To the drought victim, rain is the saving grace. To the recently
flooded, rain is the bitter enemy. Having just witnessed major flooding along
the Ohio River in Southeast Indiana last week, I have been thinking a lot about
rain. After a couple of days break from the rain the raging river started to
return to a more normal level and the fields began to drain. But as the rain
began again yesterday, the already saturated ground immediately flooded. There
was just nowhere for the water to go.
Words are a lot like rain. When used wisely they are like
the nourishing, normal rains that give life to the earth and grow our food.
When used harshly, they can cause a drought in a relationship or cause a flood
that rages and creates a need to escape.
The question is often asked “Why does a person in a domestic
violence situation stay if things are ‘really that bad.’” Those on the outside may
have a hard time believing the reports of abuse. They can’t comprehend that
what goes on behind closed doors is different than what goes on in public.
A relationship with domestic violence is very much like the
weather. It is unpredictable, often takes you by surprise, and has a great deal
to do with your daily mood. It can be like travelling through a dry desert,
seeking for refreshment and finding nothing but harsh, hot words that drain
your strength. Or it can be like a constant barrage of wind and rain from a
hurricane, breaking down your spirit and leaving you barely alive from the
exposure to the elements.
The inconsistency is what makes it so difficult to navigate.
The sweet words of the nourishing rain come between the hurricane and the
drought, making you believe, at least for a short time, that things are
different and are getting better. But then the next storm hits and you really
can’t figure out what triggered this one.
There comes a point where the rain becomes so harsh and
constant that there is no place left for the water to go and the flooding
begins. When the flooding happens, the choices are to stay and drown, or try to
get away.
When the abused person gets away, the flood waters recede
and things begin to look normal again. That’s one of the reasons so many people return to an
abusive relationship. At first, both parties want to clean up the mess from the
flooding and make things right. But it doesn’t take long before another storm
hits and the cycle starts all over again. Each time the cycle repeats, it
speeds up and soon the abuser doesn’t want to help with the cleanup anymore,
they just want the other person to learn to live in the flood.
Sometimes when you are in the abuse, you wish that it was as
obvious as a natural disaster. It is so confusing and painful to live a life
where things are different in public than they are in private. How can the
storm be real when the door is closed and yet there is nothing but healthy rain
in public? And when you tell the abuser about your experience in the storm,
they scoff at you, throw a tornado at you, twisting all your words until you
finally admit that you must be mentally ill. Then they walk away satisfied and
smug as you are left with the wreckage of your soul having been torn apart.
I wish that all of the rain could be healthy, nourishing
rain that comes in amounts that the land could use. I wish that all
relationships could be healthy, nourishing relationships where both partners felt
lifted up, respected, and loved unconditionally. There will always be storms in
life, but how amazing would it be if those storms were out in the world instead
of in the home? What an incredible experience it would be to have a partner who
could stand beside you and take on whatever weather comes your way together.
I have been working this week on making my words more like
the nourishing rain. It is hard to break the bad habits of speaking storms but
I have noticed a difference in myself as well as in my children. I left the
hurricane six years ago but recreated it on a smaller scale with my children.
All of us were used to the hurricane and didn’t know how to live without it.
None of us were happy about it, but none of us knew how to do things different.
So that is what I am working on now. I am learning to stop speaking storms and
instead, speak life. It is a journey that will take time, but it is a journey
worth taking.
What kind of rain do you speak?
