This was the post that caused me to start writing on this blog. I hid it and didn't want to post it because it was the only time I failed in stopping myself from cutting in the last 8 years and I felt some shame about the fact that I failed. I thought people would judge everything I blog about based on the fact that I failed this one time. But today I was reading another girls blog about cutting and realized again that we are all human and my cutting this last christmas doesn't mean all of what I blog about and all of who I am is messed up. So I now letting this post be back in my cutting category.
Last night while my parents were taking christmas pictures I overloaded from the day. From church. From how imperfect and broken I feel while living in my perfect looking family. I went into the kitchen, found a knife, and scratched up my arm.
On my recent failure. The wave of self hate has passed for the time being, although it obviously knocked me over. I think the best I can do in seeing me is just know that it passed and I didn't do too much damage to me.
Right now I have many friends who would sacrifice for my situation. It's really quite perfect or idylic even though that's what I hate about it. It's sedated in fact. No yelling no running around. Lots of hours spent quietly discussing nothing... cookies or xmas tradition. My mom and brother said about me and us as a family twice today "you're perfect". It's our story that we tell ourselves and act out. Gift giving was lovely and generous, dinners were gloriously laid out, we are all dressed to a T and perfectly behaved and on time for everything. We are all perfectly polite and loving. The tree and house are all clean we all help in getting things ready and putting away dishes. My friend H describes my mom in this role at home and church as highly polished. That fits the feel of my christmas, even though I know it's through no extra effort of my mom's. It's just easy for her to put on such family events I suppose like it's easy for me to have people for dinner.
I know in another less voiceless state I could take in some peace and like this. My family is BOTH wonderful, kind, loving, gracious, mellow AND human, AND imperfect although I don't know quite how to say they are imperfect.
We dressed up and went to church this a.m. where my mother sang a duet, and sang in the choir and my father preached an incoherent sermon. And everyone in this small rural church googled over us. Then we came home for a perfectly laid out dinner. Then tonight we went to church again for christmas eve. My mother sang in the choir. My brother sang a solo. My dad preached a sermon that pissed me off. I know in my head that he is doing the best he can. But I could barely handle sitting in church between my mom and brother and sister-in-law. We were all lined up in the front row of the church so my brother and mom could get out to sing. Being in the front row as a pastor's kid means that I can't leave without shaming my family.
I was angry and felt uncomfortable and awkward for a variety of reasons that I'm sure aren't the root thing. My dad's preaching is melo-dramatic sometimes in a way that makes me cringe. I disagree with things he says. I think things he says would turn off new people. I hated how he talked about Mary and what he focused on regarding her in his sermon.
Ultimately I dislike most how voiceless and powerless I feel not being able to discuss it with him. He get's so reactive and if I don't like something or disagree he can't handle it. Mentally nor emotionally. What bothered me most was how many times he talked about how Mary didn't have sex. He used the word intercourse and emphasized how she had not been with a woman mulitiple times in a sermon on christmas eve. I know his intention was to talk about how Jesus being born was a miracle. The line, "Thou doust protest too much" came to mind. Because how many times he said it felt awkward. It made me want to throw up and run out of the room. I think because I want to hear sermons of hope, of grace, of invitation and this was not one.
It's also made me start a theological rant in my mind on how protestents treat Mary. I think Mary, for protestants and my dad in particular, is more of a symbol for the image of virginity than a human, a godly person, or the one whom God choose. It was what he used to tell people they should be christians. They should be christians because Mary was a virgin when she had Jesus. Because of that mircle.
Mary has become the number one way for Christians to talk about sex and virginity. When people talk about Mary they talk more about her being a virgin than her birthing God, than her magnificat, than her at the wedding of cannen, than her time with Elisabeth, than her escaping the killing of infants, than her birthing the baby. All good biblical stories. There’s great energy around her virginity. And not that being a virgin is bad but virginity, the miracle, is just as much an idol for protestants as mary's godliness the mircle and idol of catholics.
In addition to this although I probably shouldn't feel this way I am sick of evangelistic sermons. Most of my dad's sermons are evangelistic but not in the Willow Creek new way. Instead in the confess your sins and go to heaven way. Which is only part of the story and I think maybe a third step not a first step. I think that he shoots himself in the foot because I don't feel welcome in them or invitation I feel shoulds, judgment, and to-do's.
Ultimately though this is just all my judgement. What's wrong, is me. I am not the idyllic perfect child my parents say and think I am. I walk around all christmas playing my role knowing if I let them know about my last months and the things I've been struggling with I would hurt them. They wouldn't understand. I can't be human here. I can't be me. It all makes my mind crazy.
Not being perfect in my family, voicing any humanity, I think, means disconnection and judgment. I wonder if I could have found some way to be perfect with K, would she still be friends with me? And then I think f-it. I quit. And I want to cut myself, and I want to run away from home metaphorically. Odd for someone who is my age (I don't normally live at home). And I feel like I am trapped in a very tight interpersonal space with no room.
True evangelism, true salvation is spacious. Divine or otherwise in this tight place. I want it for me. I wish I could have given it to K (and everyone else I have ever met).
Last night while my parents were taking christmas pictures I overloaded from the day. From church. From how imperfect and broken I feel while living in my perfect looking family. I went into the kitchen, found a knife, and scratched up my arm.
On my recent failure. The wave of self hate has passed for the time being, although it obviously knocked me over. I think the best I can do in seeing me is just know that it passed and I didn't do too much damage to me.
Right now I have many friends who would sacrifice for my situation. It's really quite perfect or idylic even though that's what I hate about it. It's sedated in fact. No yelling no running around. Lots of hours spent quietly discussing nothing... cookies or xmas tradition. My mom and brother said about me and us as a family twice today "you're perfect". It's our story that we tell ourselves and act out. Gift giving was lovely and generous, dinners were gloriously laid out, we are all dressed to a T and perfectly behaved and on time for everything. We are all perfectly polite and loving. The tree and house are all clean we all help in getting things ready and putting away dishes. My friend H describes my mom in this role at home and church as highly polished. That fits the feel of my christmas, even though I know it's through no extra effort of my mom's. It's just easy for her to put on such family events I suppose like it's easy for me to have people for dinner.
I know in another less voiceless state I could take in some peace and like this. My family is BOTH wonderful, kind, loving, gracious, mellow AND human, AND imperfect although I don't know quite how to say they are imperfect.
We dressed up and went to church this a.m. where my mother sang a duet, and sang in the choir and my father preached an incoherent sermon. And everyone in this small rural church googled over us. Then we came home for a perfectly laid out dinner. Then tonight we went to church again for christmas eve. My mother sang in the choir. My brother sang a solo. My dad preached a sermon that pissed me off. I know in my head that he is doing the best he can. But I could barely handle sitting in church between my mom and brother and sister-in-law. We were all lined up in the front row of the church so my brother and mom could get out to sing. Being in the front row as a pastor's kid means that I can't leave without shaming my family.
I was angry and felt uncomfortable and awkward for a variety of reasons that I'm sure aren't the root thing. My dad's preaching is melo-dramatic sometimes in a way that makes me cringe. I disagree with things he says. I think things he says would turn off new people. I hated how he talked about Mary and what he focused on regarding her in his sermon.
Ultimately I dislike most how voiceless and powerless I feel not being able to discuss it with him. He get's so reactive and if I don't like something or disagree he can't handle it. Mentally nor emotionally. What bothered me most was how many times he talked about how Mary didn't have sex. He used the word intercourse and emphasized how she had not been with a woman mulitiple times in a sermon on christmas eve. I know his intention was to talk about how Jesus being born was a miracle. The line, "Thou doust protest too much" came to mind. Because how many times he said it felt awkward. It made me want to throw up and run out of the room. I think because I want to hear sermons of hope, of grace, of invitation and this was not one.
It's also made me start a theological rant in my mind on how protestents treat Mary. I think Mary, for protestants and my dad in particular, is more of a symbol for the image of virginity than a human, a godly person, or the one whom God choose. It was what he used to tell people they should be christians. They should be christians because Mary was a virgin when she had Jesus. Because of that mircle.
Mary has become the number one way for Christians to talk about sex and virginity. When people talk about Mary they talk more about her being a virgin than her birthing God, than her magnificat, than her at the wedding of cannen, than her time with Elisabeth, than her escaping the killing of infants, than her birthing the baby. All good biblical stories. There’s great energy around her virginity. And not that being a virgin is bad but virginity, the miracle, is just as much an idol for protestants as mary's godliness the mircle and idol of catholics.
In addition to this although I probably shouldn't feel this way I am sick of evangelistic sermons. Most of my dad's sermons are evangelistic but not in the Willow Creek new way. Instead in the confess your sins and go to heaven way. Which is only part of the story and I think maybe a third step not a first step. I think that he shoots himself in the foot because I don't feel welcome in them or invitation I feel shoulds, judgment, and to-do's.
Ultimately though this is just all my judgement. What's wrong, is me. I am not the idyllic perfect child my parents say and think I am. I walk around all christmas playing my role knowing if I let them know about my last months and the things I've been struggling with I would hurt them. They wouldn't understand. I can't be human here. I can't be me. It all makes my mind crazy.
Not being perfect in my family, voicing any humanity, I think, means disconnection and judgment. I wonder if I could have found some way to be perfect with K, would she still be friends with me? And then I think f-it. I quit. And I want to cut myself, and I want to run away from home metaphorically. Odd for someone who is my age (I don't normally live at home). And I feel like I am trapped in a very tight interpersonal space with no room.
True evangelism, true salvation is spacious. Divine or otherwise in this tight place. I want it for me. I wish I could have given it to K (and everyone else I have ever met).
4 comments:
Hmm, makes me wonder how old you are. There is a tremendous amount of wisdom in this post. Too bad your dad isn't able to ask for and then listen to feedback on how people might be reacting to his presentation of the gosple. Makarios.
I agree. The ability to hear feedback or even hear how what you say and do affects others is a very adult skill. Not many people can handle it. And I haven't found a way yet to voice it. The gospel (as good news) is good. The presentation is always out of our humanity.
Okay.. I see it from another angle. When you say, "what's wrong, is me," What's wrong is that your truths expose to everyone just how incredibly imperfect that perfect illusion is. Because being "perfect" is being perfect in the face of adversity, not being perfect in an insulated world - but in the real world. But really, you haven't given anyone the opportunity to show whether or not they can be perfect for you....
Hmmm. Now that's something to think about!
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