Tag Archives: suffering

Still Quiet

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About nine years ago already was my first flashback.  It only consisted of two hands and arms of a boy wrestling with me to hold me down.  This flashback was triggered by my husband being affectionate with me.   I could not see anything other than two hands and forearms.  My eyes were open, but I could not see my husband.  I couldn’t see anything other than these two half arms pinning me down – or trying to.  I was moaning while my husband held me but I was reliving childhood, fighting a boy.  It took my husband a few times of asking “What’s going on?” while he was holding me before I could get a good grip on reality.

Our third child was only a baby at the time and we were living with my parents.  Needless to say life was stressful.  My initial reaction was to finally think I was actually abused at some point during childhood – but probably only one time and that’s why I had forgotten it.  Four years later I had my next flash back involving a satanic ritual where some man was wearing an animal head with horns.  Between my first and second flashback I absolutely POUNDED my brain for memories!  And, yeah, I did get quite a few memories, but what I recalled back then did not paint the picture which is before me presently.  The memories I retrieved were choppy and didn’t make sense.  They didn’t fit together.  In fact the truth was still being furiously protected.  I was more willing to believe a new lie, just to protect myself from the truth.

One good thing about the various ideas I had about my past was that even though I may not have been completely accurate to begin with – the exploration helped me to become capable of handling the truth.  Much of what I retrieved initially was actually correct, but some of it was not.  Now that I can see more of the whole picture – I am ok with having been wrong at times.

It is knowing that I am not perfect and can interpret things incorrectly at times that helped me to keep all of this crap to myself for so darn long!  From the very beginning my goal was to keep the commandments.  One in particular I have done my best to keep is to not bare false witness.  Knowing there was no substantial proof to bring forward allowing me to say, “See… See it now!  My uncle did this!!” all I could do was keep it inside.  I never went up to anybody accusing them of abuse.  But, you know what, I never had to.  Asking questions to try and figure out if any of this was worth pursuing was enough to break the family apart.

That was all I needed to move forward, at least within myself.  As long as I have no proof or witnesses to support my lonely word I can not go to my family.  This is just me, other people and families are in different positions.  My family is not in danger by my keeping this to myself.  But, the danger of divulging what I discovered is much much more severe.  Maybe that is just the programming though.  Either way most people in my family wouldn’t believe any of this and if anybody did it would cause so much strife.  I have told who I needed to tell what I needed to tell.

It is hard to keep this to myself – to be so anonymous.  So many times the intense compulsion to open up to my brothers or anybody else in my family nearly won out over sense.

So many times the burden of this trial made me cry out to just reprogram me – let me forget what I remember!!  But, I have hope and faith that one day I will be able to open up to my family.  At that point the burden, the cross may seem to be put down for a moment and transformed into a new burden.

The point is, patience has served very useful so far.  If I had told people years ago they would have only heard my immediate interpretation of these memories which really was a very narrow scope.  I understand now that there is SOOOO much more going on.  The most important understanding of the past didn’t come until after I was accepting of the few shocking memories that came back.  Looking back at the journey so far I would have stopped a long time ago had my husband not supported me in healing.  If one or two people even mentioned disbelief before I was strong enough psychologically to defend what I know now is true it would have made me crumble and give up.

So keep praying, put one foot in front of the other every day – and before you know it there is a lot of healing behind you.

—Dory

Jesus’ Agony

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Every so often I come to a point where I start to question everything.  I question these memories, or my Others and how separated are they or if they are real.  I test whether or not the life I remember is the life i lived.  I get to a point where I am like, Oh COME ON ALREADY!!!   Are You Serious??? Really???  Every once in a while it gets to be too much, because honestly I am currently living the life that fits with the past I remembered.  Usually this happens when I am faced with a major change of perspective on how I apply what I am learned so far to my life in a way that I can not hide from. It is then that I go back to what brought me here in the first place.

This path I am on started ten years ago with St. Padre Pio.

It has been Ten Years Already!  Wow!  Back then I was 75% sure that I had not experienced abuse.  The first day asking for St. Pio’s intercession to heal this mental chaos, he gave me one small flashback.  And that was it – the question’s I had throughout my life regarding whether or not anything abusive happened was in fact answered.  But, isn’t that interesting too?  I always questioned whether or not I was abused – as if even as a young person I knew what I could not consciously know.

This post is more of a continuation of two previous posts:

Setting the Stage for D.I.D.

Accepting the Worst

When I was probably 2 years old our family lived in an apartment.  Hanging on the dining room wall was a painting that my great-grandparents bought when they were first married.  It was a painting of Jesus in the garden of olives (I believe is called the garden of Gethsemane?)

As a very little girl I would look up at that painting.  It was a very dark painting, set in a dark wooden frame.  It was difficult to understand what the painting was about.  One day, my dad must have been sober for a moment and took interest in his daughter pondering this painting.  He stood next to me, and gave me the opportunity to ask him, “Who is that?”

He said it is Jesus.  It is a painting of His agony in the garden of olives.

I didn’t know who Jesus was or what agony meant, but couldn’t help staring at this painting of a man kneeling and praying with heartfelt expression on his face.  His apostles, sleeping in the distance.

[39] And going out, he went, according to his custom, to the mount of Olives. And his disciples also followed him. [40] And when he was come to the place, he said to them: Pray, lest ye enter into temptation.

[41] And he was withdrawn away from them a stone’ s cast; and kneeling down, he prayed, [42] Saying: Father, if thou wilt, remove this chalice from me: but yet not my will, but thine be done. [43] And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony, he prayed the longer. [44] And his sweat became as drops of blood, trickling down upon the ground. [45] And when he rose up from prayer, and was come to his disciples, he found them sleeping for sorrow.

[46] And he said to them: Why sleep you? arise, pray, lest you enter into temptation. [47] As he was yet speaking, behold a multitude; and he that was called Judas, one of the twelve, went before them, and drew near to Jesus, for to kiss him. [48] And Jesus said to him: Judas, dost thou betray the Son of man with a kiss? [49] And they that were about him, seeing what would follow, said to him: Lord, shall we strike with the sword? [50] And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his right ear.

[51] But Jesus answering, said: Suffer ye thus far. And when he had touched his ear, he healed him.  (Luke 22:39-51)

For some reason, that painting connected to my heart.

Growing up learning the traditional catechism, we were taught that during Jesus’ agony Satan was there.  The devil showed Jesus all of our sins, all the horrible things that would still happen until the end of the world regardless if Jesus suffered on the cross or not.  And the devil showed these things to Jesus – ALL of the sins of mankind – all of this within an hour.

It makes sense why Jesus was sweating blood from every pore of His body!

I try to place myself in that position…

Jesus, during this agony, saw…

innocent babies being tortured,

children being raped,

children being scandalized in countless ways,

His own church, His own priests abusing others

His own followers allowing Satan to infect, betray, and deceive

Jesus saw how “anti-apostles” who are satanic priests would deceive others into allowing them into a catholic church, turn the unleavened bread into the body and blood of Jesus, only to then turn around and use His body and His blood in black masses – and still, nobody believes this happens.

That is not all, no, He also saw the suffering He was about to endure.

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Jesus saw and felt not only the victimization and perversion of innocence, but also the sins of those who committed these crimes.  Contemplating this in regards to my own life feels impossible because I know how hard it has been to remember and allow Christ to heal me.  Just one memory alone is too much, let alone my entire existence and lives of those who did in fact choose to abuse and torture me.

Jesus saw this all, before he died.  Not only my life and the lives of those who did this to me – but every one – ALL sins til the end of the world!

No wonder he sweat blood.

So, whenever this all seems like it is too much I unite myself with Jesus Christ’s Agony in the Garden.  Whenever this seems like it is too hard to believe when another memory comes up – I suffer through the memory anyway.  Jesus endured my memories, and He didn’t deserve to suffer through them.

Jesus took some of the suffering upon Himself, so that I wouldn’t have to suffer as much.

When it all is too weird for words, I say to myself this:

“Even if this isn’t true, I am going to suffer this anyway because chances are that somebody somewhere in the world is in fact going through this.  Chances are that somebody in the world is too weak to endure remembering their trauma, and I am remembering now for their sake.”

This is how I unite myself with Christ’s agony as best I can.

Then, I am usually reminded of all the examples that show me how this is all true and I did go through this.

Gethsemane6

Jesus, I trust in You!

 

Sometimes, it feels like we will never get through this.  It feels like the suffering will never end.  The hard days become more common that the okay days.  But, I know that as long as I am able to cry out to God –

God will show His mercy and His love.

Living Water for Suffering

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Every day there are little trials or irritations.  Sometimes, or most of the time, I forget to lean on God to help me relieve some of the pressure.  Other times it is easier to remember that when you are on God’s side, you have access to a well of strength.  This well does not ever run dry, because it is supplied by God’s infinite power and His living water.

Like fresh cool water on a hot day, this living water supplied by God keeps me going when I feel like I am about to collapse under the cross I carry.  A drink of cold water on a hot summer day does not change the weather around you.  Cold water is not exactly the same as a cool breeze, it is not something that will transfer you from the middle of a dessert to a cool lush location.  Cool water will not fix the air conditioning in your car and cool you off from the outside.  Instead it aids the inside of your body allowing you to enjoy the world around you.  When no longer dehydrated, it is easier to walk the path in front of you without being focused on any discomfort or suffering.

Being without the living water supplied by God’s grace is similar in that the pressure we feel while carrying our daily cross – otherwise known as our daily or life long difficulties – is like being dehydrated on a hot day.  The harder we press on with our cross, the harder it is to do that without being focused on our personal suffering.  Our suffering becomes all we can think about.  Kind of like when you get SO thirsty that all you can do is think about getting a drink of water!  When we get to the point where we “can’t take it anymore” (something I experience often enough), that is time to go to God, kneel down, and ask for a spiritual drink of water.

God may or may not change your external circumstances.  He may decide the path you are on is too important to change.  Sometimes God shows us another path to take, and we just don’t take it.  God will not change our free will or the will of anyone around us.  But, He will give us water and help us carry our crosses.  We are not promised happiness in this life, but if we remain faithful and love God, He will bring us happiness in the next life.

***My husband likes to say God doesn’t take his stress away, He just gives him the capacity to handle an infinite amount!

Even Jesus, in his agony, asked the Father to change the circumstances and make things easier, but resolved to accept His Father's will.  The angel brought him a chalice of strength.

Even Jesus, in his agony, asked the Father to change the circumstances and make things easier, but resolved to accept His Father’s will. The angel brought him a chalice of strength.

“O holy Angel who didst strengthen Jesus Christ our Lord, come and strengthen us also; come and tarry not!”

The broken heart in pieces

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In a sense, the division of my personality into separate parts is more like the broken pieces of my heart. Left to heal on their own, there has been no shortage of scar tissue. This scar tissue, so to speak, became more like walls that separated each part. Each broken piece of my heart became self sufficient on its own. Some parts had been able to communicate with each other. My piece of the heart, however, had no communication or knowledge of any other bits. Maybe my heart was smaller or less capable than the hearts of others, but it was my heart and I would make the best of it. Read the rest of this entry