Longing for a Word...

Would that it were I heard a Word of God for me as a child.
Would that it were I heard a Word of God for me today.
The longing never eases.

I find it ... confusing ... to be at my surgeon's office.  Three things she's treating.  Two now and one with an eventual plan.  Today, I had to have a sonogram.  I am, in truth, surprised I came out the other side.  But it is not yet over for me.

The confusing part is that whilst I am sobbing, violent tremors wracking my body, and vomit spewed on the floor, the tech tells me that I am doing a good job.  Before and afterwards, both nurses and the surgeon tell me how brave I am, no matter that I am weeping and trembling ... before and after.  The surgeon was almost gleeful, looking at my images, because her plan with the never-ending bleeding has worked perfectly so as to avoid a hysterectomy.  Rolling the images through her fingers, she paused, backed up three, and rested her fingertip atop one image, calling it beautiful.

I saw four specialists before her.  She was the only one who saw me as a physical patient, not a mental one.  She actually stopped the bleeding in one visit, as well as a host of other problems.  I now have everything right sized and perfect.

It has been more than two years since I have bled through clothing and onto furniture ... at home, at work, out with others.  It has been more than two years since my life revolved around dealing with something I found so very shameful.  And yet I still marvel that that is over.  I do.  Not a visit to her office goes by without my thanking her for that.  She smiles and she also grimaces.  She does not think that I should have had to make my way through four other surgeons to get help.  I agree.

She manages the hormones, obviously, and also manages my thyroid.  My latest thyroid blood work showed that whilst I dipped a bit low after starting the new dosage last year, I am now in a most optimum place and she is willing for me to try switching to a generic to save money.  I will be repeating blood work in 8 weeks after the switch.

The rest ... well it has to do with internal damage and scar tissue that causes pain and problems.  Repair is possible, but not guaranteed.  And repair has its own potential problems.  What we both wonder is at what point does repair become the better course of action.  Frankly, whilst I do not enjoy my life, my body, as it is, I am hoping that I will be with Jesus before we both agree enduring is no longer the better option.

But the point is that I find it truly inconceivable how it is that she and her staff see me as so very brave and courageous and always tell me that they are glad I have come.

Today, I started weeping in the waiting room.  Today, I delayed the sonogram by asking for one of the surgeon's nurses so she could speak to the technician for me.  Today, the weakness in my mind and body made everything harder, messier, and take longer.  And, yet, today, one of her nurses told me, afterwards, that she has been blessed to be able to see how much stronger I have become over the years I have come to see the doctor.

Blessed by weeping.
Blessed by tremors.
Blessed by vomiting.

How?

I have vomited three times since arriving home, just thinking about it.  It feels like a failure of mine, even though I told myself over and over and over again that this was a good thing and that the technician was not trying to hurt me.  Knowing those things did not help.  I have been trying to concentrate on how the nurse said it was brave of me to tell her how I was feeling, why I was trembling and weeping, because I had never talked specifically about how I was feeling.

But saying I felt dirty and that I hating myself for feeling that way was brave?

I am so very weary of myself.
I am so very weary of my body.
I am so very weary of my mind.

Being unable to separate myself from what happened this day, I continue to think about what I wish I could have heard when I was younger:

• That I am still fearfully and wonderfully made
• That Christ understands me, understands my struggles, because He knew violence and shame in His own body
• That the negative thoughts and feelings which stem from abuse are okay to have, are normal in fact, but those thoughts and feelings are not who I am
• That the work of man against us can never undo the work God has done for us
• That sometimes the sins of others affect us greatly, but it is still the other person’s sin, not mine
• That our minds and bodies can respond in ways we do not understand or desire, as Paul speaks of in Roman’s 7
• That adults can be wrong
• That there is nothing in the vocation of a child that calls for accepting abuse from a parent or others
• That the visual effects of abuse might fade or heal in our bodies, but they can still linger in our lives
• That the devil uses words and actions of others to pull us away from the promises of God, however God's promises to us remain true despite what what those who hurt us say
• That Jesus came for the sick, for the broken, for the weak, for the fearful, for the suffering ... that He came for the abused, too
• That to desire to hear the reassurance of forgiveness and the promise of being washed clean repeatedly is okay and is good

Would that it were I heard a Word of God for me as a child.
Would that it were I heard a Word of God for me today.
The longing never eases.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!