Today, after what seemed to be several weeks of drowning in shame … there was finally a breakthrough.
I decided to look up the word 'shame' in the Bible. The Bible and I have not been getting along as of late… I keep reading - and NOTHING keeps happening. Seriously, this year of quiet has not been fun. But, I tried again, and I did a word search in Bible Gateway. I read through every verse on shame … not much stood out. This one did.
Proverbs 12:4
An excellent wife is the crown of her husband,
but she who brings shame is like rottenness in his bones.
'She who brings shame is like rottenness in his bones'… Even though I am a wife … I knew that this verse was not about me, but instead about my MOTHER. And the rottenness of shame spread not only to her husband, but her whole family… including me.
I've been over this territory a million times. I have dealt with my parents separation and divorce. I have combed over every bit, because for so long it was what drove EVERYTHING I did and thought. I was filled with bitterness, and anger, depression, and un-forgiveness for so long. BUT, then Jesus came into my life and began to change it all. He taught me to forgive. And I let go of it.
Truly, I love my Mom. I HAVE forgiven her. For many years though, I carried around a bitterness toward her for destroying my life and my family. BUT, I forgave her for how she sinned against me. Our relationship has been restored. So I would have never thought that THIS is the root of my shame.
I didn't know that my forgiveness needed to go even deeper. Because the shame she inflicted, wounded me deeper than I realized.
I am really glad that my name is not directly tied to this blog. And that hers is not either. Because I am going to share some awful stuff below. I prayed about whether or not I should… and I think I should. Light is better than darkness. This story is not just about how she shamed me, but also about MY shame in general. I am just going to list off some stuff as I remember it … I'm trying to be chronological - but I know it will turn out convoluted. And sorry … this is long.
My mother had an affair. I think it happened when I was in 3rd or 4th grade … I was 8 or 9, but I didn't find out until I was 13 or so.
I never heard my parents fight. I just saw my Dad sleeping on the pull out couch for a few nights. They went to our pastor for counsel a couple of times, I think - I remember it once though. I didn't really know anything was wrong. But, then one day my Mom told me that my younger brother and I were moving out with her… and that my parents were separating. I didn't know why then. I didn't know anything. She didn't tell me anything. Neither did my Dad. I don't even remember him saying goodbye when we moved.
It was the beginning of 6th grade when I moved. I remember the day because I was so sad and confused. My best friend asked me what was wrong … and I told her we were moving that day … and she said, 'So what?!' I remember thinking, 'woah… I guess I won't talk about it again.'
My parents were separated from the time I was 11 until I was 17. It only sounds like 6 years when I write the numbers … which I suppose IS a long time … but it was the time from 6th grade until I was a Senior in High School. That's 6th grade, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th and 12th grades where life was in limbo, in between marriage and divorce. I found out later that it lasted that long because they were fighting about money … mostly, about me and college. Towards the end I was the only one left living with my Mom, my younger brother moved back in with my Dad when my older brother went to college. The 'why' of that comes a bit later. Divorce in general is enough shame, dragging it out is even worse.
Somewhere in that first year after moving my Mom started going on dates. There was a divorced man from our church who started coming around. There really are no words for how that feels. In one sense, my child-like self found it interesting because it was new and kind of exciting. But, in the depths of my heart … he was simply NOT my Dad. And I hated it. My Mom told me much later in life that she was trying to make my Dad jealous - so he would come after her and reclaim her. It didn't work though, he never did.
One day in my 6th grade class, right before the end of the day, kids started tossing my coat around the room for a joke, monkey in the middle style. Anger and hurt were so built up at the time that I burst out screaming, 'you don't have to make fun of me, just because my parents are getting divorced!!!' Ugg, wrong move … as if I could have controlled it. Then, 'poor me' had the teacher talking to me, telling me I had to tell my Mom what happened. And then a counselor was called in to drag me from class to tell me that divorce isn't my fault. Well, I KNEW that. But, now I also knew I could never let anyone see that wound again. It caused too much attention. Way too much attention. The last thing I needed was to be seen tied to this mess. By the way, my Mom barely acknowledged the conversation when we had it. She didn't look up from what she was doing (probably from her own shame) and I played the whole thing off as 'not a big deal'. She bought the crap I was selling - probably because it was easier on her too - and we never spoke of it again.
At the same time that my inner shame is being revealed to the whole world via my big mouth… I am also beginning to hit puberty. My body is rebelling. My breasts begin to develop. I start to gain weight. Hips that were never there, now began to appear. Before the 6th grade, I was one of the most popular girls in school. I was pretty and skinny, I had long blonde hair. My mom dressed me in nice clothes. I began to set trends even. I had tons of boys flocked around me writing love notes and buying me gifts … like all the time. Every girl wanted to be my friend, and every boy wanted to be my boyfriend. I was wanted. So when my parents separated, and I moved … my body was ALSO changing, and NOT in my favor. All eyes that were once on me - were now NOT. And a whole bushel of other girls were getting noticed and I saw it happening all around me. It was like the whole world was turning away. Then, one day I was standing in line with my friend and she openly tells me to untuck a shirt I am wearing because it makes me look fat and she said it in front of other people. I complied in mortification. And then I knew I was no longer beautiful, but ugly. The change had happened and I went from being noticed for being pretty to being noticed for being ugly. But soon after, what I wanted was to be invisible. That is WAY better than being seen as ugly… or so I thought.
Ok. I need a break, this sucks.
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