How is it that pain draws out the best and worst in us?
Pain forces us to feel exposed and vulnerable. Many times I have hidden from that naked feeling. That feeling of someone just seeing your face and says to you, “Hey, are you ok?” When everything inside of you wants to start screaming, or crying… I’m not sure which one.
For many there are two options. If I was feeling needy to get out of the house (as a mom of four, getting out was a rare moment) I would leave the house fully armored and ready to deflect any persons questions or conversations that might draw out an unwanted emotion or force me to talk about my true self. The other option, when not feeling strong enough to deflect, I would hibernate.
How lonely it can be to live in pain, to live in sadness or anxiety and not feel the freedom to let it out. To feel so soldiered up that you truly start to believe just that, that you’re a soldier… going into battle, prepared to fight off anyone and everyone that may attack, that may attack your protection bubble you’ve created out of fear.
Whether you want to admit it or not, we have all lived in this battle. Whether for a short amount of time, after a hard break up or a disappointment, or a long period of time, maybe years, we have all been in the trenches, lonely, dirty and fighting to get out. No one enjoys being in a room full of people yet feeling so alone. No one wants to push people so far back they don’t really see you for who you truly are. No one was made in a way of needing no one.
Isn’t that such a proclamation of a loving God, a relational God, a God that made us in His own image and predestined us to need one another, even in battle.
Two years ago I would have minimally understood this concept, living a very comfortable, pastor’s wife life, three healthy kids, a cozy home and not too many hurdles to jump. Nothing too ruff, I’d never struggled with depression, loneliness, let alone anxiety or loss. Just bouts of disappointment and life here and there, I had only briefly understood my fleshly instinct to push away from the people around me for a moment as I hide from my emotions.
To be honest, I often thanked God for the freedom of never having to hurdle any of those things in my life. That maybe I was one of the lucky few who’d never have to be “that person”.
And then, God called our family to foster care.
I knew I wasn’t the pick of the crop for this job. I struggle with all of the mom feelings and the nurturing characteristic has never come natural for me, let alone I already had three tiny humans I was struggling to keep alive. (I say that as a funny, kind of)
I had no idea what taking on someone else's loss and pain was going to do to my soul.
Sister came to us as a tiny, curly headed, sassy 2 year old. Who loved to stick her boogers in my mouth when I wasn’t looking and used F bombs whenever necessary, but more so, was living in deep pain.
I had never walked life with a soldier, a survivor, a warrior, and a little one at that. Often I would see her soldier up on hard days, I would see her go inside of herself when afraid or angry. I saw her hurt others. Our motto in our house became, “hurt people hurt people.” Silence and pushing the people that love you most away can be just as hurtful as an F bomb or a sock in the boob.
In the middle of this messiness I took on her pain. I would jump in front of bullets logged towards her, even if they were just with words. I would comfort her. I started to see myself take on the mama bear warrior, “I’ll die for you” mentality. A role I never thought possible for myself, but in that I felt it all and the pain became unbearable at times.
One morning I was invited to the park by some mom friends, and without even noticing myself do it, I gave myself two options that morning. “Cadey you can soldier up, and deflect, or you can hibernate, what do you have energy to do?”
As I rolled up to the park a song came on that easily wrecked me. As the tears started rolling I panicked and sat in my car as my kids started piling out, I immediately put my sunglasses on, grabbed my venti coffee, took a deep breath and started my way to the park. And then came the first question, “So what’s it like being a foster mom?” I quickly responded with, “Oh it’s hard but it’s awesome (I think I coughed as I lied while saying it). Question after question was fired at me and I began to slowly step away and began to push my daughter on the swing.
“Just leave me alone, just stop asking.” – I had these words going on repeat in my head
Later that evening as my husband and I had our nightly debrief meeting while laying in bed I started to explain to him how angry I was at those women at the park. “How dare they ask me so many questions, I mean do they not know how stinkin’ hard this is?” Lets just say he so lovingly let me go off about my feelings and patiently listened… after a moment, “But babe, do they know, how would they know how hard it is?”
It hit me like a train, the very stanch, stone-walled, sassy untruths, that was so hurtful to me that my tiny little foster daughter was giving me because of her hurts, I was giving the same.
Hurt people hurt people.
I’d say the vicious cycle of protection from vulnerable realness with those around you is just as hurtful as a physical injourey. Believing the lie that living alone in your pain is less exhausting than explaining it, only further pushes you into the trenches, and the more you push the more lie becomes believable. “See they don’t really care, they didn’t even ask.” “See I knew it was just going to sound pathetic or unbearable”.
I know what some of you may be thinking, two things:
“What’s so wrong with processing alone?” Absolutely nothing!
“I didn’t mean to push away, I’m just not good with talking about my feelings.” Oh man, me neither.
Let me tell you the beautiful story of how God pulled me out of the soldiering up or hiding mentality.
From that day at the park forward I swore to myself I would never soldier up again. My new motto at the park would be, “If you’re going to ask, you better be ready!”
Here’s why.
As terrifying as it can be to go to a park full of women and let out a good cry, or admitting to a friend you are depressed or angry… there is a beautiful part that you are missing if you don’t surrender to the idea of living life WITH others.
Freedom.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, part of my pain came from not feeling free in my own emotions or feelings. God Himself designed us to need others, why, because I need that friend to talk me off the ledge. I need the truth when I can’t seem to preach it to myself. I need their prayers when I have nothing to say to God. I need their affection. I need their pursuit. I need their dinners when I am dead tired or a coffee dropped at my door step when they know about the day I had.
Others.
The flip side of this is, they need you. They need your pain. They need to walk with you, why, because little did I know two years ago that I was missing out on a huge part of life in never experiencing pain. Pain generates strength. Pain provides endurance. When bonded together, pain cultivates a relationship like no other. Pain exposes a need for others that we can so easily shove to the side and pretend we don’t desire or need… but we do. Vulnerability exposes our humanness in a way that takes us from superhero to dependents on Jesus. And as messy as relationships can be, when filtered through the likeness of Christ Himself, there is nothing there but beauty.
Let God soldier for you, let the God of the Universe fight those battles, heal your heart and cover your anger. Let Him be your protector, and receive His gift to us of others.
- Cadey