I remember the early days of married life, when my starry-eyed new husband would ask me a simple question, “Darling, where would you like to go eat tonight?”
I’d frantically try to recall what his last favorite place was so I could answer safely. I was guaranteed to get it right if I gave him his favorite restaurant as my answer. This seemed normal to me. Someone asks me a preference, you defer to theirs. Automatically.
Years have gone by since that silliness, but I remember distinctly feeling like a lost member of the Starship Enterprise (there, my Trekkie roots have been exposed) whose transportation beaming was interrupted mid-process. If someone asked me basic questions, which should be simple to answer, like:
- What restaurant do you feel like going to?
- Did you like this movie?
- What are you feeling inside, really feeling right now?
I’d be hard pressed to genuinely answer.
It was never about being evasive or dishonest. It was almost like being asked to find something you have no clue how to locate. Cluelessness isn’t necessarily evasiveness, though it was perceived as such in my close relationships.
Now, in hindsight, after years of individual therapy, Bible studies, small groups, healing groups, word studies and reading, I see that most of my life has been spent with Dawn, partially-beamed. The molecules hadn’t a chance to solidify. Amidst the swirling of my internal noise, I could never identify my core. My real self. The Soul that God created.
I grew up in an alcoholic, chaotic and yet rigid home, where emotions and particularly negative emotions were not allowed. At a young age you learn to appease, please and over-perform to make everything OK. The molecules of my forming self never had a chance.
I grew up properly churched, so I automatically discounted any internal rumblings…clamped down on any confusion or discontent with a quickly applied Bible verse or platitude. I applied direct pressure until the bleeding stopped. But the bleeding never stopped. It just went deeper inside. And the swirling molecules of my soul never settle.
So, the process of becoming solid has been a slow one. A painful one, and I wish I could say, a completed journey, but no, it continues on. With each step of obedience I take towards wholeness, my center takes a little more shape. Each uncovered place of arrested grief that gets grieved out moves me towards solidness. Every time I establish a new boundary or express a real, yet risky emotion, I gel.
I cling on (or should I say Klingon) to the hope that He who began a good work in me will bring it about to completion. The God who wooed me to him in the first place is not the enemy after all, but is the one cheering my progress, moving me towards wholeness.
Until one day, I can stand, fully beamed aboard my destination….swirling particle me gone….fully formed and fully loved me standing present, blinky-eyed in wonder at my next frontier.
But I’m not there yet.