Admission

Today I told God, "I feel like I'm being put on hold. I don't necessarily feel like I'm being completely ignored by Thee, but I feel like I'm on hold. I feel mostly alone, I feel like my needs are on hold, and I can't hear Thee, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do." And then a desperate, "WHERE ARE YOU?!"

While in such a state, I was mentally scolding myself for having a sucky day when I have everything I need. I have no right, I was saying to my head, to feel fearful or sad or lonely or frustrated or ignored or in ANY way bad, because I have everything I need.

This is what usually happens. I don't allow myself to feel, because I don't figure that I deserve to feel. I think there are many roots to my addiction, but this very thing is one of the bigger, deeper, older roots. I never thought that my feelings mattered. Indeed, I was taught that they do not. This, of course, wasn't a direct sermon. And it was largely my perceptions rather than others' behavior. But, I felt like my feelings never mattered to anyone around me, when I was a kid. Even at church, I was shunned, openly, by the young men and young women. I was nothing to my peers. I felt like my voice didn't matter at home (dear Family, if you are reading this, please don't feel like I'm blaming you. I am not. You are wonderful). So, when I went to college, I met a boy with whom I fell deeply in love, but he treated me like I didn't matter. That relationship was costing me spiritual progression, so I ended it, which was no small feat. Then I met my husband who treated me, at first, like I was the most important human being. That lasted a few days, quite literally, but I bought it and clung to those first days until our wedding. Our four year marriage was four years of me not mattering. He would laugh at me when I cried, or yell at me when I cried. When I expressed frustration or anger, only HIS frustration and anger mattered. It fed into my belief that my opinions and feelings didn't mean anything. I believed that about myself, so of course I attracted men who would believe that about me too.

I still believe that about myself, to a degree. I really believe this is my largest, deepest root to my addiction. IF my feelings don't matter, then I don't acknowledge them. IF I don't acknowledge them, then they fester and they must be released. Hello, addiction. Thank you, Addiction, for taking the pain away, the pain that I stubbornly refuse to acknowledge, to admit.

Admission. Tonight, at my PASG meeting, the word "Admit" changed definitions for me. We went over step one: "Admit that you, of yourself, are powerless to overcome your addictions and that your life has become unmanageable." What does admit really mean? Well, one definition is allow. Permit. And I thought of concert. We are admitted into a concert. We're allowed, permitted to attend. Invited, even. Invited in, if we have what is needed to show we're supposed to be there. Admitting my problems now means to me allowing my problems. I live in denial. When I have a thought of sadness or confusion; frustration or doubt; anger or fear, I immediately shun it. And then I yell at myself because how dare I feel horrible about something, anything, when I HAVE EVERYTHING!? I have shelter, I have health, I have daily food, I want for no physical needs. And, I think, if I AM upset/sad/angry/scared, then I shouldn't be. Oh, and I scold myself every time.

I am extraordinarily blessed, and I am so grateful.

But guess what. I cannot let go of any problem without first letting it in. First I must admit it. The symptoms are already in the concert hall with me. I have admitted the guilt, the temptations, the sins, the manifestation of unacknowledged anger and resentment. I have already admitted the consequences of the problem, the problem that sits outside the locked door because I refuse to admit it. I refuse to admit that I am angry, or lonely, or wanting for more. But I can't release the consequences of the problem/emotion unless I open the door, and admit the problem.

Tonight, God showed me He's still here. He told me my feelings matter, and that I get to admit them. I get to be angry and upset, even at Him. I get to be afraid, and I get to want more, even though I have so much more than so many of His children. I get to be sad, even though so many others have much sadder circumstances to wade through. I get to feel all these negative emotions. I will experience them because I am human. I will experience them, even as a richly blessed white American with a huge support system. These feelings are part of the human experience. It's just part of being a mortal. I'm not evil for feeling bad. I'm human! I cannot avoid these feelings, and I must stop denying them when they are here. I will experience genuinely horrible moments, even though they might not be as horrible as someone else's- they're still horrible for me. And that's okay! I can have a bad day! I can admit it. I must admit it because when I don't, I seek a dangerous escape. I must let it in, so I can let it out.

I have been trying to get God to bless me my way. And He gently reminded me of that, too, tonight. "Our will in competition to God's will allows desires, appetites, and passions to go unbridled." This is why I must hush, and let God be God. This is why I will admit the problem, then give it to Him.

Also in step one, we're reminded of this verse:
"My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep. . . . He hath filled me with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh."

As I read that to myself tonight at the meeting, I knew that God was not placing me on hold. He is here, as He always has been and ever will be. He has, truly, filled me with His love even unto the consuming of my flesh, and I cannot, will not forget those sweet moments.

This has been a tender mercy of a loving Father who has not forgotten me, brought to you by Erin.