Well, I'm in England. and it's awesome. I met with my mentor, Lorraine, yesterday and we talked about what we both want out of this whole mentoring deal. I pretty much told her that anything and everything goes. I told her a bit about the past six months and how things have changed a ton for me, and how most of it revolved around people getting into my corner and challenging me to get out. And I realized how much of a blessing it's been. I really need people speaking into my life that I don't have to reciprocate (although with my friends I know that they appreciated it too). I don't have to make up for somone listening to all my crap, they want to listen because they love me and know I needed someone to talk to. So I told Lorraine that I what I really, really want is just someone to talk with, to keep my Quest covenant with (I will be vulnerable about my feelings by asking someone if we could talk about it). someone who I know I can trust to speak truth into my life.
Lorraine said that I should figure out different ways I can communicate what I'm feeling. I told her that it's easier to put my feelings out onto paper, and better to talk with someone about it. She said that I have to find a different way to communicate my feelings each week. So today I'm spending my quiet time/prayer slot typing on my blog (it's a 24-7prayer week here in Reading and each of us Transiteers have to take up two hour slots, not many people have signed up, but they're not legalistic and need to have every slot filled, they're so flexible it's scary, late to everything).
How am I feeling? Alone. Angry. Bitter. Disappointed. Terrified. Lost.
Angry: someone yesterday prayed over me that I would know the feeling of my Daddy's arms around me. Daddy meaning God. but that's not my name for the Father. that's the name of the person who wasn't the father I needed him to be. so for my prayer slot yesterday I vented, sobbed, silently screamed in rage as I wrote out a letter to God about my unfulfilled longing for a father's arms.
Bitter: something in me won't let the feeling go. I want to...no check that, I don't want to. this hurts, and I like being angry. It almost feels good in a twisted sort of way. I can finally say that I'm worth enough to think that someone did something wrong against me. But I can't seem to let it go. I think my anger has trickled from my dad to my Dad. That's wrong, I know, but that's what I feel. I don't have a good view of God as my Dad. the Abba I thought I knew was just something that I built up to run to because I couldn't go to anything else. How wrong of me to put God in a box like that! but I'm not quite ready to see Him as He really is, as my Daddy.
Dissappointed: with my dad, with God, with myself. why didn't my dad love me the way I needed him too? why do I not feel safe in his hug? why do I cringe when he comes into a room to talk with me? It's not like he did anything bad. It was just his lack of doing anything. why couldn't God be physically there when I wanted Him to be? why when I cried heart-wrenching sobs at night alone on my knees at my bed, why couldn't He have physically been there for me to lean my head on His lap, to have Him pull me into His arms and cradle me like I've only been a few times? Why can't I let myself let go of this bitterness and let God in to love me as a Daddy? it's what I need, it's what I want. I know that me not doing this is hurting Him and me, and in some ways dad.
Terrified: to tell the truth, I'm terrified of letting God be my Dad. I'm terrified of feeling His hug, to feel Him physically hold me. One does not touch God. He isn't physically here, He isn't tangible, He is so much full of glory that I wouldn't be able to live in His presence, let alone stand to see His face and be held by Him. there's one tally mark for me hating myself. there's no way that He could want to hold me. and I think that if I did feel Him holding me, I would want to die, just so that I would never have to leave His embrace. and I'm afraid of feeling love. It's too much for my heart to cope with.
Lost: so now I'm afraid of and angry at God. who can I go to now that would comfort this Daddy-shaped ache in my soul? no one. I'm alone and starving for affection. will I never allow myself to be loved? will no one ever love me? Please, I don't know which of You Three I'm talking to, but help. please help.
Lorraine said that I should figure out different ways I can communicate what I'm feeling. I told her that it's easier to put my feelings out onto paper, and better to talk with someone about it. She said that I have to find a different way to communicate my feelings each week. So today I'm spending my quiet time/prayer slot typing on my blog (it's a 24-7prayer week here in Reading and each of us Transiteers have to take up two hour slots, not many people have signed up, but they're not legalistic and need to have every slot filled, they're so flexible it's scary, late to everything).
How am I feeling? Alone. Angry. Bitter. Disappointed. Terrified. Lost.
Angry: someone yesterday prayed over me that I would know the feeling of my Daddy's arms around me. Daddy meaning God. but that's not my name for the Father. that's the name of the person who wasn't the father I needed him to be. so for my prayer slot yesterday I vented, sobbed, silently screamed in rage as I wrote out a letter to God about my unfulfilled longing for a father's arms.
Bitter: something in me won't let the feeling go. I want to...no check that, I don't want to. this hurts, and I like being angry. It almost feels good in a twisted sort of way. I can finally say that I'm worth enough to think that someone did something wrong against me. But I can't seem to let it go. I think my anger has trickled from my dad to my Dad. That's wrong, I know, but that's what I feel. I don't have a good view of God as my Dad. the Abba I thought I knew was just something that I built up to run to because I couldn't go to anything else. How wrong of me to put God in a box like that! but I'm not quite ready to see Him as He really is, as my Daddy.
Dissappointed: with my dad, with God, with myself. why didn't my dad love me the way I needed him too? why do I not feel safe in his hug? why do I cringe when he comes into a room to talk with me? It's not like he did anything bad. It was just his lack of doing anything. why couldn't God be physically there when I wanted Him to be? why when I cried heart-wrenching sobs at night alone on my knees at my bed, why couldn't He have physically been there for me to lean my head on His lap, to have Him pull me into His arms and cradle me like I've only been a few times? Why can't I let myself let go of this bitterness and let God in to love me as a Daddy? it's what I need, it's what I want. I know that me not doing this is hurting Him and me, and in some ways dad.
Terrified: to tell the truth, I'm terrified of letting God be my Dad. I'm terrified of feeling His hug, to feel Him physically hold me. One does not touch God. He isn't physically here, He isn't tangible, He is so much full of glory that I wouldn't be able to live in His presence, let alone stand to see His face and be held by Him. there's one tally mark for me hating myself. there's no way that He could want to hold me. and I think that if I did feel Him holding me, I would want to die, just so that I would never have to leave His embrace. and I'm afraid of feeling love. It's too much for my heart to cope with.
Lost: so now I'm afraid of and angry at God. who can I go to now that would comfort this Daddy-shaped ache in my soul? no one. I'm alone and starving for affection. will I never allow myself to be loved? will no one ever love me? Please, I don't know which of You Three I'm talking to, but help. please help.
posted by Anonymous | 6:28 am
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