Trauma and Responsibility

This post is a pretty deep dive into my psyche, if you will.  Bear with me if you can, but it's ok if it's a bit much.

It started with me jumping head first back into some work I started the day before, uncovering some trauma that explains, at least in part, why I feel responsible for things that are not my fault or not my burdens to carry.

I discovered yesterday that I have a "Responsibility Part" that is weighed down, desperate to keep me from being hurt by more people, so it takes unneeded responsibility, and I live chained, not free. 

So this morning, I coaxed that little part of me out, cowering and despairing and burdened, to sit with me and Jesus. 

How grateful I am that Jesus is always with me! "I will never leave you, nor forsake you," the great I AM said to Joshua as Jesus said later to His disciples, "Surely I am with you always, even to the end of the age" (Joshua 1:5, Matthew 28: 20).

Yesterday I had pictured that little Responsibility Part carrying what looked like a grey brick wrapped in grey paper, a great weight that was far heavier than it looked. Today, I pictured it with that weight like a grey vest. When that Part came out to sit with me, it took off the vest and laid it down, like it was showing or offering it to Jesus. Next thing I knew, tears were falling from my closed eyes because in my mind's eye Jesus picked up that vest and put it on Himself. He was smiling tenderly as He did this. It dissolved into Him, shining white like His garment, and I could see that it was no great weight to my Savior. 

It hit me, as tears wet my sheets where I lay picturing this, that the responsibility that I was carrying as this brick of burden was meant to be laid on Jesus. He wants to carry our burdens, and He is the one who is sovereign over all -- not me. I am not meant to carry other peoples' sins, even if they blame their sin on me. Them doing so does not make it so. Jesus carries that weight. He has either paid for it by His precious blood, or He mercifully gives them until their death to repent. They can carry that weight or give it to Him. They cannot make me carry it. My Responsibility Part was burdened by a weight that is not right for me to hoard. 

I didn't feel like this exercise (that sounds like such a callous word for something so impactful) was over, but I didn't know what came next. Jesus was gesturing to Responsibility and me to follow Him, so we did. He took us into a beautiful room, gold and white, with the softest cushion couches I could imagine to rest on. I felt like He was telling me it was time to rest. 

Then He did something I had as much an issue with as Peter did! I didn't know that I would have objected as Peter did to my Savior washing my feet, but oh did I! It felt so very, very wrong. I was so unworthy to have the King and Creator of all, my perfect Savior, washing and massaging my feet like I would pay a pedicurist to do! I objected, feeling the wrongness, and I pictured Him grinning at me. 

With a laugh, He said that He enjoys upending worthiness. 

That was the whole point of the cross, was it not? 

We are not worthy, I am not worthy, though I long so much to be, and He came to take our sin and unworthiness on as a garment and die for it. Then He gave us His worthiness, His perfection, to wear and someday be instead. I felt a taste of the joy He had in "upending worthiness," and it hit me: 

This is what carrying one another's burdens (Galatians 5) should actually feel like. Jesus washing my feet, taking joy in serving and upending my expectations and earning-worth-mindset, makes it possible for me to do the same. 

I don't serve people because they deserve it. I delight in serving others, helping them with their burdens, because Jesus does that for me. It's the way He made us. Everyone helping his or her neighbor, pouring out the love that He showers on us. 

My Responsibility Part wanted to take on the burdens others threw at me -- but it was tainted and motivated by fear: fear that they would hurt me otherwise. That's not true service. That's not the joy in serving that Jesus offers. 

Perhaps it's not even my Responsibility Part's job.

Maybe it's my Love Part.

So in the end, as this experience (a better word than exercise?) came to a close, we were sitting together, the three of us, on a hill top that I picture to calm myself. Jesus came to hug me close, a big sweet hug, gentle and full of hesed, and my Responsibility Part squeezed herself in between us to come home back inside me.

There was peace there -- and the start of healing. 

Photo credit: Eugene Chystiakov on unsplash.com

Trauma and Plastic Straws

 So my husband and I had a fight about the ban on plastic straws.

Not really - nothing we do can be called a "fight" unless it's taking place on the Playstation, where he likes to chase me with a stick on Minecraft, trying to kill me in a way that is slightly challenging for him and a strange kind of childlike tag thrill for me.

So no, it wasn't really a fight, but it was the closest we get. It was a discussion where we were not understanding what the other person was hung up on and where we both ended up hurt and mad. 

Here's how it went. He brought up a meme he'd seen on the absurdity of banning plastic straws and not any other plastic products. I got defensive and started looking up the reasons California banned plastic straws and reading them to him. He stated again that just banning plastic straws was insufficient. I talked about how it was at least a first step toward addressing a major issue. He left to wash dishes, frustrated, and I stewed at my seat, shaken, until we could put our preschooler to bed and talk about what went wrong. 

Any outsider looking in would probably have felt slightly awkward at the feeling of conflict in the air and also scoffed at the silliness of our hurt feelings over this "debate." But what's at the heart here? Let me try to show you.

We sat down to talk about why we felt crappy about it, and what we said was the same thing at the heart: neither of us felt heard; both of us felt that our views were not allowed to be voiced. Over a plastic straw ban? Silly, you may say! 

Any issue can be silly and also completely misunderstood by the other person. 

My sweet hubby knew that we both felt the same about this issue: plastic is a problem, is causing a buildup of microplastics in drinking water, soil, and the ocean that cause major health problems for people and kill wildlife straight up. The government, polarized by angry people who refuse to give on either side or research the size of the issue, issues insufficient laws that do not fix the problem. We agree on this. He was pointing out a meme that seemed to match our agreement on this. He then tried to tell me this is what he was saying, and I didn't get it.

I, on the other hand, have a problem with memes made by people who just sit on their computers scorning the government and environmentalism without being open to learning about the problem. This was informing my reaction. I also hate when people seem to make snap judgment calls and scorn an idea without researching it and finding out WHY the idea/issue exists or why a law was made. Again, a factor informing my reaction. I looked up the research to answer his questions on why the heck CA would make this stupid decision, but he didn't seem to accept or understand. 

So we talked about it. I explained why I felt hurt and confused, and he explained why he felt hurt and confused. We both said we felt like we had no voice. Open to figuring out why the other person had felt this way, we took turns and listened. Afterwards we hugged and thanked each other, and I cried. There was a lot of emotion. Why?

We are dealing with trauma. 

An important person in our life had shut down our voices through the years whenever he felt challenged. We were manipulated, shamed, and deeply wounded. My man's voice is just starting to come out with people besides me - he's tearing walls down that were built as a child. I'm starting to put medical/psychology terms to what my experience has been and how that trauma has affected me. And sometimes, we have discussions about things that others would consider trivial, and we walk away triggered. So we use our voices, which ARE valuable and ARE important to be used, and we tear down the newly scaffolded wall between us by humbly, honestly explaining exactly how we feel and why. And we thank each other for listening, for being safe, for embracing messy intimacy instead of turning away, wounded, building scar tissue and more walls, pretending we're fine. 

We've learned much about intimacy recently, and that is part of why we do what we do... but in reality, our relationship has always been about finding the problem between us and working it out. I'm so very, very grateful for that. 

So we go forward. There will be more plastic-straw-like discussions that trigger the trauma in both of us. There will be anger and hurt. Then afterwards, there will be honesty, humility, gentleness, and understanding. We will go forward, hand in hand, and we will continue to have the peace that God has gifted us in our relationship. 

And hopefully, as we journey on, God's amazing forgiveness and love will be what shines out of us - not merely our opinions on plastic straws.

 

 

 

Photo credit: Thoa Ngo on Unsplash.com