Sunday, May 13, 2012

Le Sigh

I think of my family. Of course I do.

Especially days like today, on Mother's Day . . . when I wish I could pick up the phone, and call my mom just to hear the sound of her voice again.

I try to remember the good moments (and we had *many*) - those happy, carefree days when my siblings and I rode our bikes for hours, roller-bladed, sang together, went on road trips, and cracked each other up.

But there are other moments. Those moments laced with harsh and almost oppressive expectations, too heavy to bear. My health broke. The last year in my father's house, the dawning realization in my heart, the stress and helplessness I felt - it was all like a bad dream. I needed to get away. So get away I did.
On days like today, I pull up a few of my favorite links. I read again the writings of strangers, who seem like friends to me, mostly because they've walked this road before me. These "friends" took all my messy emotions, combed the dark corners of my heart, and wove into words what I would have never brought myself to say.

They know me.

They've walked my journey.

And they've learned to move on.

So now you know. Where I've come from, and where I hope to be. :)

PS: Be sure to read all 7 posts in rebuilding after deconstruction - you'll be glad you did.
~ Mrs. Arcfide


Johanna Hsu said...

"You can always choose to leave. Maybe you already have left. As a lot of us did. But if you make or have already made that choice, it seems to me, there should be no expectations of changing the cultural structure that has anchored the church for so long. A structure that was in place long before you were born. And will be here long after you are gone.

If you suddenly see the light, and conclude that all those manmade traditions and rules are unbiblical, that the bishop has too much power, whatever, by all means follow your own conscience. State your position. Do what you have to do. But then, don’t complain when the inevitable consequences follow. Don’t expect an entire culture to see things your way. That’s like kicking a concrete wall, expecting it to give. It won’t. You’ll only hurt yourself. And endure a lot of needless suffering.

We all have to find our own equilibrium, those of us who left. Our own sense of who we are, where we’re going, and how we’ll get there. And how we absorb and deal with the daily consequences of our choices.

Some deal with it one way and some another. Some never do.

Letting go is the only answer. Let go the rage, the anguish, the hurts, the wrongs. Life’s not fair. Just let it rest. That doesn’t mean there won’t be flashbacks. Or that you never have to deal with the issues again. Or that you won’t have to vent occasionally, when something sneaks up and whaps you upside the head. And that’s OK.

It does mean you can take control and live a productive life without allowing the hurts of the past to control your present well being. That you can walk in calmness, with a peaceful heart. You can even reach a point where you respect and honor the good things the Amish hold on to, of which there are many.

Not that you have to reach that point. But you can.

Only by letting go will you ever be truly free." - Ira Wagler

Anonymous said...

Do you every try to write or call your mom? That's sad that you can't be in contact with her/them. Or they don't even try?

Makes me so very thankful for the wonderful relationship I have with my mother!! I know my parents would never "write me off". But then again, I would never write them off either.