Hiding

One of the first lessons I learned in the Room of Good Intentions was hiding. I learned to hide my sin, my weaknesses, and my feelings -- especially my feelings. I suppose it was okay to be sad if something really bad happened, like a friend died or your son got cancer, but even then I was taught to say that "God works all things together for good", thus encouraging me to quickly move through that sadness to the joy that all Christians are supposed to feel. Other feelings, like anger, hurt, or disappointment were rarely, if ever justifiable. Jesus could get angry at the money changers in the temple, but there weren't any occassions that I thought merited that kind of anger in my life. I was wrong, of course, but since I wasn't talking about my pain no one was able to point it out. So, as I was hurt, I stuffed the pain. As people disappointed me, I buried it. As I faced abuse, I endured it.

As I left the Room of Good Intentions for the Room of Grace, I began for the first time to allow myself to feel. Yikes and Ouch! Those emotions can really sting. I was tempted for a long time to head right back over to the Room of Good Intentions, but as my good friend Richard was so fond of telling me "This genie is not going back into the bottle." To this day I love him for holding my feet to the fire when I so desperately wanted to jump ship.

Since I have been through so much to get where I am today, you'd think I would have this no hiding thing down pat. But I don't. And yesterday was a great example. I was deeply disappointed by someone yesterday who cancelled an apponitment we had made. Initially I didn't feel that I had a right to feel disappointed and so I stuffed it as I tried to get busy with other things. But there was a nagging in me that just wouldn't go away. So I began to sit with the feelings of disappointment. After awhile, they turned to hurt and very quickly then turned to anger. The funny thing is that I was less angry at him and more angry at me. I felt that I wasn't deserving of his time. I began to believe that NO ONE would chose to be with me. They would love me if they HAD to, but would never actually chose to do so. Intellectually I knew this to be false, but my emotions had taken over my brain.

Then . . . DING. DING. DING. My shame meter started to go off. I realized that I was neck deep in a pool of shame. The reaction that I was having was hugely out of proportion to the cancelled appointment by this trusted friend. What had been triggered were my deep feelings of shame that I could never be lovable. While the cancellation was not rejection, I had translated it into that.

So much for feeling my feelings, right? I struggled with wanting to go into hiding. I was suffering shame about my shame. Ugh. The only way out, I knew, was a path I didn't want to take. But somehow I made a commitment to truth and to trust. I would be honest with myself about how I was feeling. I would stay present to those feelings. And I would tell this friend how I felt.

Was I ever scared! I didn't feel any right to share my feelings, but I did it. And guess what? The world didn't collapse in on me. He didn't yell at me or get defensive. This relationship was and continues to be a place of grace for me. But I didn't feel any better.

I got off the phone and wondered why I still felt so awful. I continued the evening with this deep feeling of rejection, even though I knew that I hadn't been rejected. After some time and lots of tears had passed, I realized that I still hadn't trusted God with who I was in this moment.

This incident had tripped off a major area of my shame. As I'm learning, only love can heal the shame that is buried in me and I needed the love of my Father to begin to heal the ragged edges of my shame. So, I left a meeting early to get some space to be quiet. And in the stillness, I said these words:

As I've noticed and reflected on these feelings today Papa, I am really hurting. I ask that you would do the work of healing. I am climbing on your lap and accepting your gift of unconditional love and acceptance. I can hardly believe it, but you do love me freely, by YOUR choice. And your love is the only thing powerful enough to root out the shame and pain in mylife.

I heard these words in return:

Yes, I do love you Melissa. I accept you. Right now, in your pain, in your tears, in your fear that you will never be lovable. I am here, come cry on my shoulder. I will protect you.

At last I was able to be carried out of the pool of shame. I couldn't have done it, though, had I stayed in hiding. Hiding was my first response. And my second. And my third. But as I allowed the process to work, I found a bit of healing that never would have come through my clumsy attempts at dealing with my shame by myself. The subtitle to the book TrueFaced contains these words: Trusting God and Others with who you really are. One of the important words in this sentence is that little word AND. I need both God and a community of other grace-living people to live in the room of grace. Part of my healing came from being honest with this friend. The other part came from God. I needed BOTH. The truth of this was very evident to me yesterday.

I knowthis is not the end. I'd love to have the happily ever after that could claim that my shame is gone, healed, never to return. But I am continuing to learn to trust the process which involves staying out from behind the bushes I try to find to hide the real me.