I hate when people over-use the word "journey" when they mean the long process of doing things the right way, rather than choosing to anesthetize themselves with indulging their momentary reaction, the quick fix. It is not a journey. It is life. Real growth and maturation doesn't stop to indulge its flesh in the delight of "it feels good, right now". It perseveres to real strength.
Other than a panicked email to many friends, hoping someone would pray or stop the situation that was rapidly spiraling out of control, I have not indulged the desire to let loose.
I have not demanded justice. Or recognition (for the fact that I tried to communicate and was repeatedly ignored altogether, or told that things would be done the other person's way).
I was abandoned, blamed, lied to, lied about, harassed, and judged by a jury that possessed no facts.
My husband took over my cause. Things continued to spiral. He called in others for accountability, including the Pastor and an Elder in our church and his wife, and a co-worker of the person acting in this fashion. The harassment didn't stop. The spewing hatred didn't stop. The intimidation didn't stop.
Ultimately, an email passed about which my husband, the pastor and our friends, came to the mutual decision that I should never see the contents.
I haven't told my story until now because I am protecting people. The person who treated me this way is a hero to a lot of people. She is known, literally all over the world, as a great humanitarian. She is a religious leader. People look to her for answers. I haven't told my story, because I have felt that people will side with her, because she is big and important and I am nobody. Yeah, that is immature. I get it.
In order to get me to do things her way... she told people that she really didn't understand what was going on. Would they please contact me and tell me how much she just wants to help? She went on the other blog and located names she recognized from a Yaho* group and contacted a few of them (and me) as though she were another person (or she had a person help her) and could they please send along any information about what was going on with me. The information obtained went to further abuse through e-mail, Skyp*, and the Yaho* group.
One of the last communications from her said, "I thought we were friends."
Um, no. There is mutuality in friendship. This was me serving you. You controlling me. When I balked, it was you hurting me into compliance. Telling others half-truths and whole lies about me to get them to support you against me. Friendship has a definition and this is not it. ( I wonder if this is why my girls' middle school
...We were talking about "letting go".
I am letting go.
...letting go the pain (of losing out on my dream in order to do what is right).
...letting go the fear of the worst case scenario (if willing to do this today, what will someone be willing to do in several months without getting help for their un-dealt with grief and rage?).
...letting go the false feeling of power of not letting anyone know what really happened (Duh, was I even paying attention?).
...letting go the desire to have people think I have it all together (and that this doesn't anger and frighten me everyday).
...letting go the selfish pride (that says,"I am not telling my side,so you can't use it to keep smearing me." If folk hate me for the truth, historically, I am in EXCELLENT company).
...letting go the flashbacks.
...letting go waiting for someone to ask me my side.
...letting go the waiting for a human to stand with me in front of the whole world; while the whole world stands with her. In all my life, I have let the opinions of humans be my god. Yeah. It is not a bench up there. It is a throne. I am letting go of the love I think I need from people. Even Mickey. Even my kids. Even my parents. Even Chantele. Even Robyn or Phyllis. Even Beth. Even you.
There is only One love I need.
Only One opinion that counts.
Yes, I am afraid.
Yes, this will be tested.
*this comes from a line in a fairly old song by Ken Medema called "Moses". In which Moses has to open his hand and drop his staff (which was everything...like you giving up your cell phone) to be able to receive the power God had to impart to him. He actually says , "Throw It Down." I thought that sounded confrontational in today's vernacular.