entry ~ remember to remember ~

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Sometimes I think I'd be better off if I'd never left The Way.

Then I recall the vast, empty hole in my soul my last year that I was involved.  I was so, so empty. I was living a lie for I no longer believed The Way to be God's true "household;" yet, I continued to rationalize and feel that my soul-death was fully self-induced. 

As I write this, a fog drifts in.  And then a mountain; a huge mountain covered by thick and thin clouds.  I look at it and I don't have the energy to climb.

I recall when prior to leaving The Way, I researched for at least six(?) months as to where I could turn if I decided to take the step out into the "wilderness," beyond the "protection of the household."  I was afraid.  Of what was I afraid?  By leaving The Way, was I leaving God's absolute truth?  By leaving The Way, would my family survive emotionally and spiritually and relationally?  Who could I trust to turn to when I left?  Would I become bitter and harsh if I left?

I didn't want bitterness; I just wanted the vast, empty hole in my soul to be eased, the death to be risen again.  I felt a deep sense that something had died.

I still struggle; yet I no longer have that sense of death or the empty hole.  I currently get frustrated with myself for not having more discipline; it seems I had more discipline while in The Way.  I would push, push, push through health challenges.  But was it true discipline or simply approval labor?

I still have health challenges, but they are different now.  If I take a moment to recall and reflect -  I no longer contemplate suicide.  I no longer grieve and cry everyday.  I no longer continuously strive to live up to a perfectionistic standard; perhaps I need that a little more....to help me get some discipline.

These days I seem to mostly battle fatigue.  I seem to need 10 to 12 hours of sleep per day.  Some days it takes effort to simply get dressed.  Then again it used to be that way, and worse; I struggled simply to breathe.  For years my sleep patterns were horrid.  I'd have to sleep sitting up, and even cross-legged leaning forward over a 'husband' pillow, one of those pillow chairs that I still use to sit up in bed when I want to read or write.  For years the most sleep I could get at one time was four hours; I'd then awake in the throws of an asthma attack which would last for one-and-one-half to two hours.  Then I'd go back to sleep again for a couple hours.  It reminded me of a seizure.

I no longer live that way.  Maybe my ten to twelve hours is making up for lost sleep time.

I used to become angry and have rages.  I couldn't control my life because I had so much trouble breathing. And I wasn't sure when the next siege would erupt; they were violent and unpredictable, other than once they started they'd last for a couple hours.  Therefore, when I could breath, I pushed to get things accomplished knowing that any moment an attack awaited.  That may sound extreme, but that's how it was; that's how it is for folks who suffer attacks, chronic illness flare-ups, seizures.

I sometimes wonder how I functioned at all.  Along with breathing problems, not only in my lungs but also my sinuses which would fill with polyps, I would break out in severe hives. There was a period of at least a year where I would would awake in the middle of the night and have to throw up.  I had aches all through my body.  My blood would itch, as I called it; my blood felt like it was laced with fiberglass.

So Carol, look at that.  And that is only the tip of the iceberg.  It doesn't include the pregnancy complications, surgeries, bouts of pneumonia, helping care for parents, the struggle with shame and self-hatred, the donning of the fellowship face and still endeavoring to live honestly, and I don't know what else.

This all started during my fourth year of involvement with The Way.  It started when I chose, due to my indoctrinated belief, that it was my duty to pay my vow, to fulfill my Way Corps calling, even though every fiber in me didn't want to start The Way Corps over again.  I suppressed those fibers and they grew tentacles that entrapped me.  To make things worse, I never fulfilled that Way Corps calling, but AWOLed again.  Shame upon shame upon shame, trapped in one's own condemnation and self-destructive belief system. 

No wonder fog comes in over the mountain.

Yet, I want to remember.  I want to honor life.  I want to honor suffering. I want to honor hope.  I want to continue on freedom's course, whatever that may mean.

You are doing o.k., you know.  So chin up there girl.

One of my recent favorite songs:

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