Self, Partially Beamed
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.
By decarter in God stuff, growing up, healing
8 Responses to “Self, Partially Beamed”
Goodness this moves me. I’ve wondered often in the past few months if we’re ever “fully beamed” – perhaps it’s my own unflinching realization of my brokenness or the road I have left to take in my healing. I know this though – I know the curiosity of finding the perfect words for how you’re truly feeling. I know the frustration of not knowing how to explain the process it takes to pinpoint those areas in my heart that have never been exposed. And I know the messiness it takes to pull back everything in order to alleviate the questions of not knowing.
All this to say: I’m learning it’s a process. And your process? It looks vastly different from mine. Someone else completely different from us will experience an all together different road of healing. But that doesn’t make either less beautiful. It doesn’t make our partial beamness less powerful.
Elora:
Thank you for your words…I love how you “left the road you were on to take in your healing” so true that it is an alternate journey.
I love how you reminded me that the process looks different for each person — there is comfort in knowing we’re shaped by recipient-appropriate tools, in the hands of our Potter. He knows what it takes to get us to solidify.
Dawn
beautiful. im thankful that you wrote. i am thankful for these words. its amazing that answering a simple question can be so challenging. this i know too well. im thankful for your insight! love you friend
Cari:
I’m so glad that #NovemberBlogFest has gotten me writing again. I’m learning so much as I sit down to write and see what shows up.
I appreciate your kind words and the visit to my blog. Though IRL is always preferred
Dawn
This is lovely, Dawn, thank you for sharing yourself. I love the opening anecdote – it really paints a picture and conveys the inner struggle in a concrete way. But aside from that, it’s just a beautiful glimpse into your soul. I feel privileged. (and I will now add Trekkie nerd to my Dawn file… which, of course, hangs just before the Fork file and down the way a bit from the Plate file)
–Kim
Partially beamed. I thought this had everything to do with sunbeams, until the Star Trek references. But you know, I think your name fits this as well. Dawn. The moment when sunbeams softly make their way over the horizon to wash the world with hope of a new day, partially beaming for those awake enough to see it.
This is beautiful. And I understand so much of what you’re saying. I was just driving home from the grocery thinking about how powerful self-love is. And I think there’s an element of healthy self-love that can be healing for people (like me) who need to have the final say in whether or not I’m good enough. I don’t know if this is making sense. But I think part of self-love is learning to really know ourselves and give ourselves permission to be… And I think self-love, for you, might be in fully expressing yourself. Gosh I’m talking in circles. But something tells me you’ll get it.
Mandy:
In the midst of visiting company you took time to not only read, but reflect beautifully on my post. Thank you for your time and thoughts.
Yes, I had my own copy of the True and the Questions by Sabrina Ward Harrison (thanks for telling me about it, Elora!) but gave it away. It was lovely, will have to get another one.
I’m grateful for the brave souls who forge ahead of me…giving me permission to bud, safe spaces to do so, encouragement to express, as you put it.
Thank you for your wisdom & example, Mandy.
Dawn
OH! And remind me: are you familiar with The True And The Questions? If not, it might be a great way for you to continue to safely beam yourself. Love you.