I'm not dirty. part II

The same shame that followed me into kindergarten followed me into motherhood.

Then a year later it followed me into marriage.

Only I didn't even know what shame was back then.  I had no idea that the wrong I felt had a name.  However, ignorance is not always bliss.  Not knowing what shame was did not stop it from controlling my life.  The shame told me I was horrible, no good, unworthy, incapable of change and unlovable.  I believed these lies and reacted to life based on them.

As a mother I did everything to make sure Tyler wouldn't grow up the way I did.  My parents got divorced when I was very young and I was determined to stay with Brandon at all costs to spare my son the heartache of growing up in two separate homes.  I was afraid of messing up his life.  I was afraid of letting him down.  I was afraid of being a single mother.  I made all my decisions, as a mother, based on what I didn't want and what I feared.  I tried to control everything.  I thought if I could just be a perfect wife and mother history would not repeat itself.

My feelings of unworthiness and unlovability drove me to controlling Brandon.  I constantly felt like he was going to find someone better and leave me.  I thought that I was replaceable and one day he would realize this and move on.  I would interrogate him about his whereabouts daily.  If he came home late from work I would accuse him of cheating.  I searched his browser history.  I searched his phone records.  I was a detective with a mission.  I would pick fights with him and nag him.

I was a control freak.

I was also miserable.

I couldn't enjoy my son or my husband because I was living in constant fear of upsetting or losing them.

When Tyler was two years old we found out we were pregnant again.  Transitioning to two terrified me until Ella was born and we brought her home.  Everything just meshed.  That is until Ella became mobile.  Once she could move she became a wild child and I was constantly exhausted.  At this same time Tyler entered the "terrible-crazy-out of control three's".  I remember crying a lot.  I could no longer control ANYTHING.  I felt out of control and fearful every.minute.of.every.day.

This is when my panic attacks and anxiety became prevalent.

I would walk into the grocery store and become instantly overwhelmed.  It would start with worrying thoughts about all the germs that were everywhere.  Then I would feel my heart rate begin to quicken.  My vision would fail.  I would feel as if everything was a blur.  I would begin to hear my heart beat inside of my ears and feel the blood pumping through my veins.  I wouldn't be able to breathe and the more panicked I felt the more fearful I became the more panicked I would become.  My anxiety fed on itself.  My fear of losing control in front of everyone would cause me more anxiety.  It was horrible and scary.

I stopped leaving the house unless absolutely necessary.

I became more afraid of driving.  I would visualize horrific car accidents while driving that felt so real I would have to pull over and catch my breath.  I would wake up in the middle of night unable to breathe and fearful.  I would obsess over possible tragedies and truly believed that if I didn't follow all of my daily rituals I would cause one of these tragedies to happen.  I thought my rituals kept everyone safe.

When I was pregnant with Ella I had started going to church (this was in California).  This was completely out of character for me.  My reasoning was that if there was no hell then at least my kids would be raised with good morals but if there was a hell I was not going to be to blame for not exposing them to a Savior.  Once again, believing everything depended on my decisions.

My thoughts about Christians prior to church were that Christians were judgmental and holier than thou.  I had been shamed by many a Christian and really didn't want anything to do with anymore of them.

Imagine my surprise when the first sermon I ever heard was on judgmental attitudes.  The pastor spoke about how Christians do NOT have the right to judge to condemn others.  He spoke about a God that loved me.  I was completely confused.

There was a girl named DeeDee there that day and she invited me to come back to church that evening for a meeting.  She said the pastor would be going over what the church believes and I could ask questions.  I had plenty of questions, so I agreed.

I went back that night prepared to stump this pastor.  Surely he would be upset by all my questions thus proving that the whole thing was a sham and Christians don't know what they believe.

Instead the pastor had an answer for every one of my questions and I will never forget what he said to me.

He said, "Keep asking questions.  Questions are good.  The more questions you ask the stronger your faith will become.  Being a Christian is not about blind allegiance and the Bible can stand up to your questions."

I went home feeling uneasy about this whole God thing.

That night we watched a movie with my dad.  The first movie he put on was some 1980's John Cusack monstrosity.  I begged him to change it.  The other movie he had rented was a football movie and he couldn't remember what it was about.  It turned out to be "Facing the Giants".  If you have never seen this movie, it has little to do with football and a lot to do with faith.  I felt like this God, I wasn't even sure existed, was speaking directly to me.

When we moved to Las Vegas my biggest concern was where I would go to church.  We got an Easter flier in the mail for a church called Central Christian.  We went and I remember feeling instantly at home.  The people were friendly.  We received not a single dirty look or sideways lofty glance.  The music was amazing.  I remember hearing the song "Marvelous Light" and feeling as if something in my body I never knew existed was reaching out into the music.

I felt alive.

I cried.

I finally allowed myself to think, "Maybe ... just maybe ... this is real."