictates. I am not a wild child, but I am so much more than the dull, boring creature that I have become. Or, am I delusional, and there really isn’t any more to me than the tired, empty reflection in the mirror?

We are more than what we do

One of the first things a new acquaintance will ask is “what do you do” as if that somehow defines you, labels you and speaks for you. We all have bought into that lie. So we say, I’m a doctor, or a teacher, or a chef. When, in reality, we are because we are. Sorry if that sounds confusing, but it is true. We have value, not for what we do, but for Who He is. We are valuable, just for being who God created us to be. Our jobs are how we make a living, but they do not define us unless that is where we define ourselves. The most important thing that we can do is Love. So, for our true identity, we could respond we are Lovers. But not in the physical, cheap sense that the world has determined that that word means. To love is to want the best for someone above our own needs or desires. Love is self-sacrificing and life-sustaining both at the same time. So, while we may bring home a paycheck based on our job, we are more than that label.

I believe that many ask this question so that they have a way to label others. It is a way to feel superior to others. My husband was asked one time by a fellow church member what he does for a living. At my husband’s humble response, the other replied, ” Oh. Well there is no shame in that” thereby implying that he should indeed feel some sense of shame. My husband works hard to provide for our family. I feel no shame in his day job as a delivery driver. My husband is a lover: he loves his wife and children and therefore he willingly rises at the crack of stupid, while the rest of the world slumbers, to put a roof over our heads and clothes on our back. Meanwhile, those who work at a desk or in a corporation tend to disregard the blue collars among us. Sad, because we all have the same vocation: to use our gifts in the way that they were intended, to further God’s plans for us through love. It goes back to the original thought, we are more than our occupation. Every job on the planet has value if the end result is to be what we are called to be. Imagine that a person labeled a drug addict. It is inconceivable that that is the goal that person set out to accomplish. Instead, they too, had aspirations for a different life, but through circumstance and decisions, they have become what society disregards. However, that person is still a person, someone who feels and has the unmet need for love and acceptance. The worst offender in our over-crowded prisons did not set out to be there. Instead, it may have been through a label and a failure of others to love or to receive love that one ends up in such a condition.

Love. Such an over-used word that may be the most under-utilized gift and treasure. Our world doesn’t even comprehend the power in those four letters. This is one word that encompasses everything, every thought, every soul-breath ever uttered. So ponder what is in your heart. You are so much more than what you do.

The Paths disdained

Words should mean something. Why else would God have given us the power of speech. Even the phrase “power of speech” implies that is has force and meaning. Therefore, what we say or even more, what we write should count for something. After all, with just His words, God created everything. Maybe that is why I really don’t like or see a point behind idle words. To talk for the sake of talking is taxing to my ears, heart and soul. St. Teresa often said that there was no lack of sin in idle chit-chat. I believe that whole-heartedly. However, writing that means nothing is possibly worse. The written word can last much longer than words tossed off the tongue. Except for insults, these can be engraved on one’s heart and last forever. I know from experience. But, in general, a conversation will only linger in our hearts for a finite amount of time. The written word has the power to change lives.
I am technically a writer. I collect a paycheck twice a month for words that have no real meaning or purpose. I am constrained by the type of words I may use and the audience I am meant to address. There is no heart or soul in what I currently write. However, the words that sing in my heart and carry my soul are far different. Words can create a dual universe, where anything can happen. Horses can fly, flowers can sparkle and the rain plays a sorrowful song. Beautiful poetry makes me cry. Words should be able to do just that. They are meant to express love, pain, sorrow and utter, unspeakable joy. When words are married to melody, then my soul is transported.
Only, not every song is music. Some are a jarring cacophony of sound that makes one’s heart actually shrivel. Unfortunately, the current world and society have fallen for the garbage that passes for literature and music nowadays. Mass produced fiction and the crude noise on the airwaves do not elevate the human heart and mind. Instead, it drags humanity down into the gutter where they wallow and romp as if they are enjoying the non-sense that is meant to distract the mindless masses. Mindless ditties that are nothing more than over-blown ploys for sin and materialism have taken a gift and cheapened it beyond recognition. I choose to seek the truth and beauty of the considered word and the joy found only in the purest music and lyrics. These are rare and hard to find, but so worth the effort. Words tell your story and give wings to your soul. Ponder what is in your heart.