Thursday, September 12, 2013


I feel like I was slapped in the face. Or salt was poured on an open wound. Pick your metaphor.

I begged to be allowed to attend the women's retreat with Sullivan but there was no budging on the rule. And that's okay- really. I trust that they prayed about it and made the correct choice. It still sucks and hurts but I trust. However, what I didn't realize until yesterday was that the words they sent back to me were empty. And that hurts even more.

I felt (and frankly still do) that I haven't been this in need of help/support/mentorship since high school/early college. I am desperate. My emotions are out of control. Raising a VERY strong willed boy is hard work and I have no idea what I'm doing. Being married to and parenting alongside someone who does not share my faith and convictions, is so so so hard. Add an infant on top of that. Financial struggles. And lots more and you get one hot mess. Me.

What I realized yesterday was that the response email I received was full of empty support. Words written from a safe distance behind a computer screen. Am I supposed to feel better that they prayed for me? Is that what Titus 2 exhorts women to do? Just pray from afar. Once.

Well, I think it requires more. I think that when someone pours their heart out, begging to be included, sounding as desperate as I did back then (it was even worse then when the hormones were raging more than they are now) you have to respond. In person. And yesterday, I realized that it hurt that no one did. That they essentially heard my pleas for help and left me to drown.

And yesterday, they asked me to help 'rescue' other people. To join them to mentor our church's young women. Which I would love to do. With all my heart.

But I'm currently drowning. I'm literally barely staying afloat. I'm clinging to Christ, my life preserver, for all I'm worth. Until someone offers me a hand- there's no way I can offer a hand to help others.

So I cried. A lot. Like all day. And I dreamed of saying nasty things to get my point across.

Instead I 1) settled for asking to be removed from the list for this and future requests (because until you have an ounce of a relationship with me, you haven't earned the right to ask for my help after you abandoned me in (one of) my darkest hour(s). And no, commiserating on facebook is not enough support for a new mom) and 2) told them again that I'm drowning.

And then today I decided to create my own life raft. I'm working on getting a women's group started for women like me- who are drowning but don't just want to bitch about it. Instead, they're looking for a safe place to be tired, vulnerable, hurt, tired, inspired, encouraged, and challenged. I'm still happy. I don't doubt any of my choices- in a spouse or to have kids- but I need someone to float with. And hopefully together we can rescue each other. I'm praying God sends a 'Karen'- someone just enough older and farther down the road to help lead the way. Otherwise, this could be comical. A bunch of drowning victims trying to save each other.

You never know. God likes to work so that HIS glory is shown.

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