F* ptsd

YOU PROBABLY DON'T WANT TO READ THIS.



in my nightmare, i am my current age. my stepfather is here, in my house. i am alone with him, but i know he is now too old and senile to be a threat anymore. i am showering downstairs when he shockingly pulls open the shower curtain and starts to climb in with me. how did i not hear him open the bathroom door? he isn't nearly his current physical age, and he reacts to my shock and my insistence that he leave by brandishing his tiny erection and clear intentions, cackling his fucking abusive amused cackle. i somehow flee the bathroom and run upstairs while he continues showering and calling out to me to come back. i consider calling 911, knowing now as i didn't then that this is how to respond to his abusive actions. but i imagine them dismissing the threat, chalking the incident up to his senility and advanced age. still naked, i grab the chef's knife and go back down the stairs, where he is still showering in the closed bathroom, but decide that probably won't go well. "why hadn't i locked the door?" i excoriate myself, again piling guilt on myself that has always rightly belonged to him, just as he'd always taught me to do.

i know, i think, i'll just leave and figure it out from a safe place. i rush back into my bedroom and grab my jeans to pull onto my not-quite dry body. (how did it get that way? i hadn't toweled off. dream weirdness.) i have them not quite secured when i hear him approaching down the hallway. oh shit! i left the door open again! wtf was i thinking? (more self blaming). i rush to close and lock it, but before i can turn the lock he is turning the knob and pushing against the door, and i am still not as physically strong as him. i never was. he is overpowering me again, forcing the door open. i know what is coming next, no matter how much i resist.

this is when i woke up, bolting upright but not shouting out loud, somehow not waking my wife.

and it wasn't until i left my bedroom, awake, with no hope of returning back to sleep until my racing heart calms back down, that i realized my granddaughters are here. and it wasn't until just now that I realized it isn't a work day.



he can't hurt me anymore. this is just a dream. i am safe.

again i choose to forgive him, even though it isn't what i want to do and even though he doesn't deserve it for what he did to me over and over again. i pray that he will be well, and heal from his own brokenness, and live in God's love. it is still true that he doesn't understand his sin. and i will not pay the price that hating him will cost me. that isn't self-love, and i will not give up the freedom Jesus has won for me over him. yes, i hate what he did to me. but i refuse to hate him.

Lord, heal my mind, and please heal my step-father, too.

Passionate Grace

In our reading of the Passion today, I found a moment of connection with my darkest, most shameful moment. As it briefly washed over me, I found a response other than crushing regret. I remembered that the intervening years have brought an abundance of grace and reconciliation and resurrection out of something that definitely needed to die in me.

Seems to fit today's reflection from Dynamic Catholic.

I'm sure that video link will be cleared at some point. The theme was not rushing past Palm Sunday and Holy Week to get to Easter.

I know a very special girl . . .

. . . a very highly intelligent, creative, caring girl, who is going to bear very deep wounds of rejection and emptiness, and a terrible burden of unforgiveness in her life, if we can't find a way to help her deal with the rejection she is receiving from her "dad."

She deserves so much better than this. When I heard the latest, my eyes and heart filled with tears for her. I have known for myself, and seen in others I love, the damage that this causes in a child's life. God can, of course, heal it, for all things are possible with God. But even that takes a willingness to be open and vulnerable that is nearly impossible on our own when we have known such pain.

My precious granddaughter, I love you so very much. It is a great privilege to be your grandpa. I hope that you will let me help you through this so that it will not haunt you through decades of your life. 

The most effective lie . . .

. . . that our adversary uses to keep us bound to the spirits who torment us is that these things are a part of ourselves.

For instance, I am not, by my spiritual nature, bisexual, any more than any of us are by our spiritual nature promiscuous or insatiable. But by getting us to believe that this is a central part of who we are, our adversary gets us to embrace and cling to things from which Christ has set us free. The more we accept these things as part of our own nature, reinforcing them by choices and behavior, the more we become enslaved to them and, in a vicious cycle, the more we tend to see them as part of ourselves. In a case like mine, this can be true even if I remain very careful not to ever commit adultery because of this misconception. As long as I continued to hunger for sexual experiences which are not God's revealed will for me, I remained bound to the effects of this spiritual influence. (In this case, it is easy for anyone with spiritual discernment who knows my story to see how this spiritual influence entered by life. Sometimes we are completely aware of this, so we keep our story to ourselves, for a variety of reasons. This keeps us in isolation, darkness, and bondage.)

I believe the same thing can be true of physical and psychological manifestations of spiritual influences. It may be important to obtain the medical or psychological help we need, for a couple reasons. We may need to deal with our thought and behavior patterns, or the chemical effects that they have had in our bodies. We also need to keep the manifestation from pushing us to grow more unhealthy or to participate with worse, more destructive influences. In the latter case, these may also appear psychological in manifestation but have a spiritual influence or root. To completely get rid of them, eventually we are going to have to renounce the lie that this thing is a part of ourselves. 

But that renunciation won't take hold in us unless we are using all the keys Jesus has given us to spiritual freedom. Those spiritual influences entered our lives through decisions we made, sometimes in response to terrible things that were done to us and sometimes simply in sin. They come in, and they lock the door behind them, and they set up house and make us think they are a part of us.

It is a lie.

We must often discover the door through which we gave them access, so that we can renounce the decision we made or the lie we believed, or repent of the sin that let them in or kept us bound to them. ("It's okay for me to not forgive so-and-so, because what they did was terrible and hurt me deeply." And the accompanying lie that forgiveness is an additional burden rather than a gift God gives us once we trust that He will do in us what we can't for ourselves.) Once we do, in Christ Jesus' authority we can kick them out, and they have to leave. And we can take back the freedom we have yielded to them in our ignorance of our adversary's schemes. 

Once we are in Christ Jesus, the adversary has no power over us anymore except what we continue to yield to him. 

One of the other tricks he uses is to keep us from those who can help us see clearly. If we resent them for some offense that we perceive (even if they haven't actually done anything wrong), or if we think they're off base by attributing spiritual influences for stuff that can easily be explained without anything so mystical, then instead of turning to their help we are isolated in our battle. This is another of the adversary's schemes.

I'm preaching to myself here, btw. My own bondage can seem so attractive, and even when it doesn't it can seem like a natural part of me. God, please help me to always see it as You do.

My last friend who died . . .

. . .  or, at least, whose death I knew about at the time it happened, was the son of other dear friends of ours. Our dear friends are older than we are, so their son was just a few years younger than us. Just a few weeks before he took his life, on our way to a retreat together, I'd offered him encouragement that he was seeking the right path. Unfortunately, he'd given no indication that he was dealing with such depression. It was a difficult time.

The echoes of that time are now way more complicated because of what I learned a number of years after his passing. He committed an unspeakable offense against a precious member of my family, and for both of their sake I will not be more specific than that here. Apparently I was among the last to learn of it. Even though I have forgiven him and prayed for him, this most recent passing of a friend recalls that one simply because that was the last one.

I continue to pray for you, that your brokenness is healed for all eternity. And I join you in praying for those whom you hurt.

Living the Way

At the foot of the cross, there is sorrow;
At the foot of the cross, there is love;
Flowing down together in a river of salvation,
Covering all the world with grace. 

At the foot of the cross, there is sadness;
At the foot of the cross, there is hope;
Flowing down together in a river of forgiveness, 
Covering all the world with grace. 

This is where I have, ultimately found myself this Lenten season.

There is deep sorrow when someone you love hurts someone else you love.
There is great sadness when that person is non-repentant of their actions.
There is hurt when that person has intentionally hidden their actions from you, then lies to you about it even when you try to be gentle in your confrontation. (The person has since apologized for the deception.)

But there is love and hope at the foot of the cross. There is salvation, and forgiveness.

And I hope that there is healing and growth.

After all: I have been forgiven a greater debt.

I think I know . . .

. . . where each of my daughters got her sense of superiority.  😢

If they don't learn to accept and forgive each other, they are each going to have a harder road than they think they have now.

There is plenty of blame to go around for their conflicts.

An exciting opportunity

I'm so pleased that I'm going to be giving a talk at our next Unbound seminar on Forgiveness. One of the Five Keys with which people often struggle considerably in their lives, it's also a topic on which I've written quite a lot. One of my previous posts even focuses on forgiveness in the context of the Five Keys, and others address what forgiveness isn't and what it is.

Of course, this talk won't be mostly my thoughts. There's a well-developed outline I will follow. But there will be room to share a few insights I have learned along the way, too.

Today's pageview zip codes

Argos, IN  46501, Atwood, IN 46502  I have passed just north of these zip code twice - well, on both legs of round trips on two separate occasions. The first time was in 1988, with our friends Herb and Maureen as we attended the national charismatic conference at Notre Dame. This was my only visit to the campus, and I can understand why people love it. This was just a couple months after my sister had passed away, suddenly and unexpectedly at age 23, due to a drug problem none of us knew she had. I didn't fully realize how filled with remorse I was over the role I might have played in her drug issues in my younger days - by the conference I'd turned 28 (so a dear friend was a newborn!) - and that I'd never really shared the gospel with her following my conversion experience. After the sessions late one night, I joined others at the grotto and felt led to ask for prayer, though I wasn't really sure for what. I was surprised when I heard myself sharing with the prayer team the burden that I didn't even realize was on my heart. As they prayed with me, I had the experience of being "slain in the Spirit" for the only time in my life, as the Holy Spirit brought me God's consolation in my grief and flooded me with a deep sense of His mercy and love. I laid there for what felt like a half hour but was probably only a few minutes, allowing my loving Lord to minister to me, and arose with a deep sense of gratitude for His forgiveness and with a truly peaceful spirit, as the months-long tension with which I'd been unwittingly living was lifted from me. The next day I found myself able to join in the praise and worship with abandon.

My second trip through the area was on my way to and from the Apple Cider Century in Three Oaks, MI. At that point, I still had aspirations of doing a century (100-mile ride) in every state, back before my cramping issues really developed. I'll have to look at my shirt from that ride to see what year it was, or perhaps I have information in a scrapbook at home. Memories of the ride: I overnighted at a motel west of South Bend and drove the last 25 miles the morning of the ride; a pancake breakfast was served in the town firehouse; there was apple cider to drink at every rest stop; the ride was very well supported; route markings were in the shape of an apple, and color coded for the five different length rides; I ended up feeling a little as if I had cheated on my goal, because about 45 miles of the century route was in Indiana; I talked with some folks at both breakfast and lunch who had come over from Chicago for the ride; lunch was at park in a neighborhood with a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. A coworker friend did this ride just a few years ago and lunch was no longer at such a picturesque venue.

A fond memory

What's the point of all this exercise if there isn't ice cream in the summer? I shared on FB about my late father-in-law's habit of a small bowl of ice cream every evening, and lamenting to him that we'd had a dearth of that dessert this summer, and sharing that with my bride, and how she brought me ice cream last night. I think it was a nice memory for both of us.

This morning I was thinking of my best memories of her daddy, and they're more about the kind of man he was. I know he was better as a father-in-law to me than he was as a dad to his sons, especially his oldest ones. He learned, though, and I know he regretted. Maybe that's why he was so gracious toward me, even though I'd hurt his baby girl and our family so deeply, when he saw that I was earnestly working to become healthy. But his understanding of grace and his willingness to apply it are my best memories of him.

But . . .

. . . the love and grace I have received is my answer to the call of despair.

What makes it dark - and the self-forgiveness challenge

My post from yesterday was short and bitter, not in tone or expression but in its impact on me. Nothing makes my life go dark anymore like those moments in which I am acutely aware that I was a part of a problem that has fundamentally hurt so many people. It isn't a nebulous idea for me: I know that pain, too, intimately (also "too intimately"), and yet nonetheless I caused it. And decades of consistently striving to be a part of the solution fail to keep that darkness from having a hook into my psyche.

Forgiveness is a process, whether one is forgiving others or forgiving oneself. But each time I see how someone else - especially someone whom I love and respect - has been affected by actions like my own broken ones, it seems I have to reenter the process. And my ability to do that is too dependent on my current frame of mind.

I've been so loved, so forgiven, so accepted, that you'd think this would get easier.

A general principle greater than any quotation

I keep scouring this chapter from Abba's Heart on forgiveness for that one quotation that leaps off the page and says, "Yes, this thought is the fresh insight that encapsulates this truth." And I just can't find any combination of Neal's sentences that accomplishes that.

But the one concept that he expresses that I love is the idea that unforgiveness is such a blocker for us spiritually because it is a rejection of the very nature of Jesus Himself. It isn't that "The vindictive Father will refuse to forgive you if you refuse to forgive others." It is that it is impossible to enter the Father's forgiving, merciful heart - on display in Jesus' tortured, lifeless body hanging on the cross - and to simultaneously keep our own hearts closed off by invoking on others the judgment which we ourselves deserve. I cannot receive God's mercy while I withhold it from others, and if I receive God's mercy I won't knowingly withhold it from others.

Now, there may be a number of reasons why I do so unknowingly. For instance, events from years or decades ago may have influenced our lives in ways that feel like part of ourselves, so we don't recognize anymore that we need to forgive the classmate who shunned us, the girl- or boyfriend who broke our heart, the parent who taught us to be so self-judgmental, or the sibling who belittled us. Or, I may have sincerely tried on my own to forgive an offense that hurt me more deeply, for which I need to enter into God's protective heart to sufficiently feel safe and be healed to be able to sincerely wish blessings for the person who hurt me. But unforgiveness for any reason is an impediment to God's liberating power. Fortunately, it need not be. God is eager to help us welcome our prodigal brother home.

For the life of me, I can't seem to remember the name of the young man with whom our daughter was living six months ago, who responded to their breakup by stealing household goods she needed to care for her children. I can picture him with his motorcycle, bandanna around his head, and clearly see his face in my mind's eye, yet his name escapes me even though I thought I'd never forget it. My heart wants to rage against him, on behalf of my daughter and her children, "Whatever the two of you went through, why would you take this out on my grandchildren!" Instead, I find I must lift up this clearly wounded young man, whose name the Father has etched on His own heart, and ask Him to bring him home.

As much progress as I sometimes think that I have made in the area of forgiveness, other people come to mind for whom I know I must also pray.

Forgiving a lost boy

There's more stuff I still want to comment on concerning the nature of the Father's authority, especially its compassionate and humble nature. But having read on from there, today I find myself reflecting on the spiritual key of forgiveness.

As I've kept reading on this topic, covered so thoroughly in Neal's other books, and scouring my mind for who it is I still haven't forgiven, because I have just known there was still someone. But I couldn't think of who it was, for the life of me. I've forgiven people for such a variety of hurts in which they played a role, intentionally, cooperatively, incidentally, or unknowingly. I've even forgiven myself, following my loved ones' forgiveness, for such deep harm that I've done to myself and those I love.

This morning, after wracking my brain, I finally realized the one person I'm still struggling to forgive, and why. There's something that I still can't quite forgive myself for, from that long-ago Thanksgiving weekend in NYC. After he had abused me for the first time in our room at the YMCA, I can't seem to forgive myself for climbing into his bed later that night, my arousal unmistakable, inviting him to do so again, giving him the rationale he needed for the next twenty months of abusing me.

I've forgiven him, although maybe I need to pray more for him. He didn't understand the harm he was doing. But I still don't seem to have forgiven me, even though I was just a confused kid - both by his design and in my dependence on him - who knew so much less than I know now.

No wonder I remain stuck here.

Unworthy

In his long journey home, the Prodigal faces a hard truth - he is not worthy to be called his father's son [ . . . ] We distance ourselves from the Prodigal to avoid the risk he is taking. Our hearts protest: "No, I am worthy. I deserve better. I work hard. I am a good person - at least, I'm better than most . . . . The gatekeeper will have to let me in to the Father . . . . Surely I am good enough to get into heaven. We argue our case, justifying ourselves by excusing our failures and pleading our successes. We try to earn the love we are afraid to ask for. - Neal Lozano, Abba's Heart

Yes, this is Fr. Spitzer's "comparative identity" at work again. Only by receiving the mercy and grace that are freely offered us do we stop comparing ourselves to others and become vessels of God's love in their lives, too.

There is no more undeserving Prodigal than me. I used to say that with a harsh spirit of judgment toward myself, but now it is just an honest and grateful recognition of God's love and a desire that all should know it.

Pentecost novena, session 3

Related to session 1,  inspired  by Fr. Satish's homily:

When the Holy Spirit convicts us regarding sin and righteousness and judgment, the very first thing that happens is that we become agents of mercy. I receive a gift of forgiveness and mercy which I can never deserve, and this makes me hunger for others to receive it, too. While I may become more aware of the difference between sin and righteousness, that awareness is expressed in the context of mercy and love. We set aside our judgment of others in light of the grace we know ourselves to have received.

The awareness of too many of today's Christians of their own depravity outside of Christ falls short of the level that it takes to be vessels of mercy above all else.

Transforming (phase 4) - Jesus appears to his disciples behind closed doors – Divine Mercy Sunday (step 29) - session 3b

Luke 24:36-49
Mk 16:14-18 (cont.)

Then he said to them, "These are my words which I spoke to you, while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the law of Moses and the prophets and the psalms must be fulfilled." Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures . . . - (Lk 24:44-45)

Why are there so many scripture readings at the Easter vigil service? Because all of creation's history is about Jesus!  How wonderful it must have been to hear him reveal the Scriptures' relevance to him, especially in the context of having just discovered that he was not dead, but alive!

And (he) said to them, "Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be preached in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.  You are witnesses of these things.  And behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you; but stay in the city, until you are clothed with power from on high." - (46-49)

We are back to the central truth discussed so recently. The purpose of the wondrous ministry of Jesus was to lead us to the forgiveness of our sins and the declaring of the boundless mercy of God!

Transforming (phase 4) - Jesus appears to his disciples behind closed doors – Divine Mercy Sunday (step 29) - session 1c

Jn 20:19-23 (cont.)

. . . he breathed on them, and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained." (22b-23)

Okay, one final thing here. It is widely understood in the Catholic Church that this "loosing" and "binding" of sins is an apostolic gift, and passed along to the priesthood via apostolic succession. Yet it is likewise evident through other gospel passages that we each are gifted by the Holy Spirit with the capacity and responsibility for forgiving those who sin against us. (I'm not going to look these up for now.)

It is the Holy Spirit who provides each of us with this capacity, which is counter to our human nature, by which we tend to wrap ourselves around our hurt, and in fact become bound by the sins we refuse to forgive. The Spirit allows us to receive healing when we offer forgiveness, but withholding forgiveness has the effect of stifling the Spirit's healing power in our lives.

Transforming (phase 4) - Jesus appears to his disciples behind closed doors – Divine Mercy Sunday (step 29) - session 1b

Jn 20:19-23 (cont.)

I understand why the process of Lectio Divina calls for multiple readings of the same passage. Today I'm struck by this passage:

Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I send you." And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained." (21-23)

It seems to me that these words are related to Jesus' response to Philip request at the Last Supper, when he said, "Lord, show us the Father, and we shall be satisfied." (Jn 14:8)  Jesus' reply included, "Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go to the Father." (14:12)

It is comparatively easy for us to see wondrous things for which there is no explanation and recognize in them the glory of God. In St. Luke's gospel, the scribes and Pharisees were amazed when the paralytic - whose determined friends had lowered him to Jesus through the roof - got up with his mat and walked away.

Yet Jesus made it clear in the moment: that sign was only performed so that we might understand that Jesus had the authority to forgive sins. Likewise, every physical healing that Jesus ever did was simply a means to display a greater truth: the mercy and forgiveness of God to us who sin.

Now, there has been great theological debate in recent years - and for all I know, since Jesus' time - concerning the necessity of Christ's fulfilling the ancient law with regard to the sacrifice required for the forgiveness of sins. Would a merciful God really establish the shedding of blood as a requirement for forgivenss? Many conclude that this doesn't sound very loving. But the offering of sacrifices was well established before Abraham was called to offer up Isaac as a holocaust; what if God merely assigned it a new meaning that would allow us to recognize our forgiveness in Christ Jesus?

Fr. Neuhaus expounds on the idea that a prerequisite for for forgiveness was needed not to satisfy God's sense of justice, but our own. God accepted our condemnation of him so that we might not condemn ourselves. So God's establishment of the need for blood sacrifice within the law was intended to allow us to have context in which to recognize and accept Jesus' sacrifice on our behalf. He very well knew what we were going to do to Him.

When Jesus promises we will do greater works than these, let us not forget that the greatest work of all is the forgiveness of sins that we might receive our spiritual freedom in place of our slavery to sin. "As the Father has sent me, even so I send you . . . Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven." The mission of the Church is the "greater work" which Jesus promised, not miracles that will pass from corporal existence when the bodies that have been healed are planted in the ground, but the greater miraculous healing of the soul for all eternity.

By comparison, nothing else matters, and in fact all other things matter only in this context.

Transforming (phase 4) - The risen Jesus appears to Mary and to the other women (step 28) - session 1b

Mk 16:1-11 (cont.)
Now when he rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons. She went and told those who had been with him, as they mourned and wept. But when they heard that he was alive and had been seen by her, they would not believe it. - (9-11)

Though he doesn't say so explicitly, this appearance to Mary apparently happened after the women scattered following the appearance of the angel instructing them to tell the disciples that Jesus was risen from the dead. Even though Jesus had started preparing Peter, James and John following the Transfiguration (9:9-10), the news was too great for the disciples to believe.

I can understand their skepticism on multiple grounds. First of all there was the emotional turmoil they'd just experienced, seeing their hope crushed by Jesus' crucifixion. I can completely understand their hesitation to put any further hope in him. Further, there was the intellectual resistance. They had seen him raise Jairus' daughter (5:22-43), but he had been alive to do it. Or perhaps they didn't fully believe that the girl had indeed died. (Limiting myself here to St. Mark's gospel for examples.)

I struggle with far lesser elements of faith than Jesus' resurrection. I assume it's true, and still doubt the full implications of that assumption with regard to my own guilt. If this story were being told about me, approaching the 20th anniversary of my worst day and describing Jesus' role in my own life and my forgiveness in him, perhaps a neutral observer would write, he would not believe it.  But I'm trying to, and asking the Holy Spirit to help me to.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. (9:24)