Saturday, April 21, 2007
Recently I received several e-mails and phone calls from friends who feel at rock bottom. Have you ever been there? Two lost high-paying jobs unexpectedly, one discovered her husband having an affair, one has cancer, another’s husband has a terminal illness, and the others are suffering the aftermath of divorce.
“Where is God in all of this?”
“Why is this happening to me?”
“How do I get the pain to stop?”
“What could I possibly learn from going through all of this?”
I hear their anguish. It would be easy to give pat answers to such desperate questions.
A woman hit head-on by a truck would have visible injuries. We wouldn’t be inclined to say:
“It’s not too bad; only your legs are broken. It can’t be THAT painful. It will get better soon. Think of how much you are going to learn from this.”
Most sensible people offer sympathy, practical help and chocolate. We don’t underestimate the pain and suffering and pretend it isn’t there.
Being hit by an emotional truck is another story.
“It could be worse.”
“This won’t last. You will feel better when….”
“God must love you very much to put you through this.”
The list of inane remarks goes on; I am sure you have your own.
One of the worst I had was:
“I know God has great things planned for you because of all of this.”
At the time, I was so engulfed in pain I felt my eyelashes and fingernails hurt. The pious platitude ignored my present suffering. This person is no longer on my must-share-chocolate list. My head knew that God would work with me through the pain, but at the time, my heart was in crisis and I needed to have that acknowledged.
God hasn’t promised things will be easy. God simply promises to be with us. The night before he died, Jesus prayed three times, “If it is possible, take this pain from me.” It didn’t go away. This comforts and encourages me.
“So, Eileen,” my friends plead, “What am I supposed to do?”
I don’t have a magic formula. I simply share some of the things I use in similar situations.
I pick a simple mantra prayer. My two favorites are from the Psalms.
“Out of the depths I cry to you Lord. Lord, hear my voice.”
When the pain seems unbearable, I add some unprintable adjectives.
The other is: “Near restful waters He leads me to revive my drooping spirit.” This is about as much as I can manage.
I also ask myself if the pain has echoes of earlier, unresolved anguish. Recognition is easier than solution but it’s a start. I repeat the prayer of the blind man: “Lord that I may see.”
I also make sure I ask supportive friends to listen, pray for me, and keep me supplied with chocolate. I sip Rescue Remedy, (a Bach Flower remedy for shock.) During these times, I try to treat all areas of my being.
When the bruising starts to ease, I work at trying to change focus. I try to move from the pity-party episodes and examine ways to move forward. I create daily affirmations.
I am a strong woman.
I am a survivor.
I am resting in the arms of a loving God.
I am healing.
In addition to verbalizing, I write them down, over and over.
This process is not easy, there is no quick fix. Recovery happens and spiritual and emotional strength returns.
For my 60th birthday, I asked my husband to buy me one pearl.
“A pearl?” he quizzed. “Eileen, I didn’t think you were a pearly person.”
He was right, but I wanted this gift to symbolize my life journey. Like a pearl, my inner beauty and spiritual strength has emerged as a result of years of irritation and periods of pain. Strong symbols help me remember the strength and power of my spirit. Come to think of it, I may need to ask for several rows of pearls for my next birthday.
What symbol would you use to depict your inner strength and beauty?
What suggestions would you share with my friends and others in similar situations?
Comments
amazonratz (anonymous) says...
After years of working as a psychiatric nurse, one of my least favorites is "God never gives us more than we can handle." This was contradicted daily by the sight of shattered and broken patients. However, I think your affirmations are lovely and do not make light of hardship, but remind us that growing and living through harsh changes can happen, and that once more, our lives can be at peace.
I need a piece of ocean glass made into a pendant. The constant tossing of the waves drags the broken glass (something someone else threw away) along the bottom of the ocean and turns it into a soft, glowing piece of art that is discovered serendipitously. Nice metaphor for life.
April 21, 2007 at 4:33 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
eroddy (eroddy) says...
Thanks, Amazonratz for your insightful comments. I, too, have heard that one about God not giving us more than we can handle. I wonder what kind of God sits around handing out near impossible things for people to bear? Suffering CAN make us stronger, but, like you, I have also seen people be crushed by it. I believe that part of our work on earth is to be available to support each other in times of trouble, and to celebrate with each other in times of joy.
Most times, when we reach out, we don't want people to fix us; we simply want them to stand beside us until we find our own answers and solutions.
I love your imagery of the ocean glass. I could just see it as you were describing it. It will be inteesting to see what others come up with.
April 21, 2007 at 10:08 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
lcdefior (anonymous) says...
What is my symbol? Dirt - humus rich, loomy, fragrant soil - it is who and what I am. Getting back to the garden helps me center myself. The best things to understand before you get hit by an emotional truck: 1) People will make thoughtless comments, forgive them when you can, 2) There is no timetable; feel what you feel fully and 3) reach out to people when you want to talk - not when they want to talk.
April 23, 2007 at 9:38 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
Photogal (anonymous) says...
I read your story and accompanying comments with great interest, as just today I went to my doctor and told him that I'm so very tired of being in this 'blackness' wrought with emotion. I am a 58 year old widow - nearly two years now - and am not sure that I have ever fully dealt with my loss. There is consternation at my job, as well, and I come home each night exhausted and cry myself to sleep. There has to be more to life than this!
April 25, 2007 at 6:16 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
eroddy (eroddy) says...
I am so sorry to hear what you are going through, Photogal. I have some friends who have become widows too young, and from what they have shared with me, it is a very challenging and painful process. Do you have contact with any women around your age who have gone through or who are going through the same thing? If any of you are out there, and reading this, I hope you will share some of your story.
April 25, 2007 at 9:03 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
daphne (anonymous) says...
Thank you Eileen for this wonderful column.
I think emotional pain can be such a hard thing to deal with. If we have a physical pain it is much easier to take some pain killers which will ease the pain and in time it will heal.
The trouble with emotional pain is that if we take pain killers it just masks the pain and when they wear off then the pain is still there, the trouble also with pain killers is the danger to mask the pain and therefore allow the person to bury the pain which will no doubt show itself in time to come and not always as something we recognize as the original pain.
Since I became a Christian I have dealt with a lot of the pain from my past, but it is a very painful experience and one which God has walked me through step by step. I hurt those around me and with God's help I now realize that I hurt people because I was hurting inside. At the time I did not know that I was hurting. Now when I look back on my treatment of others I am sorry that I did not realize at the time how awful I was.
I do not know if it will help anyone but it may help them to understand when people are hurting them that sometimes it is a self defense mechanism. Possibly why abused becomes abuser.
My sign is the humble Snowdrop. They are such gentle, insignificant flowers with their heads hung but when you look closely they are very beautiful indeed. I think that is true of all women. We are a wealth more precious than gold. We have such a wide capacity for coping with whatever the world throws at us. Somehow we get through and care about how others get through with us. I think all women have so much to offer to each other and that women should talk to other women about what hurts, pleases, touches us etc.
With your hurting friends I think the only way you can help them is to be there for them. No one can go through pain for us but it sure helps to have someone in the Foxhole with us. (Foxhole were dug in the war to hold two people)
April 27, 2007 at 7:04 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
eroddy (eroddy) says...
I loved your expression "We (women) are a wealth more precious than gold," Daphne, as well as your reflection on the symbol of the snowdrop. I wasn't aware that the "foxholes" dug during wartime were to hold two people. I have been blessed with women friends who have taken the risk of getting into the foxhole with me, and who have even dug them to protect me when I have been in the "emotional war zone."
One of the gifts of growing older, is the capacity to be more honest and vulnerable. When we take the risk of reaching out to another woman friend - to receive help or give comfort -the benefits are extraordinary.
April 30, 2007 at 3:45 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
bernadette_england (anonymous) says...
Eileen, i am so impressed by what you write here. it takes me back years. You are a woman of great wisdom. keep writing!!!and encouraging us all on this journey to wholeness!!!
May 8, 2007 at 4:53 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
mmeier (anonymous) says...
Eileen, I find your writing touches and heals me. Thank you for writing from the heart.
May 9, 2007 at 8:14 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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