Yes, I Know

"Be content with what you have, for He has said, 'I will never leave you nor forsake you.' So we can confidently say, 'The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what can man do to me?'" (Hebrews 13:6)

This verse and the promises behind it have been repeated to me over the past several months. My mind glosses over the familiarity of it. Yes, I know. Hang in there. It'll be over soon enough. Yes, I know. You can handle this. Yes, I know.

But tell a victim of domestic abuse that, with God's help, they can make it through yet another abusive relationship. Yes, I know. I just don't want to.

I've been trying to tell myself that it will be ok, that I just need to hang in there a little bit longer. I have my bad days, and then once in a while I have a surge of hope, a glimmer of contentment. Whether it's something the boy says, a new voice to speak the same words I've heard over and over, a silent smile from a familiar face, someone who listens without trying to tell me it will be ok... some days, I feel enough glimpses of the truth that I actually do believe I can make it. Of course I can make it. I guess I mean that I feel I can make it... but make it whole.

This is my battle. Others may struggle with demons that take the very clear and discernible shape of circumstances (like barrenness), of people who have hurt them (like cheaters), and any number of other things. My demons look and sound very familiar... they sound like me, the look like me, they feel like truth. My demons are my own inability to believe, to trust, to feel safe, to feel whole, to feel loved, to be confident, to let go, to give back, to give in, to forgive, to love even though I've been hurt, to accept that I will be hurt again, to separate the lie of utter defeat from the truth of hope.

Drowning in my Cereal Bowl

I told a friend of mine that I feel like I'm drowning in a cereal bowl. I'm fully aware that my problem is a mere 2 inches of liquid, but I'm still drowning.

I have friends going through much bigger challenges and struggles... childlessness, illness, marital turmoil, financial instability. Yet I still feel like my world is crumbling. It doesn't make me feel any better to grasp a larger perspective. It matters none.

The past few weeks, the boy and I have been fighting often. One insecure thought begets another, and before you know it, I'm in a frenzy of worry and panic. I keep telling myself that the wedding is just the beginning, no matter what the Czar and Queen do to me, that there is hope. But none of this matters. I live in fear of what's to come, knowing it will hurt.

I used to think that this "worst case scenario" thinking was my way of preparing for the worst so that I could be pleasantly surprised, rather than hoping for the best and being disappointed. At the end of the day, though, this kind of thinking only breeds more and more anxiety for me. I know I tend to be fairly vague, so allow me to explain...

There is an issue on the horizon that I know will create a rupture with the Czar and Queen. I know exactly what is to come. I don't have to deal with anything right now. It's been quiet on the homefront, even pleasant. Quiet. But the thoughts of how I know this issue will rear its ugly head will not go away. I imagine the verbal abuse, the names, the lies, the anger. The pain I know I have to endure, quietly, starts affecting me as if it were happening now, because I know it will ruin me. It will crush me and ruin me and set me ablaze.

Then I start thinking about the wedding. I think of how they will be angry, they will cause a stir, they will show anger on their faces. The Queen will weep at the ruin that has become of her life. The Czar will scowl at the bastard of a child he's giving away. And because the Czar and the Queen can deflate and demean me like none other in this world, my wedding will be a heart-wrenching, painful occasion.

What some may not understand is why I stay. Maybe it's a desire to please that I still hold on to, but I honestly believe that leaving now, just months before the wedding, will only cause more of the same, if not worse, for me in the future. It is by no means an ideal alternative to stay, but as painful as it is, it really could be worse. It's not a matter of "how can they treat you like this" or "don't set a precedent" or "they're going to have to learn to accept things." None of those things matter, because in their world, I am the worst of the worst. I'm disobedient.

It's funny how American culture teaches so much about being your own person, making your own choices, forging your own path. I grew up that way. I learned to do all of that, and it stands directly in opposition to what they hoped and dreamed for their children when they came here. They had hoped that I would be just like them, only with more opportunity for success in fortune.

This is why I'm drowning. Sure, there are things that consume me now that seem so trivial to some people, and they don't get why it upsets me so much or why I bother. But it's not really about the milk in my cereal bowl. I'm someone who has been drowning for the past 10 or so years. And now I'm drowning in my cereal bowl at a kitchen table afloat on a raft full of holes in the middle of the ocean. Lifting my head now only means its the ocean that will steal my breath and not the cereal milk.

Waving the White (Red?) Flag

I had never been in a serious or long-term relationship before the boy came along. I think it's for that reason that I never knew the full extent of my own insecurities and anxiety. Whether the Czar and Queen are the root or foundation or just inspirations for of all of that, I can't say for sure. But up until I started dating the boy seriously, most of those feelings of fear, anxiety, depression, etc. were all connected to the Czar and Queen. So when it comes out now in my relationship, I don't always recognize it.

It's true that I've had falling outs with girlfriends and "kind of" boyfriends in the past, but this is the first time I've hinged my life on someone. Obviously, no other person can make or break you, but when you make that scary commitment to marry, you've set yourself up to some major vulnerability... vulnerability to being hurt the way no one in your life has ever been able to hurt you before.

Recently, in a fit of insecurity or PMS or something, I let my anxiety get the best of me, and the boy started to wave his red flag. Hey there. You're being insecure. I'm not going anywhere. Just relax. But I didn't get it. Time and time again, I've asked him to not get upset that I'm upset and to just reassure me that I'm just being insecure. And he did. And I still thought he was attacking me.

At some point in our conversation, it clicked that he had been trying to do exactly what I had asked for and wanted him to do, and I was utterly shocked. Will it ever end? Will the torture never end? What if this stupid insecurity never goes away? In a moment of insecurity, the anxiety inflates any negative thoughts, and I go into a bit of a frenzy. It feels unstoppable, and even when someone is trying to help me, it all feels like an attack. I started to wonder if I would ever overcome this insecurity. I was angry with myself for not seeing how the boy had genuinely tried to do what I asked. (Granted, he hadn't done it all that well, but he tried. He later apologized for "chucking" the red flags at me instead of just waving them in the air.)

With the wedding drawing ever so near, I can't help but notice all the different ways insecurity affects my feelings and, therefore, my decisions. I've been avoiding the gym, because I think none of it will make a difference. I will never be happy with my appearance anyway. I've been avoiding my parents, because no matter how nice they're being, they'll come back to hurt me anyways. But what has curling up into a ball to protect myself done for me? Has it kept me from getting hurt? No. Because I cannot live this life alone. And if I can't live it alone, I can't live without getting hurt. Slice it any way you want, but insecurity is not to be solved by disguising it with self-sufficiency or abrasiveness. Maybe the only way to overcome feeling vulnerable is to be ok with being vulnerable in the first place.

Student by Day, Streetwalker by Night

I'm well into my 20s, actually closer to my 30s, but I have what you might consider a "curfew on steroids." Even in high school, I didn't have the traditional curfew my friends had. It wasn't ok to go see a movie as long as I was home by 10. It wasn't ok to go to a dance as long as I was home by midnight. I never went out. This might account for why I had but 2 friends in high school, really. We would hang out at someone's house until about 4, when I rushed home to get there before the Czar or Queen were home from work. This worked for the most part. My social life was ablaze from 3 to 4pm. Hoppin.

When I came home during breaks in college, I made sure to find a seasonal job and pick up as many hours as I could. Take your shift? Sure! Take an extra shift? Sure! Someone called in sick? I'll stay late, sure! I schemed to make sure I was closing so that I could wake up late, enjoy a silent house, and then leave before they came home. There were a few times where I would say I was working and instead hang out with friends, and those were glorious days of freedom.

After college, I moved back home and a dilemma presented itself. I had lived by my own schedule, coming and going as I please, for 4 years. What now? It became very clear that my non-curfew from high school was still in place after I babysat for my pastor. Yep. Pastor.

At the time, my pastor was probably in late 30s or early 40s, and a friend of his was finally getting married. He was to be a groomsman, so he and his wife were looking for a babysitter for their 3 children while they celebrated this very special occasion. I was a graduate student at the time, so I gladly offered my help. Besides, they lived just 7 or so minutes away from my house.

That night, I played some Scrabble with the eldest, shared some girl talk with the middle, and put the stubborn youngest to sleep successfully. I was enjoying the silence of the house when my pastor called to say he'd be a little late. Maybe 30 minutes. This would put me home past midnight, so I called the Czar. The response I got beyond baffled me.

What kind of church is this? What kind of pastor stays out and leaves his kids at home past midnight? You... are a street walker. What are you doing!? You're so stupid. This is ridiculous!

Yep. He called me a prostitute. Babysitting for my pastor who lives 7 minutes away until 12:30 on a Saturday night as a 23-year-old clearly means I'm selling my body for money. Is it any wonder that I've learned to lie so easily to them? It's very sad, but it's the only way I can get any sense of freedom. So if anyone asks, I'm working late tonight...

Man-hater

I'm having a bad day. I posted on my facebook the other day that I wish I could put all my insecurities in a bottle and explode it. I don't know what combination of my personal experiences, my upbringing, etc. make me think people close to me are waiting in the wings to kick me the second I'm down, researching the most effective and extravagant way to stab me in the back, but I do. Today I'm feeling utterly insecure, running scenarios of betrayal and hurt through my mind like some "best of" movie reel.

I saw an old male friend comment on another female acquaintance's facebook wall, and it made me want to vomit. He's one of few men in my life who broke something in me. He broke my faith in the idea of the "harmless guy friend." There was one before him who did minor damage, but this was a friend who I never even entertained the idea with... and he broke my faith. I ended the friendship immediately, spent the next several months trying to restore my faith in people in general, but ever since then, there's been a bit of a man-hater in me. I had always known how to despise the Czar as a head figure, but these were peers. These were supposed to be friends.

There are a couple men who I've come across the past few years who come off as annoying but mostly harmless men, but to me, they're disgusting. I want to scratch their eyes out and kick them in a way that will keep them from breeding. Extreme, yes, but it's the honest truth. The anger and disgust I feel for these guys is extreme. I know that. But it's a common disregard for boundaries that I see that make me think they're just a breath away from crossing the line, with me or with anyone.

I started my day here. This rekindling of emotion then infused insecurity into my entire day, and it's not even 9am. I started making assumptions about the boy, thinking about scenarios where he could possible betray me, hurt me the most, and even a harmless conversation threw me into a frenzy of fear of anxiety.

It's not been a good day. But it's only 9am. Time to put on the armor and fight the lies. Funny how after a full weekend of being fawned over (literally, FAWNED over) by the boy, one seed of insecurity convinces me of his impending betrayal. Why is it so much easier to believe in the potential for bad than the existence of good?

Moving?

I've always thought (sometimes quite dramatically) that something hugely tragic would need to happen in order for the Czar to see that he's not every in control of anything outside of himself. Whether that meant I fell ill or he fell ill, I was open to anything. The boy says I should wait before I "wish harm upon them," but the logic behind it stands, I think. When do drug addicts finally admit when they have a problem? When they've hit "rock bottom." The Czar is addicted to control. He must hit rock bottom.

I recently learned that the Czar's work may be changing. Circumstances have left him to seek out other employment, including options that may require a move. Is it utterly evil of me to hope for that? I honestly believe that, in this case, the sayings "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and "what you don't know can't hurt you" will go neatly hand in hand and ride off into the sunset. Bemoan my cliches all you want, but here's to good interviews and a little bit of luck.

Exhausted

I'm utterly exhausted. By nature, I'm a person who is constantly thinking. I'm thinking about the challenges I face, the ones I'm about to face, the ones I might be facing soon... I think about the pathetic relationship I have with the Czar and Queen, and how tragic it is that a family should feel so... unlike family.

I think about how their selfishness has sapped me from getting any joy out of wedding planning. I think about how their parents must have been in order to create such people. I wonder whether they even know the joy they're missing out on by holding on to this notion that they have some kind of control over anything. I think about how this part of them might never change. I wonder what it would be like if it did.

I think about the path my life has taken and wonder if my standard of living, being lower than that of most my friends, says anything about me. I wonder if people look at me and think that I've settled...in life and in love. I think about the job I have and how thankful I am, but wonder if wanting more is selfish and immature. I think about the boy and how much I can't stand being away from him. I think about building a home with him and how far that feels.

I think about my friends having babies and having dinner with their respective families, laughing about the new tricks the babies have learned. I wonder if I will ever know that deep joy of familial peace, of knowing this is exactly how it should be, or if it will always be full of resentment and sideways comments about my weight, my failures, my shortcomings. I think about my cousin struggling with Lupus, and I wonder if she wonders the same thing. I think about friends who used to mean so much to my daily life, who now are mere updates on a computer screen.

I think too much. Lately, I've been taking melatonin supplements for sleep and St. John's Wort for mood. I think they're helping, but this deep-seated belief that my life will never change keeps me from being faithful even to that little task. I think all day about tragedy and mourn. And I'm exhausted.

The boy has been telling me lately that he wants to take me out. We eat out often, so it means something a little different for him to put it in such a way. But given this new mission of deciding where he can "take me out," I'm at a loss. How much are we looking to spend? What kind of food is he in the mood for? I'm tired, so should I pick a local place? What about this and what about that? The utterly consumption of thought has sapped me of enjoying even this simple gesture.

Exhaustion has made me forget how to enjoy anything. I can't blame that on the Czar and Queen, can I? I don't think so. So whether it's Chinese take-out and an episode of Lost or a fancy steak dinner with cocktails, I.will.enjoy.it. At least for today, I will release this big bunch of worries I've been clutching, as if the strength of my grasp can prevent any ensuing chaos.