I want to thank all of you who have written, commented on, or read this blog. I started it as an outlet for anyone to express the things they were struggling with in a safe and supportive atmosphere. I have “met” many of you through this blog and it is wonderful! I also know that some have said how this site has helped. That is awesome!!
The last post was in December. I have been working as part of the leadership of a new church and will soon be moving from western NY to the Cincinnati area to help start the church. Over the past 10 months, we’ve been working on systems, developing programs, working on budget stuff, etc and I’ve been traveling, learning, studying and doing all I can!! What’s awesome is as I move into full time ministry, I get to spend the rest of my life helping people who are where I once was get to where I am now! No more shame, no embarrassment, and no more hiding anything.
Today I can stand free from all the coping skills that I had learned, free from suicidal thoughts, free from struggling to make it through each and every day, all while acting like I had it all together. Instead, I can be honest, open, and transparent, willing to talk about it all and reach out to anyone who is going through anything I’ve been through.
I’ve been through tons of abuse, both growing up and in my marriage, rejection, depression, anxiety, PTSD, panic attacks and you name it. My coping skills included alcohol, drugs (illegal when younger, prescription as older), self-injury, eating disorders, suicidal “stuff”, and probably a handful more! Today I am healed. Today I no longer have to rely on my own strength. Today I want others to experience what I am now living. It’s awesome!
So I thank you for participating on this blog. I invite you, if you haven’t already, check out and join in at my blog at rindywalton.com. Jump in and comment and you can make it easy by subscribing by email to follow the journey. See ya over there!!
I love music. So many times the lyrics put thoughts into the right words and emotions. “Beautiful disaster” is such a contradictory description, yet when you think about it, it fits so many people. Check it out (just click on it, then on the message and it will start):
I never used to be angry. At least, I never used to know that I was angry. Growing up, I never felt that I had the right to be angry at anyone, or about anything, and so I became very good at stuffing my anger and hiding it from everyone. I got so good at it that I think I actually hid my anger from myself. In situations where I normally should have been upset with others, I manipulated the situation around in my head so that I’d end up angry with myself instead of someone else. Everything was always my fault, I believed, and so I had no right to be angry with anyone other than myself.
I don’t yell. I can’t. I rarely raise my voice. In the past, I actually prided myself on my ability to hold things in and remain in control. People would comment on how calm and collected I always seemed, and I felt good when I heard things like that. But comments like that also reinforced my belief that it was wrong for me to be angry…
This all changed a few months ago, when I started seeing a new therapist who was determined to make me feel things. She wanted me to get angry, and had me go about doing so in a really unusual way. We went shopping together, and bought a piñata. It was supposed to represent my anger, and we stuffed it with popsicle sticks labeled with all the things I would gain once I let go of the anger stuck inside of me; freedom, happiness, growth, etc. The idea was that I would take a baseball bat to the piñata, smashing the living daylights out of it while naming all the things that had made me angry over the last 9 years.
I couldn’t do it. I was terrified; I was the girl who couldn’t yell, so how on earth could I tear into a piñata like that and rant about the things I was angry over? What I could do, however, was sit on the floor with the piñata in my lap and slowly rip it into tiny little pieces with my hands, all the while whispering all the things I was angry about. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I sat there and cried and choked out my hurts and ripped up that piñata until the whole thing was nothing but shreds of papier mache in my lap. And since that afternoon, I’ve known that I am angry.
I’ve known that I am angry, but not known what to do with it. I still don’t feel comfortable showing it to others, and I don’t know how to feel my anger in ways that are appropriate. For the last few months, I’ve felt like I am angry all the time. The emotion that I’ve not felt for so long is now one that I feel almost constantly, and I don’t like that. In my life, I’ve known plenty of angry people, and have always promised myself that I’d never end up as one. I don’t like being angry; I don’t like the way I feel about myself and about others. I don’t like feeling ugly and black and hateful.
Lately I’ve been thinking that it was almost better to lie to myself like I had for so long, telling myself that I wasn’t really angry, than it is to feel this ugly inside. But I know that’s not true. My anger is there for a reason, and needs to be dealt with appropriately. It needs to be dealt with appropriately or I will end up as one of those angry people whom I so dread turning into. The problem is that I’m at a loss for what to do. I’m afraid of my anger. I’m afraid of my emotions. So if anyone’s got any advice, it would be greatly appreciated…
I need your help! The purpose of this site is this:
We all struggle with issues that we find embarrassing or shameful. We might feel guilt or remorse, or know humiliation and regret. We all hide these behind masks and walls. This site is a place to be honest and real. It is a site where you can be yourself and share your difficulties. It is a place to gain awareness and insight. It is a safe place to express and discuss and know that you are not alone.
I love to be challenged to find resources, Biblical references, and to encourage discussion on any topic. I need your help deciding what topics! Some of you have written some great stuff, others have commented, and even more have read (and I hope been encouraged or challenged yourself).
What topics would you like to see more information, references, resources, or discussion about? Maybe you don’t want to write something yourself or can’t quite put it into words—I can help get the discussions started.
Some topics discussed so far include: alcoholism, eating disorders, anxiety, depression, mental illness, insecurity, disabilities, self-injury, emotional abuse, domestic violence, pornography, suicide, and more. The list of potential topics is endless.
Comment and let me know!!! Remember it can always be anonymous (even email: anon@anonymous.com or friend@friend.com or any other combo!). I’m looking forward to your responses!!
What if they find out? What if all my friends knew that I spent time in a hospital? Not any hospital, a psych hospital. I am a leader in my church and no one knows this. I was suicidal, had severe depression and anxiety, and could barely function. I am doing much better, but I feel like I am hiding a big part of who I am. If I am dating, when do I tell? Do I have to tell anyone at all? I don’t want to hide it but I don’t know what people will think. Will they push me away? Will they ask me to step down? If my relationship gets serious, will it then end?
What would you do if you were me? What would you do if you were my friend and you found out? What would you do if you were dating me? Would it change everything? What about church? I need feedback.
Sometimes I can’t stop. I started injuring myself when I was around 9 years old. I was being sexually abused by my older brother and my parents hated me. I didn’t know why but they would put me down, kick me out, and hit me for anything I did. I cried every night. I wanted it to stop. I wanted all the feelings to end. One day I started scratching the back of my hand. I don’t know why. It just happened. I felt like I exploding but I knew if I did, I would get beat up. So I took it out on myself. And you know what? It worked.
When I scratched, all my anger that I wanted to scream and shout out to them was focused onto scratching. I did it until I bled, and then even more. It was as if I could push all the anger and hurt onto my hand. Everything else was shut out. I could harness the emotions and never let them know that they were hurting me. I could control it. I couldn’t control anything else.
One day I thought of using a razor blade. I hated myself because I believed I was worthless. They had broken me. So I tried the razor blade. It cut right through the skin and immediately started bleeding everywhere. I wanted to cut deeper. I was still angry. But there was so much blood.
The abuse wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t stop that. It hurt so bad but I was never going to let them know they had affected me. I was not going to let them know they were winning. I was learning to shut it all out. They could do anything they wanted to my body, but they were not going to touch who I was.
I turned to burning. It happened by accident. I grabbed something very hot and dropped it when it burned my hand. My father was near and proceeded to tell me how stupid I was, how worthless, how he wished I had never been born, and he hit me. He grabbed me, shoved me and hit me. I couldn’t stop him. I wasn’t going to let him know he hurt me and I wasn’t going to let the burn hurt either. I learned to control the pain by shutting it all out. Burns hurt worse than anything. If I could shut out the pain from a burn, then I could numb it all. So I had learned another way to cope.
The burning and scratching became my primary means of self-injury. I didn’t do it because I wanted to die (although I have had many suicidal thoughts and plans but they are different). I didn’t do it because I wanted attention (I never wanted anyone to find out. If they did, I would have to stop). I did it because it was a way to control pain. I couldn’t stop the sexual, physical, and emotional abuse that was forced on me. The emotional pain was so incredibly intense and I could not tell anyone. I had to hide it all. There was no where else to turn. If I inflicted the most intense physical pain imaginable onto myself and I could learn to shut it out, then I could handle any emotional pain. Finally something I could control. They would never hurt me again. I could numb it all.
For those of you who are reading and have never self-injured, I hope this increases your understanding. We all learn ways to handle emotional pain. This just happened to be what I found. For those of you who are struggling and hurt yourself, there really is hope. Tell someone you can trust. Just getting it out opens the door. It is not easy to stop, but you can. Now I turn to Jesus and prayer. I have friends who hold me accountable. I still have the urge to cut and burn. I still want to shut it all out and numb all my pain. Pain is a part of life and it will happen. Talking, praying and not shutting it down feels so much better.
The two previous posts hit home with me. The one post talks about there needing to be a difference between your Before Christ (BC) and your After Christ (AC) life. I became a Christian in 1995. From the outside looking in, there is a huge difference in how I live my life. But, the problems on the inside remained the same.
The poster prior to mine mentioned not being noticed. That was me. To outsiders, I had it all. Made the softball team, in the Gifted classes at school, editor of yearbook. All these wonderful acolades. What they didn’t realize was that I was the last person to make the softball team and all the girls hated me because I beat out their friend. Made fun of me so much, that I quit halfway through the season. Yes, I was in the Gifted classes. We had about 15 kids in those classes. I graduated 13th from high school. So in all MY classes, I was the dumb one. The person no one wanted to be stuck with on a project. I was editor of the yearbook, but only because I was the only senior in the group. Oh, and because I “couldn’t handle” it on my own, there was a junior year co-leader. So yes, on paper I look great. But when you look behind the paper, I am just average. Felt below average most of the time too.
BC I partied hard, lots of boyfriends, struggled with obeying rules, snuck out, cursed like a sailor and lots of other “non-Sunday school” things. In my AC life, I am a good girl. Don’t use foul language (most of the time), read my Bible, active in church, only drink socially, and obey the rules. I am valued for my education and my job – for my ability to get things done. People come to me to help them solve things. They come to me to lead certain events. To be in charge.
Little do these people know that there isn’t that much difference between the Before and After. It’s just that all the bad stuff is hidden. My AC people don’t know that I self-injure. Boy would they be shocked. I feel ashamed sitting there in church listening to the preacher talk about Christ shedding His blood when just the night before, I shed my own. They don’t know I struggle with panic attacks and am on a whole slew of medication. That just “praying it better” hasn’t worked for me. They don’t know that there was a time I didn’t believe in God’s existence.
If my BC friends and AC friends got together and described me, it would be as if there were two different persons. Little do any of them know that there is just one me. Stuck in the middle and a combination of both.
Sitting in church a few months ago, I listened to my pastor give a sermon in which he spoke on some of the outward signs that should mark you as a Christian. The way you began to live your life after you met Christ should differ from the way you were living before you knew Him, my pastor taught. Your Before and After stories should be different, with your current lifestyle having changed for the better. After my pastor finished giving his message, I promptly dissolved into silent tears. This message was something I wrestled with often, and am still wrestling with even now. You see, my Before and After stories seem to be backward; I met Jesus… and then I developed an eating disorder.
Maybe it’s not entirely accurate to write it like that. I’ve struggled with disordered thoughts and eating habits since I was twelve or so, but never recognized them as being such. As a senior in high school, I started skipping meals with such frequency that my friends began to make anorexic jokes. I began making myself sick at the end of that year, and it was only then that I realized how much trouble I might be in… about a year after first meeting Jesus at a small Baptist church I’d started attending.
Since that first summer, over three years ago, I’ve struggled with intense feelings of guilt. How can I call myself a follower of Christ, I ask myself, and still engage in all these awful behaviors? I’ve not made much progress against my eating disorder, you see, in spite of all the therapy I’ve immersed myself in, in spite of the out-patient treatment at hospitals and the partial-hospitalization clinics I’ve gone to. I may have taken a step backwards, actually, by writing ‘self-harm’ in below ‘throwing up’ and ‘starving myself’ on the list of things I do to cope with whatever it is I’m running from.
There must be something wrong with me, I keep thinking, because I can’t beat this. If I had a stronger faith, maybe I’d be able to break out of this feeling of ambivalence I seem to be currently stuck with. My relationship with Christ seems somewhat laughable to me. I almost feel like I never got past that initial phase of introduction with Him; “Jesus, meet Melissa. Melissa, this is Jesus…” How can I come before Him, though, and expect Him to be as loving and merciful as everyone has told me that He is, when I am such an ugly and disobedient child? How can He want to spend time with me? To walk with me?
But He is walking with me. Regardless of whether I feel worthy of his company or not, Jesus is beside me in all of my struggles, exactly as He promised He would be. Since listening to my pastor’s sermon on Before and After stories, I’ve put a great deal of thought into my own story and I think I’m starting to accept that it might be ok for me to be backwards. When I look back over the past three years, I am struck by one thing; no matter how bad my eating disorder was, no matter how loud the demons in my head were or how out of control I felt, I always had at least a tiny glimmer of hope. I always knew that I was not alone, and knowing this kept me from giving into despair. If my story was a typical Before and After story and I’d had my ED before I knew Christ, I think there’s a good possibility I might be dead now and would never have known Christ at all… I know I certainly thought about ending my life plenty of times, because there were times when I was just that miserable. I am unworthy to be in His presence, and I know this. But I also know that He wants me in His presence regardless of my unworthiness this, and so I am going to keep coming to Him. And I know that if I allow Him to love me that I will get through this eventually…
I guess it’s only fair that I get things rolling on this site by telling where I am at…
Last week I shared “my story” for the first time ever at our Thursday night worship service. God is so amazing! I still can’t believe I did it and I wasn’t even very nervous. I was the speaker! About two years ago I couldn’t even say most of the stuff to myself. Thursday I stood up there and God definitely took over! The best part is that I know for sure that I connected with at least one person and am pretty convinced there were more.
I still struggle with a lot of “junk”, but it’s getting better. The walls are beginning to come down and now I am beginning to reach out to others who struggle. That is incredible! Crushed, broken, failures, faults, scars and all…this is all I’ve got.
Hear my story, the reason behind this blog! You can link here and click on “This is all I’ve got (Part 2)” to download. Just remember, most of what I said I’ve never said in front of people before!
I would really love to hear what you think. (But nothing about the stumbling on words ) That part is sure to improve!
From The Irresistible Revolution: living as an ordinary radical …. some of us have worked on Wall Street, and some of us have slept on Wall Street. We are a community of struggle. Some of us are rich people trying to escape our loneliness. Some of us are poor folks trying to escape the cold. Some of us are addicted to drugs, and others are addicted to money. We are a broken people who need each other and need God…
) That part is sure to improve!