I’ve just started Journal 2…. my second betrayal and recovery journal.
I used to journal, back before kids. The first 10 years of marriage. Then that practice got lost in the babies and growing kids. So this is not my second journal… just the second for this journey in life.
My first betrayal and recovery journal has now been filled up, bursting at the seams really. I’ve written in it, cried over it, thrown it, carried it everywhere with me – all over town, out of town. I have papers stuffed in it. Notes of- I don’t know what. I kind of put off writing the last entry, because, well this journal has been my friend. It has seen the worst, heard the worst, been with me in scary situations, painful memories, relaxing times, crushing bruises. And it weathers the storm with me. It takes my pain and helps me heal.
I’m going to go back through it and see what I wrote. This exercise, in itself might be hard.
What will I find? Will it resurface things I thought were resolved?
What was important that I took the time to write it down?
How far I’ve come. What I have learned. Or have I learned anything?
Notes that aided healing. Notes of wisdom. Notes of hate. Notes of sadness.
Many questions. Many cries of help. Gasps of air, the breath of God.
What will I find?
Maybe you’d like to join me.
My sister gave me this journal. It was two years into known betrayal. I was struggling to come out of mental and physical exhaustion, despair and terribly deep depression.
My first entries are nothing much. So I’ll chronicle them and see what I can mine from them. Eventually I know things pick up.
It has a squishy cover- jell filled pouches with small pieces of glitter. Sometimes I’d squish those little squares, watching the glitter spread around. It was sometimes a diversion and maybe even a comfort. Sometimes conscious, sometimes unconscious.
Journal Entry 1.
My first entry is interesting. I had just been to a homeschool conference. Typically those are enjoyable and refreshing. This was anything but enjoyable. The organizer didn’t like that I was showing a mom my Geography book at the lunch table, and publically stated so. Earlier that morning I gave some curriculum to the organizer saying she could give it away as a gift to an attendee. She returned it to me instead. The actual day was my 29th wedding anniversary – the third one after ‘discovering.’ It was a hard day to say the least. Rejected on all levels, and my face rubbed in it, I left the conference. About half a mile down the road, I turned around. I returned because I figured I had paid for lunch and I was going to eat it. But even deeper, I told myself that I had a right to be there and I wasn’t going to let a bossy woman run me out. When I finally got home that night, I disappeared into my room and shut the door. I saw this journal sitting on my desk. Blank, unused. I opened to the first page and wrote “they were thankful”. I made a list of the moms at the conference who had been thankful to see what I had been working on and were encouraging to me.
And where am I now? Not too many years ago this unexplained, unneeded lashing at the conference would have devastated me. I would have left and not come back. I would have left in utter defeat… wanting to run rather than hold ground. That day, I didn’t come back to argue, but to validate myself to myself. I’m a person too. I’m an Image Bearer. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t need to run in shame out the door for fear of what someone might think or say to me. I, in fact, had something good, something helpful, something some people were happy to know about.
But even deeper, I faced the blaming, something I was having to do in the betrayal. Blaming on all fronts- inside and outside. I had to stand ground or drown. In the betrayal, I was mostly drowning. Here I stood ground. A model for what I needed to do in every area in my life. God wants us to know we are valuable, we have worth, we are not sub-subjects because we are women. Don’t give your pearls to the swine, dust your feet off. It might just be their problem, not yours (that’s sarcasm, btw). And. We may have to stand up for ourselves and come back and eat that lunch- and have seconds.
No doubt, at the time it was not enjoyable. But as I look back… eh… as Bob Wiley in “What About Bob” said: You know what I do? I treat people like they’re telephones. If I meet somebody who I don’t think likes me I just say to myself ‘Bob, this one’s out of order. Just hang up and try again’. Does it work? Seems to be. I’m on vacation at Lake Winnepasaki aren’t I?
So the myriad of books I’ve read on forgiveness must be sinking in, or, in the big scheme of things that I’m dealing with, this is not too big a deal. One thing about real trauma and suffering, the things that used to be big, turn very small. Quickly. The things that matter have a way of surfacing to the top, if you open yourself to learn and grow.
The other thing I see myself doing in this entry is, finding some good. I found something to be grateful for, a bit of encouragement. I brought to mind those women that were positive. Some of them I didn’t know their names. But I had nice conversations with each of them. It is vital to turn our thoughts to those dear people or events. Why do we so often focus on the negative? We can choose to put our thoughts and energy into the positive. In this situation there were 10 times as many encouraging women as there were negative. I just needed to see it. That, dear friends, is a key to healing. Force yourself to turn the tables and find the good. Acknowledge it. Write it down. Dwell on that.
