Dear M____,
This is the most difficult letter I will ever write to you. I know I have apologized a thousand times to you over the years and I know I have hurt you a million more. I know that you have no reason to hope for me to change, but I promise you I am trying. I realized this morning that I have become an abuser. The cycle must stop with me. You have pointed out to me that I have been abusing myself – but I realized this morning I have been abusing you as well.
All my life I learned that love meant judgement, rejection and pain. Though I had glimmers of real love in my grandmother, sadly, she wasn’t the stronger influence in my life. My toxic parents were…their lessons of love driven home much harder and deeper than hers. This is not an excuse, just an explanation. My life has been filled with overwhelming pain since birth and pain has been my constant companion. I don’t want this anymore.
All of those unhealthy abusive behaviors followed me from my parent’s home into ours. I have neglected you and withdrew into myself and withheld love from you. It does not matter that this was not a conscious decision or done with intent. The result is the same. Pain. Doubt. A crumbling marriage.
I realize this morning that the times I am feeling the most fear and panic and doubt are the times I need to be running to you – not away from you. Because of my fear of love and feelings of worthlessness I have continued my parent’s toxic abuse cycle with you in our marriage. I have been come the thing I hate. No wonder you don’t feel safe with me.
I don’t know why God brought us together but I fear that I don’t have much to offer you. I know I have a long road to recovery ahead of me and I know I won’t get it right all the time – but I promise to get it right more often than I get it wrong.
I want to tell you that I am profoundly sorry fo all the pain I caused you through the course of our relationship. I want to tell you that I truly understand if you don’t want anything to do with me – after all – I am more like our fathers than you mother or my grandmother. I am self-centered and neglectful nd don’t deserve another chance to hurt you. You have this beautiful, loving heart and I have done my best to destroy it. You don’t deserve this.
this is what I can promise you… I love you with all my heart and I am fully committed to you – to us- and I will do everything in my power to break this cycle. I will make better choices – when all of my instincts tell me to withdraw – to hide…I will make a conscious decision to seek your heart that much harder. When I feel like pulling away I will cling to us and to God. I will pray against my strongholds daily and I will seek God in our marriage. I will see you and love you and not hide myself from you. I will fight harder against the lies and patterns I was raised around and I will talk openly about my hopes, beliefs, fears and doubts instead of retreating into my head and locking down my heart.
I take full responsibility for the current problems in our marriage and I beg your forgiveness.
I love you M___. I pray that I haven’t ruined this.
Love,
No Longer Damaged Goods
Tag Archive: longing
The Dream:
I am spending time with my uncle, Eddie, and his 3 daughters. We’re at my parent’s house listening to some Southern Gospel music and debating on the merits of the old Southern Gospel music vs modern Christian Rock.. We’re all laughing, teasing and so happy. We’re flipping through CD’s and my MP3 player playlist… It’s a good day and I feel so safe and loved.
So what makes this a nightmare?
My uncle is a rapist and a child molester and in my dream I don’t know this… in my dream I haven’t remembered what he has done to me and I don’t yet know what he is doing to his beautiful daughters.
The part of me that is always me (no matter what I am dreaming) is terrified and screaming at the dream me to get out of there ! I hate that I can feel so safe and terrified, so innocent and soiled all at the same time. Most of all I hate how much this dream has set me back. I hate how vulnerable I suddenly feel. I hate how I can barely accept touch. I hate how I want to hide away and not face all of this. I hate the temptation to morph back into that robot of a woman and pretend that everything is fine even though I can barely breathe.
So what’s the plan? I am going to breathe in and out. I am going to face my fears. I am going to feel this and not be a coward or a zombie. I am going to admit that I have been hurt – terribly – and it is ok to be afraid for a while. I am going to allow my husband to comfort me and allow myself some room to be vulnerable. But most importantly, I am going to go through this. No short-cuts or detours. Because that is the only way I am ever really going to find peace.
Little girl, pigtails and blue-jeans
all muddy and smiling so big!
I love to watch you fling out your arms
and twirl in the sunshine. You see
the world through uniqe eyes that
accept with blind faith the beauty
and wildness of the world was created for you.
You know instinctively that joy is
your reason for being. You take delight
everywhere you find it and accept
without question that happiness is yours.
Perhaps I will come twirl with you today –
and you can show me the world through your eyes.
Father’s Day came and went this year like every year before it – full of conflicting emotions and empty of truth. What has ‘father’ meant to me? Why should I celebrate a day for him? I’m so confused. ‘Father’ has been ‘tyrant’, ‘teacher’, diciplinarian’, ‘grouch’,’hateful’…’father’ has also been ‘fun’, ‘companion’, ‘playmate’ and ‘preacher’. The trouble for me is there are too many faces, none of them consistant… few of them friendly. One good day is supposed to erase months of yelling, insults, fear and humiliation. One day spent laughing together is supposed to make me forget being ruled with an iron fist and a sarcastic sneer. Daddy, I forgive you… I just can’t be the sacrificial lamb anymore… you may find me more lion than you remember me…
I watch your Judas lips drip poison
and I smile in polite fascination
pretending to agree.
I nod in the right places,
I make eye contact, I hope
my disgust is well hidden.
I can’t seem to follow this thread
this back and forth
this friendly banter.
I am not sure how this is
supposed to work… this friendship
this conversation.
I am lost in a sea of political correctness
and cannot convey the thoughts
simmering beneath my surface.
I allow you to lie in my face
and thank you for your
endless unabashed betrayals.
I don’t know why I protect
you from me. I owe
you nothing. Nothing!
Yet you take from me…
day after day you diminish me –
rendering me irrelevant.
I will not die here – buried
under the avalanche of
your words…your indifference.
I will shake this off and
find re-birth in the flame
of your disapproval.
There’s something out there that is calling to me.
I hear the voice clearly – haunting – chilling-alluring.
I long to follow… but I am so afraid.
It whispers, teases, shouts – and still I stand-
frozen and impotent.
When I break free of this I will run blindly
into that tantalizing music of freedom
and find my laughter waiting for me there.
…so tired of feeling like I can never tell the truth…
…so tired of holding back most of what I think and feel…
…so tired of protecting everyone from myself…
Please let me be free.
Please love me for who I am, not who you expect me to be.
I can feel the truth just beneath the surface of all my conversations. It waits there, lurks… longs to be released. This truth is a powerful, angry thing… all muscle and sinew… all teeth and scales – like a great dragon – pacing and gnashing its teeth. I could destroy you with my truth. I feel the power of it and know that it would pierce your armor (even if you do not show it). My truth lies in wait… languid and appearing lazy below these calm waters… beautiful and deadly… waiting to pull you to your death.
I have had it caged so long I have forgotten how to let it out from time to time… I fear it will break free from its prison – that it will escape and destroy you before I can contain it.
My husband has coined the phrase wild goodness to describe things that are good in a major way… sometimes even in a dangerous way… like a walk in a storm, sex on the beach in the middle of the day, a large sum of unexpected money… something that touches you on a primal level and speaks to the goodness and wildness that is God’s love for us. We try so hard to fit God into a box, to make him fit within parameters that are comfortable to us and when He doesn’t fit we get discouraged, frustrated and afraid. I know I do. I want God to be predictable and stable and quiet and unobtrusive; but I am glad He is not those things. Deep down, I am glad He is wild and dangerous and good in ways that are beyond my comprehension. I am glad He is a God of Passion, a God of fierceness, a God of untold beauty and strength… a God of storms and sex and roller-coasters… a God of music and art… of lovers and warriors and dancers… a God of grace and peace… I want to live a life of wild goodness… of abandon. God help me to see You as You are.
I hear the rumbling in the distance and it calls to me…
Secrets whisper, then shout to be heard
Wind caresses – then punishes…
So turbulent… so peaceful.
I long to enter the storm and disappear.
captivatingbitter 