But in your eyes there’s only grace now

(Lauren Daigle – How Can it Be)

 

I am a processor…almost always that means a couple days after a conversation I will finally be ready to respond…and sometimes that means that months or years later I start understanding things about myself.

 

I don’t give myself a lot of grace. I realized today that a big reason for that is because of how I’ve been treated in the past. When you deserve praise and instead are told how big of a failure you are, you learn that anything less than someone else’s version of perfection is absolutely unacceptable. You learn to put yourself down because it doesn’t hurt nearly as much if you have already started the verbal beating for someone else to finish it. That doesn’t make it okay, but it does give me some good understanding to work on changing that.

 

I need a lot of grace. I haven’t really unpacked yet…sure, it isn’t super obvious because most of my stuff is shoved in boxes in the closet so unless you open a box to find two pencils, a solitary sock, a pile of graduation announcements, a sponge, and a ball with a smiley face on it, you would never know that this isn’t unpacked…I also haven’t run the dishwasher since moving in. I haven’t chosen a church, and I haven’t drank any milk.

 

I look at my life right now and see so much failure. It is hard to believe that God sees me through the lens of grace and thinks the world of me. Sometimes it is hard to believe he cares or wants me at all. Sometimes it even feels like he has given up on me. I know it isn’t true, but when my world is disintegrating and I can’t find anything to hold on to, I guess the truth about God gets a little twisted.

 

On the positive side though…I discovered the social worker on rounds actually wasn’t the scary kind…as it turns out she really is the kind that is a discharge planner…she just got asked about a psych consult not because she was going to do the consult but because she needed to coordinate that happening prior to discharge…I was super thankful to realize that, and it made rounds a lot better. I wonder if that is what the ‘I’ in the middle of LCSW means…I tried to look up what the different versions of the social worker license mean, because I always thought if it had a C that meant clinical which meant the person was the counseling kind of social worker, but all I could figure out was that LSW was a social worker with a bachelor’s degree…all the rest of the licenses it sounded like were pretty identical and I could not figure out what the differences were…even the other one without a C looked like clinical was an option with that license just as much as it was for the ones where C was in the title…

 

Also, wanna be proud of me? I had to talk on the phone with a psychiatrist because I had a medication intervention to attempt on a behavioral health unit patient. I did it! It really wasn’t so bad…professional interaction…the fact that I recognize that as something that could be very hard for me on a bad day though is one more reminder that this isn’t just going to go away.

 

Grief is very intimately linked to the abuse, and grief is very unpredictable. Yesterday I was at the bottom. When I was alone I was only not crying for five minutes at a time. It was a rough evening. But this evening I am not rockin’ it or anything, but I have had my lunch leftovers (yeah, I know, corollary: I failed to finish lunch), dinner, and snack. I’m at least thinking about running the dishwasher and finding the dirty laundry and doing that…obvi it still depends on how I am feeling tomorrow whether it gets done or not, but the better days are really encouraging. They remind me that I am a survivor. And I definitely feel a lot better about myself when my life is in a little less chaos. Maybe not today, but someday I will be okay.

 

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