I give up

I also thought of titling this post "Take two" or "Remember me?" and maybe as you read through it you'll understand why. As usual/always, this post will be therapy for me... a way of unraveling stuff from my head and processing it in a tangible form... sort of like journaling... or maybe bleeding in the ER and capturing the Doctor's treatment on a live Facebook video.

When I was a teenager, I spent a lot of time outdoors one summer afternoon but didn't wear any sunblock. Of course, I was extremely badly sunburned that day. The entire nose/sinus area of my face was red and blistered like a watermelon. Somebody at church recommended that I put Crisco on my sunburn, so as to keep my skin moist while it healed. I'm glad I did, because the treatment worked. However, as the sunburn peeled off my face, so did my freckles. Eventually I got freckles again (as you can see in the photo above), and then some, but I'll never forget that really crazy sunburn and healing process.

My suicide attempt from 16 years ago is a similar event (with ebbs and flows of depression that preceded it) that impacted me in a similar way. Because of my actions, some things in my life were stripped away from me forever... and yet I'm glad that God allowed me to get it out of my system so that I could see some things inside me and inside the people around me that I needed to know were there. I'll never forget that experience or the healing process that happened afterwards (or the healing saga that happened anytime this issue would revisit me in the years that would follow).

My battle with suicide and depression impacted almost everything in my life. Because I've gone through that, I communicate with people differently now (e.g., instead of holding stuff in, I'll get it out in the open, if it's appropriate to do so). I've communicated with God differently ever since (e.g., I'll pour out my heart to Him Psalm-62 style, even if I end up cussing Him out). And anytime anyone mentions that they or a loved one are experiencing depression and/or entertaining suicidal thoughts, I'll take it very seriously (people didn't always take me seriously, and look what happened). Not sure if this is a good thing, but because I've experienced so much demonic activity inside my head, I'm kind of comfortable dealing with demons, and I'm working on doing so with Jesus' power instead of my vindictive fleshly energy (I like to bully the pipsqueak little fallen-angel jerks).

"The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in Him, and I am helped; therefore my heart greatly rejoices, and with my song I will praise Him." (Psalm 28:7)

I mentioned in a previous post that God showed me something important: For me, the year 2016 will be what the year 2000 was supposed to have been. This is a gift. This is Him redeeming my life like nobody's business. This is Him leading me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake, like it says in Psalm 23:3. God cares about me and my life, yes. But He's also been getting me back on track so that whatever He desires for my life can happen. It's for me, but it's for Him, too.

So, here are a few of my life's highlights during those two years (considering that 2016 isn't over yet):

In 2000...

- There was a presidential election. I didn't vote because I was way too wrapped up in myself.

- There were Summer Olympics. I think I only watched a tiny bit one evening while I was at somebody else's house. Because I was heavily involved in a church that basically taught that entertainment was evil.

- I enrolled in a missions training school (through my church) that was designed to be stressful so that we would learn how to manage our busy-ess while in vocational ministry. The stress contributed to driving me to suicide, and I had to drop out. The people who ran the school managed my "restoration" afterwards and treated me like a smothered, irresponsible child. The entire experience was terrible.

- My mentor/discipler/leader/friend moved overseas in 1999, and I had trouble adjusting to the women who took her place. I especially voiced my objection to these replacements in 2000. Years later, I discovered that I had so much trouble due to codependence, and I learned later that I wasn't the only one who had had an unhealthy relationship with the ex-mentor. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one who attempted suicide, either.

- I owned only one feline. Choochie was a kitten. During my suicide attempt, my plan was to overdose while listening to an Elton John tape with Choochie next to me. Unfortunately, my plan backfired because 1) I lived 2) the tape broke 3) Choochie didn't want anything to do with the entire horrible scene.

In 2016...

- There is a presidential election. I voted in March, and I plan to vote again in November.

- There were Summer Olympics. I only watched a tiny bit online, but I caught a few highlights on YouTube and some cool headlines on Facebook. I kicked myself for not having cable or rabbit ears, and I'm plotting to be ready for the 2018 Winter Olympics. #awwyeah

- I signed up to take some voice classes (through my church) that have helped my singing voice tremendously. I have truly dug these classes and hope to continue learning in the years to come. #icanhaztraining

- My pastor/friend moved to Florida, but I don't have any objection whatsoever to the person who's been keeping the ministry going in her place. Fortunately, I don't think there's anything unhealthy in my relationships with either of them. Hmm. I wonder if they're reading this now. #hi

- Now that Macho is gone, I own only one feline. Choochie is a kittenish old lady. Our new routine is for me to brush her fur at night while I play Elton John music on my phone. She really likes our special time together a lot.

I think 2000 was supposed to be a peaceful year for me. It was a busy year of transitions, but I think I was supposed to have found a soft spot in God's secret place and lived my life under the shadow of His wings. Instead, it was a year of turmoil that totally could have been avoided.

2016 is another busy and transitional year for me, and I'm thankful that I've been learning how to live life and manage stress in a healthy, peaceful way. Taking a Sabbath at least once a week also makes a HUGE difference.

But lately I've noticed another very important motif that ran through both 2000 and 2016 for me. I guess you could spiritualize it and call it "surrender." Or maybe you could send it to psychotherapy and call it "acceptance." But I like to call it what my soul silently utters when it happens: "I give up." It's how I learn to live with the things that grieve/frustrate me and would otherwise throw a wrench in the delicate workings of my heart.

So, a friend is always too busy to hang out with me and never makes any effort to spend time with me? I give up. I ain't gonna pursue this person anymore.

So, a person always gets on my nerves, never listens to me, and never matures as a human being? I give up. I can pray for this person, but there isn't anything else I can do to change this person.

So, somebody treats me like a mule, always gives me more and more work to do, and never thanks me for it? I give up. I shouldn't expect a thank you, so I won't be disappointed or angry when I don't get one.

So, a friend refuses to allow our friendship to go any deeper than a surface level, no matter how vulnerable I am with them? I give up. I will keep my pearls to myself, and I shall endeavor to enjoy the pleasant entertainment value that the shallowness can provide.

Those are a few examples, but I think maybe God was trying to teach me how to live my life this way back in 2000... instead of metaphorically saying, "I give up," spitting in His face, and trying to end everything.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: God likes to take manure and turn it into fertilizer.

When I sing in the choir at my church, I take it very seriously. As I mentioned previously, I'm pretty vindictive when I think about demons, and when we do spiritual warfare at church through our music, I'm kind of maniacal. This past weekend, for example, during one song toward the end of our worship set, one thought that kept running through my mind (at the demons, who can't read my thoughts but who I hope can feel the brute-force trauma of my song-words), "Remember me? You tried to take me out. But you failed. Yeah, that's right. You're a loser, and I'm a winner!" #maniacallaughter

Actually, I'm more than a conqueror. But it ain't because of me.

"Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us." (Romans 8:37)

Manure in 2000. Fertilizer in 2016.

More than just a stupid boyfriend

Dear reader, I hope I didn't get you overly excited with the title of this post, because it's not what you think. Honest. But now that I have your attention...

 

Ever since Macho died, I've been grieving off and on, but that's just the nature of losing a loved one. (Even though he was just a cat.) Meanwhile, Choochie and I are moving on. I really don't think she misses him at all. I think she enjoys having the place all to herself, even though she's 16 years old and not as extroverted as she once was. And I hope she's enjoying all the extra attention from me. See? I even made a playlist on my phone just for her. (Even though she's just a cat.)

Macho will not be replaced by another cat. One of the many reasons why is because I want Choochie to know that she's enough for me.

Yes, of course I'm building to something here.

"Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him; I will set him on high, because he has known My name. He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and honor him. With long life I will satisfy him, and show him My salvation." (Psalm 91:14-16)

When I was in high school -- beginning a new school my sophomore year, if I remember correctly -- my birth mother instructed me to wear my birth father's class ring and tell people that I had a boyfriend. I didn't have a boyfriend. If people had looked closely at the ring, they would have seen that its owner graduated from high school in the 1960s. The whole thing was a lie. But I obeyed. Because that's what kids are supposed to do: whatever their parents tell them to do.

And my mother was a very honest woman. #sarcasm

And my father was an admirable man who ensured that his family always did what was right. #actuallyhewasawuss

And I wore his ring so that people would believe that I was already taken. #iwasatotalpushover #andineededtherapy

I'm not exactly sure what wearing a lie on my finger was supposed to accomplish. Was I supposed to keep boys away so that I could concentrate on my schoolwork? Were there dozens of boys knocking down our front door to ask for my number? Or did my parents just totally hate every eligible bachelor in the vicinity? Hmm. At any rate, their scheme definitely accomplished something: I never gave them grandchildren. #sothere

To be fair, at the time, we had just moved to a part of Texas that was a relatively short drive away from Mexico and, therefore, very heavily influenced by Mexican culture. If you were a female, there was a strong chance that any mexicano with a shred of machismo could openly flirt with you to a degree that would make you uncomfortable... without warning... on any occasion... ad nauseam. Over time, I began to expect this behavior from the male species, regardless of ethnicity.

To this day, I feel rejected whenever I like a guy and he doesn't pursue me. Because that's what real men are supposed to do: initiate. (But that's a different story for a different day.)

Regarding the fake-boyfriend ring charade -- again, to be fair -- telling somebody, "I have a boyfriend," does carry a lot of weight with it. If a guy finds out that a woman he likes already has a boyfriend, the potential suitor will usually stop pursuing, respect the existing relationship, and move on. (Unless, of course, he's a Hispanic guy who likes to holler at women as if they were dogs.) The fact that you are off the market should automatically create a safe distance between you and unwanted suitors.

Maybe the fake-boyfriend ring charade was my birth mother's sick way of protecting me. Maybe she was just doing what her mother taught her to do. Or maybe she was just teaching me to lie for no particular reason, which I think was kind of like a hobby for her. (Do you really think she stayed home from church on Wednesday nights because she wasn't feeling well? Heh. I guess that has a better ring to it than "I would rather watch TV than play church today.")

I guess I could compare her actions to what Abraham did with Sarah in the Bible ("She's my sister; just kidding, sort of -- she's my wife"), twice. But Abraham tried to cover up his relationship by trying to make it sound less intimate than it really was; my birth mother taught me how to invent a relationship out of thin air.

Perhaps I should thank her for contributing to my fiction-writing career... but truth be told, I really don't think my birth mother was even saved. If she were, I think she would have understood that I didn't need a stupid boyfriend lie. I think she would have understood that God was more than enough for me. He was more than enough protection and identity for me.

And He still is.

"The eyes of all look expectantly to You, and You give them their food in due season. You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing." (Psalm 145:15-16)

I haven't had a date in 22 years (#thanksMom), and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if I were to never have one ever again. I hear women tell awesome stories of how they met their husbands and about how God spoke to them and told them about how they were going to get married, who they were going to marry, etc. Seriously, these are really cool testimonies.

But God doesn't speak to me like that anymore. Nowadays whenever I talk to God about getting married, He's like, "You don't need a husband; you have Me." Lately when I've talked to God about a guy I like, He's spoken to me with a jealous tone in His voice, "What does he have that I don't have?" Skin and other body parts that I probably can't mention in a rated-G blog post... with all due respect, Father. Yes, these are the types of conversations that I usually end up having with God. (Which is probably one reason why I don't pray out loud much in front of other people.)

But God is enough for me. I don't need to worry about protection, because I'm covered by the Almighty King of the Universe -- the same One who blinded people and struck people dead in the Bible. (You really don't want to mess with Him.) I don't need to obsess about identity, because I'm adopted by the greatest Father in the Universe -- the same One who sent His Son to die for me just to make a way for us to know each other. (He really wants me.)

So, I don't need to cover myself with a lie, because I'm already covered by the One who is full of grace and truth. I'm good to go.

But the point of writing this post isn't to whine about not having a boyfriend or a husband. I just wanted to say that God is more than just a stupid boyfriend for me, and He's enough of a Husband for me.

And Choochie is enough of a cat for this crazy old cat lady. #awww