I'm sitting at my little desk this morning in my flannel robe and slippers, covered by an afghan and wrapped in a shawl, drinking Cranberry Blood Orange tea. It is COLD here today. The birdbath is frozen over and the grass and trees are covered in a heavy white frost (hoar frost?).
I've done my morning computer check in -- emails, Facebook, new blog, read (or scanned) Google Reader, and now I'm thinking about the way things are.
The start of 2012 has been a bit rugged for me. Flashbacks and struggles with extended family have left me feeling off center and rung out. I missed worship the past two Sundays because corporate worship can become a negative for me when I'm struggling. Growing up a preacher's kid has some side issues.
Yesterday morning I just couldn't face the Sunday morning routine, so dh and I stayed in and listened to a podcast and talked about the Colossian heresy. I made quiche for lunch and spent the rest of the day on the sofa trying to do something semi-productive.
It didn't work.
I thought about crocheting, only got a row and a half done. I thought about reading, but never opened the book. I picked up my Bible to get a head start on the next class I'm signed up for -- no go. I wound up watching reruns via Netflix instead.
I realize there are worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon. I made hamburgers in the iron skillet, with baked beans and potato chips for dinner. Comfort food. Then dh and I watched an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation (yes we are nerds) and then we watched "Sweet Home Alabama". That's more tv than we watch most weeks!
I'm not sure what the purpose of all this is. Maybe I just needed to let someone know that it's not easy all the time.
I've been "helping" some other survivors via a website. Some of them are looking to me for answers. My gut reaction is I don't have any, but then I think about this comment I made to one of them this weekend:
it is incredibly difficult. The hardest thing I have ever done by far! It has taken years. I was four when the abuse started and didn't begin addressing it until I was 38. I'm nearly 50 now. It can be done, but the most important part is being kind to yourself and understanding that none of it is your fault.
These are words of comfort I shared. I know they would have helped me early on in my process.
The same site shared a quote from one my older posts:
...This is what I know -- bad things happened to a little girl who didn't deserve it (no child deserves to be hurt). No one was there to comfort and console her at the time, so I must comfort and console her now, retrospectively. It isn't as effective, but at least she's not alone now. So now I'll put on my warm jammies, get my new doll (Ruby) and pop in a pleasant movie. Relax, unwind and remember that all the hurt is in the past. I got through it then; I'll get through the memory of it now... (you can read the entire post here)
Not every day is a struggle, but it's also not easy every day. But I'm still here and I'm still standing, so they haven't won, and I know they're not going to win.
Blessings.
