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nefarious

wednesday night a friend and I went to see a screening of the nefarious documentary merchant of souls – it’s a documentary on human trafficking by exodus cry – it was a really good portrayal and you should see it if you can: http://nefariousdocumentary.com/screenings/benefit-screenings/

on the way home, my friend asked me why I wanted to see it, and I thought about that most of the night while I was at work

films like this are mostly made to increase awareness, to let people know about the problem, the devastating effects, and how they can contribute to help end slavery and support recovery efforts — none of which applies to me, since I already have more than enough ‘awareness’ on the subject

so I thought a lot about why I’m drawn to these films, especially considering that some of the material rubs up on some pretty raw wounds and can trigger memories of things I’d rather forget ever happened

but any pain that comes from being reminded of the hell of sexual trafficking is overshadowed by the comfort of knowing I am not alone…

there are others who think and feel the same way as I do, been through the same type of hell, suffer the same pain in trying to heal — and so it lets me know that I’m not crazy, that it really is this hard for all of us, that the damage and the pain is real, that I’m not defective in taking so long to heal, and that it IS possible to heal even so

and also, it helps me to hear people actually speak the “unspeakable” stuff – I think not being able to speak about it feeds the shame – how can you not feel ashamed of what you can’t even speak out loud?

and though I know that its very hard on people to hear about some of the horrors of human trafficking, I think its necessary if we are ever going to do what it takes to put an end to it…

“imagine the shame you felt when you did the worst thing you ever did, then multiply it by 10 and feel that every day for years” – nefarious: merchant of souls

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this is hell – trying to find something to replace the belief that I was born inherently worthless – something that doesn’t leave me only with not deserving rape by my dad at age 5, not deserving my mother’s hatred, and all that came after…

I was miserable knowing I was born worthless, but in comparison to this, it was nothing, and I wish I could ‘unknow’ my value as an image-bearer, but I can’t

and no one seems to understand that, which I don’t understand why not – would you rather be the person who spent 40 years in prison for something you did wrong or the person who spent 40 years in prison who did nothing wrong? that’s a no-brainer for me: it’s much easier to accept punishment when it’s deserved; to accept everything that was lost

before, jesus was the god who miraculously loved me even though I was a piece of shit, and anything bad that happened could be sucked up and swallowed as just desserts; and anything good he did for me was luxury I didn’t deserve that I was grateful for

now, I have a god who stood there and watched as I was literally ripped apart and did nothing to stop it even though he had the power to, even though I begged him to

and I could accept even that, because I understand the whole not wanting robots and the free will thing…

only when god finally did use his power to intervene directly, it was to stop me from dying in a fire when I was 9 years old – which would have sent me straight to heaven, ended my torment, and saved me from ever becoming the piece of shit whore I believed I was – I would never have been sold, I would never have sold myself, I wouldn’t have the hundreds of memories of the perverted things men did to me, and the shame of the things I did

and so it’s as if he willed everything that happened after that fire

and yet, I cannot ‘unbelieve’ that god is holy and good, and that he is love – but trying to put it all together is tearing me apart

if I could go back to the moment before taylor and josh got me to understand I wasn’t born a piece of shit, I would run and never have that conversation with them and go to my grave believing I was worthless…

that hell would be easier than this one

falling…

one of my biggest pet peeves is people who talk about their journey without talking about the hard parts – the mess and the despair and the doubt, etc…

its the reason I return here when nothing is resolved…because I dont want to be one of those people – but i understand the temptation, the wanting to be seen as having it all together

but it never helps me very much to be around the “people who have it all together” – it just makes me feel inferior – and I never want to make anyone else feel that

and I definitely do NOT have it all together…

lately, this whole process feels like god is trying to push me off a cliff — and I can’t see how far the fall is – could be 3 feet, could be 103 feet — and I don’t know what’s down there – could be a pile of pillows, could be a pit of sharpened sticks

(most of the time my mind goes with the 103 feet, sharpened sticks option)

but the not knowing is what makes me panic — I have no control over this process – of where it’s going, of what I will feel, who I will be, what it will look like, how others will see me – it’s all unknown, no blueprint, no plan, I can’t even know what I will do next

and, yeah, I know god has a plan – I just don’t know how much pain is involved in it – and when I can’t see the pain coming, I can’t steel myself against it, I actually have to feel it all, and I don’t like that – I like to know what’s coming, to have that second to prepare, to take a breath and disconnect a little, and have some distance from the pain — something my childhood made me very good at doing

and so in panic, I knee-jerk grasp at things when he shoves me closer to the edge, though I’m trying not to – I know I need to trust that no matter how long the drop is, he will catch me and it will be for my good – I know that I’m safer in his control than my own – and I know that if he wants me over this cliff, it’s going to happen and it’d be easier if i would just trust and let go

…I’m just not that brave sometimes

buying the lie…

the red pill

I learned a basic truth of christian theology three weeks ago – and you would think it would have made me happy, but I lost my temper instead

partly because as far as I was concerned, no one had ever told it to me before – but more than that, it destroyed my “reality”

because in the instant I really “got it”, I knew that for this one thing to be true, then this other thing I have believed all my life could not also be true – and that is the belief that has been the foundation, the anchor for everything else in my life – my behavior, other people’s behavior, events, circumstances, everything

which means that the house I have built on that foundation has to come down, and I am panicking

what I learned was that being an image-bearer, being created in his image, means that following jesus and becoming more christ-like is becoming myself – the person god created me to be – without the fall and all the sin in my life – that that is who I really am and that I am not inherently worthless

which is a wonderful thing, sure, except for the fact that my entire understanding of my life has been built upon my inherent worthlessness — which was extremely painful, yes, but which made everything make sense to me, in a way that allowed me to accept all the bad stuff as my “just desserts”

now I have nothing to make sense of it all, and the panic is kicking up my ptsd more than a few notches, and I’ve spent the last couple weeks scrambling to find a loophole so that both could be true, but I can’t…

and honestly, I kind of wish I’d swallowed the blue pill instead…

trying again…

“you can’t ask christ to come into your wound while you remain far from it. You have to go there with him.” — john eldredge

this is what I don’t know if I can do – go into the wounds I have run from, buried, ignored, anesthetized, and denied for decades – to let jesus reopen the scars and heal the wounds from the inside out

and while intellectually I know the only way out is through it, and the peace and joy I crave waits on the other side, it doesn’t feel like that – it feels like a bottomless well of excruciating pain that will destroy me

and that terrifies me

but I’m trying to get there…and while I’d like to claim I’m trying again because I want it enough or I’m brave enough, it’s really just because the running, burying, ignoring, anesthetizing, and denying isn’t working anymore, and there is no hope of peace without him

tapped out

I look around and I’m not really sure how I got here – and by “here” I mean my days consist of work, distractions, and painkillers – basically anything that keeps me from thinking, from feeling, from hurt, from love

and I don’t have an answer for how long this will go on, if it will stop or not – I just know I am running as fast as I can, watching myself destroy all that was good in my life, not even understanding why or what I’m so afraid of, powerless to stop it even though I know I am hurting so many people

…and for that, I am sorry