Learning To Trust

After being a victim of neglect and the abuse.  (Really, I think neglect is a type of abuse.)  I find myself in the pecarious position of trying to learn how to trust again.  Or maybe even learning how to trust for the first time.  Because, I think what I have experienced before is a hope that I could trust but not really trusting….If that makes any sense at all.

I have tried to make myself the best me possible.  I have been honest and truthful..sometimes to my detriment.  I have been the “good little girl”, “brave little girl”, “independent little girl” and the hurt and abused little girl and woman.  Now, I want to be not only the best person I can be, but I want to learn to trust others and ask for help when I need it.

In the asking for help category, I am taking baby steps.  I have asked my friends to pray for me.  And, I have asked a few for physical asssistance.  And, I always at the back of my mind have this nigling feeling that maybe they won’t have time or maybe I am a bother or maybe they won’t come through for me.  So, far, each time, I have been plesantly surprised that they have all done that and more.

I think that God is showing me that I can place trust in others and they will not always abuse or neglect or disappoint or use or take advantage of you.  This is something totally alien to me.  I have always had to take care of myself.  I have always been an independent person not for choice so much as I had to be.  Early in life, I learned that humans are often untrustworthy.  Even those closest to you can do you harm. 

I liken myself to a dog who wants to much to trust the humans with which he comes in contact.  That dog does all he can to make himself agreable to the human.  He will do anything for that human….Yet, still another time though, somethimes he finds that his trust cannot be placed in that person.  Before long, he feel that he cannot find any human that he can trust.  I feel that there are not too many, if any, humans can be trusted.  I know I can trust me….or so I thought until I got into the abusive relationship with my ex.

I thought I could trust my instincts and I would know when there was something “hinky” going on.  But, this last experience has left me even distrustful of me and my emotions.  I know that you can trust animals….cats and dogs at least.  If you give them love and treat them well, they will do anything they can for you.  I can tell you that Ranger Dog was and is a loyal and trustful animal.

Human kind…well that’s another animal.  I try not to set my expectations too high.  I am venturing out and asking a few things.  I know that I can trust in God.  He is always there.  He is showing me that there are good and tustful people out there. 

My counselor keeps encouraging me to allow myself the hope of being able t trust in others.  Hope is something that I have very little of too.  Trust and hope sometimes go hand in hand.  Usually I find that I can trust that I will be hurt in some way.  That is a sad state to be in.

I don’t want to have to wait until I get to heaven to learn trust.

Worth

I want to share something with all of you out there with this blog.  Most of you who will read this will know that I am going through a separation and a divorce.  I am so blessed to have a wonderful counselor (earthly), wonderful friends and a wonderful support group that are all helping me to work through all the twists and turns involved in this process.  I even met a wonderful new friend at a church retreat over the weekend.  She is going through a lot of the same things I have been.  She gave me her phone number, her email address and a link to a website that will allow me to keep in touch with people who have been abused by their husbands.  That abuse can be verbal, mental or physical….

That being said, I need to say something that has been bothering me for a while.  I had to keep teasing at why this was bothering me so much to come to the answer.  It has happened slowly over the past year and it was not until yesterday and then talking it out with my counselor this morning that I really go my hands around the cause for my disconcertion.  I have to say that I knew that the particular phrase that was said to me was not meant to hurt me in any way.  It was said actually to make me feel better.  But, it had the opposite affect on me than those saying it intended. 

I freely state it was my interpretation of the phrase that affected me.  I feel led to share this in case you (who ever you are) come in contact with a person who may be just like me.  Okay….here it is.

Almost everyone who tried to make me feel better has said this phrase to me at some time of other.  They said “It could have been anyone….you were not special”.  What they meant was, to an abuser, you are not important, he would abuse anyone.  It is a game for him and he selects his “victims” by certain traits not by “who” they are….Meaning the person you are does not matter to him.  It is a type and kind….it is not “you” specifically.  You were simply his target….

When that was said to me….instead of feeling relief that “whew…it wasn’t me”..I felt…well if I wasn’t special to him….and you are telling me I’m not special…then, I am a nobody and a throw away person.  I don’t matter….I never did matter….not even to my abuser…..Well, I must really be less than nothing.

What I needed to hear was affirmation.  I needed to know I was worth it.  That I was a special person.  That God loved me and that others loved me and that I mattered.  It was not right that I was abused and I did not deserve the abuse I received. 

Don’t get me wrong…I also needed to understand that abusers are abusers that I was not the reason of my abuse.  I needed to understand that he was the one at fault and it was not my fault.  That he was the one who had the issue and was sick.

But, I also needed to know that I mattered.  First and formost the person in that situation needs to know they do matter.  Hearing they are no one special just makes them feel even worse.  Affirmation that they are a person of worth and that God made them beautiful and special. 

The neglect that I received was just another type of abuse.  Saying to someone who has been neglected and feels bad about themselves already that they are no one special even to their abuser, well, it is tantamount to affirming to them that they are nothing.

Affirmation is a powerful thing.  Selfworth is a powerful thing.  Loving that person is an important thing.  Let them know these things before explaining to them the mind of the abuser.

Today

Today, I did something I have not done in years….I almost…Yes, almost did not go to work today because I thought the day was Saturday.  It has been years since I have absolutely confused a work day for a weekend day.

Last night, I got my things ready for work like I always do.  That way, I can just hop out of bed, turn on the coffee maker and hope in the shower.  I had already planned out what I was going to wear. I already knew what I was going to have to work on for the day.  And, I had already planned my Friday night.

I went to be early.  Actually, I went to be earlier than usual.  I was in bed by 9:30 PM.  I read a little bit and fell asleep.  I turned over when the alarm went off.  My first thought was that I had not turned off the alarm and that it was actually Saturday.  I turned the alarm off and went back to sleep.

Thank goodness the cats were not to be placated.  They kept jumping up on the bed until I got up at 7:00.  I walked out into the rest of the apartment and started the coffee.  I thought, “wonder why I made it last night”  I raised the blinds and sat down at my computer to check email. 

I looked at the calendar and thought that it was on the wrong date.(I have a flip calendar)   I turned on the TV and noticed that the show I usually watch on Saturday was not on.  Still none of that struck me as odd. 

What finally got to me was when I picked up my phone and noticed the date.  I said “Holy Cow!” and I got into gear.  I actually did not have time to take a shower.  It is important that I arrive on time since I open the office.  I stuffed some salad into a container and threw some cereal and milk into another one.  I shoved it all into my lunch bag and poured myself some coffee and got my water mug.

I rushed out the door.  And, thankfully, traffic was light.  So, I made it to work with very little time to spare. 

Guess that’s what happens when you get overtired.

Surprise, Surprise, Surprise

My friend Bobbi invited me over to dinner on Sunday night.  She took it upon herself to set up a surprise birthday party for me.  It was absolutely wonderful!  My Community Group friends were there.  We had a wonderful time of food and fellowship.  And, best of all….. chocolate, chocolate, chocolate cake!

As you may have noted, birthdays are not my favorite days.  I have no problem celebrating the birthdays of others but would rather play mine low key.  The party at Bobbi and John’s was just the type that I like.  Yes, pictures were made and candles were blown out and gifts were given.  What made it good was that all my friends did this for me.  Each of them brought food to the party.  We had sloppy joes, cole slaw, Italian green beans and CAKE!  Best of all, I did not have to bring the rest of the cake home with me.  But, I did get a nice hunk of it to go. 

I have been eating on that cake for three days now.  It is wonderful.  I just got back from the lawyer’s office.  Soon to be my ex is causing issues again.  He has been charged with contempt and with obstruction.  But, that hasn’t kept him from making what seems to me unrealistic demands.  The latest?  He demanded to see the copies of my checks from my very own checking account.  And, the lawyer said that he had the right to see them.

So, I came home after the meeting….I had a nice salad for lunch.  Then, I dove into the Chocolate Cake.  The best thing is that I can eat it and not have to have a designated driver to take me anywhere.  And, I can get out and exercise and work it off.  Everything in moderation. 

Well, even though I have to give up more information about myself, after our separation, than I want to, I can also request the same from him.  So, once again, we are playing tennis with our demands.  It’s in his court now.

Birthdays

Tomorrow is the date of my birth.  To me, birthdays are not necessarily a day to celebrate.  You see, from an early age, I was told certain things about my coming to be that made me feel inferior or not wanted.  Now, I know they were stories and not meant to make me feel badly about myself.  But, during those early years when your psyche and your individualism is formed, it’s hard to hear stories about things you deem negative.  They can affect you for years to come.  Those who have not experienced these types of things first hand do not understand how it makes one feel.

Birthdays are sad for me.  Still after all these years, I feel that I let certain people down by being who I am.  I know that might sound strange to my siblings or my nieces or anyone who knows me who reads this.  (or even those who don’t know me)  I have worked through a lot of the things but, I still have to fight the sadness each and every birthday.

Why?  Well, even though I have forgiven those who said things.  And, even though I understand the position from which they were speaking, the things said can still creep in and cause me to pause.  I have found out that I was somewhat of a surprise.  My mother was going through a difficult time with one of my brothers who was having medical issues.  My father also was having medical issues.  So, to find herslef pregnant during this time was bittersweet.  I am sure that she was glad that God had given her another child.  But, during the time, it was a source of great stress.  With all the other things going on, having to care for another child, especially an infant was going to be taxing and time consuming. 

To be fair, her own mother was not forthcoming with offering to help with grandchildren.  You see, my other grandmother, the one that we lived with, had just lost her husband.  My brother and my father, her son, were ill.  She also had a farm to run.  Add to that the concern about and the wanting to be at the hospital with her only surviving son was important.  So add a pregnancy into the mix and you can understand why it was not exactly welcome at the time.

I guess that is why I resolved, I think inutero, to be as independent and as little worry as possible.  Here I was before I was even born bein a bother to someone.  So, I resolved early in life not ever to be a bother again.  Or at least as little of a bother as possible.  You can ask my mom, I could care for myself very early in life.  I was potty trained before I was out of the crib.  Icould feed myself at an early age.  And, as it were, I dressed myself, also somewhat crazily.  I seemed to always get my boots on the wrong feet.

I was also not the gender that my mother expected.  Those of  you who know me, know the story of how I got my name.  Seems I was suppose to be a boy.  When I wasn’t my mother cried because she did not know what to do with a girl. (maybe why I turned out to be such a tomboy)  She also did not have a name for me and that was another source of stress.  When my father came to take us home from the hospital, that very day, I was named.  I kind of like the name Cindy.  But, when I was a child, I would change my name to other things so I could be someone else.  Pretend…yes, more serious than that, maybe…

No wonder I would come out of my dress as soon as I got home from school or from chruch.  Early on, I would get “comfortable” with my clothes, not wanting to wear frilly dresses or slips or tights or whatever…And hair, please, it was a chore everytime my mother got near me.  Ringlets?  You have got to be kidding!  To this day, I look at my reflection when I am brushing my teeth in the morning and not again until night.  I don’t have any natural poise.  I am a clutz of the top degreee.  I always had bruises when I was a kid.  When my mother took me to the doctor, she would say “Tell him I don’t beat you.”  See, that simple phrase showed that she was concerned about me.  She did not want Social Services swooping in and taking away her children.

Birthdays, when we were children, was our favorite meals prepared by mom and grandmother.  We got our favorite food and favorite dessert.  Mine was always devils food cake with chocolat icing.  Once a friend of my mothers made me a cake.  The year that my father died.  I was 4 that year, my mother’s friend made me a birthday cake.  Being 4, I spoke my mind.  I told the lady that I did not like green birthday cakes.  My mother was appalled and spanked me.  Now, ask me why I don’t  like birthdays?

My brothers got into the act too.  Simple sibling stuff that was meant as jest was taken by my fragile self as just more proof that I was not a wanted member of the family.  They used to tease that the dog brought me home in an egg basket and that he had mauled me a little before they got me away from him.  So, imagine how I digested that information.  I wasn’t a blood member of the family and that I was ugly.  That is how I took it….to them it was just jest.  They did not mean to hurt me and certainly would not have said it if they had known how I felt at the time.  So, I blame neither of them for how I digested that information when I was a child.

So, I guess you can get an idea of why I do not necessarly like birthdays.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am glad to have another year here.  I am hopeful that God can use me a a tool while I am here.  I love my mother and my siblings very much.  This is in not way written to make them feel bad or angry.  This is simply written to give people a view into my life and how I feel.

So, if you see me tomorrow and I am not my confident, happy self, well understand.

Chili and Chilly

Today is the warmest day here in three days.  And, we only got to 38 degrees!  That is saying a lot, or should I say, a little, for North Carolina piedmont.  We don’t usually see consistent days of coldness.  We have barely been above freezing for three days now.  I am getting Cabin Fever!!!!  I have not been able to really get out and get in a good walk.

Sure I made it to church.  And, I have ventured out briefly for appointments and errands.  But, the most people I have seen and interacted with in the past few days have been those few that braved the cold for the first service on Sunday.

Now, I am making chili.  It sits on the stove bubbling away filling the apartment with the delicious smell of spices and tomatoes.  Every now and then, I get up from my place here to go and stir the mixture of meat, beans, tomatoes, and spices…..It won’t be long till I settle down with a hot steaming bowl.  I am already salivating in anticipation much like Pavlov’s dog when he heard the bell.

Why is it that cold weather gets us to make chili, or soup or stews?  One would thing since we are basically sedintary during the winter that we would opt for lighter meals.  Not us humans!!!  We pack on the weight in the winter and then try to work it off for summer vacation.  Our 4 footed friends do the opposite…they pack on the weight during the spring and summer so that they can hibernate during the winter appearing in the spring nice and svelt.

That being said, I am trying to be “good” by substituting ground turkey for ground beef.  I am also going to forgo the cornbread and the second bowl… Maybe then, I can add a little glass of wine.

Now for a bit of fact…American Indians used to keep dogs with them always.  During the winter, they would sleep with them for their warmth.  The colder it was, the more dogs that were added to the pile.  Hence the phrase, Three Dog Night….

One more set of Angels

There is one more set of Angels to mention.  Those two are Georgie and Spencer.  They have invited me and a bunch of others over to their house for Thanksgiving Dinner.

I am unable to make it back to Georgetown this year.  I was just there last weekend.  And I need to work.

God is great!  He has put so many wonderful people in my life.  It is so awesome!

Protection

Today has been one of those days that I must be growning.  Because much of growing in character and statue is accompanied by pain.  The latest attempt to “grow” or learn was spurred by questions from my counselor.  She had questions about my past, especially who I felt had influenced my value system.  To get down to it….she asked me who in my past had influenced me enough for me to realize that I was a victim of spousal abuse and needed to free myself from my abuser.

This line of questioning led to questions about how I felt when I was in the presence of my father.  I could not answer the qestions right away.  But, inside, the overriding feeling was fear.  (Not a very positive feeling to have about one’s parent.)  She wanted to know if I felt safe and proctected when I was around my father.  I shared with her that I was three when my dad died and did not have very many memories about him at all. 

I shared with my counselor that I know from my mom that my dad never raised a hand to her.  That he was strict and somewhat controlling but not physically or verbally abusive as far as I knew.  I also shared with her that my grandfather, my mother’s father, had never in my presence said any thing harsh or abusive to my grandmoter in my presence either.  Neither was he abusive verbally or physically.

This all got me thinking about protection.  Who in my past had protected me and made me feel safe.  And, the harsh answer was no one that I could actually say.  No one stood up against my abusers for me or protected me from abusers.  And, there have been abusers in my life.

I had protection in the form of a roof over my head and clothes on my back.  That in a sense is protection.  But, actual a sense of being safe and protected from the bogey men out there.   Nope….not one person that I can name.

All in all, I have been protected.  By God.  He has been there every step of the way.  Helping me and giving me friends to mentor me.