“For crying blotches the face but scours the heart.”
Ecclesiastes 7:3 MSG
I was reading various blogs earlier today. I have set my Google Reader to display posts from oldest to newest so I don’t feel like I am falling too far behind, and I want to keep up with what other people are saying because I love getting feedback all the same.
I say this because I often feel like I am just talking into the dark, cold abyss of my own room here; and here is where I say come walk with me yet I feel that I walk alone sometimes. In fact, I really am alone. That has been my life for the past few years. It is steadily becoming more of a blessing than a disadvantage.
I was perusing around my journal earlier on. There was only one entry that I had written since last Monday. As I reread the summary I had transcribed–which covered my thoughts about being sick and feeling better, my religion rant, and my projected productivity goals–I was reminded that I tend to be a drill sergeant towards myself.
I suspect that this is a product of my upbringing and the experience of being in martial arts classes from the time I was eleven until the time I was seventeen. The instructors had very twisted philosophies about health and existence. It seemed that they did not live to thrive but rather to not get, well, killed; and quite frankly, I was miserable during that season of my life. Being in that environment only closed the curtains on the already dark room of my soul.
The disciplinary system in that school mandated physical activities, and sometimes really harsh ones, as penalties. It left me angry or cursing or in tears. Martial arts instructors do not really make good counselors so I never thought to express the pain of a traumatic past not to mention the pain I experienced in those classes on top of it all.
I knew what exactly what I was searching for as I skimmed through the blog feeds this morning. I was hungry for posts specific to neurobiology and misophonia, which is really one the biggest secret pains I have carried around for so long. Those six years of martial arts lessons had shaped me in ways that are very damaging and unhealthy because I still have a pattern of thinking because of it. It made it all the more the difficult for me to heal. As much as I was told that physical activity 90% mental and 10% physical, it never really sunk in. I could not see or feel my way past the deep soreness and bruises on my body all the mornings after.
Looking at my goals that I wrote in that journal entry, I realized that I had been taking steady gentle steps towards getting caught up after being bedridden. There were some days this past week when I felt like I was on top of the world. Other days, my stomach felt as if it were about to burst, as I have colitis. I was too incapacitated and tired some nights to even reach for the lamp at my bedside let alone my journal.
I paused while reading my list and changed the title of this blog post. Here is what I had written:
“High five to myself for putting into practice a lot of what I have been putting onto paper. I just want to keep it up with every responsibility and project…and taking care of myself.”
I expect so much out of people and out of myself. When one or the other disappoints I declare inward martial law, or so to speak. However, a voice has begun to resound within my conscious recently: ‘Sandra, If you would only give yourself a rest…’
No one is coming up behind me to mandate 50 push ups because of my shortcomings. No one is threatening physical harm because I said a foul word. No one is yelling ‘suck it up!’ This time, in the silence of the vacant room there is solace. I realize I am truly alone in the sense that I am in peace and safe, unfettered by the intrusive things that people have a tendency of doing; and I can also process all such painful things in a way that does not harm others.
A friend sent me a message to get updated on how being in Costa Rica has been for me thus far. She asked how I have experienced God. I replied that it has been generally the same. I didn’t really have to stop and think too hard about that.