Facing Forty

This week I turned forty… Age has never bothered me before. I have always looked forward to growing older and moving through life’s experiences. I have always wanted to look back on my life and see all the trials that are over and done with. I have always celebrated and been excited about birthdays. But this year has been different. About a month ago I suddenly realized that I was completely dissatisfied with my life. For a few weeks I could even say that I hated my life. The stress was overwhelming me. I felt I was drowning in just the normal everyday things. I realized that I no longer felt any happiness in the things that use to bring me happiness. I was depressed…

Throughout my life I have suffered at times from situational depression but this was different. This was all consuming and it wasn’t going away.  I had to force myself to get out of bed, to fix meals for my kids, to go to work. I could barely do the required things. What little housework I had been doing stopped. The heaviness was consuming me. The one thing in my life that always gave me purpose, my work, even became difficult for me. I began to question whether I even wanted to continue being a massage therapist. I felt that I was such a mess, what right did I have trying to help other people?

One morning, when I was on the brink of closing my practice, my sister and I were working together on a client. I was doing a technique I had learned through my Craniosacral training called Somato-emotional Release. I was feeling so inadequate to provide this woman with what she needed in order to get through her struggles. I knew that I couldn’t facilitate her healing without God’s help so I was praying, and praying, and praying that somehow my training would pull through for this woman and God would step in and complete the healing.

When we completed the session, the woman suddenly asked if she could pray for us. We told her of course. She held our hands and began pouring out her soul to God, thanking him for bringing my sister and I into her life. Then this woman, who had no knowledge of our personal lives, began to plead with God to help us in our personal lives that we would have what we needed and we would feel God’s love for us. All of us were crying and the Holy Spirit was so strong it was palpable. When this sweet woman left the office, I looked at my sister and said, “I guess I can’t quit doing this work.”

Now I knew that I couldn’t quit my work but I still felt depressed and didn’t know how to keep going. I prayed and asked God to help me but wasn’t quite sure that I believed He would. I kept going through the motions but still couldn’t find my smile. That’s when I went to an event sponsored by Deseret Book called, Time Out For Women. At Time Out, there are speakers and musicians who publish through Deseret Book who present a program filled with inspirational talks and music. This year there was a musician that I had not heard before named Calee Reed. She sang a song that changed my life. It is entitled, Cleanse You. You can listen to it on youtube at this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZFpoijqBGY

When Calee Reed was performing this song I couldn’t stop crying. It spoke to my soul and brought me comfort. The words that struck me the most were these:

Why did you lead me here to this uncharted sea

Did you bring me here just to drown me

What if I didn’t bring you here to drown you but to cleanse you

He whispers

I bought her cd and played this song over and over again every day. I looked back over this depressed time of my life and realized that many times I had accused God of trying to drown me. I would ask, “Why won’t you deliver me? Why are you making me go through this?” When I am not consumed in my self pity these questions are never asked. I don’t really believe that God “makes us” have bad experiences. I believe that He allows life to happen, allows our own free will and other people’s free will to create our lives. I also believe that He ALWAYS provides a way to heal and provides a way to escape. That healing and escape can come in any number of ways. For me it came in the form of a song.

God wasn’t trying to drown me! He was trying to cleanse me! He didn’t make the storm but He could use the storm to heal me, cleanse me, and make me a better person, if I would allow it. For some reason, this song caused the heaviness to lift. I guess it helped me change my perspective. I am still going through the same struggles today that I have been for a long time, but today I am not weighed down like I was. I still haven’t found all the answers to my problems, but today I feel God’s love and support. When I was focused on the storm I couldn't see or feel God. But when I looked up, I realized He had been there the whole time, waiting with outstretched arms to help me.

A few weeks ago I felt that life had robbed me of joy and I had nothing to live for. Today I take back my power that I threw away to circumstances and choose to live. Turning forty doesn’t have to represent a life of unfulfilled dreams and being a victim. Turning forty means that I have fought a good fight and now I can really live! This year I choose adventure, personal growth, and smiles. This is a new day, and a new year of my life. Today I live!

You can't tell from the picture, but it was raining. It rained all day on my birthday. So I went outside and threw my arms up to the sky and let the rain fall on me. I don't need to hide from the rain, I can let it cleanse me!

I thought I was weak

I thought I was weak…

All those years of holding back

Praying for it to end

Not knowing what I could do

Wishing there was some way to stop it

I thought I was weak…

Watching the children suffer

Feeling helpless to change anything

Becoming so tired

Not wanting to fight back

I thought I was weak…

Giving in to the pressure

Becoming what I hated

Returning what was dished out

Loathing what I had become

I thought I was weak…

Crawling away from the situation

Hiding in a shelter

Keeping distance between us

Asking others for help

Now I look back and see

It took strength to endure the abuse

It took strength to be there for the children

It took strength to stand up and fight

It took strength to walk away

All of those years…

I thought I was weak…

Turns out I was wrong

Rain

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?

Support

There are a lot of misconceptions in our society about trauma, abuse, and bad experiences. Society has unspoken rules about how long you can mourn or how long you have before you need to “get over” an experience. A common phrase is, “time heals all wounds.” That is one of the biggest lies taught. Time may dull the pain but it doesn’t heal. In order to heal, a person has to process the emotions and work through the pain. That takes a different amount of time for every single person and often that person is being retraumatized even though they no longer share the same house with their abuser but have to have contact for various reasons.

Several years after a trauma, like leaving an abusive marriage, people on the outside want all evidence of the past erased and for you to have a new life. If you bring up things from the past then they often get upset and say you haven’t forgiven, that you need to move on, that you need to stop living in the past. What those people don’t understand is that the experience isn’t all in the past. Just because you no longer live with an abusive partner doesn’t mean that their abuse has stopped. Just because that abusive person has remarried doesn’t mean that what happened in the previous marriage never existed. Having children together means continual contact at least until the children are eighteen but, in reality, it continues for the rest of your life.

So what kind of support can you give to a person who is trying to move on from a traumatic relationship? How can you help?

Give a hug.

In the five and a half years since leaving the marriage, other than my kids climbing on me and the occasional handshake or hug, I have not been touched. My soul longs for contact, safe contact, with other humans. Don’t be overbearing. Just be loving. No words are needed. Just a simple hug.

A kind word.

Don’t ask me how things are unless you really want to know the truth. And if you don’t want to know the truth, please don’t avoid me. Just say something kind, like: “I’ve been thinking about you,” or: “I’m happy to see you.” Don’t ask questions unless you want to know the answers. Don’t defend my ex. Don’t tell me how I should be living my life or how I should forget the court order because it was made years ago. Just be kind. If you can’t think of anything to say then just smile and wave. It really hurts to see people in the grocery store that were once your friend and have them turn their back on you when they see you looking at them. It doesn’t take much effort to smile and wave.

Don’t judge.

Everyone has an opinion. Gossip and rumors are spread every day. Please remember that the things you have heard are not the whole story. The majority of people will not know even half of what happens in a situation. There is always another side to the story even if you never hear it. If you honestly want to know if a rumor you heard is true then ask the person the rumor was about! If you don’t want to know the truth then don’t pass on the information you heard. When you judge a person it hurts them, even if you don’t have daily contact with them. Stop the gossip. Stop the rumors. They hurt.

Be there but don’t push.

If someone asks me how I am doing, ninety percent of the time I am going to give a short answer and leave out most of how I am really doing. That isn’t because I’m being rude, it is because much trust has been broken and life still hurts. It hurts very badly. When I am ready, I will share my true thoughts with a person who has proven trustworthy, but don’t push me if I seem hesitant to share information.

Be conscientious.

Some questions are just not helpful. You can ask me if I am dating yet but don’t say, “So when are you going to find yourself a man?” And please don’t say, “It’s about time for you to move on, isn’t it?” Those kinds of questions don’t help. Think about how you would feel if someone spoke to you like that. I don’t need advice on how to find a man or how to forgive or how to raise my kids unless I ask for the advice. Sometimes I do ask. But if I didn’t ask, then don’t assume it is your responsibility to tell me. The biggest thing is to think before you speak. Then you are less likely to hurt or offend.

Just simply show love.

A little bit of love goes a long way. Let go of judgment, drop any hidden agendas. If you can’t offer love from yourself then offer God’s love. It can be really confusing to know more than one person involved in a situation. The best thing you can do is to connect to God’s love for the people involved and let that love shine through you. If you are filled with God’s love and are connected to Him, He will give you the words to say or impress upon your mind how you can help. It truly is the best support you can give.

No matter what the trauma a person has gone through, there is a continual need for support. You can be that support with very little effort. You don’t have to get into the middle of an uncomfortable situation, you just simply need to bring God’s love with you into every interaction. If you do that, you will be helping a person to truly heal. And that is what every one of us needs.

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Become aware of the signs of abuse and learn to give support to those that are trying to recover from their trauma. We all have pain and we all need love. Let's move past the judgment and help each other.

Lessons from the Mudstash

At the beginning of this summer I had the chance to participate in my fifth Mudstash race. The Mudstash is hosted by a ski slope in Southeast Indiana and is sponsored by 24 Hour Fitness. This event has become something I look forward to every year as it was the first big thing I did to help create the new Amy after leaving the painful experience of my marriage. There is a special event held the night before the Mudstash called the Bash Before the Stash. They raise money and give all the proceeds to Safe Passage, the incredible shelter that assisted me in creating my new life. I am so grateful to the many people and organizations who support Safe Passage and make it possible for this shelter to continue to serve our community.

With each Mudstash I have had a different experience and learned something new about myself. In all the previous events there has always been someone that I know running with me. This year was different. Because of other things going on the same day, I was not able to find anyone to go with me. It was also the same day as my nephew’s high school graduation and he was the valedictorian so I didn’t want to miss supporting him on his special day. I contemplated not going but just couldn’t allow a year to pass without making this symbolic run through the mud and obstacles. I ended up deciding to run in the first noncompetitive heat and then rush back to the school to get to the graduation. It was going to be close but it felt like something that I needed to do.

My mom ended up in town that day so I asked her to come with me to support and cheer me on. She agreed so early Saturday morning she made the forty-five minute drive with me to Perfect North Slopes. I was feeling a bit anxious that there would be no one with me that I knew but at the same time felt like this could give me a chance to really see what I could do. I never get a timing device when I do this race. I have always been more concerned with making sure everyone in my group feels supported and can make it to the end, no matter how long it takes.

When my start time neared I gathered with the other racers at the start line. There was a man there giving instructions about the course. What he said made a huge impact on my mind. He announced, “This is not necessarily a race. There are many obstacles but if you cannot make it over an obstacle you can always go around it. Remember, there is always an easier way.”

As the airhorn sounded and we all raced off to face our first mud pit, his words repeated in my mind. “This is not necessarily a race… There is always an easier way.” This phrase went through my mind over and over and over as I climbed hills, waded through waist deep mud, climbed walls, swung on ropes, crawled through pipes, and many other demanding and challenging obstacles.

I thought about how this event was not only important to me, but was also very symbolic of life. Life is not a race. We all go about it at a different speed that works for us. We don’t need to compare ourselves to others. There is no timetable. We can take as much or as little time as we need with each obstacle we face. Also, when an obstacle is so overwhelming, there is always an easier way. We just have to find it.

There was another amazing thing that happened during this year’s event. I am not in very good physical condition. I don’t work out and don’t take the best care of myself. Even though I don’t train to do this event I still make myself attempt every obstacle. I have never been capable of completing every obstacle. I might hang onto a rope then drop off and walk because I can’t climb it. But at least I try. This year I was doing really well with completing the obstacles. Then I got to one that I didn’t think I could do. There is a long horizontal bar that you have to jump up to grab on to. After that you are supposed to shimmy across it to a log and jump up onto rings then swing across the rings to the other side. Last year I could barely even jump up and grab onto the bar where I quickly lost my grip and fell into the mud below. This year I stood on the platform and looked across the obstacle. The man’s voice came into my head, “There is always an easier way.” I knew that I could just walk around the obstacle and there would be no penalty but something inside of me said, “You need to try!”

I jumped up and grabbed the horizontal bar. I didn’t lose my grip! I decided to try to shimmy across, not sure I could do it. I made it halfway across and there was a chain holding the bar up that I had to get my hands around. I focused and pushed myself to pass over the chain. I made it! I kept going and made it all the way to the log where you can rest before getting on the rings. I stopped for a moment, in shock that I had made it this far. I looked up at the rings and remembered previous times of attempting rings. I had never succeeded in swinging between rings and grabbing a new ring to swing forward to another ring. I had always lost my grip after the first one. Should I get down and walk around? What if I fell off and the people around me saw me fail? I just couldn’t let myself go past without trying.

Reaching up, I jumped and caught hold of the ring. Fear went through me and I considered just dropping down into the mud. Instead I began to swing myself, focusing on the next ring to grab. I reached out and grabbed the next one, then the next. Before I knew it, I was across and jumping down on the other side of the obstacle. I literally jumped in the air and shouted in excitement. I did it! Then I felt self conscious because there was no one around that I knew so I hurried on to the next obstacle. :)

I could not believe that I had completed that obstacle! Even though I felt so out of shape and incapable I was stronger than I was a year ago! I was so full of energy and excitement! It felt so amazing!

Before long I came to my biggest nemesis: monkey bars. By this time my arms felt dead. I had no strength left. But I jumped up there and gave it a try. The second monkey bar rotated as I grabbed it and I fell into the mud below. This year I was not able to do the monkey bars but that was okay. When I was not capable of completing the task, there was an easier way. I walked through the mud and kept going on to the next obstacle. And I was okay with that. I did the best I could.

When you near the end of the Mudstash, there is a long waterslide that goes down the hill. I stood at the top of the waterslide and looked down at the ski lodge. Sitting there where I could see her was my mom as well as a very dear friend who I didn’t know was going to come watch me. I was so filled with joy to see these two women! Knowing they were there gave me so much strength and so much hope. I was supported. I was loved.

I finished the last of the obstacles with these two women following along on the sidelines, cheering for me and smiling whenever I looked their way. My soul was so filled with joy! As I crawled through the last mud pit, my whole body was so extremely tired that I just wasn’t sure I could keep going, but my cheerleaders gave me strength. I crossed the finish line and we all rejoiced together. I was nice enough to shower before giving each of them a hug. :)

Over the next few days I contemplated the event and the words that were spoken before starting, “This is not necessarily a race… There is always an easier way.” Comparing this to regular life, I wondered to myself, what is that easier way? For me, the easier way is Jesus Christ. He is the one that shows an alternate path when we can’t move forward. He is the one that supports us and strengthens us when we try to get over an obstacle. But that doesn’t mean that the path is easy. It is far from easy. Following Christ can be very hard and challenging. So how could I compare Him to the “easier way?”

For me, I cannot get through something unless I feel there is some reason for experiencing it. I need to know why and I need to have a purpose for myself. We don’t always have the answers to those questions but for me, having Christ at the center gives me purpose and fills me with hope. Having Christ assist me on the path brings peace and comfort. And the eternal perspective gained by being close to Christ can even answer the question, “why?” So Christ really is the easier way because without Him I have no purpose or goal.

The lessons from the Mudstash continue to influence my life. It brings a feeling of great accomplishment to my soul every time that I participate. Even when it doesn’t feel like much has changed, I am getting stronger each year. I can do things that I never thought possible. And though I may have to run the course alone at times, there are always those who love me cheering from the sidelines and giving me strength. All of these experiences help give me purpose and I am left feeling that I can keep going. And next year I just may be strong enough to make it across those monkey bars!

Do You Trust Me?

by Amy Tiare

“Do you trust me?”

The words flow in my mind

As I pause to question God

In the only spare moment I find

“Of course I trust you!”

I exclaim in great haste

Then leap to my feet

To the next assignment I race

“Do you trust me?”

The question comes yet again

When I pray for deliverance

And want to know when

“I already said I trust you!”

In frustration I reply

“But don’t you know I need some steps,

A recipe to live by?”

“Do you trust me?”

The Lord pleads in my ears

As I reach my very breaking point

And am overcome with tears

“I’m not sure that I trust you”

I quietly admit

Afraid of what He’ll think of me

Feeling that I’m unfit

“If you want to trust me,”

A gentle voice explains

“You need to stop and take a break

From life’s great hurricanes”

“I do want to trust you”

I cry out in my heart

“I just don’t know how to do it

I’m afraid I’ll fall apart”

“Do you trust me?”

A quiet voice entreats

His hands reach out to take my own

He brings me to my feet

“I think I can trust you”

I look into His eyes

“I don’t know how to do this

But I really want to try”

“You do trust me”

He hugs me while He smiles

Then slowly walks me through my life

And helps me with my trials

“Yes, I trust you”

I sigh in great relief

“You took my hands and filled my soul

You helped my unbelief”

Forgiveness

Dear X,

This month would have been our fourteenth wedding anniversary. Instead it is our three year divorce anniversary. I don’t know that I will ever get used to that word, “divorce.” It seems so foreign, like something you would only see on a movie or TV show but never experience in real life. If someone would have told me twenty years ago that I would be divorced I would have said they were crazy. That could never happen to me! Yet here we are, three years post-divorce.

As gifts are often given to celebrate anniversaries, I have a gift that I would like to give to you. It is a gift that is long overdue and a gift that I hope someday you can also give.

X, even though it has been three years since the divorce was legally finalized, I have continued to be plagued with memories, both good and bad, of our time together. I have continued to have hope of things changing as well as feelings of betrayal when things don’t. I have felt grief at the loss of what we could have had at the same time as rejoicing at not having to be in the struggle and pain experienced when we were together. Overall, I guess I have come to realize that even though we are divorced, you are still affecting me and how I live. That is why I have decided it is time for me to forgive you.

In case you misunderstand my gift, I would like to explain what forgiveness means, and doesn’t mean, to me. My own understanding of forgiveness has changed greatly over time, especially these last few years.

The most simple example of forgiveness that comes to mind is when one of our children hurts another one, we tell the offending child to say, “I’m sorry,” and the hurt child is supposed to say, “That’s okay,” and then they hug and move on like nothing ever happened. There are many things wrong with this example of forgiveness, but it is probably how most people experience their first trials of “forgiving” others. The thing I don’t like about this example is that it leaves the mistaken impression that when someone has said they are sorry, we are supposed to pretend that nothing ever happened. The Lord said that when we repent, He will remember our sins no more but He never said that when we forgive that we are to forget everything that happened to us. On the contrary! He has repeatedly told us, even commanded us, to remember. Why are we supposed to remember? Because that is the only way that we can learn and keep from repeating the same mistakes over and over again.

So for me, forgiveness does NOT mean forgetting.

Another misconception about forgiving is that when we forgive someone we immediately trust them. It is often believed that that is what “true” forgiveness means. So if someone breaks into my house and molests my daughter, would that mean that I would have to invite the perpetrator over to my house for dinner in order to show that I have truly forgiven them? Obviously not. I can fully and completely (over time) forgive the perpetrator and still never allow them contact with my family again.

So for me, forgiveness does NOT mean trusting.

If forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting or trusting, then what DOES it mean??

A dear friend once told me, “Forgiveness is giving up ALL hope of a better past. I can’t change the past, can’t change other people. I CAN choose whether I let my abuser continue to hurt me by allowing their past words and actions to affect me now.” So today I am choosing to give up hope of us having a better past. X, we can’t change the past. What has been done has been done. But right now, in this moment, I am choosing to no longer allow our past together to hurt me. You no longer have power over me.

Does giving up all hope of a better past mean that I will forget all that has happened? No. There is no way I can ever forget what took place between us. There is no way I can ever forget how I felt when we were together. Our experience together changed me. It changed me forever. I can never go back to who I once was. And, in all honesty, I wouldn’t want to. I have learned a great deal from the last fourteen years. Things I could have never learned with anyone else. I want to take all of this knowledge and experience and use it to better myself and help others. I will never forget, but I will forgive.

My own definition of forgiveness is to no longer allow the past to have power over the now. In reality, forgiveness isn’t about you or for you. Forgiveness is for me. I am the one being hurt when I don’t forgive and I am the one able to heal when I do forgive. Forgiving you does not excuse your past behavior or make what you have done okay. I will not be inviting you over for dinner or having any contact other than what is court ordered to have happen. I will, however, be taking back my power and letting go of all negativity.

At this moment I actually feel that I need to thank you. You have shown me parts of myself that I never knew existed. You have given me opportunity to learn how to stand up for myself, something I didn’t have the ability to do when I was younger. You have taught me what I do and do not want in future relationships. You have given me experience that has helped me to more clearly define who and what I am. So, thank you! Thank you for all these years of learning and growth. I anticipate that I will be able to continue to learn for many years from the time we spent together. You have given me a great gift.

There is a Sanskrit word that I would like to share with you. Loosely translated it means, “The highest and best in me sees and honors the highest and best in you.” The word is: Namaste. I feel a need to say this to you. You have been a great teacher.

X, I forgive you.

Namaste