Whitewashing and Mental Health

I'm currently listening to Beth Moore's new memoir on audiobook.

I'm still in the early chapters, but I love that she has written her story down for us... and I love getting to see so clearly how she became the powerhouse woman of God she is today.  She is also one of few Christian leaders who has been willing to consistently stand strong against church corruption (specifically the willingness to overlook, hide, and dismiss sexual sin within the SBC church leadership).

That makes even more sense to me as I read her book.  As a child, she was the victim of incest and sexual abuse and molestation.  From a young age, she lived in fear of her abusive pedophile biological father every night... eventually also learning about his extramarital affairs and other hidden sin... all while watching him be the leader of their Sunday school at church.  That had an effect.  The level of healing, wholeness, and growth with God in her life is truly miraculous.  And her humility and sincerity in ministry to the outcast and hurting and "the least of these" ...combined with her boldness in pointing out corruption in pompous church leadership is as close to the heart and human life of Christ as anyone I've ever seen.

I am grateful for her example.

One part of her story that was interesting and relatable for me was when she found some old prayer journals where she had thanked God for her family and wrote glowingly about her home life... not intentionally lying, but being in survival mode and whitewashing her family history trying to make it what she deeply wished it had been.  It's a complicated thing to heal from trauma, big or small.  And as Christians, we want to feel clean and redeemed and offer forgiveness, but we can't just shove the messy stuff under a rug and skip over the work-of-healing part.  Sometimes we alter the story to something that feels more honoring to God in our minds, but God "desires truth in our inmost being."  Of course, Beth realized that and spent years with Jesus working through her past and finding real healing and freedom.  

I'm thankful she did.  Her ministry has had a wonderful impact on my life, and I'm glad she has been willing to endure the nonsensical filleting she's received from so many cowardly men in the church in recent years.  It's most definitely a case of them hating her without a cause, and it's been hard to watch for the many women who have been changed by her passionate devotion to God.

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I heard this definition of mental health on the Holderness Family Podcast, and it has stuck with me:

"Mental health is not about feeling good.  It is about having feelings that fit the moment you are in, and then managing them well."  ~Dr. Lisa Damour 

I love that - she argues that distress is evidence of mental health when people are going through something upsetting, as long as they find healthy coping strategies (not causing harm to themselves or others).  I want to ingrain that into my mind - it's not about constantly finding the positives and reframing hard things; it's about acknowledging hard realities and learning to navigate them in a healthy way.

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On a slightly-related note, today marks two years since the last time I had any communication with Malori.  That friendship ending is something I worked very hard to whitewash and find beauty and redemption in, but I want to be sure I'm looking at the whole truth.  It was hard and humiliating and confusing.  I felt alone in managing the weight of caring so deeply for someone who cared so little for me.  Intentional or not, probably coming from brokenness, there was gaslighting and abrupt shutting down and callousness on her end.  Intentional or not, probably coming from brokenness, there was unhealthy clinging, misplaced faith, and ungrounded hope on my end.

It was wrong and undeserved.  It mattered.  It hurt me deeply.  

I'm choosing to forgive.   But I can never reopen this or let her back in.

I deeply wish it were different.  A fractured close relationship will never feel normal to me.

But I accept that this severing cannot and will not be mended in this earthly life.

That's the truest way I know to write about it today.

I never mentioned it, but I compiled an actual 270-page book on that subject over the summer two years ago (when I wasn't allowing myself to blog about it publicly).  Including messages, old posts, photos, and lots of journal-style writing.  It was always intended for my eyes only, and I thought it would be helpful in the process of healing.  I've honestly never read through it, but I'm guessing it probably reads a bit like Beth's old prayer journals, a sincere effort but a rose-colored glasses version of events that glosses over the pain and completely reframes the person causing it.  Lysa TerKeurst talked about her tendency to cope with pain by trying to "tidy up" what was happening and hyper-spiritualize everything so that she could "get over it without going through it."  Man, I soooo get that.  I know I try using the "God works all things together for good" verse as a Band-Aid to make terrible things feel better immediately.

But sometimes we need to be clear with ourselves that terrible things were terrible.  Mental health is acknowledging the good things in front of us and the hard realities that come against us and finding healthy ways to cope as we walk through our pain.  (Honest writing is definitely a part of that for me, but I am still growing in my ability to be really honest with myself.)

Anyway, God is always good, but life isn't... and it's okay and good and right to call trauma trauma and to call toxic relationships toxic.  Here's to mental health, and to accepting today's reality (whatever that means for you) and engaging in life as the healthiest possible version of ourselves, one day at a time! ❤