Is it really forgiveness when you "forgive" someone of their wrong doing against you, but don't let them back in your life again?
For example someone you have trusted to have in your life and in your house makes a one time judgement mistake. You 'forgive' them, but they are no longer allowed in your house. Is this forgiveness?
I was doing a bible study on this topic of forgiveness and it just really seems to me that this isn't God's view of forgiveness, but the Pharisees. Especially since this is the standard way of forgiveness for this person for anything.
Once truly forgiven, it shouldn't be routinely brought up as a character flaw in this person either.
If forgiveness is suppose to be showing our gratitude for the Lord's forgiveness of us...Does this mean we've accepted our forgiveness or don't truly understand it?
If we are judged by our own standards...Does this mean we are really forgiven?
Jack Kelley in Forgiveness
Monday, October 1, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Angry mom? Me? Yes...I can feel the toxic anger seeping into my body, filling my mind and burning my chest. I refuse to let it take hold. I'm desperate to find a solution to not allow my husband's sludge take hold in my life, without removing my husband from the equation. I can't leave my husband. I know he is in there somewhere. He's lost in his infection. His explosions over me missing his phone call, missing a chore, not having enough gas in my van for his unexpected trip into town, or leaving dirty diapers in the bathroom are becoming worse, more frequent and more painful to endure.
Maybe if I can go back to the pre infected period in my life, before the black goo attacked me and latched on like Venom to Spider Man.
I've been reading a blog, Meet Penny. She is currently writing a multiple part posts about "Mommy Rage Recovery" . This is the closest thing I can find to help, especially since I have absolutely nobody to talk to. After 10 years of my husbands ever negative attitude sucking the life out of me, I need some help. I've decided to purchase some of the recommended books she's posted. Anything. Maybe if I can control myself, get a hold of my emotions....then he will stop increasing. Maybe even get help? Maybe?
Maybe if I can go back to the pre infected period in my life, before the black goo attacked me and latched on like Venom to Spider Man.
I've been reading a blog, Meet Penny. She is currently writing a multiple part posts about "Mommy Rage Recovery" . This is the closest thing I can find to help, especially since I have absolutely nobody to talk to. After 10 years of my husbands ever negative attitude sucking the life out of me, I need some help. I've decided to purchase some of the recommended books she's posted. Anything. Maybe if I can control myself, get a hold of my emotions....then he will stop increasing. Maybe even get help? Maybe?
Infectious Negativity
"Spend all your time with negative people and you will become like them. Why? Because you'll pick up their habits, behaviors, energy and attitudes. Make it your goal this year to align yourself with positive people that encourage you, that inspire you, that bring out ONLY the BEST in you. Be with people who can contribute to your growth and not your death in life and you'll be happy." Robert Tew
What do you do when the main negative person infecting your life is your husband?
I find his anger, short patience and distrust toxic to myself and my children. I see it infecting my spirit and eating it's way into my children's very makeup. I don't want my children growing up to just like dad. Unfortunately, I don't want my children growing up like me either when I keep soaking in his negative behaviors and reflecting them. I see a problem brewing inside me.
I feel that I've lowered my standards to allow myself to be treated the way I am. He never physically harms me, but only by actions and words does he sting. They say that only sticks and stones may hurt me, but I argue that words really do hurt me. I see that is true in myself and I know that is true in my children.
My spirit use to be so pure, so positive. Sure, I would get upset from time to time just like anyone else, but I was always quick to recover. Quick to forgive and completely forget. I felt happy.
This angry and toxic negativity is attacking my very soul. Black, sticky goo I can't shake off.
What now? Lord! I'm suppose to keep my place I've vowed to hold? I can't help but to beg for you to change this spirit of hate in my husband. I don't know how to hold on otherwise. The longer he is away from Your word and removed from the body of Christ/church to hold him accountable, the worse he becomes. Lord!? Please don't forget me and my children.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
I'm fine...
"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay..." I keep chanting to myself, but I find it unconvincing as I look at my blotchy red face in the mirror with tears still finding their way down my face. How can I convince everyone else out there if I can't fake it for myself?
I'll just splash some more cold water on my face.
I knew I should have stayed in the nursery with little J instead of going into the service. Why do the sermons have to be so spot on for myself when I really don't want to hear it? I've spent the last three days crying over things and just when I think I can maintain control, the pastor's sermon sends me over the edge again right in the middle of church. I couldn't get to the bathroom and hide in a stall fast enough.
I tried again to smile at myself, but it was just not working.
I keep hearing my husband's ugly words he spoke to me. The simple, yet painful words he left on my cell phone for me are haunting. Tormenting. Torture. "Dummy. You Big Dummy." It doesn't seem like much, but he said it with such passion. I heard nothing else from him all day until he came that evening and began to rant at me. Trying to not have an argument only made his anger worse. I wanted to leave. I didn't want to scare the kids more than they were already scared. Which is worse? Showing my daughter and my sons that this treatment is acceptable? This is how a marriage works? Or scooping them all up with a raging Dad behind them as I load them in the van and leave? Leave where? Where would I go? I have nowhere to go. No one to talk to. Nothing. So I stay feeling trapped by his hot temper. His threats. More stinging words. "You are worthless." I felt slapped. My face burned and chest tightened. As he stormed out of the house, my daughter and eldest son protested his words and he replied sternly, "I'm sorry, but she is. You Mother is WORTHLESS."
He left me struggling to keep myself composed, but I couldn't stop the hot tears. My children were crying and angry. I wanted to tell them that I was okay. Hold them, play with them. How could I do that? Obviously, it wasn't okay. Nothing about it was okay. I couldn't even speak.
Iwished prayed that he would just drive away. Half of me even didn't care if he ever returned. EVER.
I spent two more days of him not talking to me. Cold. Painful. My heart felt as if it were crumbling away. I refused myself to sleep in our bed as I knew his hot temper would not be controlled in such close proximity. Not like I could really sleep anyway. Between his threats, his ugly words, my crying children ringing in my mind and trying to get comfortable on the couch with my hugely pregnant belly it was all nearly impossible.
When he finally called me while on his way home from work to quickly apologize, I really didn't know what to say. I didn't want to tell him it was okay. It wasn't. I couldn't tell him that I forgave him, because I couldn't! So I said nothing. He simply told me that he was sorry for being a jerk. That he shouldn't have done that. It just 'is what it is'. What does that mean? It 'is what it is'? While his quick and pathetic apology was over and he was rambling on about what projects he wanted to achieve once he got home, my brain was left churning. 'Is what it is"? His temper? That I'm a Dummy? That I'm worthless? What? Maybe what the whole thing was about. Maybe that's it. All of this anger, threats, and ugly words stemmed off of me missing two phone calls 4 minutes apart. He called and I missed them both. Seriously.
He offered no apology in person. No apology to my children for his vulgar attitude and horrible words he said. Nothing.
I don't even think he realized I didn't say a word through his short and shoddy apology. Sorry is just a sorry word when it's just words. Through ten years all it's seem to have been are just words. I think myself to be very forgiving and loving, but each time he breaks my heart it seems that there is less to give back again once I have the pieces stitched back together.
Part of me thinks he just made up because he wanted to have sex. It's all just sex with him. No loving touches. No passion. At least it was only 5 minutes, right? For the first time I felt like a complete dishrag. Silently I cried while he slept.
I thought I had enough of myself composed and controlled in the morning. Granted I wasn't my normal chipper and smiling self, but it did just appear as if I were 8 months pregnant and tired. So I decided to go to church and send my praises to the Lord and listen to His word.
Little did I realize that the Lord had a message just for me. That's right, just for me. I felt like I was the only person sitting on the pews and the words from Pastor D's mouth were destined for my ears. He was speaking of trust. Trust in myself, trust in others and ultimately trust in the Lord. They were all interlocked together. I was taking notes furiously.
Suddenly, he took a turn and explained how in marriage it's okay to disagree, to take adult time-outs, or to not come to the same conclusion. It's not okay to resort to name calling and accusations. I felt the tears burning my eyes. I tried to shield my tears casually from the people sitting to the right of me. I was thankful I was seated along the aisle. I wanted to hear the rest of the sermon. I felt that I needed to.
Pastor D took a pause before saying, "There are just some things that your kids shouldn't hear..." and I knew I couldn't stop the tears anymore. I could hear the cries of my children in my head. Again I was thankful for the aisle seat as I made my hasty retreat to go hide in the bathroom. I wouldn't look at anyone for fear I couldn't control myself. I could feel their eyes on me.
As I hid in the toilet stall, weeping silently, I heard the shuffle of footsteps searching for me. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I'm FINE. Why should I air my laundry? I didn't want the big, sad, concerned eyes looking at me. The tender hands trying to touch me, hold my hand or hug me. I'm FINE.
I'm FINE. Standing here in front of the mirror, I just couldn't convince myself. I'm FINE.
I'll just splash some more cold water on my face.
I knew I should have stayed in the nursery with little J instead of going into the service. Why do the sermons have to be so spot on for myself when I really don't want to hear it? I've spent the last three days crying over things and just when I think I can maintain control, the pastor's sermon sends me over the edge again right in the middle of church. I couldn't get to the bathroom and hide in a stall fast enough.
I tried again to smile at myself, but it was just not working.
I keep hearing my husband's ugly words he spoke to me. The simple, yet painful words he left on my cell phone for me are haunting. Tormenting. Torture. "Dummy. You Big Dummy." It doesn't seem like much, but he said it with such passion. I heard nothing else from him all day until he came that evening and began to rant at me. Trying to not have an argument only made his anger worse. I wanted to leave. I didn't want to scare the kids more than they were already scared. Which is worse? Showing my daughter and my sons that this treatment is acceptable? This is how a marriage works? Or scooping them all up with a raging Dad behind them as I load them in the van and leave? Leave where? Where would I go? I have nowhere to go. No one to talk to. Nothing. So I stay feeling trapped by his hot temper. His threats. More stinging words. "You are worthless." I felt slapped. My face burned and chest tightened. As he stormed out of the house, my daughter and eldest son protested his words and he replied sternly, "I'm sorry, but she is. You Mother is WORTHLESS."
He left me struggling to keep myself composed, but I couldn't stop the hot tears. My children were crying and angry. I wanted to tell them that I was okay. Hold them, play with them. How could I do that? Obviously, it wasn't okay. Nothing about it was okay. I couldn't even speak.
I
I spent two more days of him not talking to me. Cold. Painful. My heart felt as if it were crumbling away. I refused myself to sleep in our bed as I knew his hot temper would not be controlled in such close proximity. Not like I could really sleep anyway. Between his threats, his ugly words, my crying children ringing in my mind and trying to get comfortable on the couch with my hugely pregnant belly it was all nearly impossible.
When he finally called me while on his way home from work to quickly apologize, I really didn't know what to say. I didn't want to tell him it was okay. It wasn't. I couldn't tell him that I forgave him, because I couldn't! So I said nothing. He simply told me that he was sorry for being a jerk. That he shouldn't have done that. It just 'is what it is'. What does that mean? It 'is what it is'? While his quick and pathetic apology was over and he was rambling on about what projects he wanted to achieve once he got home, my brain was left churning. 'Is what it is"? His temper? That I'm a Dummy? That I'm worthless? What? Maybe what the whole thing was about. Maybe that's it. All of this anger, threats, and ugly words stemmed off of me missing two phone calls 4 minutes apart. He called and I missed them both. Seriously.
He offered no apology in person. No apology to my children for his vulgar attitude and horrible words he said. Nothing.
I don't even think he realized I didn't say a word through his short and shoddy apology. Sorry is just a sorry word when it's just words. Through ten years all it's seem to have been are just words. I think myself to be very forgiving and loving, but each time he breaks my heart it seems that there is less to give back again once I have the pieces stitched back together.
Part of me thinks he just made up because he wanted to have sex. It's all just sex with him. No loving touches. No passion. At least it was only 5 minutes, right? For the first time I felt like a complete dishrag. Silently I cried while he slept.
I thought I had enough of myself composed and controlled in the morning. Granted I wasn't my normal chipper and smiling self, but it did just appear as if I were 8 months pregnant and tired. So I decided to go to church and send my praises to the Lord and listen to His word.
Little did I realize that the Lord had a message just for me. That's right, just for me. I felt like I was the only person sitting on the pews and the words from Pastor D's mouth were destined for my ears. He was speaking of trust. Trust in myself, trust in others and ultimately trust in the Lord. They were all interlocked together. I was taking notes furiously.
Suddenly, he took a turn and explained how in marriage it's okay to disagree, to take adult time-outs, or to not come to the same conclusion. It's not okay to resort to name calling and accusations. I felt the tears burning my eyes. I tried to shield my tears casually from the people sitting to the right of me. I was thankful I was seated along the aisle. I wanted to hear the rest of the sermon. I felt that I needed to.
Pastor D took a pause before saying, "There are just some things that your kids shouldn't hear..." and I knew I couldn't stop the tears anymore. I could hear the cries of my children in my head. Again I was thankful for the aisle seat as I made my hasty retreat to go hide in the bathroom. I wouldn't look at anyone for fear I couldn't control myself. I could feel their eyes on me.
As I hid in the toilet stall, weeping silently, I heard the shuffle of footsteps searching for me. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I'm FINE. Why should I air my laundry? I didn't want the big, sad, concerned eyes looking at me. The tender hands trying to touch me, hold my hand or hug me. I'm FINE.
I'm FINE. Standing here in front of the mirror, I just couldn't convince myself. I'm FINE.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)