Godly talks #2

We are caught in the midst of a wave of low, negative energy. We are tested at work and in our personal relationships, and it is obvious everywhere, including on WordPress. I’ve also seen a lot of negative and depressing posts from my fellow bloggers.

That harsh energy permeates everything around us. It’s like an infection that wreaks havoc on our feelings and then moves to our thoughts, causing us to think negatively and spread it around us like a disease.

Stormy days

I’ve had to cope with challenging situations and trauma. Adversity not only makes you wiser and more mature, but it also makes you more sensitive. People in your life can promote insecurity and keep you stuck in a cycle of trauma.

I didn’t know how to handle that and stop allowing these people into my personal space because I love them. The experts advise you to set boundaries and be confident, but it doesn’t always work. Just when you think you love those special people, they stroll in with dirty shoes and ruin everything beautiful you worked so hard to build.

When they feel they’ve made another mistake, they ask questions, act like angels, and force you to divulge everything that can make you blame them and rethink your decision. Sometimes that doesn’t work, and you’re exhausted on the inside. 

Weary of defending your actions, of them making you feel bad about yourself because you acknowledge their shortcomings, and of moving on. When you add up all the things that happen outside of those relationships it gets worse.

The way out is through

It’s easy to become emotionally involved, yet on the other end of the spectrum, being rational is the way out. We are creatures of habit, and saying what we think comes easy, but it isn’t always the best way out. Arguing, hurling insults, and continuously defending and blaming others will not solve the problem.

I can’t count how many long mental conversations I had, how many times I won, and how many times I wept. The only time things improved was when I bowed my knees in prayer and asked Jesus to help me. I told Him I was tired of trying, of patching things up and carrying the burdens of others.

His answer was simple. The only way out is through. Yes, self-help books may help you gain perspective and broaden your horizons, but we can’t do it all on our own; we weren’t created that way, which is why we have a Creator. We must go through everything. The tears, the hurts, and the frightening moments; for they all have a purpose, and those sharpened edges won’t soften on their own. We’re growing as a result, and the movement we’re afraid of is necessary.

In that process, read your Bible and grow in faith:

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. I sought the LORD, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.

It is important to remember that we are not expected to do anything. We shall be delivered the instant we surrender our cross and allow Jesus to bear it.

Healing my childhood, part. I

I went to my grandparents’ house when I was six years old. I liked how they would spend time with me and make me feel seen, even though that wasn’t always the case. They had a chilly side that only those close to them knew about.

As a child, witnessing cold treatment from others, bullying, and being told I wasn’t enough, I thought, I’ll show them who I actually am. That’s when my savior complex kicked in. I was nice to people despite their cold and cruel treatment, bowed my head when it wasn’t my fault and accepted everything only to be liked and accepted. 

Going back to my youth, as God would have it, my grandmother, who is now in Heaven, experienced a vascular attack as a result of extreme stress and work. She wasn’t quite herself after this incident, and it took some time for her to return to the basic concept of how things worked; she would deliver spoons instead of plates, dessert instead of meals, and so on.

When I saw that my grandparents were too busy living their lives and were caught up in this heartbreaking scenario, I thought, I can help; I want to be recognized and grow closer to my grandmother. One day, I told my grandmother, „Look at the closet; its clothes are all mixed up; we can clean together.”

My grandmother consented joyfully back then, and we were so happy together – that’s a core memory for me – we were folding clothes, and she told me about the history of the clothes, who she received them from, and why they were significant to her.

I remember being excited when I came upon a collection of gorgeous headscarves that my grandmother had inherited from her relatives many years before. After examining them, we folded them nicely and placed them in a safe place in the closet to guarantee that they would be well-kept.

I remember feeling happy all day and thinking that I had done something nice and then played with the neighborhood kids. It was a great day. Later that night, when my father starts shouting at me out of nowhere, telling me that Granny is sobbing and that she doesn’t know where her old headscarves are.

I told them that the headscarves were in that closet and that they needed to look better in order to find them. Instead of searching for them, they started making up tales and accusing me of selling them to the people in the vicinity.

I instantly began crying, knowing I would not do that because of my good upbringing and my God. I had a nice time that day, I made my grandmother happy, and I was finally noticed.

My aunts from Bucharest happened to be there, and out of their profound love for my grandmother, they began criticizing and shouting at me for something I didn’t do.

The next morning my mum rushed me out the door to remedy this misunderstanding with my grandparents. I recall being unable to sleep all night, and my father, who was distressed, began drinking and was really dissatisfied with me, and he didn’t stop shouting at me the entire night.

I arrive at my grandparents’ house, red-eyed and shivering, and explain that I did nothing wrong. My grandmother is furious and refuses to look at me, and everyone stares at me with hatred.

My mother, for whom I am eternally grateful, shields me the entire time and leads everyone else in the search for the headscarves in the closet. Needless to say, they found them and pretended as if nothing had happened when they returned from that room.

I was confused and wasn’t sure how to react. I tried to defend myself and figure out why this happened to me when all I did was offer my help. I began over-explaining and describing with tears in my eyes from the very beginning, but no one seemed to care.

My father eventually apologized for what had happened, but my relatives did not; they argued that this is how things ended up and that it should not happen again.

Because of what occurred back then, I refused to see my grandparents as often. My heart ached as I remembered the happy moments we shared, the way my grandmother would sit next to me on the outdoor bench, how we’d sing songs together, the stories she’d tell me, and everything else. But I couldn’t let my inner child suffer for something she didn’t do.

Fast forward to my high school years, I was preoccupied with tests and trying to make sense of my existence. My grandmother became ill, a random cold that everyone handled as such, and her condition worsened. She was transferred from one hospital to another, and no one was able to completely heal her.

She called and asked to see me several times, but I was always busy. Exams, school, heartbreaks, anything came up, especially because she did me wrong. I was not ready to forgive her.

My father receives a phone call a few days later. My grandmother had passed away. I couldn’t put into words how I felt at the time. Remorse, agony, being furious with myself for not visiting her, being unwilling to forgive, for taking too long. Tears spilled out of me like a furious hurricane that I couldn’t control.

When I went to help with the funeral ceremonies and saw her in that coffin, it didn’t seem real. It was too much to bear, and I couldn’t cease hating myself. I sobbed a lot and pleaded for my grandma to forgive me for waiting so long to forgive her.

I had dreams about her in that closet room, about us standing on the old wooden bed, about her brushing my hair and staring at me in the mirror. I could feel her presence in that room when I visited my grandparents’ house.

They did finally gift those headscarves to my parents – headscarves I’d forgotten about; I don’t even have them now. For some reason, my aunties still believe I’m less than because of what occurred. They’re upset with my mother for not letting them teach me a lesson that only they comprehend, so my grandmother could feel better because she was sick and deserved that. But God taught me this isn’t the battle I should be fighting.

Looking back, I know that this had nothing to do with me. My grandmother, who became ill due to a lack of attention and affection, and my mother, who, in protecting me, was actually defending her younger self, which my father’s parents did not approve of.

I thought about her, and as fate would have it, I found messages from her all over the place. I remember finding Fredrik Backman’s book, Grandma told me to tell she’s sorry as I was shopping one day. I eventually got to read that book and I cryed and prayed for her and our souls made peace through the years.

(Image Sources – Pinterest)