Have you ever heard a pastor or a speaker get up to talk and start out by saying something like, "I had this whole big speech planned out perfectly, and I'd written all my notes and talking points, and about two minutes ago God told me to throw all of that away and he'd tell me what to say right now." That's kind of what happened to me with this blog post.
I had this whole thing planned out about how Jesus was homeless and I'm a bridge person and I don't fit in one camp or the other, and God said, "Well, that's nice, and probably a little self-aggrandizing, but why don't you just talk about this thing over here that you never ever like to talk to anyone about. That's what I want you to talk about."
So, here it goes. This past week I went to the Community Counseling Center and made an appointment to see a counselor this week.
Wellness has always been a struggle for me. It's a generational struggle. My grandmother was an alcoholic while my mom was growing up. My mom went in and out of depression and on and off medication while I was growing up. And now I switch between hope and despair, between laughing and sobbing, between being a better me and being everything I never wanted to be.
I don't like to talk about this. I don't like to be vulnerable and weak. My childhood was unstable. I didn't have a real sense of security, so I learned not to trust anyone. But that was fine, because I could be strong. I could do everything. I can do everything. I can pay my bills, work hard, volunteer all my time, take care of everyone else, also be there for my friends, listen to everyone else's problems, and never ever say that I'm weak and I need help. I have to be enough, because I can't trust anyone else. If I'm not enough, than everything falls apart. There's no back-up plan. It's just me.
This is incredibly prideful and stupid. It's also hypocritical. Part of what pushed me to seek counseling is that I spend a lot of my time working with women who have been trafficked, exploited, and abused. One of the women I work with, a long-time survivor, kept talking about how children aren't resilient. When a child is hurt, they stay hurt. The person can grow up and look like an adult, but if that pain is never dealt with it just lingers. That's where I am. I look like an adult. I speak intelligently, I know my stuff, I pay my rent, I run church programs, I go on missions trips, but inside I'm sad and scared and lonely and mad. And I'm not ever going to be any real good to anyone if I don't deal with that.
So, I surrendered, and I went to the counseling center, and tried to figure out how to do it discreetly, and I thought that was enough. But apparently God wasn't done with me. Have you ever been at an event and it felt like God was talking directly through the speaker straight at you? My church went to this Casting Crowns concert last night, and that's what happened. God made it incredibly apparent that he doesn't just want me to go to counseling and secretly deal with my problems. He wants me to stop being perfect and to start being real and honest, with everyone.
So, here I go. Now you know. I'm putting to death the perfect Jenny. The one who has it all together. The one who's such an awesome Christian and does so much outreach. The one who has everything under control and never needs anyone. The one who everyone can depend on. I pray that I am resurrected humble and honest and dependent on my Savior, because even Jesus said, "No one is good except God alone." (Luke 18:19b)
I had this whole thing planned out about how Jesus was homeless and I'm a bridge person and I don't fit in one camp or the other, and God said, "Well, that's nice, and probably a little self-aggrandizing, but why don't you just talk about this thing over here that you never ever like to talk to anyone about. That's what I want you to talk about."
So, here it goes. This past week I went to the Community Counseling Center and made an appointment to see a counselor this week.
Wellness has always been a struggle for me. It's a generational struggle. My grandmother was an alcoholic while my mom was growing up. My mom went in and out of depression and on and off medication while I was growing up. And now I switch between hope and despair, between laughing and sobbing, between being a better me and being everything I never wanted to be.
I don't like to talk about this. I don't like to be vulnerable and weak. My childhood was unstable. I didn't have a real sense of security, so I learned not to trust anyone. But that was fine, because I could be strong. I could do everything. I can do everything. I can pay my bills, work hard, volunteer all my time, take care of everyone else, also be there for my friends, listen to everyone else's problems, and never ever say that I'm weak and I need help. I have to be enough, because I can't trust anyone else. If I'm not enough, than everything falls apart. There's no back-up plan. It's just me.This is incredibly prideful and stupid. It's also hypocritical. Part of what pushed me to seek counseling is that I spend a lot of my time working with women who have been trafficked, exploited, and abused. One of the women I work with, a long-time survivor, kept talking about how children aren't resilient. When a child is hurt, they stay hurt. The person can grow up and look like an adult, but if that pain is never dealt with it just lingers. That's where I am. I look like an adult. I speak intelligently, I know my stuff, I pay my rent, I run church programs, I go on missions trips, but inside I'm sad and scared and lonely and mad. And I'm not ever going to be any real good to anyone if I don't deal with that.
So, here I go. Now you know. I'm putting to death the perfect Jenny. The one who has it all together. The one who's such an awesome Christian and does so much outreach. The one who has everything under control and never needs anyone. The one who everyone can depend on. I pray that I am resurrected humble and honest and dependent on my Savior, because even Jesus said, "No one is good except God alone." (Luke 18:19b)
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