Just A Touch

I came across the following section of scripture in the midst of writing a different piece. It did not fit the subject I was investigating but it gave me pause. 

A large crowd followed and pressed around him. And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering. At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?” “You see the people crowding against you,” his disciples answered, “and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’ ”But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it. Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” Mark 5:24-34

This woman intrigues me and I relate to her. She had been suffering for twelve years not only from the bleeding but from the shame and isolation forced upon her. In the world in which she lived she was already a second-class citizen. With the constant bleeding she was also considered untouchable; no one was allowed to touch her lest they become unclean themselves. 

How often have I felt unclean because of my abuse? It has been longer than twelve years. I have spent days, weeks, months, and years hiding myself due to shame and a feeling of being damaged. I often find it difficult to believe anyone would really love me if they knew the truth. As an abuse victim, I feel there had to be something genetically wrong with me in order to be abused by so many men. I never could put my finger on it but there had to be something that flashed “Abuse Me! I’m not worth saving.” 

There is the doubt about being worthy to be loved and cared for. It seems so much easier to hide real feelings and emotions than let someone in on how much of a train wreck you really feel. No one wants to date a disaster. Early on we learn to pretend everything is okay and keep our dark secrets. We do not want to create trouble and need everything on the surface to look normal. Deep inside we are desperate to find someone to love us, understand us, and heal our hearts. More often than not, we end up spending all our time with people who will take advantage of our weakness and our spirits become more damaged. 

The woman who reached for Jesus’ cloak had not given up. As much as she had been isolated and ostracized in her world, she still had enough fight in her to reach for Jesus. She pushed through obstacles to get to him. It is possible the crowd surrounding Jesus was not familiar with her plight, otherwise she would have been cast aside and never allowed to get close enough to touch him. She was there, however, with a secret contained within that would make her an outcast. This woman had heard of Jesus and made sure she got close enough. 

I want to talk a little about her level of shame. She was unclean by the standards in her time. If she had been bleeding since puberty, no man would be able to marry her. It was forbidden to lie with a woman while she was menstruating. If she started the constant bleeding after marriage, she could be divorced simply because she could not engage in intercourse and produce children. Her circumstances placed a burden on her that would have made it difficult to look anyone in the eye. She had to hide. When Jesus healed the sick he came face to face with them. The woman was desperate and afraid, so she came up behind and touched Jesus’ cloak. 

Why do I hide from the healing power of Jesus? Like the woman in the scripture, my affliction was not my doing. I did nothing to cause the abuse and she did nothing to cause the hemorrhaging. The shame inflicted on myself simply comes from within. I internalize the shame and guilt; none of it my fault. I did not cause it. I was moping up the needs of men who had no regard for me as a person. Their actions were absorbed by my emotions and sense of self-worth. I made myself an outcast. 

When Jesus felt her touch he turned and asked who had touched him. Jesus was walking with a crowd of people. What made her touch so obvious to him? I believe it was the desperation and faith behind it. Although she did not know Jesus, she had heard of him and just knew touching anything attached to him would restore her. He felt the power of her faith, not the physical touch of his cloak. 

While I fully believe this woman walked away from this encounter with Christ completely healed, without residual effect from her disease, she did have to adjust to a new life. She had been in bad shape physically and socially for twelve years. Physically her body was restored but how long did it take for the emotional healing? She had to engage society again, let her people know she was healed and no longer untouchable. They had to understand that she was no longer damaged and was now worthy of marriage and a respectable reputation. How many people tried to dim the light in her eyes? Squash her hope of a better future? Was she her worst critic as I am? 

Unlike the woman in scripture, I can reach for Jesus with a prayer and seek healing. I do not have to fight through a crowd to get to him. I only have to fight myself to get in his presence. I can spiritually reach for his cloak, having the faith that he can restore and heal. In fact, I do not need to seek his cloak, I can seek his hand on mine and feel him enter my heart. Emotional healing is not instant for us because we live on earth and are subject to the influences around us, even the negative influences in our minds. If we fight through the noise within ourselves and reach for Jesus, the noise becomes a whimper and we are filled with the hope and love of Jesus Christ. Our faith will make us well. 

Severe Weather

The Weather Channel used to fascinate me. Every morning I would turn it on and try to catch my local forecast. Over time it became easier to catch the weather on the internet and the local television stations started sending text messages with weather watches and warnings. Now I have an app on my phone I check long enough to see if my kids need to wear a jacket. As a result I have been caught in the rain a few times. To avoid being a soggy cold mess all I had to do was pay attention to the warnings.

This past week I did not pay attention to warning signs and found myself picked up by an emotional tornado, spun around, and tossed on the ground so hard the wind was knocked out of my chest. I did not see it coming because I had become too comfortable.

I had convinced myself the worst was over. So much work and writing had taken place, demons faced, tears shed, and addictions conquered. I was sure I had reached a stage of being a support for others rather than someone who needed to be supported. This attitude and complacency landed me flat on my back, struggling for breath.

Listening to a woman tell her story started me down the path towards the tornado. Storm clouds started to form but rather than listen to my body’s reaction, I chose to dismiss it and not take it as seriously. Previously I have taken notes regarding my reactions and where they started so I would have a point of reference later if I needed to work through something. No notes were taken and at the end of her story my head was starting to spin. There were many similarities with my story. It was the chaotic situation surrounding her abuse and age that hit my heart. The deeply rooted desire to feel special and feel affection in her story coincided with mine. I had felt the same love/hate relationship with my first abuser.

Already fighting the tornado strength winds, another woman brought up having a health sex life. I am still working on this with my own husband, but the memories of my first husband and the mental and sexual trauma he delivered jumped to the surface. I only wrote his name in my notebook. The tornado was beginning to carry me off and I was losing ground.

Next came the frustrations of a single woman wanting to be in a relationship but she feels she has too much emotional baggage due to the abuse. She is convinced no one will want to take her on as a girlfriend/wife.  All of the emotions tied to the abuse, especially the anger, are so overwhelming she did not know how to express them.  This young woman knew she had closed herself off with thick walls around her heart, determined to never be hurt again. This woman represents everything I have ever been and what I still struggle with. I had to face the fact I still need to open myself up more, especially in my relationship with my husband.

I went home rather shell shocked. I went through the motions of getting the kids and myself in bed. My head was still clogged and I felt unsteady on my feet but was convinced it would all be better in the morning. The next day started pretty well. My brain was fuzzy but I managed to function most of the morning. At lunch I had started to write on the debriefing sheet what I had felt and experienced the night before. It is usually best to do the sheet within 24 to 48 hours, while the information is still fresh. As I began to write the warning bells started going off in my head. The world was swirly and confusing and my emotions started to get the best of me. I made rash decisions, got wrapped up in paranoia, and just fell apart. While I had already written my story, I felt an urgent push to journal another part of it, to face an incident I had yet to deal with. I also needed to understand what had been stirred up the night before. I was in a bad place.

Fortunately my off balance ramblings were kindly squelched by a person who is familiar with my recovery process. He reminded me to breathe and not overreact to my emotions. I was also encouraged to sleep and not push myself to figure everything out at one time. I needed to slow down and really think about what was happening; to recognize the origin of the emotional panic and put it in its place.

This did not happen overnight but over the next couple of days I started to debrief myself. I started writing and logic started to beat out emotion. The 3 events I mentioned above were written out and I made the connections to my own story rather than getting mine mixed up with theirs. The storm started to move away. I was able to feel the ground under my feet again.

Being comfortable with the progress I have made is not a terrible thing. I do not want to feel there is a piano ready to drop on my head at any moment either. There is a delicate balance that has be learned and recognized. There is no doubt another victim’s story will stir up emotions in my heart. There will be situations that will cause initial panic at their familiarity with my abuse. However, I need to learn to take a deep breath, put them in perspective, and not let amped-up emotions override logic; in no way an easy task. It will come with time and practice.