Connie Jakab

Standing in the grocery store line up, she glances at the women on the magazine covers and is again reminded how her new flubber body doesn’t measure up.  In attempts to look elsewhere, her view falls on the candy bars a slight look over.  Insert toddler meltdown, she hopelessly grabs a candy bar to soothe her nerves.  Ah nuts.  Guilt settles in as her memory cycles back to the woman on the magazine she’ll never look like.

It’s the first day in a long time she’s had time to fix herself up.  With her makeup and hair done she makes her way to the mall in her trendy boots and skinny jeans she’ll never tell you how long they took to get into.   As she makes her way down the mall, she notices a young man looking her way.  She looks away, revealing a slight flush of red on her cheeks.  She looks back to see the young man still smiling.  Is he really smiling at her?  Could it be she’s still “got it”?!  Her heart beams with worth, only to add a touch of guilt for wanting a young man to find her attractive.  She looks back only to discover he wasn’t looking at her, but the cute 20 something she didn’t see walking on the other side of her.  She is reminded once again that she isn’t 20-something anymore…. and that she’s pushing a toddler with fingers full of drool and cheerios.

She’s been home for a month without seeing a soul other than her children.  She’s been having some behavior issues with her youngest and has been afraid to leave the house.  Her friends have been inviting her out to their playgroup for awhile.  Loneliness and isolation have taken their toll.  She decides to brave the elements (meaning her children, not the weather) and head out to get some needed grown up time.  She enters home of a woman she doesn’t know, happy to see a couple of familiar faces there already inside.  The host introduces herself and quickly mentions where the kids can (and cannot) play.   As her two noticeably energetic children run off, she sinks into the comfy couch with a cup of tea, anxious to engage in adult conversation.  Within minutes, her children have drawn on the walls and pushed one of the other children.  Embarrassed, she takes her children aside to talk to them about their behavior.  She can hear the whispers of the other moms examining her method of discipline.  Her children are laughing and running away as she tries to communicate the consequences.  They aren’t listening.  She has no control.  She can feel the other moms glaring eyes.  She quickly gets their coats, escapes out the door, straps her kids into the seats of her vehicle and drives off in tears, vowing not to leave the house again for a very long time.

She wakes up in the morning and hits her normal morning routine of breakfast, getting dressed and is now ready to wash her face.  As she reaches for her toothbrush, she glances at herself in the mirror.  In disgust, she can’t believe how old she looks at 40.  Where did all these wrinkles come from?!  She squints, only enhancing the wrinkles.  In disgust, she scrutinizes every facial detail.  She takes a moment to use her hand to lift her skin on her cheek.  Now THAT’S more like it.  She removes her hand to see her face droop back down.  As her eyes shift downward, she notices that gravity has taken over more of her body than just her face.  She lets out a sigh of despair.  One more glance in the mirror shows her a double chin she didn’t know she had!   Her hair shows yet another grey hair to add to the collection.  This scrutiny makes her sink into an emotional wall of invisibility to the rest of the world.  She no longer “counts”.  If only she could afford the treatments Jennifer Aniston has, then! THEN, she’d feel worth something.  Her opinion would count.  She would be taken seriously.  Her ability to keep from aging would win the admiration of all who come in contact with her.  Instead, she wallows in disgust with her aging body.  Her disgust turns to apathy.  Her dreams are no longer valid because she is no longer valid.  Somehow, she has believed that her outward beauty determines her ability to contribute to the world.

She is the one who spends endless dollars on beauty treatments promising her youth, only having to go back for refills more and more often.

She is the one who pounds herself into the ground at the gym to achieve her dream body.

She is the one who feels unheard.

She is the one who drinks at night to soothe her pain.

She is the one who feels her time is up, not because it is, but because of culture’s emphasis on youthfulness tied to worth.  She’s bought in to that idea.

She is the one who no longer contributes.

She is isolated.

Lonely.

She is the one who wonders if good friends exist.

She is the one who eats to soothe her boredom, and then wallows over fitness magazine covers.

She is the one who remembers what “she used to be”.

She feels like her opinion doesn’t matter.

She feels…. invisible.

The vulnerabilities women face is what the show, Invisible at Theatre Grand Junction June 14-15 is all about.

Tired of living like this?  This is the heart of the book Culture Rebel.  Tired of living like this, I busted out into a life full of freedom and meaning.  You can check out the book, the video trailers and order your copy here.

It was an honour to meet Marina Giacomin from Servants Anonymous who had much insight on subtle things that lead to trafficking. One of these being escorting. I had no idea the insight she was about to give me. Many of these things I had no idea about!  Here is a write up on what I gleaned using her words.  You can also watch the video of our interview by clicking here.

Escorting is a legal portion of the sex trade.  They are not selling “sex”, they are selling companionship.  So basically they say, “If you’re lonely, or if you have a special function to attend and what a beautiful girl to attend with you, call us!”

There are certain things men that use escort agencies like.  For example, they often want a woman to look young.  Marina had a friend in Vancouver, BC who was of age, but was told they wanted her to look sixteen.

In an excort agency, customers tip and can write online reviews about you.  You can get a tip if you’re a party girl: if you will drink, do drugs, have sex – this will get you extra tips – this leads to good reviews, regular customers and referrals.  The more work the better.

The problem with this, is that these women often find themselves addicted to hard drugs such as meth or cocaine as a result.   Imagine this: Now, your behavior changes, you become irritable, and as a result, you can’t be trusted to behave properly at a nice party.  Your teeth started to fall out, and you lose weight.  You don’t look good at all.  This leads to bad reviews, no tips…. and no customers.

After awhile your boss fires you.  What’s the alternative for you now?  You’re highly addicted to meth or cocaine.  Meth does horrible things to your body and to your thinking.  You don’t have any rational part of your brain to figure out what to do.  You are addicted, sick, and lost.  Most, at this point, will decide to work for themselves or under the protection of a pimp.  At this point there seems to be no other option.  All has been lost.  Drugs have you gripped as it’s slave that you will sell yourself for.  You have no concept of what could be outside of this life.

This happened to Marina’s friend in a matter of only six months.   A beautiful girl, she started off looking at escorting as a professional job to help her get through nursing school, to becoming addicted to meth, destroying her brain, stripping her of her beauty, leading her to work for herself on the streets of East Vancouver.

These women didn’t wake up one morning and decide trafficking was their choice of profession. It was a subtle, spiral downward that started off as an innocent “job”.  A job that many glamorize.   Who wouldn’t want to get paid to get dressed up and hang off the arm of a handsome man who treats you like his prize possession for a night, wining and dining you at all the fancy places you could never afford to go to on your own.  At first, it seems like a harmless job with amazing perks.  But now you know the truth of where it can lead.

More than ever, we need to be educated on these issues so we don’t look at these women as prostitutes.  Many are women who had goals, dreams and have woken up in this nightmare instead.  Servants Anonymous rescues them and brings them into a loving community.

Trafficking is just one of the issues we are confronting in the show Invisible, June 14-15 Theatre Junction Grand.

We live in a culture where the word “bitch” is thrown around as an endearment,  ”pimp” is a status, and sexy equals looking like a hoe.  I wrote about the whole bitch phenomenon and how it relates to trafficking in an earlier blog.  You can read that one here.

Beyond our culture’s new embrace of “bitch”, we have put the words Pimp and Hoe in bright coloured lights that make them seem appealing.  You may not personally be effected, but what these words are speaking to the heart of young people can’t go unnoticed.  Girls are learning beauty from what they see on videos and advertisements.  In fact, who uses the word “beautiful” any more?  Beauty has been replaced with a cheap “sexy”.   Every where you go and every time you listen to the radio, count how many times “sexy” is being sold to you and notice what “sexy” looks like.  Even my six year old runs around the house singing, “Heeeyyyyy, sexy lady!” at the top of his lungs.  (Gangnam Style).  The picture noted of Trina, who is featured on Gaga’s song; “Let dem hoes fight”(lyrics at the end of the blog), is the most decent picture I could find of a typical image of beauty we are sold today.  Some of the visuals I found would have suited better, but were pushing the edge of what would be appropriate for my blog.  That being said, you don’t have to search far to find visuals of “hoe” being expressed as today’s standard of beauty and worth.  You can see the result of this by looking at the facebook profiles of girls ages 13-25, looking in the mirror, cleavage in full effect as they pucker their lips for their self portrait with their iphone.  Somewhere, they were told THIS was the image they were to convey of themselves.

Take a young girl, say around 15, and expose her to this “glamor” and you’ve numbed her from innocence.  All it takes is a man who says he cares for her, makes her feel sexy and special by buying her gifts and taking her out to lure her into a life where he makes money off of trafficking her body.  What girl would do that?  Why would she stay with a man who would have her sleep with his clients for money?  That’s how warped it is, folks.  She is so caught up in this so called “glamorization” of living with the bling that she has been told is the high life, that she’s hooked.  Her lack of understanding or even opportunity to observe a model of a healthy relationship has her mind so twisted that she thinks THIS is love. That’s why trafficking in Canada is such a problem.  In this case, she’s in full agreement of the exchange, making the transaction legal.

More than ever, young women need to have a message of beauty offered to them.  This becomes hard when even women my age are sucked into the vortex of “sexy” too!  Young women need to see healthy couples who talk about overcoming the hard times and what love truly looks like.  Maybe if we offered this to them they would have an alternative to think about?  I feel we haven’t shown the alternative loud enough.

Switch over to the gentlemen for a minute, where “pimp” is a status symbol. Where hearing about having multiple partners in today’s music is common.  For a young man learning about his role in this life, where does he learn to be a man?  Seems like Lil Wayne, 50 Cent, Akon, etc are teaching him what a man is, and how he treats a woman.  ”Pimpin’ got harder cuz hoes got smarter”  (Akon).  Here you see a typical picture of Snoop Dog and what he’s proud to represent.

How many guys see girls as a status symbol, along with money, cars, bling and cribs (not baby cribs for my mommy friends).  What do you think they’ll do to prove their “manhood”?  To what heights will they go to show they have status and deserve respect?  Sell drugs?  Steal?  Sell someone for sex?   It’s not hard to imagine how easy this may actually be for a man who has been exposed to the amounts of pornography that’s been easily accessible since he was a kid.  Gangsta rap and music videos follow behind walking a thin line between pornography, objectification of women and violence towards women.  Interestingly enough, violence in the sex industry has gone up as pornography has become more accessible and pushed to more disturbing visuals.  Some that include children and an increase of violence.

If there’s ever a time for strong male mentors to take hold of young men’s lives, it’s now.  It may safe his life and many others.

It’s not enough just to think this is wrong.  It’s not enough to look at these young people in their disillusionment with a displeased disposition.  We can’t stand back passive and let MTV raise this generation.  We can no longer stay silent, only to find ourselves falling for these same messages!

What can we do?

1. We can think about what we watch and what we listen to beyond a beat and entertainment.  What is the message and does it represent something we believe in?

2. We can invest in a young person’s life through mentoring and being willing to journey with them through the nitty gritties of life.

3. We can put aside judgment and put on compassion and empathy.

4. We can stop buying into advertising trends that are feeding trafficking, violence against women and objectification.

5. We can teach our children how to value one another.  I tell my son every time he sings Gangnum Style that women weren’t created to be “sexy”.  They were created to be valued and hold within them a contribution to the world.  (to which he wanders off confused, still singing the song, but one day it’ll stick)

6. We can seek to understand the issues of trafficking by talking to organizations that work in that area.  I have found they are happy to speak on the issues.

The culture we live in is a result of what we put up with.  Are you satisfied with your surroundings?  Take a woman and reduce her to “hoe” or “bitch” and she’ll live up to your expectations.  Model to a young man the success the status “pimp” can bring him and he’ll strive to achieve this success.  Are you ok with the idea of trafficking?  If not, think about these subtle influences that are having great effect and act.

Trafficking is just one of the issues being addressed in our show, “Invisible” June 14-15, 2013 in Calgary, AB at Theatre Grand Junction.

Let them hoes fight lyrics – Lady Gaga featuring Trina

Stressin’ on me for the attention

Let them hoes fight

‘Cause you’re no competition

Let them hoes fight

Comin’ at me, guns are a blazin’

Let them hoes fight

I could stomp your face in

I was looking hella good

When I stepped off in the club

She was jockin’ on my Gucci

‘Cause her boyfriend want my cookies

She just keep on lookin’ back

I keep throwin’ her the bird

I’m about to walk away

I don’t care what you heard

Watch me, watch me swing my weave

I’m gon’, I’m gon’ fix my lip gloss

I’m gon’ stunt on them hoes

With my hands up on my hip bones singin’

Jealous bitches, jealous bitches

Don’t hate me, don’t hate me

This poem written by a woman rescued from a life of trafficking gives me shivers.  Another life restored through compassion.  She speaks of the beauty of “us”.  Who is “us”?  Those who choose to see past the outward hardness and embrace.  Those who will love the broken and invite them to the table.  This is what happens when we work past our fears or even our blindness to see them, and inconvenience ourself to look this injustice square in the face.  Community is powerful.  Being inclusive to those different and broken brings healing.  It’s so simple, but we are still yet to catch on to the full potential of this.  She is in the loving community of Servants Anonymous. She writes:

The Beauty of US.

I used to walk with my eyes on the ground. Now I walk with my head up, stopping to lift the chin of another girl.

I used to not have a voice, I felt so small – I was disappearing. Now I see that all along I had the heart of a lion.

I used to keep a vow of silence – hidden tears, buried fears. Now I am learning to raise my voice. Now I know my words are precious.

I used to feel unaccepted and unloved. I have found my voice with Servants Anonymous, and now I can be myself. My pain used to define me. Who I thought I was, was not who I am today. Now I know that what I thought I wanted was, in fact, a lie and what I lost was what my dreams are made of.

I used to be afraid to be successful. I never felt accomplished with anything I did. Now I have multiple years sober, have regained so much of what I lost to addiction, and have accepted my successes as some of my best achievements.

I used to feel so much shame and guilt. Now I know I did those things to survive. Now I know being a survivor and overcoming that life has helped me become the person I am today.

I used to be ashamed of my past. Now I realize my survival is beautiful.

I used to pray for death. Now I can’t wait to live.

I used to live in fear. Now I live in faith.

I used to be a soul scared, a body abused. Pain no more. Thanks to many, I have become whole, my soul renewed. Now I am free.

I used to take my life and children for granted, until it was taken away by addiction. Now each day for me is a blessing.

I used to dread the sound of a phone ringing, because it was the sound of my soul being sold. Now I rejoice when I hear my children singing, because it is the sound of a family, whole.

I used to be hungry. Now I cook for a living and feed others.

I used to have no reason to get up. Now I have a beautiful baby girl.

I used to feel all alone in the world, with nobody I could count on to help me with my problems. Now I have a whole community of wonderful people that I can call on, count on, and trust to be honest and supportive with me, whenever that may be.

I used to feel all alone in the world. Now I share my experiences, strength and hope with those who still suffer.

I used to misunderstand people who were homeless and on the streets, until I lived there myself. Now I look into the eyes of people there and offer a hand or a hug.

This is the beauty of US.

We are proud to have Servants Anonymous a part of our show Invisible, showing at Theatre Grand Junction, June 14-15, 2013.

Mom: “What do you say to mommy for being rude?”

My son; “Sorry for being an ass, Mom.”

This rather funny interchange between my six year old and I gave me a bit of a chuckle, because of the innocence.  Yet the following day, I discovered a disturbing truth going on within my son.

We were having a harder time than usual getting our son out the door to go to school.  Our home resembled something similar a war zone.  It finished with hubby having to physically remove him from the house and putting him in the car.  That’s when my husband heard our son say something that shook us.  He blurted out, “My name is no longer Ben, but asshole.”   I’m sorry if that language disturbs you.  It disturbed us greatly.  Where was this coming from?   Our son couldn’t even get on the bus that day.  My husband had to bring him  home to where I felt I was just supposed to hold our son for a little while before we would have to drive him to school late.

As I held my son, I could feel that this little boy was so desperate for love in his heart, but felt very little.  Of course, this is a hard reality for a caring parent to come to grips with, as we love our boys more than anything and show our love whenever possible.  I knew in this moment of stillness that there was a great war happening in the heart of my boy.

Fast forward to this past weekend where my two boys and I enjoyed an afternoon of ice skating.  Out of the blue, my six year old blurts out, “I’m a freak.”  I asked him what he meant by that, to which he replied, “Everyone hates me.  Everyone thinks I’m boring.”  As we talked that afternoon, I discovered a deep loneliness in my son.  He told me at school he wanders around at recess with no one to play with.  He told me that no one includes him in the games they play.  Ben had often come home with tales of his great frustration from his teacher being on his case, but this was the first time I had heard of his loneliness.  After encouraging him to keep trying to make friends, he stated, “Mom, I’ve been trying for six months.”

I could hear the exhaustion and desperation in his voice.

Honestly friends, my heart literally broke right there.  I felt powerless to help him.  Every suggestion I gave, only came back with hopelessness.  This sounded more like middle school, not what a precious six year old should feel.  It was hard to know what to say.  His heart seemed to scream, “What is WRONG with me?!”   I had no answer.

If it isn’t hard enough for his little heart to be feeling like his teacher is against him (which is to be debated, but this is how he feels), the isolation and loneliness of being surrounded by peers, only feel the sting of rejection – but we have been struggling greatly with him at home too.  The levels of anger, crudeness, rebellion, and hatred he has spewed out to my hubby, myself and his little brother has brought us to a place of utter exhaustion.  Instead of running into the arms of love, his broken heart has hardened him, causing him to push us away with his anger and rage.  It takes every ounce of my self control to remain calm while being lashed at or to be said “NO” to in willing rebellion that doesn’t care.  Sometimes I remain calm, sometimes I lose it, only to sink into despair after.  Every time I raise my voice to him, I lose a piece of him. He seems to sink further into his isolation.

I relate it to those angry people you just know who need a ton of love, but instead they push others away.  That’s what I am seeing in my son – and he comes from a loving family!  It becomes hard to know how to reach him.  He’s so little.  So impressionable.  No six year old should feel this!

A month or so ago, I felt in my heart that Ben needed to be coached in how to receive love.  At bedtime, I would tell him to breath in and breath out saying, “God, you love me” and then say, “And mom and dad love me too.”   I usually would give him space to do this on his own.  Last night, I asked him to do this with me present.  He couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t bring himself to speak of someone loving him.  All you who are parents can feel my heartbreak.

Somewhere my son has come to believe that he should be called “asshole”.  To this I have started to take the opportunity to speak into his life, “No Ben.  You are a kind, gentle and sweet boy.  That’s who you really are.”

At some point, my son has come to believe that he isn’t worthy of love.   What does one do to restore the brokenness of an innocent child?

I have no answers.  Why do I write this?  Because when we tell our stories, it frees us and others who are going through the same thing.  Through vulnerability we gain resilience and courage.  I can say that mothering this special boy is one of the most courageous things I have ever done.  From day one, we have struggled, but this has been the hardest hurdle with him thus far.  I would be lying if I said it didn’t scare me.  What if I can’t help him?  What if my attempts to reach him always end in disconnection?  That has the potential to shatter my heart into pieces.

Today, I choose bravery to show a love that doesn’t let up, give in or surrender to despair.  I will fight for my son, that you can be certain of.  Of all my determinations, none can compare to the determination in my heart towards the wholeness of my precious boy.

However, it won’t be my efforts, but my surrendered effort to the One who is the King of restoration.

This was beautifully written by one of the ladies rescued from trafficking and brought into the loving community of Servants Anonymous here in Calgary.  We are proud to partner with Servants Anonymous for the show Invisible coming in June.

How do you convince a broken woman that she is beautiful? How can someone, not knowing another’s exact experiences, possibly tell a broken woman how to feel about herself? It takes time. It takes relationships. It takes love and healing. It takes a safe community where she can find support and trust. This is the beauty of us – a community that is prepared to walk alongside someone who does not know she is beautiful yet. People who are willing to close their eyes, and really imagine what she might be experiencing:

Close your eyes for a moment and let your mind go.

Imagine you are not you, imagine you are HER, that dirty, skinny street girl, with ratty hair, sunken eyes and ghastly skin, sneaking your way onto the bus with no fare, asking random strangers for change with one of your pre-selected sob stories, a lazy, slutty, menace to society, aggressive and provocative, flaunting yourself for anyone who’ll have you, encounters with you are none but offensive, people cross the street to avoid you, they wish you weren’t there…. let your mind go….imagine you are HER;

…that emaciated, drug ravaged, homeless girl, with nowhere to sleep or shower, your heart is hard, your skin is sallow; A tired, abused, victim of circumstance, robotically reprogrammed by your traumatic experiences, staying as far from society as possible while being immersed in it, you’ve got nowhere to go….let your mind go…..imagine you are HER;

… that dying, HIV positive, beaten like clockwork and perpetually raped little girl, soulless, feelings of anything normal or good were annihilated long ago, self-deemed pathetic, miserably inadequate, barely able to put one foot in front of the other to go nowhere, desperate, saddened beyond console, thoughts of suicide as regular as each breath, disturbingly satisfied that you deserves this existence……let your mind go…..imagine you are HER;

… abandoned by your family, rejected by society, accepted by monsters only long enough to be beaten and drained of life, treated as though non-human, replaying your imaginings of what could’ve been to salvage random shreds of sanity, YOU long to be held by the mother you never had, you feel the stares and the judgment – reinforcing your worthlessness….let your mind go….imagine you are HER;

… a waste, a loser, a nobody, a corpse, a whore, a tragedy, a mistake, a burden, disgusting and vile, putrid, hated, spit on, pitied, useless and hopeless…..

Now open your eyes…..If I told you that you were beautiful, would you believe me?

If you didn’t get a chance to read yesterday’s post about working through REST, I’d suggest giving it a quick skim before reading today’s post.  You can read yesterday’s post here.

Today, I’m reflecting on the second gift that comes from focusing on emotional health and contemplative spirituality according to Peter Scazzero.

I love what Scazzero says: “Christianity is not about our disciplined pursuit of God, but about God’s relentless pursuit of us.”  How contrary is this to the teaching we’ve received?  What could happen to our faith if we make this switch from focusing on the disciplines of striving for God to just receiving?

I recently started doing something like this with my six year old boy who has some issues with anger and rage.  Every night when I tuck him in, I remind him of the importance of being able to receive love.  Much of his rage comes from feelings of jealousy towards his brother and beliefs that we love his brother more.  One night, I felt my son needed to know how to receive love.  I sat down beside the bed and told him to lay relaxed, breathing in and out slowly.  Between breaths I said “Now just speak out: ‘God, you love me’.  Then after another breath say, ‘Mom and dad love me’.”   I can see a difference in him.  In learning to receive love, we become whole and can give love.  This example with my son has spoken to my own life to do the same.  Breath in and out: “God, you love me.  I am worthy”.

Scazzero mentions the voices of what many of us believe:  ”I am a mistake.  I am a burden.  I am stupid.  I am worthless.  I am not allowed to make mistakes.  I must be approved by certain people to feel okay.  I don’t have the right to experience joy and pleasure.  I don’t have the right to assert myself and say what I think and feel.  I don’t have a right to feel.  I am valued based on my intelligence, wealth, and what I do, not for who I am.”   How many of us have believed one (or all) of these statements?  I certainly have.  I also see the manifestations of these statements in the youth I work with in the school system.

Imagine with me for a minute that we lived by the contrast Scazzero mentions in these statements:

- I hold myself in high regard despite my imperfections and limits

- I am worthy to assert my God-given power in the world

- I am entitled to exist

- It is good that I exist

- I have my own identity from God that is distinct and unique

- I am worthy of being valued and paid attention to

- I am entitled to joy and pleasure

- I am entitled to make mistakes and not be perfect

When you come at life from a stance of worth, there’s a whole new perspective to be had.  It changes the game and the rules.  You’re no longer working at life through the eyes of a servant, but of one adopted; one who belongs.

How would that change your current reality?  I know for myself, it puts me at ease and allows me to cease from striving.  I don’t have to prove anything.  I’m free to bring whatever I’m dreaming out of me in a natural flow, rather than a painful “must”.  The outcome no longer matters.  The outcome does not dictate my worth because worth is now the foundation from where I start.  What happens next and the unknown result is at peace in my soul.

Imagine that?  How would this change everything for you?

Those who know me probably laughed at my title because you know that REST is not something I do well.  It’s a new discipline I am being intentional about in my daily life (between the interruptions of me yelling at my kids to STOP FIGHTING!!!!!)  Ahhh…. back to a restful disposition.  Oh wait, there they go again…

My question: “What does it look like to be a mom in rest when your kids are causing a chaotic ruckus?!”  ”What does rest look like when you’re in the middle of a project where enormous amounts of money, responsibility and people are at risk?”  ”Is rest stand-off-ish and aloof to deadlines and what needs to get done?”   “How does one stay on the cutting edge of creating culture and REST??”

Do you have the same questions?  Read on.

Here’s a great read: “Emotionally Healthy Spirituality” by Peter Scazzero.  Did someone really just put “Emotion” and “Spirituality” in the same sentence?  And “health” right in the middle.  Finally.  For many years, many have been sold a religion that has been destroying emotions rather than encouraging health and wholeness.  This book is gold.  Here are some thoughts from Scazzero on the idea of rest that I’m pondering at this moment.  He speaks of contemplative spirituality rather than striving.

I want to highlight two gifts that Scazzero says emotional health and contemplative spirituality bring.

1. The Gift of Slowing Down: now there’s an alien concept to our culture.  In North America, the way to succeed is to work long, hard hours; rushing home to get your kids off to all their activities, ending the day by passing out from exhaustion.  Scazzero states, “We are too active for the kind of reflection needed to sustain a life of love with God and others.”  Isn’t that the truth?  I’ll use myself as a perfect example.  In certain seasons I have projects that take up much of my time and energy because they are often accompanied by large teams, a budget beyond my understanding, and responsibilities that demand my time.  The first thing to go is contemplation.  It’s full on survival mode!  And I’m always amazed at the fact that there’s no one in need around me when I’m in my busy seasons.  Or maybe I couldn’t see them past my tunnel vision mixed with strategic speeding techniques. (don’t underestimate a momma in a mini-van)

Christ and His kingdom work completely opposite than my striving to keep up with demands.  It gets things done with productivity beyond comprehension through rest.  Through slowing down rather than speeding up.  Through listening to the voice of God throughout demanding responsibilities.  By listening, I gain perspective and strategy that were not in my reach while overdosing on coffee and anxiety.  I can be productive AND love my family and any others put in my path without running them over with my mini-van.   Scazzero continues, “Another way to discover how much we need to slow down relates to how attentive we are to God during our activity… When we gain the ability to integrate activity with contemplation, we find the arrow of our lives has a beauty, a harmony, and a clarity that makes ‘doing life’ strait forward and joyful.”

I love the idea the presents to know when to move on an idea or not (and isn’t that the question we all have?)  If the activity would cause so much frenzy that it would take away from paying attention to God, ourselves (self-care) and others, it would be a “no”.  I like that.  I will be adopting that into my decision making.

The other gift (I’ll cover tomorrow)

I will cover in another blog for two reasons: One: I don’t want to overwhelm with too much information.  Chew on this for awhile.  Secondly: You have no idea how many times I’ve been distracted while writing this post.

I clearly need to chew on this too…

I didn’t realize I had a serious health problem until I started listening to one of my friends who was in the midst of recovery from anorexia.  To me, I was on a weight loss journey.  Tired of struggling with being overweight through my teen and early young adult years, I hired a personal trainer and learned all about the fitness model diet: chicken, broccoli, more chicken and broccoli, popcorn and protein shakes.  After losing a ton of weight, keeping it off and even getting to a lower weight after the birth of my first son, you could say I was obsessed with weight and fitness.  The problem with obsessing over fitness and health is that it seems like it’s a good thing.  After all, you’re taking good care of your body.  What’s wrong with that?

What’s wrong is that it turned into a pattern of binging and self loathing.

Let’s fast forward to the present.  I have another son who is presently two and half years old and I’m much larger than I was when my first son was this age.  The difference is that since my youngest was born, I was so tired of all the health foods I ate daily such as almonds, broccoli, chicken, popcorn, protein shakes, that the very sight of them made me sick.   I was swept on the pendulum into the other direction of eating whatever I wanted in the name of “freedom from obsession”.  Many days I would stuff my face with chocolates, cookies and brownies all to stick it in the face of my weight obsession to say “Take that!”.  I found out very quickly that this “freedom” was not freedom at all.  My health was deteriorating.  My skin was looking frail and old, my immune system was off causing me to be sick for months.  My belly was growing rather than shrinking, my bowels were off (I’ll leave it as that) and my menstral cycle was messed up.

Seeing my body’s reaction to my “freedom” only spiralled me into desperation for quick fixes.  I messed with my hormonal system by using HGC drops for a couple of months.  I dropped two dress sizes but when I went off the drops it all came back with a vengance – and with new hormonal problems.  I tried going off carbs, which only spiked my cravings for sweets.  I found myself in a forever cycle of a massive binge, self-loathing and back to a determination to be as strict as possible. Press repeat.

I was still bound by my obsession.  The GI Index had me believe that banannas and grapes were bad.  So instead of reaching for these nutrient-rich foods, I would reach for a cookie.  Somewhere in my twisted mind, I would deny myself of anything labeled a “bad food”, only to fall head first into sugar cravings.  My binges would entail of eating entire cartons of cookies, or a half a pie.  You could say I was out of control.

Just recently, I have decided to surrender.  My friend mentioned in her 12-step program that they had to come to a place where they would surrender to the weight they were created to be.  That statement took hold of me.  I can’t live the way I did before; living carb-free and eating the same foods every day all in the name of attempting to look like a fitness model.  I despise that part of my life.  Yet it takes every ounce of courage for me to eat a piece of whole grain bread.  Every time I eat toast and peanut butter, I surrender my body image again.  I reach for grapes and my mind tortures me.  I am choosing nutrients over my ideal body image.  I’m battling through self-loathing that I went through as a teen.  You see, I hated my body.  I felt ripped off for being the chubby one.  Here I am again, the chubby one and struggling with wanting to be the skinny one, but to get there would mean selling my soul again.  My family would suffer.  My ideal body may have a little meat on the edges.  I have to work out my disappointment in that realization and come to a place of contentment.  I need to do this or my life will consist of weight fluctuations, health issues and dissatisfaction.  I can’t live on either extreme of the pendulum any longer.  I need balance.

When we talk about eating disorders, we don’t often think of those who struggle on the opposite end of the spectrum; the ones who may look great or struggle with obesity, yet who are in need of as much help as one struggling with anorexia.  The only difference is that one needs immediate medical attention, the other will experience on-going health issues that will escalate over time.

Both need a mind and heart renovation, a submission to health, and a surrender of the ideal body.

This a powerful post written by a anonymous person about the physical and spiritual abuse she has been through, and the beautiful ending she has experienced.  Sonshine Centre here in Calgary had a part in her healing journey. She writes:

I was raised in a christian family.  My dad had a leadership role in the church.  On the outside we looked good, but behind the façade there was a lot of abuse – verbal, physical and spiritual. God and christian principles were used as an excuse and a reason for the abuse, and the abusers responsibility was abdicated using the perspective that not only did the victim deserved it –but if by chance there was something wrong with the abuse it was the victims christian responsibility to forgive the abuser.  God and abuse were inextricably entwined in my mind and at age 11. I told Him point-blank in the privacy of my bedroom that if this was what He was like, I didn’t want Him.

I desperately wanted to be love but I didn’t believe I was worthy of love.  I couldn’t trust anyone.  I had been told too many times growing up that I was a demon, that I was inherently evil, and that I was going to end up a prostitute.  I discovered drugs and alcohol which gave me a measure of peace, and sometimes even a sense of joy.  I found other wounded outcasts that became friends I felt comfortable with. I left home at age 16.  Rather than becoming a prostitute as predicted, I found work in an office using the typing skills I’d learned in high school.  I was too leery of men to date for the most part, but eventually developed a friendship with a young man that I went on to date for 4 years.  He was more decent than many of the other guys I knew but he ended up being emotionally abusive.  This only strengthened the pattern of abuse in my life.

When I was in my 20’s, I caught a glimpse of God through the experience of being a part of a couple of weddings.  It allowed me to catch a glimpse of His purity and goodness.  I came back to God very tentative, not believing I could trust Him or any of these “Christians”.  I broke up with my boyfriend and left the drugs and alcohol behind.  That was hard because it was all I knew and where I’d felt a measure of acceptance.  My parents had told the other members of the church that I was inherently evil, so when I started coming back to the church I was ostracized The other young people were instructed not to have anything to do with me.  Eventually I was driven out and preceded to try to find a good church for the nex few years.  I was trying to find a place I could belong but feeling like I probably never could.  I cried out to God and begged Him to make someone love me.  It seemed to fall on deaf ears.

A few years later I was doing some volunteer work and met a young man.  He was a new to faith and seemed to need me.  As we worked together I fell in love and we started seeing each other.  Two dates in, he raped me.  I was devastated.  I blamed myself and willingly saw him again.  He tried it a second time but I got away and this time chose not to see him again.  It turned out he had a pattern of behaving this way.  I felt dirty, defiled and even more unworthy of love.

I didn’t date for several years and just tried to work on ‘me’.  I grew stronger on the outside during that time but was still more broken on the inside than I realized.  Eventually I met a christian man I fell head over heels for.  But he was also a very broken individual. Things started out great, but then deteriorated fairly rapidly as he became very abusive.  Over the next three years the beatings became more and more frequent – and were more and more severe.  As much as I tried to cover up what was happening, people knew and often looked on me with derision.  On one occasion when my arm was broken, my work place used my injury as an excuse to lay me off.  I was very aware of the danger my life was in and wanted to break off the relationship. But like the frog in the pot of boiling water, by the time I realized how bad it was I was too shattered and paralyzed to make that move.  I started going for counseling at the Sonshine Centre.  It took quite a while to see any tangible results in my response and choices and I’m immensely appreciative of the patience my counselor had with me while I struggled to find the strength and conviction to leave.

Once free of the relationship I carried on in life, growing stronger on the outside but still very fragile on the inside… never feeling I could let people know my story or who I was for fear of judgment.  I started training in martial arts to try to keep from ever being vulnerable again.  I found a big church and disappeared into it.  I had my job and was moving ahead.  Everything looked good on the outside.

My dad developed dementia and then cancer.  My mom has a social phobia and couldn’t emotionally manage receiving outside help, so I moved in to help them.  It was harder than I expected and better than I expected.  The physical and emotional strain of working all day and then taking care of my dad evenings and nights was extremely draining.  But my biggest concern was that I didn’t know if I could have compassion for a man I had at one point wanted dead.  I was pleased to find out I was able to have that compassion.  It was compassion as a nurse for a patient, not a daughter for a father, but it was compassion.  I thought I was healed.  My dad died and I was ready to get on with life… maybe even meet someone and get married?  Instead I had an utter and complete nervous breakdown.  It was the most horrendous thing I could have imagined.  I didn’t know what was happening to me but I could no longer function.  I went for prayer.  The church thought I’d gone nuts.  I went to a psychiatrist but was concerned about the drugs he put me on and took myself off them within just a couple months.  In hindsight I wish I’d stayed on the drugs longer as I think being somewhat stabilized may have allowed the healing process to progress faster.)  Eventually God led me to a different church and through them to a Christian healing ministry called Ellel.  I went for a healing retreat and some extra ministry appointments as well as some classes.  Progress was slow.  It felt like I had a huge bucket of junk and they were only removing a tablespoon at a time.  But honestly, looking back maybe I couldn’t have handled it if it had happened too quickly.  Little by little the darkness started lifting – but the neat thing was it wasn’t only the darkness of the breakdown lifting but because the work was so deep the other darkness and pain I’d had all my life was lifting also.

It’s been about 6 years now and for the first time in my life I feel ‘normal’.  I’ve learned to see the lies for what they are and I’m growing in the understanding that God really is good and He really does love me and want good things for me.  I’m excited about life and what God’s got ahead for me.  If I had to go through that breakdown to get where I am now as horrible as it was it was absolutely worth it.  I know my healing journey isn’t finished and I can’t even imagine what more He has ahead for me.  I also know that what God’s done for me He can do for others and my desire is that others would also experience this healing and freedom.  I no longer take martial arts to stay safe… instead I took flying lessons and got my private pilot’s license.  I’m considered a leader in my church.  (Me!  A leader in the church? That makes me laugh!!)  I’ve also recently joined Toastmasters.

Life isn’t easy – there are problems and conflicts and tragedies.  I’ve recently had four friends die, two of those were very close friends, and the death of the one I was closest to was a suicide – it just about knocked me flat.  But God is faithful and I believe He is going to redeem what happened.  I now have hope and because of that I also now have joy.  We have a good God… and I love Him.