What Looks Like Freedom...

I threw back the last of my Diet Cherry Pepsi and raised Jason Aldean's volume up to 'REALLY LOUD". I wove my way through autumn colors and into the brilliant sunshine. The weather was unseasonably warm, allowing for holes where glass should have been and jet black upholstery where dog hair once was. I listened for the growl of the intake as I accelerated, taking advantage of a nice stretch of road and no sign of the authorities. Sounds like freedom, doesn't it? Quite the opposite.

I had a lot of anger growing up. My coping mechanism was to "throw caution to the wind," "let my hair down" -- all those gentle euphemisms for live recklessly and party as much as possible. I said I didn't care. I said nothing mattered. But that wasn't true. Everything mattered, I was just tired of admitting it and watching it all burn to the ground. I figured if I shrugged it all off, put up a hard, angry exterior, eventually I could convince everyone they couldn't hurt me. Especially the person that needed the most convincing -- me. When I grew tired of living that way, when I finally realized it wasn't working, I was almost forty. I sat down in front of a wonderful counselor who asked me to list all the things in my life that hurt me. Breaking out my notebook, staring at those lines and blank pages, I began to write. Slowly, at first. Then, for days. The list was pages long. The girl no one could hurt, the person who did unto others before they could do unto her had come clean. She was full of hurt. And anger.

The following week, the counselor asked me to number those hurts. "Number the biggest hurts '1'; number the next biggest hurts '2'; and so on." I think I made it to the 5s. The next week, she said, "Okay, let's talk about the 5s." And we did. She asked things like, "Why did that hurt?" and "What could you have done differently?" and "Was that really your responsibility?" On and on, chiseling away at the hurts I carried. And reading books like, Co-Dependent No More and Telling Yourself the Truth. And journaling -- something I hadn't done for years. Healing and working, working and healing.

Today, I'm in that place again. I am wrestling with hurt and anger, and they have a hold on me -- for now. My behavior may not be as reckless as it once was, but I have a husband whom I love, and children who need me, and a job that pays the bills, and a relationship with Jesus that has untold value. So I keep a firm grip on those things as I battle the demons within. And I guess that fact -- that I value those things above letting pain and rage get the best of me -- is a good start. But, seeing this behavior in me (Diet soda and country music, really?) for what it is -- atypical, deconstructive, behavior I left behind years ago -- tells me I am heading somewhere I do not want to go. It tells me I am handling my hurt and anger in a human way. Perhaps I need to recognize I am a human -- for the moment -- to soothe those human hurts. But never forget I am Christ's human. Never forget that He is the one who offers true freedom. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. Never forget that, as His chosen I can never be satisfied outside His will and He will pursue me relentlessly until I am completely within it. Never forget that anything but full surrender to Him is bondage. Never forget that He is my strength and my song, and the way out of the pit and back to freedom.