The Source of Hope
Truth is difficult. Pain is part of our journey and as parents, all we ever want is to spare our children from it. We want it so much our flesh tries to force us into seeing safety in other people and places because we crave it so badly. And then we play pretend and unwittingly force our children to do the same thing. Our very desire to create a feeling of safety takes the actual safety away.
Joshua was 11 when he was diagnosed with Celiac disease. They found it when he stopped growing for a year, after already clocking under 20% on the growth chart for many years he eventually fell off completely. Our pediatrician, Dr. Vernier, thought he had growth hormone deficiency. With specialist after specialist, tests, and procedures, It took many months and thousands of dollars to realize not only Joshua had celiac disease, but so did Hannah.
It was four years after diagnosis before Joshua began to catch up from being a malnourished 11-year-old “with the bones and growth plates of a 7-year-old” to the size he should have been. All three of our children were tiny for a long time. We were used to it. Which made it feel even more shocking when Joshua came to me and confessed he couldn’t be left alone with his siblings anymore. It was 5 years after the attacks had stopped, but the door was still open and Josua was troubled by temptation he didn’t want to have. He’d realized his ability to manipulate after methodically testing first Noah, then Hannah to see if he could get them to do what he wanted. They both willingly submitted to harmless things, but now Joshua knew he could probably get something he wished he didn’t want and would regret forever. So he stepped up and bravely asked us to set solid boundaries between him and his best friends, his playmates, Noah and Hannah. He asked for accountability to keep from acting out and traumatizing all three of them.
He was only 11. And I could lament how unfair it is he had to bear these burdens and extol the bravery and virtue of someone so young seeking help at that moment. Both would be true. But what do you think I felt when he walked up to me in our kitchen while the other two were ignorantly playing outside? I could see them through the window as he recounted to me his methodical test to see if he could, in fact, make them do his bidding. As the blood rushed past my ears and with my heart beating wildly in my chest, what do you think I felt, and how do you think I wanted to react?
I felt anger. Rage. Fury at the world, at Sam, at the predator who’d introduced this perversion to him - my child who still looked like a baby to me and the two smaller babies in the yard. I wanted to tear something; someone in two. I would have happily picked up a weapon and beat a predator to death, even knowing I wouldn’t feel better afterward. If fight or flight is real, I was 100% fight.
But my brave, tiny little boy was looking at me. We’d experienced years of hypervigilance after the season of assaults, watching their every move together, never letting down our guard. And it had waned and dissolved into a place of peace. So peaceful, the three of them shared a triple, tiered bunk bed we’d made to clear out a giant space to play. They had a huge, rolling yard with a hand-built pirate ship, cubbies, and adventurous places to pretend together. Every day, there were stories they created and every stuffed animal had a personality and purpose, usually crafted by Joshua. And he was telling me that time of childhood freedom had to be put aside. By him. To save himself and his siblings from the trauma he couldn’t stop remembering and feared acting out. And as I knew all of this in an instant and felt all the fury and pain from the past and present, I somehow opened my mouth and said the right things.
I told him how proud I was. How grateful I was. How he did exactly what he needed to do. I reassured him of all the good things to come, how they wouldn’t be - couldn’t be - affected by his brave decision. I picked up this painful burden and that heavy one. When he expressed worry or concern about how Noah, Hannah, David, or I might feel, I eased his fears and picked up each one to carry for him. And then we spent the next week redoing our home to put Joshua in his own room. In a 950-square-foot two-bedroom home, it was a bit of a trick, but we did it! Of course, we did it. And I cried with David and alone, grieving another period of loss and regret I could never stop. Sometimes it felt like the pain would never end and was nearly too much to survive.
When things are good, God is easily acknowledged and easily ignored. He can be brought out like a treasured possession, to chat with, about, and even worship and adore without really feeling the gut-wrenching need for Him trauma brings. In the pit of despair, we cry out to Him. I had already had it out with God and was mostly in a place of peace, and I knew without Him, I could not have been all I needed to be for Joshua. The wrong words, looks, actions, and reactions would have poured out of me instead. I am weak. He is strong.
Because it’s not just a matter of knowing God is good; the same yesterday, today, and forever. It’s not enough to know you have to be the stable and kind, caring, pillar of faith and foundation for your child when your emotions want to do anything else. It’s not pulling yourself up by the bootstraps or Just DOing it. It’s certainly not listening to your gut, to your heart, or to your passion and will. It’s actually letting go and letting Him. That peace that passes understanding? It’s in those moments. The abundance He promised? It’s given then. All things working together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His righteousness? You can see it. Those moments of panic and pain, where you’re in the deepest darkest well of despair but you must still be faithful to your parenting, even beyond your abilities. Right there in the furnace. There He is.
When we share with parents who’ve recently discovered their child is a victim of assault the long, arduous, sacrificial road to recovery, victory, or even joy on the other side of the journey to adulthood, we are almost always met with anger and frustration. They want to push us away and be angry with the messenger. I’ve been asked to give hope instead, which usually means they want me to put limits on what pain they will feel. They want an end date on their pain or when their child’s recovery will be complete, even a promise certain bad things won’t happen. They want me to make them feel safe in unsafe places, feel peace where there is no peace. They want circumstances to be under control again. School. Church. Family gatherings. Siblings at play. And I can’t. It would be a lie to tell them to depend on people, even themselves.
Truth is difficult. Pain is part of our journey and as parents, all we ever want is to spare our children from it. We want it so much our flesh tries to force us into seeing safety in other people and places because we crave it so badly. And then we play pretend and unwittingly force our children to do the same thing. Our very desire to create a feeling of safety takes the actual safety away.
Or, we can lean on the one true, good, safe person in the world, the person of God. We can trust in God Himself to both provide the stability we need and thankfully, the strength to carry on when hard choices must be made. Jesus experienced every temptation, which means He made choices to protect others from His flesh by seeking boundaries and accountability from God. It means He had to have experienced blood rushing in His ears and pain so deep He couldn’t breathe but allowed God to grant Him peace enough and strength enough to say the right words and do the right thing. Somehow it’s always just enough and not a lot of extra, but it is always enough. God is, was, and will always be, enough.
Will it be hard to walk with your child through the valley of the shadow of death and get to the other side, only to find out you have to walk through it again? And again? And again. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But your panic and your personal fight or flight when you hear that’s the road before you is because you believe, at least a little bit, that you’re being asked to do it by yourself somehow. And in that horrible circumstance, you would have every reason to panic! But you can’t do it alone. Each step forward you will have God before you, beside you, and inside you to carry you through. It is not up to you. It’s up to Him. Let Him do for you what I did for Joshua. Confess your burdens as they rise up, then let Him carry them. Share your fears, then give them to Him. Submit your decisions, your desires, and yes your anger and frustration to Him. Allow God to give you the freedom to live in peace, in abundance, and with the promise of seasons of Joy.
Joshua is the one who chose to submit to God, to seek Him and His wisdom, to believe He was everything we told him He was. And one reason he would tell you is that He lived a life of miracles. Where circumstances were too hard, too scary, too much, that’s when God showed up. We had to learn not to fill in the spaces of fear, pain, and uncertainty with our wants, needs, wishes, or will. And when we managed to do so, He was there. And Joshua was watching. I give thanks every day he didn’t grow up to admire me or his earthly father for all we managed to do, though I’m sure he’d say he does. But if he stops to think about it, he will be the first to tell you it’s not we who journeyed us through from pain to healing, from victimization to victory. It was God Himself who reached down into the pit and pulled us out of the miry clay. To God be the glory. Great things He has done. And He is ready to do them for you, too.
The Transparent Journey of Carol Beth Scott
It wasn’t that I was pretending to BE someone else, actually. What I was doing is never allowing my own needs or wants to be considered or even realized. From the smallest decisions - where shall we eat dinner? To the largest ones - where shall we live for the rest of our lives? I didn’t even ask myself what I wanted. I didn’t even want to know. I only wanted to know how I could “show love” to others by doing what they wanted. In the process I completely lost who I was.
In a few weeks, I will have completed my first 12 Step Program. I entered for co-dependence, hoping to break the final chains wrapped around my heart, mind, hands and spirit by immersing myself in truth. I am on the final step, having realized my core issues are abandonment and shame.
“My name is Carol Beth Scott, and I am recovering from co-dependence, shame and abandonment” ”
I grew up begging my mother for therapy. She was such a victim of abuse and shame herself, she was actually terrified to let me go. And I heard about it, every time I asked. “You’ll tell them about me.” And she was right. I would have. It would have been my main topic of conversation. How she treated me when no one was looking. I often wonder what would have happened next, had someone known what I was going through. How I would be different now.
Some of my first memories are of disappointing my mother. I knew exactly how I was a disappointment, all the reasons I was a disappointing person, but I never could pinpoint exactly when the demonstration of this disappointment was going to happen. To this day, I couldn’t begin to chart a map showing the exploding mines in our relationship and how to avoid them, and my entire childhood is colored by this effort. I would do anything to avoid the yelling, the sleep deprivation, the threats, the (very infrequent) physical assaults, the torment. Most of all, I wanted to avoid the pain of hearing how worthless I was, though I didn’t know it at the time.
Hypervigilant. Anxious. Fearful. Overly cooperative.
My constant state of being.
Deceptive. Manipulative. Self abusive.
My survival mechanisms.
You would think I’d have gone to therapy the moment I left home, but instead I ended up learning how to give therapeutic counseling, counseling others in my volunteer positions in college and as a lifestyle. I’d already studied enough psychology textbooks and case studies to teach my own class, by the time I took one in the spring of my Freshman year. Not to mention, I lived with parents and a sister who all suffered from their own unique diagnoses that gave me case studies up close and personal. I knew enough to be a help to everyone. Everyone but myself. Why didn’t I help myself? Myself wasn’t worth it.
It’s different when it’s you who’s in pain. My Post Traumatic Stress served me well when I wanted to excel in class, in social situations, in business, even in helping others find the hope in their own healing process. As soon as I learned to harness my heightened senses combined with my overwhelming empathy, I knew I could go far. And as I let the grace of Christ temper my sinful nature, my survival mechanisms were taken captive, one by one. My fruit changed, but my inner spirit was still a child of neglect, abandonment and shame.
By the time I was married at 20, I was no longer deceptive, manipulative or self abusive. But I was in pain. And remained sensitive. I didn’t know how to choose people to be around me who didn’t abuse me and trigger my co-dependence. I was the proverbial doormat under the treads of many boots. The psychological abuse came swift and often, and I took it as gospel, changing myself inside and out at the least provocation, simply to make others happy.
When you collect people who insert themselves into the abuser role opposite your co-dependent role, it can take many years to move past the pain enough to recognize it and release them from your life. My healing up until now can be measured not so much by the people who came into my life, but by the people who left.
I had a pattern. A very troubling pattern. As soon as I stopped performing for others, they would dislike me. And when you combine their immediate dislike with my overwhelming fear of disappointing others like I’d disappointed my mother all my life, you can see why it took me awhile to be strong enough to stop “the act” and be myself. Because I knew that “Myself” wasn’t worth liking. Why would I let her show up?
It wasn’t that I was pretending to BE someone else, actually. What I was doing is never allowing my own needs or wants to be considered or even realized. From the smallest decisions - where shall we eat dinner? To the largest ones - where shall we live for the rest of our lives? I didn’t even ask myself what I wanted. I didn’t even want to know. I only wanted to know how I could “show love” to others by doing what they wanted. In the process I completely lost who I was.
And then something would happen where I wouldn’t give over. I didn’t realize it until after all the losses were gathered into a memory heap, but the moment when I would refuse to be subservient and only exist to reassure others their decisions were best and “of course, I want that also” was when their behavior led to pain for another person. Even themselves! And most often, I spoke up for their children. and mine But of course, not me. Never me.
I wasn’t strong enough to speak up for me - not for the first 40+ years of my life. But as I entered my 30’s, I learned to be strong enough to speak up for others. And when I did, it revealed the true hearts of the people I called “friends” and “family” and that they didn’t love me. They loved the me that stroked them. Not actual me.
Discover abuse or neglect -> Speak Up -> Rejection by the abuser/neglector
It seems so obvious now. But I couldn’t see it. My deepest regret is it took the entire childhood of my children for me to learn how to surround them with healthy people. My greatest joy is seeing them make better decisions than I did. Thankfully, they learned from my journey.
My in-laws were the first deeply embedded relationship I lost by speaking up for my husband and empowering him to speak up for himself and our children. A few years later I discovered my uncle had assaulted his daughter. I spoke up for her. My family chose to rally around the pedophile (so sadly typical) and not me, though recently I was blessed to see a few of them and actually hug them and share a meal. It still seems like a miracle.
At the age of 30, I did speak up to my mother, and not for others. For myself, when I realized I was modeling abuse to my new baby daughter. And to my mother’s everlasting credit, she changed her behavior. I know it was for the sake of her grandchildren, but it was enough. I was with her up until the moment she died.
But it’s the friends I chose where I learned my greatest lessons. Not only did I give over, tolerate judgment, listen as they gossiped, abused and maligned others in my presence without correctly assigning their behavior as indicative of their character, I also ingested their judgment of me as truth. Until the day they turned their ugliness into abuse of their family, by neglect or design. Until the moment when they attacked their children or my children or even themselves, and I couldn’t stand by without saying something. And so I did.
Again, I didn’t see the pattern. But what happened when I finally opened my mouth is I spoke up FOR someone else and that’s what made people turn against me. I still struggle to understand HOW this is possible, but it’s true. And thankfully, I’m finally healthy enough to understand the validity of this pattern.
It’s been two years since the last toxic people exited our lives and it’s been a year of healing and challenges - for all of us, am I right? And in the midst of the challenges of Covid, early in 2020, I entered Regeneration at church and learned to participate, to deal, to step up and stand up.
Except that’s not at ALL what Regeneration is about. It’s about Trust. And Faith. And giving over and allowing God to care for you, not others and especially not yourself. It’s simply not possible for me to do all that needs to be done to make my journey about Glorifying God instead of myself; about following the two greatest commandments. Do you know what they are?
The Greatest Two Commandments
I wasn’t loving my neighbor by giving over to them and allowing them to use me for their own gratification. That is definitely co-dependence and that was what I was trained up to do. And that’s the direction I went.
But the truth is, it’s not loving. It’s selfish. It’s not a real relationship. And I love authenticity. I crave authenticity. And I’m finally walking in the steps of my own authentic self. And you may not like me. And I have to be okay with that. I’m starting to be okay with that.
There is so much good news in this, but what I want to share right now is that this chapter of my journey ends with me being able to love people better. I entered afraid I would be told I had to stop DOing for others, because I was doing it out of co-dependence and not love. But instead, I learned I could DO for others with my whole heart and it’s so incredibly freeing. I LOVE to show LOVE. And now I can do it better.
If you’re a victim of shame, pride, self protection, co-dependence, your own sin, others’ sin, basically - are you alive? Then you can be blessed by participating in the 12 Step journey of Regeneration, too. If you choose to take that first brave step, let me know. I want to pray for you. Really!
Day #9 - Stress Recovery - The Day I Looked Forward Again
I had horrific pregnancies, but man-oh-man, did I LOVE the days I birthed my babies. If I could go back and relive them - even the hard parts - I absolutely would.
And I found myself when I had children. I knew what I’d been preparing for my whole life and that this, raising children, was what I was made for. I loved everything about it. Again, even the hard parts.
I grew up planning how I would raise my children. I thought everyone did! But apparently, not. I thought about it a lot. And I knew after Noah was born, when I had a 1 year old and a newborn, that it should be the happiest time in my life.
But it wasn’t. I figured out, after years of therapy and understanding how serotonin works (mine dives low way too easily and struggles to rise back up.) and I knew I needed to find a way to be happy again, when I had every reason to be happy.
So, what does this have to do with me, now?
This is the first time in my life, since my babies were small and before the attacks, where I have everything I want. Again.
I think I’m scared to enjoy it. I live in fear it will go away. And partly, I know that some of it will, but really? I know the important things will last.
I have my Heavenly Father who loves me so & I fall more in love with every day.
I have a husband who adores me.
I have children who rise up and call me blessed.
I have a church which challenges me.
I have a house with an open door, constantly full of young adults who feel safe & let me share their lives.
I have friends, a community group & a company full of people to love.
Nothing that has happened to me recently has taken any of that away.
It’s time to enjoy it.
My days are busy & even with “not working” for these 2 weeks, I’m amazingly busy working at things. I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher 3 times today. I made a lot of food, cleaned up a lot of food, cleaned a lot of rooms, pondered how I ever manage to do this & also get a full workday in, then I cleaned some more.
But what I’m working on NOT doing is living in fear. The truth is, even if the other shoe drops, God will carry me through the pain and to the other side. He’s done it before. He’ll do it again. And I’m so grateful. For what I have now, and for what I can count on. It’s so much bigger and better than what I deserve.
Day #8 - Stress Recovery - The Day I Found My Way Back
God really does have to come first. And I mean, all in. I need to wake up and thank Him for the day. I need to take all things to Him each day - my fears, concerns, worries, struggles & my thankfulness, joy overflowing, gratefulness. ALL of IT!
I keep discovering the same truth, time and again. I’m not happy if I don’t live my life in order.
I don’t mean doing things in the same order - I absolutely can not do that. I don’t even drive the same route twice, if I can help it. Life - my life - is meant to be lived in varying degrees of chaos, punctuated by crazy projects with tough deadlines and intense relationships driven by love. My style of living doesn’t lend itself to predictability or doing things in the same order, day after day. Absolutely not.
The order I’m talking about (and yes, I’m wishing there was a synonym for order in this scenario, if you have one to suggest) is priorities - not time constraints.
God really does have to come first. And I mean, all in. I need to wake up and thank Him for the day. I need to take all things to Him each day - my fears, concerns, worries, struggles & my thankfulness, joy overflowing, gratefulness. ALL of IT!
He loved me enough to send his son to die for me. Jesus loved me enough to bear my sins on the cross, The Holy Spirit loves me enough to gently convict me when I lose my way.
But I’ll be honest, this week didn’t feel so gentle. As I write this, tears roll down my face. I lost perspective & sank deep for lack of trying. I didn’t wake up remembering God first, spend time with him like I should, pray enough or praise enough. And the resulting pain of loss of relationship I felt? It was my fault.
I missed the relationship that I ignored. Of course I sank deep into despair.
I pray this recognition and public acknowledgment will serve as my reminder before I step back into this pain again. For God gave me a life - a life abundant. I’m ready to claim it!
Day #7 - Stress Recovery - The Day I Wallowed In Self Pity
I’m not proud of myself, as I write this. But perhaps it was necessary? Either way, what is done is done. I have wallowed.
I remember a scene in Gilmore Girls where Lorelai gives Rory permission to wallow. Now, as that series went on and especially during the reboot, I determined both of them to be narcissistic, self-serving worst-versions of women, BUT I liked that advice.
Sometimes it’s hard to give myself permission to wallow. But wallow, on this day, I did.
The truth is, this is all VERY hard.
Coronavirus? Hard!
Owning a travel agency during Coronavirus? DANG hard!
Being a hypersensitive “empath” (is that really a thing?) while so much pain is swirling around you is CRAZY hard!
Married to a firefighter/paramedic during all this? The hardest of them all!
If you’re reading this, I apologize. My goal in life is to inspire and rejuvenate those going through the tough times, but I will say if you were in front of me and in pain, I would never be the one to tell you to “get over it” or “suck it up.” I might help you be empowered to speak your truth, walk in joy, encourage others. Or, I might just give you permission to wallow.
Day #6 - Stress Recovery - The Day I Sank Into Despair
I know it’s just one day, and it’s supposed to be a day where I can do anything I want to do, but keeping it real? I just want to wallow in my sadness until my man is back home.
David went to the station today.
It sucked.
You know, most of the time I am really happy just because my people are happy, but sometimes. Rarely, but sometimes, it just seems to shine a light on my own sadness when David is gone.
It usually happens on Sundays, when it seems everyone else around me has their whole family with them, except me, but David has to go to the stupid fire station and I hate it.
He’s been fighting fire for 25 years. You’d think I’d get past this.
NOPE!
Around here, Friday night is date night. Hannah and Devan. Joshua and Molly. Noah and David & I typically do something together or Noah and I or maybe I could just curl up and read? But nothing really felt satisfying.
I felt hollow all day. Sad. LONELY.
I know it’s just one day, and it’s supposed to be a day where I can do anything I want to do, but keeping it real? I just want to wallow in my sadness until my man is back home.
Until tomorrow……
Day #5 - Stress Recovery - the Day Noah Faced the Truth
And after much prayer and increasing layers of deep study, God revealed the answer to him as a complete thought; a balm to his questioning soul. Noah doesn’t trust others because he had his trust severely broken as a small child. Monsters are out there. He saw it himself.
It happened. I spent enough down days during my 15 Day Covid-19 Stress Recovery for ALL the feelings to start coming up like a fountain of the un-imaginable. Except this time, it wasn’t me who overflowed.
It was my Noah.
Even though he was 3 when the assaults happened, he has actively dealt with the fallout his entire life. It’s unalterably life-defining to have a violent sexual attack happen to you when you’re small. Yes, even when you don’t remember all of it.
But despite his active pursuit of his own healing, there was something he never realized stemmed all the way back to the moment(s) he was assaulted - his fear of intimacy with other people. Noah has an impenetrable wall when it comes to those outside our family. We’ve encouraged him to stretch himself as he’s grown older and while it was a desire he himself has (finally) had for many years, there has still been something holding him back. He prayed to find what it was? How could he move forward with his newly adult life?
And after much prayer and increasing layers of deep study, God revealed the answer to him as a complete thought; a balm to his questioning soul. Noah doesn’t trust others because he had his trust severely broken as a small child. Monsters are out there. He saw it himself.
It was a surprise to hear it was simple, and even that it was completely related to the horrors he endured. Like many other things in life, it seems patently obvious from the outset. You’re probably thinking “How did they miss that?” But just like blaming parents is the easiest thing to do as adults process our broken past, making us avoid it unless everything else is removed as a possibility, so have both boys always made sure the root of any emotional or spiritual issue wasn’t something else - anything else - before they settled into knowing it was because of the attacks.
We were in the car when he told me. He grabbed my hand and said “I’m so sorry.” but truly, I’m okay. I’ve dealt with the fact I will always hold some responsibility for not protecting Noah from Sam. Ignorance and deception are no excuse. Parents still need to stand up and claim any pain their children endured at the hands of a pedophile as their fault. It’s not only their fault, but they are still to blame. I am to blame. My children accepted my apology long ago, and I forgave myself long ago. Now we are tight in ways we never would have been, if we hadn’t walked through it together. We are the epitome of the scripture “God works all things together for good……” and He DOES!
It’s been nearly 17 years since Noah was attacked. The man who did it was never imprisoned, though I’m sure he’s done it many times before and since. I’m positive he will do this until he’s locked away, if he’s locked away, only to emerge and do it again. He is smart enough to get by with it, and make more of the smallest and least able to communicate boys in the world go about their lives wondering why they’re broken? Why they can’t give and receive love, intimacy and sex like others do.
But for Noah, there has been a victory. He has come to terms with the why, and now the prayer is how. How to move past this. God is faithful & He will show Noah the way.
I’m sure of it.
Day #4 - Stress Recovery - The Day All About Hannah
“Hannah, will you spend the day with me?”
”YES! Oh, mom. YES!”
I had no idea how much my girl needed this time, too.
This stupid Covid-19 thing has really shone a light on all the places where dust has collected. I’m both thankful for the truth and aching from the realization.
Being self-aware is EXHAUSTING.
Our living room is never anything but comfortable, but the last remnants of normalcy has been thrown to the wind, as we shoved all the furniture along both walls & prioritized this puzzle table for my man.
Immediately, both Hannah and Noah dove in to put together the first puzzle with their dad, and as I type this it’s done & the 2nd one is picked out. Again, I’m surprised by how much they needed this down time with us. They’re young adults on the launchpad & I usually feel like I’m begging for scraps around the edges of their lives, but perhaps they’ve just not wanted to bother me? Or their dad?
It really makes me think. And ponder some serious changes in our lives.
After puzzle time and a long, leisurely bath with one of my library books, we headed to Buca Di Beppo; my girl & I. We were the only ones dining in the entire restaurant and honestly, the Limon Chicken we shared was expensive & wonderful, but absolutely not enough to fill us up, even though we spent more on that lunch that we’d spent on a meal in a very long time. Lesson learned. But we were OUT! Out is exciting.
Then we went to Chick Fil A for grilled chicken nuggets & Kale salad so we could be FULL. Hannah splurged on a frosted lemonade. She’s methodical about unhealthy food choices. Have I mentioned how at 17, she blows me away? Because she does. When I was 17, I was hard-core bulimic with the full binging and laxatives and vomiting. My teeth still suffer from the abuse and I’m not sure, but I feel like my regular ulcers are still a residual effect of my bad choices. I know…..I’ll never know for sure.
I seriously have the most beautiful daughter on the planet. Her spirit blesses me in every way.
I didn’t catch a photo of Noah yesterday, because what we shared was intense but it wasn’t the moments of photos and fluff. He is going through some deep work to move forward in his life, and it’s his to share. Not mine.
20 years old is hard. Recovering from assault has been a lifelong journey. This is just the latest chapter. He’s doing the work, with God’s help. I am in awe of his tireless work to be the man God has called him to be. In the midst of his push forward to become a better man with the hard work in the trenches, he’s also taking up Tae Kwon Do & pushing his body to a better place.
One of our last stops was a local travel store, where I found this luggage.
I never stop dreaming of travel. It’s been incredibly hard to cancel so many of our trips this year, and we’re holding out hope we’ll be able to go to Florida, to Walt Disney World, to train some of our team & enjoy being away with some of our favorite people. I say I’m hoping, but really I’m not even able to fully hope. I’ve never felt less in control of my life than I do right now.
But I had control over who I spent time with today, what I did, how hard I listened, even how often I laughed. And I was blessed to be with my sweet little family. I’m thankful for Day #4. 11 more to go!
Day #3 - Stress Recovery - The Day of Extremely Hard Work
I may not have gone to work at my full time job today, but it was still a day of work. Work. WORK.
I’m on week 3 of Re-Generation. You may have heard of it when it had an old name, Celebrate Recovery. I know nothing about why they changed the name, but to help you understand a little bit about what it is, it’s where people go through a 12 Step Program of recovery from things like alcoholism, abuse, drug use, etc. but with the added perspective of finding your value in Christ.
“My Name is Carol Beth Scott & I have a new life in Christ. I’m recovering from ______________.”
So far, I know I’m recovering from severe co-dependence. I’m sure I will have more. I’m only on week 3 & I’ll absolutely be open about those, too. I’m such a mess…. which is why I’m going & why I couldn’t stop even as I’m taking deep breaths and calming down for these two weeks. I know I need God’s help to continue my healing journey.
It’s rough, coming to terms with the last pieces of my recovery from a life of sustained abuse and toxic choices. Being raised by a mother who regretted me and required me to perform while she consistently gaslighted me… it’s rough. But I’m determined.
I’ll be in Groundwork for quite some time & I’ve already been deeply affected. Imagine what it will be like a year from now. I’m incredibly grateful for God speaking into my life. Loudly.
We set up David’s puzzle table & he’ll start on this puzzle tomorrow. He’s still doing his 24 hour shifts during these two weeks, but when he’s home he’s a tremendous example of relax and recovery for me, who is NOT great at it.
During group time tonight, my fellow attendees were often struggling with motivation and procrastination. I’m over here struggling to rest and recover. I’m such an oddball.
The majority of my day was characterized by being proud of my children. I didn’t catch a photo of Noah or Joshua, as they both went about their days away from me, for the most part. But Hannah sat to my right as I did my Groundwork and she did her schoolwork. She’s my ray of sunshine & I can’t believe she’s about to graduate.
We’re in a current spending freeze, because I own a travel agency which is obviously not making any money right now (costs me money, because overhead, but no money coming in) and she has stepped up to pay for her last writing class and her summer musical. She’s doing a writing about literature class and she’s auditioning for A Chorus Line. She does all this while also giving above and beyond her tithe to Compassion International, striving for straight A’s, working at Chick Fil A, sharing the gospel, volunteering at church, working on her own personal growth, investing in relationships. My goodness. She would have blown me away at 17 years old. She’s amazing.
Finally, today my new sunglasses came in. As I pushed them up and accidentally caught my ever-present bangs by accident, I took this self-deprecating shot, then we took a vote. Is my forehead really a 5-head, 6-head or 7-head? I vote 7! Noah said “but Dad is an 11” - our kids always make us feel SO GOOD about ourselves, right?
I’m ready for less work and more recovery tomorrow….. which is saying something. And can I tell you, I have slept a LOT? Some of my stress could simply be from lack of sleep. Time will tell!
Day #2 - Stress Recovery - the day we went ALL the places
Can you smell it? If you’re ever blessed to visit downtown McKinney Texas, there are a few places you can’t miss. One of them is Mom & Popcorn & their magical smell of freshly popped, flavored popcorn and sweet candies.
When our kids were growing up & we had an especially successful homeschool week, we would head to Mom & Popcorn to celebrate. Today, we were kid free and celebrating our 2nd full day at healing from the stress of Covid 19.
Movies are David’s love language. Books are mine. Something I’ve let drift away over the last few years was any reading for pleasure. I read full books by the age of 4 and for most of my life, I’ve read multiple books a week. For these two weeks, I plan to return to my first love.
It’s amazing how guilt washes over me, as soon as I do something for pleasure. I’d say I need therapy to get past it, but I have and I do participate in therapy. Tomorrow I’ll tell you about my latest efforts to find my value in something other than work, but today I’ll just say it’s hard. Doing something for me. - just me - is hard.
But tonight, when I go to bed, I will be taking one of the 11 books I checked out. I will read it. And I won’t hate myself for reading a biography instead of the latest Leadership book. I HOPE!
I had my second melancholy days-gone-by with my kids moment at the library, as I remembered countless visits to this very building, where we passed this very statue. I didn’t know I could love so completely until I learned to love Joshua, Noah and Hannah. Every good day includes them. They are absolutely the best people on earth.
Our day wrapped up with a visit to Trader Joe’s before we came home & David played poker with the boys while I watched Kate & Leopold on Netflix and ate the amazing mini peanut butter cups you see below.
Oh! Too soon! The boys are in here with me, now. They’re laughing at Hugh Jackman and eating lava cake. If nothing else, we’re eating a lot of chocolate in these 15 days. And any day with chocolate is a GOOD DAY.
Day #1 - Stress Recovery - the day of Rest that was LOUD
And with that, It was a whole new world. I am a HUGGER. I was emotional with every single hug, grabbed hand, shoulder pat I received or gave away.
On Sundays, we have church in our living room.
Because Covid 19, that’s why.
And because my people still gather in my home, I’m okay with it. At the beginning of this chaos, David made a HUGE batch of Gluten Free Buttermilk Biscuits & we froze them in sets of 12, reheating them only on Sunday mornings. And let me tell you, they are little bits of heaven. It definitely has helped with missing out on our morning Sunday services together. Our church is huge. I have no immediate hope we’ll get to gather together as a congregation anytime soon.
Our sermon was streamed into our home with our pastor holding a parrot “Monk” on his shoulder that had flown into the coffee shop windows of our empty campus in Dallas. He was tame and sweet, ready to share the moment. And quiet! So quiet. Maybe I need another parrot?
Spontaneous Flowers from precious Molly. XOXO
After church, we spent the day relaxing until it was time to meet with our community group. IN PERSON. I’ve never been so excited to see people one-on-one. I even got to HUG THEM.
And with that, It was a whole new world. I am a HUGGER. I was emotional with every single hug, grabbed hand, shoulder pat I received or gave away. David is our leader - I suppose I’m the co-leader, but really I just facilitate - and he decided we were meeting in person. I’m so thankful.
I told him on the way to group, how grateful I am to NOT have to make some of these decisions. I’ll tell you the truth, I just don’t even know that I’m capable. I haven’t seen a leader rise up to give me confidence outside of our 4 walls. I’m trusting the leader within.
We stepped out of our car, into the garage & we heard them laughing before we even walked in.
Our house was full of young adults - all college students or grads, except for Hannah who is wrapping up high school this spring. And they chose - again - to gather in our home.
I rejoice every day they trust us, choose us, gather here. I love to feed them, hug them, laugh with them, definitely laugh AT them & sometimes, cry with them. It’s all SO GOOD.
My Day was SHOCKINGLY Great!
God is so gracious to me. My 1st Day off of work was one blessing after another. From worship to biscuits, flowers to hugs, laughter to love, I’m thankful.
I’m going to make it through.
Because EVERY moment is to be savored.
Take a Break before you end up in the hospital!
Per my usual, I saw my blood pressure climb, teeth grinding increase, sleep interrupted, ulcers return and you know what I did about it?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
That’s what I would tell myself, if I were my own best friend. Per my usual, I saw my blood pressure climb, teeth grinding increase, sleep interrupted, ulcers return and you know what I did about it?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
But when David came home 3 shifts in a row, showing his own signs of stress, I sprung into action. Do you think someday I’ll take care of myself the same way I take care of those I love? Stay tuned. It’ll probably take 20 years. Maybe we can help each other?
Meanwhile, here’s the plan. We’re taking 15 days - 2 full weeks off. David will still go the fire station, but when he comes home we’re not running our travel business. Our incredible team is stepping up in our absence. We’re not taking on any home projects. We’re not doing anything new to better ourselves. We’re simply taking time to heal.
The trouble is, when you stop being busy, the feelings all rise up to be dealt with. And in the midst of Covid 19, I have a TON of feelings. And questions.
How long will it last?
Amy I too careful? Not careful enough?
Who is lying to us? Is anyone telling the truth?
When will my business reboot? How long will it take to rebuild? Will it ever be the same?
Am I making myself sick when I wear a mask?
Am I making others sick when I don’t?
Will our lives forever be changed?
But in the interest of calming the heck down, I’m going to focus instead on NOT Processing anything without a solution. instead, I’m going to take time for me - the same me I’ve ignored this whole time.
It’s HARD.
Wish me luck!