Relearning God

I had a long day and ended up falling asleep early. So, of course, here I am late at night wide awake. I turned the tv on to a true crime story. I was watching a mother speak about the loss of her daughter and marinating in the horror of that. Then she repeated a phrase I've heard so many times in my life... "an eye for an eye."

My guttural response was, "that's not from my God."

Not only did I feel it important to understand the truth that was resonating within me, I also became very aware and proud that I was instinctively using my own discernment rather than being cemented in the stories that I've been told my whole life.

I grew up going to a little country church every Sunday. I heard stories about God and Jesus. Looking back, the stories that perpetuated fear and control are the ones that echoed the loudest. To no one's fault, that's what has been handed down, quite methodically through organized religion.

My miscarriages, becoming Jack's mother, and now surviving the immense trauma of the past few years have given me the gift of discernment. What I understand now is that people can get lost in human interpretations of God rather than the actual experience of Him.

Jesus attempted to redirect the spiritual conversation... to teach us not to repay evil with evil... to move away from revenge and toward mercy and restraint.

I didn't need to read that in a book.

I feel it.

The deeper I heal, the more I realize a big part of it is relearning God. It's letting go of conditioning and impersonal, external stories. It's anchoring my soul in love and compassion and finding strength in my newly found discernment. That's where He waits for me to meet Him. That's where He waits for all of us, no matter what.

Losing My Light

So much has happened this year. I've been overcome with a darkness and depth of loss that I could have never imagined before. It's now almost May and I stand here just on the other side of it all.

I've survived Jack moving to RI. He's all settled and truly thriving.

I've survived my move. And although the process of finding a place to live here was much more difficult and longer than expected, I've been able to move into a little house that perfectly suits my needs for now.

I've survived the loss of the job I've loved. I was fortunate enough to find a virtual position in another area.

I've survived yet another court battle with my ex-husband.

I continue to survive every day... without Tony's physical presence. But now the idea of attempting to start a new relationship doesn't seem as impossible as it used to.

Yet, with all of that, I still find myself searching for a light in the darkness. I still feel the heaviness and an inability to breath normally.

What is wrong with me?

Why am I not lit up and dancing in the streets?

Have I been broken so badly... beyond repair?

I sat alone with God and asked those questions. He showed me that my light isn't gone. It was dimmed and covered to protect it from this season of upheaval.

Because when life asks too much of you for you too long, your system doesn't break. It conserves.

It pulls your energy inward.

It quiets what isn't essential.

It protects what matters most... until it's safe again.

And although the shift to recovery is starting, my nervous system doesn't quite know how to feel safe again.

I can take solace knowing...

there is a reason for how I feel, or don't feel right now

there is a universal pattern of conservation... for protection

and more importantly... there is and will be an exit.

The cover will lift...and my light will brighten again. It won't come in big waves of elation or fireworks. It will be in slow and subtle moments... moments that teach me how to trust this new life that is being created inside and outside of me.

Getting Real

I sat here today taking yet another painful hit to my gut. I was told that my offer was accepted on a house I really loved and then it was ripped out from under me by them signing with another buyer.

I realize now that the anguish I'm feeling isn't really about the house. It's about the feeling the acceptance gave me... that everything was finally going to be okay.

I never imagined that this change in my life, moving here, would create so much unraveling and unsteadiness.

I never imagined it would be so difficult to find a place to live.

I have stewed in some much loss, frustration and shame at the mess I've made for myself and my dogs, and also at the interruption I've made in my cousins' lives. (Although they are far too generous to admit it and I couldn't love them more for it.)

I caught myself going back through last year's blog posts.

I was so proud of myself for my growth. Hope and optimism were pulsing through my veins. It felt like life was finally flowing through me as it was intended.

And I find myself asking...

Where the hell did that girl go?

How did I lose myself so badly AGAIN?

How could I let this kind of regression happen?

And as quickly as my mind starting asking those questions, I was brought to a completely different view.

I haven't regressed.

I'm not bypassing hard emotions. I'm not running or hiding. I'm hitting this straight on and feeling every ounce of it.

I'm tired.

I'm shaken.

I'm desperately seeking something steady enough to stand on again.

But this is the realist I've ever been.

My progress isn't lost. It's just waiting for steady ground to root and grow.