When Did It Start?

Today I was thinking about that question. A few days ago I was asked when the exhaustion started. When I first felt it.

I still remember quite clearly that one day when I was working for my abusive employers when our relationship was still good. I had just come back to the warehouse with my empty cardboard. There was a stack of flattened boxes on top which I plopped in exhaustion. My coworker came out of the freezer and my other coworker standing by the table and they asked me if I was ok. I replied that I'm just so exhausted. To which the one said, Maybe J_____ would give you less hours or something.

I don't remember what I said in reply but as I pondered it today I remember some of the reasons I was exhausted.

Then in session today we started digging into these memories.

I remembered another time when I was stocking and I came back with an empty cart to load up with another load of groceries and T_______ complemented me by saying that I work as fast as two people. It made me feel good as I never got compliments from my parents like that.

They felt led to start a Bible study and rented a small church for the venue with the intent of hopefully starting a church. I was so passionate about the endeavor and the thought of having a church close to home instead of 3 hours away that I spent over $1200 on a musical instrument plus took lessons to learn how to play it. They made it sound as though the church was really going to happen but at the end of the Bible study(several months long) they shut the whole thing down saying they didn't feel led to start a church anymore.

After a few other bits and pieces were discussed I remembered how early on when I was going to the first church after I started driving there was a revival. I wanted to attend and there was the anticipation of a pastor from another state that was coming to preach it. I still remember his name. He preached a lot on the baptism of the Holy Spirit with the evidence of speaking in tongues. His preaching (actually shouting in a loud voice) had some people's emotions so stirred that they stood up.

I was one of them. I was trembling so much I could hardly control it. I had praying for almost half a year at this point for the baptism of the Spirit because I wanted "it" so bad.

There was a sweet older lady sitting in front of me and she smiled at me and for a moment laid her hand on my hand that was gripping the back of the bench in front of me. She knew the preacher was speaking to me even though he didn't call me out but he was looking at me.

He was yelling, you can have "it" tonight. How bad do you want "it"? And more...

Finally, I couldn't stand the pressure and emotionalism anymore and somehow made it to the altar and raised my hands begging god with tears to fill me with his Spirit. The preacher put his big hand on my forehead and in fervor and high emotionalism he prayed for me in a loud voice. Others came and prayed too. Some prayed for me. After at least an hour and half almost everyone had drifted back to their seats except for 2 ladies who were still weeping and praying for and with me.

Eventually I came to "my senses" and realized that it hadn't happened and people were wanting to go home. As I lowered my arms and glanced around I noticed that the preacher who had told me that I can have "it" tonight had at some point left the room and changed into other clothes because they were planning to drive home yet that night and was sitting on the step with his young son next to him and his phone in his hand.

In that moment, there was a bitterness/ anger that I felt at his lack of compassion, interest, and care for me in my struggle. As I had learned to do, I buried that piece of junk(I really want to call it sh*t) as deep as I could because the betrayal was to big and deep in that moment for me to even begin to comprehend it.

That night was very dark. I had prayed and begged and fasted so much and I just couldn't do it anymore. It felt like God was holding it just out of reach and that no matter how hard I tried I just wasn't getting anywhere. And it felt like God was just teasing me.

I somehow kept going. It was quite a while before I ever again asked god to fill me with the Spirit. It was just too much of a painful topic. I pretty much gave up on the subject.

So today when I mentioned it, it seemed to be a good place to go because it was a one time incident and the mess with my abusive employers is much longer and more traumatic. Just talking about a few of the memories brought so much confusion and fear and grief to the surface that it almost hurt physically.

After deciding what direction I feel like I can handle, we discussed it a bit more in between my tears. I was asked what I would like to say to him if I could. I couldn't think of anything but said I wanted to kick him. I was reminded that we can do anything in our imagination that we need to to release the anger.

After thinking and talking a bit more, I was reminded how in one of the sexual abuse memories that had come to the surface a while ago I was able to throw all the shame and fear in the shape of a boulder onto my abuser where it belonged. I said that it's harder because what happened is more elusive like sand or water. It's hard to put words and action into something concrete.

After wracking my brain some more, trying to figure out a way to give all the shame and fear and pain back to him where they belong, I finally came up with a picture. It's too ugly to put here because 1. I don't want people to think I'm a mean, revengeful person because I'm not. Its just a way of releasing the anger at the horrible injustices done to me. 2. I don't want to trigger anyone with graphic images. And so, for now it remains only for me and my support people to see but it definitely helped with releasing the anger and hurt from the situation...