Holding…On

I wrote this about a week ago (Feb 7th) in a group thread where we all share our biggest struggles & how we’d like to be responded to. It took awhile to share here. But here goes.

Mmk. My turn! So mine comes with a photo-essay. 🙃😔

After 2 months of full court battle things have finally stabilized. The 4 of us in the core of have all turned the last major corner. There's still a lot to be done, but the triage is complete & there are clear, viable paths forward. The emails & messages of hate, distrust, & betrayal have more or less stopped. The barrage of “how are you doing's” & “how can I help’s” have ceded—which means far less navigation of who is asking out of loyalty & cadre support or investigation to utilize against me. And for that I'm grateful.

Now that most everyone has gone back to their regularly scheduled program, I'm finally able to catch my breath. The adrenaline has done its job. I'm finally not in crisis—which is so great & what has made it possible to release so much crippling anxiety & fear over the last week or so. Plans & paths of operation are ready to be chosen & followed. It's beautiful.

And.

Now I’m able to feel the actual restrictions to my chest & weight on my breath. Now I can actually feel the exhaustion that I've survived & the blood dripping from cauterized wounds & bruises. Before when I said, “I'm not okay,” it's because I couldn't feel anything. Now it's because I can. It's frustrating to me that it's taking so much time, energy, & capacity to move through this season…and yet it doesn't feel like I can really do anything about that.

At the end of last week I was so overwhelmed I was metaphorically paralyzed. Now that the fire had been safely suppressed, there were seemingly a million questions I needed to make decisions on before taking another step. So at a dear friend’s suggestion, I said them out loud. 40 Questions, 7 Confessions, & 13 “What if’s” later, the reason for my overwhelm became clear: I am going into this new beginning not with the excitement of starting to build something, or even the energy of a fresh project, but absolutely exhausted.

I'm so tired y'all. So damn tired. When everyone else goes home & back to their “other” worlds & spaces, this has come home with me every single day. When everyone else goes home, it’s just me & it hanging out in my living room & kitchen. And now that my sensitivity is returning I can feel it too. I don't have any more thoughts for it—just feelings in my body now. All I want to do is lay down & not get up. Not to eat, not to watch TV, not to go for a walk. And I'm pretty sure the only reason I've done any of that is because a friend has been here staying over with me on Tuesdays - Thursdays each week. Now I don't even want to do that. As things are expected to start ramping up, I feel like I need to power down. But I know from previous seasons of therapy that I don't actually do well when I power down—it only makes things worse: it's like a car during a snow storm—if you ever fully stop, there's a good chance you won't get moving again without serious injury. Even changing lanes is dicey.

This space is more important to me than it's ever been before because it's keeping me from getting dragged into the vortex of the neoliberal leanings that came with this project. And as you've probably gathered from my falling asleep in meetings, I'm so tired.

As I was talking to one of the other 3 in the core of this last week, a new knowledge began to settle for me. So here it goes. Imagine an explosion (like an IED for example).

There are those who felt the ground shake & had concern, many of whom gave great commentary on CNN about what they saw of the incident, speculations & “eye-witness” accounts tangled up with reporters doing all they could to get some photos.

Then there are those who were thrown back by the blast—some of whom may have been hit with shrapnel. Most of those folks will have trips to the hospital or urgent care in their immediate future. Many may even need some recover time from surgeries or whatnot.

Then there are the people who had their feet on the IED when it went off. And the people who were holding their hand as they were jumping off. Those people lose limbs. Those people all have forever injuries to the point that nothing about their body's movement will ever be the same. Even after years of PT, a prosthetic hand will never grip things the same. Those people will likely live the rest of their lives with night terrors.

And that last group is the category I'm in. Only a lot of people are also convinced I helped plant the IED in the 1st place, or at least helped disguise it so others couldn't tell where it was.

There's not really a solution or a direct ask here, except maybe to continue holding me with grace? Please don't give me a pass on things, but confront me with gentleness maybe? Cut me off if I'm talking too much because stress gets me rambling. Please don't try to make me comfortable, or give me what I want because you feel bad. Refrain from pity but do try to remember compassion through this long haul struggle. Because it's not going away or just “for awhile.” But consciousness feels really critical right now, and I cannot imagine anything worse than people making decisions or doing things they felt emotionally manipulated into doing.

With deep love & trust,

K. Marie

Charleston, SC

I’ve been struggling all day to find any words to adequately express how I’m feeling.

Grieved doesn’t seem heavy enough, but I can’t think of a word that describes this torment my heart is enduring any better.

I am not in so much pain today because these victims were black, nor because they were Christians.

I am in mourning today because there were ten human beings whose humanity was ripped away from them at the hand of the senseless hate that was allowed to quietly take hold of a young man in a society that gave him the gift of freedom of belief without the responsibility of morality.

Because of an age that taught him to do and be what he wanted fearlessly with no concern for the consequences. Because of the generation that gave him the courage to take a stand without the requirement of socially accountable intentions.

We’ve done a flawless job of teaching the ideology of independent freedoms & self-sufficiency, but failed at teaching to love one another in unity. A soul so passionately consumed with hate is already dead. There are ten souls today I grieve for, because my Savior taught me that all lives do matter–regardless of my judgement of their worthiness.

We’re in this together, and the cycle of hate-inspired hate must end today.

The Most Beautiful Dream

I was in the sanctuary of my church & it was totally packed. There were ppl there from every phase of my life–college, high school, various jobs I had worked, as well as those type of ppl for other members of the church & random strangers I’d never met.

Anyway, we were having service & for some reason the deacon & I were in the back kitchen area. There was a partially eaten pizza there. When he came back I told him to handle it, since we didn’t want it just sitting out & we typically didn’t keep food out in the open upstairs as there’s no eating in the sanctuary.

So I walk out into the sanctuary, leaving him behind me, and when he comes out, he goes to the pulpit with the half-full pizza box & begins to offer it to anyone who wants some. When I start to look at him crazy like, “what are you doing?!?” he gets frazzled & the pizza falls out of the box, onto the pulpit carpet.

Then my Pastor gets up & begins to publicly rebuke him.

And he turns on me. He says that I told him to do it. When I refute that & say that I didn’t it begins to come out that there are other things that he has blames me for–that he acted under my instruction, which I never gave. Then another church member chimes in from leadership & it turns into a big public argument.

Then all of a sudden ppl in the congregation, the guests in particular, begin to fret–several start crying & a couple get upset & explain why. Because they came to the House of God for Jesus, someone they were so excited to meet because of everything they’d heard about him, but this turned them all the way off. They were crying because they were so disappointed that Christ couldn’t be found here either because they had been searching for so long. They were in a distraught frenzy.

Then I stood up & addressed them. I turned to them & said that us being a Christian didn’t mean that we don’t fight…that we don’t have arguments & get upset with one another. But it means that when we get here, upset & angry, at the point of division, we can get together & kneel at the altar, taking it to Christ, the one who heals all wounds & hearts. The one whose love can make it right. The one who can bring reconciliation to the hardest of hearts. We can go down together to get rid of every weight & burden & come up unified as one again.

When I neared the end of what I was saying, the whole atmosphere began to change. The weeping turned to smiles & everyone in the room turned, with overwhelming joy, to worship! All confusion was gone & a bright light shone through the room as more & more ppl stood to worship, at the same time, on one accord. Everyone was going to the altar together with honest hearts, believing that if they all went to the altar together, they could all find what they were looking for. And as I turned to join them, the room didn’t break out in shouting or even in crying & singing that I recall. It was an inaudible sound that can only be identified as heavenly. It was a sound that overwhelmed my heart & enabled me to feel beauty all around me as people began to give themselves to Christ, on their own, without the leading of a pastor or minister–but of their own private, intimate conversations with the overwhelming presence of God that had arrived.

It was incredible. By far the best dream I’ve ever had in my life. One I don’t doubt I’ll never forget.

Just last night, I dreamed of Kingdom.

Journey to Love: Then & Now

Breathing quietly as I reminisce on what once was.

Nights spent laughing and playing, watching movies on couches & beds together.

I remember the time of being carefully wooed with caring gestures, words, lyrics, sentiments and public displays of affection.

I think on the days of late night phone calls just to hear the voice on the other end of the line before going to bed.

I recall the walks all over town just to have an excuse to be in each other’s presence.

But then my heart rate increases as I am hit with the reason it all ended.

Lies, manipulation, control, & hidden motives.

Never really knew who you were….though I thought I did.

Though the product matched the picture on the menu, the description was completely falsified.

Tricked, or should I say tripped, into falling in love.

Prayed for me & I even allowed you to lay what I thought were healing hands on me…all the while not understanding how I was getting sicker.

Actually believed that God was punishing me for hurting you in some way.

All I ever wanted was the good days back, never realizing that they were only a mirage—not knowing that the snake’s venom first entered my blood stream from the IV drip you put in my arm.

Thank God for someone finally checking the fluid tap. I’d surely be dead by now otherwise.

For every Elijah who spoke your death I thank God, because as long as you lived in my life—I was dying.

I begin to relax as I come to the realization that it’s over.

In the darkest of the night, my knight arrived..

Though I barely had a pulse left when He found me, I was still alive. Barely hangin on—-but still breathing.

He lifted me in His arms, my body frail & limp—and carried me into His home.

He laid me in His bed & did not try to take advantage of me in my weakened state, but instead nursed me back to health.

He sat at my bedside telling me jokes & stories—trying to keep my mind on that which is good.

He brought me food which He made with His own hands to be sure it was pure & not tampered with.

When I was strong enough, He went for walks with me to help me build my strength up…walking close so He would be able to catch me in case my legs gave out, but letting my own muscles do as much as they could handle.

As I got stronger I began to cook for myself, making a special plate for Him—not because He asked, but because I wanted to.

My walks became runs that I could go on alone, but I’d ask Him along just because I loved His company.

I had stories of my own to tell, but I always requested to hear His jokes because, well, truth be told, laughter is the one medication that you can’t overdose on.

Though He never asked me for it or tried to take it—He had my heart. And it wasn’t just because He helped me when I was down. During the time of my recuperation we were together so much that we gained an intimate knowledge of each other. I learned the little things…the things that didn’t make it into His widely-spread reputation.

And that’s when I fell in love.

Yeah, the good guy is great, and a cool person to be friends with. But it wasn’t until I got to know Him—the real Him….on an intimate level, that I fell in love. I could lie and say I fell for Him because He rescued me from you, but that’s not even true. He was being a good Samaritan and I’m grateful for that.

But I love Him because of the way He uses His hands to help explain things when someone says they don’t understand. I love Him because of the way He presents different views on things that I never would have thought of. I love Him because of the way He just turns His head & laughs when I’m flustered. I love Him because of the way He takes a deep breath when He’s about to say something important.

I don’t love Him for what He did for me—I love Him for who He is.

And that’s the difference between now & then.

See I loved you because you made me feel special—doing so much for me, or rather, for my affection. I fell for you because your words & actions pulled me. But not for Him….for Him I jumped. No one forced it to happen. I just woke up one morning & realized I made the choice in my sleep.

So now my heart, having gone on this roller coaster ride my head just brought it through in a matter of moments is beaming a light so bright that people are telling me I’m glowing—asking for my moisturizer & skin care secrets. So I laugh & simply tell them I’m in love.

Most times they understand…nodding knowingly as they continue on their way. But other times they raise an eyebrow and say, “Wow, I wish I had a love that made me look like that…but if I looked like that, I’d probably have one!”

That’s when I look at them, smile, and say…..but you can, why don’t you let me introduce you?