The Solitude of Suffering

A word-sketch of the isolating feeling of suffering.

Today is a heavy day; the gravity pulls me down.

It's exhausting .

I want to let it go,

release these heavy weights from me,

but I can't find where they end and I begin.

The record of the familiar song,

plays over and over in my mind,

giving a trueness to the saying

"like a broken record".

I try to drown it out with music

and YouTube videos.

Anything to distract me from

the noise in my own mind.

But the worst part is the feeling--

feeling the thump thump of

the heavy base of the song

I wish would stop.

Who knew that "triggered"

didn't always mean seeing,

but feeling.

Betrayed by my own body.

And again I wonder

where is the outrage?

God! Where is the outrage?

"The outrage," He says

"is right here."

His Matthew 18:6 declaration,

a small comfort to my hurting heart.

I'm reminded once again,

that in this place, He's here.

I don't suffer in solitude,

he catches every tear.

The Truth of Being Triggered

I used to think that being triggered was only like what we see depicted in movies. Something happens that causes the person to no longer see their current-day surroundings, but instead the "movie" of the trauma is played before their eyes.

Like a virtual reality in reality.

But flashbacks aren't just visions -- they're sounds, feelings, tastes, and smells.

As soon as I learned that truth, so many things made sense for me.

For me, flashbacks are feelings.

I feel like I'm in that place again, with all the emotions and sensations of the event.

As much as I want to, I can't just stop feeling what I'm feeling -- there isn't an on/off switch. It can feel like being betrayed by my own body.

I'm learning to sit with the uncomfortable, painful, sometimes excruciating feelings, instead of always trying to avoid them. Sometimes I'll go an hour or more before I realize I'm avoiding and turn off the song, video, or whatever I was trying to use to numb and distract.

I sit with the feelings and, as weird as it sounds, within myself I speak to them:

"You're seen. You're heard. I hear you."

This is usually followed by lots and lots of tears. Tears that were bottled up long ago, never allowed to spill out until now.

I find if I can let the feeling be felt, allow the emotions to flow through me and spill out, I generally come back to the here and now. The feelings and sensations subside or at least soften to background noise instead of a 100-person marching band.

My Abuse, His Anger

When I finally felt safe enough, with the support of a trauma therapist, to allow the past trauma of sexual abuse rise to the surface, I was wrecked.

It was the most healing, freeing, painful, overwhelming thing I had ever done. I honestly didn't know how I would ever get up off the proverbial floor, and sometimes, the literal floor.

I felt hollow, like a shell. It wasn't that admitting it caused me to feel hollow. In admitting it I allowed the feelings I had pushed down for so long to be free. In the past, they only escaped when the pressure in the bottle became too much and something would bubble up, usually in the most inconvenient place and time: the grocery store, school, church.

But I had finally reached the point when I wanted to let the pressure out of the bottle. Not only that, I wanted to see what was inside, give it the attention it needed, and then set it free.

Over time the feelings of hollowness were replaced by sadness and grief.

I had no idea that so much sadness could fit into one person, that a grief so great could reside in someone and not cause them to burst at the seams.

Sadness and grief gave way to anger.

I was so angry.

I was angry at my parents.

I was angry at the men who had hurt me.

I was angry at the people who knew about my home life and didn't do anything to save me.

I was angry at myself.

And, even though it was scary to admit it,

I was angry at God.

But instead of running from the anger, I finally let myself feel it.

To sit in it. To run my fingers through the tendrils of flames and allow myself to feel the burn.

I had never been allowed to be angry, so I kept having to give myself permission. All of the initial, raw anger was starting to subside, all of it, that is, except for my anger with God. I had been avoiding it because I thought "good girls" don't get angry at God.

But finally one day it became too much and I started to yell at God,

"How could you let this happen?! Why didn't you care?! Why don't you care?! Where is your outrage?! Where. Is. Your. Anger?!"

And in that moment, I wasn't struck by lightening. No fire consumed me. I didn't feel shame or condemnation. Instead I was met by a strong and powerful grief. A grief much larger and more complex than my own. It wrapped itself around me, but instead of being overwhelming or scary it felt like a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer.

And I realized as I wept, that He wept too.

As I hurt, He hurt too.

As I seethed with anger, He did too.

I didn't think that God cried until I read the words

"Jesus wept." (John 11:35 KJV).

Not only did he weep, he wept with women and men wracked with grief.

It says, "When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled." (John 11:33 ESV)

He was not a distant God, looking down on the puny problems of the tiny ant-humans below. He was a present, flesh-and-blood God, moved to tears by the grief of these people and his own personal grief.

As for his anger?

"but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea." -Matthew 18:6 ESV

"Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.'" -Romans 12:19 ESV

God is our perfect Father. He's the Father many of us wished for in an earthly father, but unfortunately didn't receive. Our pain is his pain. Our hurt is his hurt. Our abuse is his anger.

He is not unfeeling or unmoved.

In fact, He knows our pain intimately.

He was present then and he's present now. (Psalm 46:1)

The Savior of the Sin-Sludge Submerged

In this post, I sketched the feeling of being brought back to those moments of abuse as being thrown into the deep end of a tarry bog, covered in a thick sludge.

It can be tempting to think that God looks on us as we struggle to free ourselves from the tar as if it's nothing to Him. But as I sat with the image of fighting to stand in the muck, feeling it cling to my clothes, skin and hair, I finally succeeded in wiping my eyes just enough to see.

And I didn't see a God standing over me laughing, or at the very least, cold and unfeeling -- like my earthly father often looked at me.

No, I saw a God-Man standing next to me in the sludge. And as I seem to do so often lately, I wept.

When Jesus was hung on the cross, he willingly took on every sin past, present, and future. He chose to jump into the sludge and to carry it with him to the cross.

He not only sees us in our pain and grief, he feels our pain and grief as his own.

“He himself bore our sins” in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; “by his wounds you have been healed.” -1 Peter 2:24 NIV

I didn't choose to be abused and I know you didn't either. No, that was chosen for us. That sin was committed to us, not by us -- we were thrown into the sludge.

But God understands. He understands being betrayed, beaten, and bruised

-- literally and figuratively.

We live in a fallen world. Which I don't really have to explain to you as we know the depth of humanity's ability to be wholly horrendous.

I think one of the greatest lies I heard from the mouths of Christians is if you accept Jesus, if you follow Him, you'll never have pain or suffering. If I just prayed enough, read my Bible enough, sang worship songs enough, I wouldn't feel the pain anymore.

That's just not true.

Jesus, Himself, said we would continue to face trouble, "In the world you will have tribulation (trouble). But take heart; I have overcome the world." -John 16:33b ESV

I can't "pray the pain away." I know because I've tried.

God never promised to take the pain away this side of heaven.

But He did promise to be with us.

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." -Psalm 46:1 KJV

In moments of pain and suffering, we can know that we don't suffer alone. We have a God that loves us so much that he chose, and chooses, to sit in the pain with us until it subsides.

A note about faith for those who have been burned in the past:

I know there are many, many, many people who have been wounded by Christians, myself included. I just wanted to say it's taken me a while to learn this, but the bad actions of Christians are not a reflection of God. They are the reflection of the imperfect people who committed them.

God is perfect; people are not.

As a part of my healing journey, I'm working through the lies I hold about myself and about God. I plan to continue to post my own wrestlings and understandings of God, especially as it relates to the abusive actions of people, how bad things happen to good people, and why God doesn't just make people be good.

If you've been hurt before by religion, I hope you'll continue to join me, so we can explore and learn together.

But if you don't want to be a part of that conversation, I understand, and I leave you with this:

• You are not alone in your suffering. Sadly there are millions of us who have suffered the same abuse we just tend to stay silent about it for a multitude of reasons.

• What happened to you is not your fault.

• You deserve to be free from the chains that were placed on you. I would recommend finding a trauma therapist in your area (or online) to help you navigate your pain.

• And finally, regardless of what people who call themselves Christians may say, God loves you so much that He thought you were worth dying for. He loves you. He hears you. He knows you. And He wants you to know Him.

“For God so loved the [world] --> (read: you), that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16