Growing Pains

I pull my blanket up tight around me as though it will replace the warm arms I wish would hold me. In my warm cocoon of comfort, another wave of loneliness hits me. I want to be taken care of. I want to be loved, but I’m alone. Who would love me? I don’t even know if I love me. Some days I love myself. However, days like today, I feel like love is out of reach, meant only for a fairy tale. Not me. Oh no! Tears are rolling down my cheeks again. I hate it when they do that!

I look over to see if my son noticed that I'm crying. He hasn't. He is focusing on his game. That’s good at least. I don’t want him to feel like it’s his job to take care of me. If I were a good mom, I would wipe my tears, get out of bed, and take the tablet away so he would do something worthwhile. But no, I'm not ready for the tantrum that is sure to unfold. We would both be in tears then. What good would that do? I can’t deal with it today. I quit! Rolling over, I put my back to my son, and shut my eyes trying to numb this aching heart of mine.

This pain comes and goes, rejection after rejection. Am I really that hard to love? Does having a son automatically mean that I'm not worthy of true affection? Maybe my ex-husband was right. Maybe I am too headstrong for love. Am I too fat? Ugly? Stupid? I curl up in a tight ball and moan from the ripping emotional pain in my gut. It's too much to bear. Unlovable. That's me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I allow myself to be transported back into a memory with matching emotions to my present state of mind. In this memory, I laid on my parent’s couch, immobilized by the depression holding me down.

Heavy with sorrow, I try to blend into the couch. I don’t want to be seen. People won’t understand my tears. I overhear my parent's friends talking. At first, I wished they would leave and let me be alone in my solemn mood, but their words drew my attention. 

“I can’t believe how blessed I am now. God is wonderful” One of the guests was saying. His words draw me into his world as he describes the intense withdrawals he had to go through as a recovering alcoholic. He testified that he had to go through all that suffering in order to be as strong as he is now.

“Growing pains,” He named it. His tone filled me to the brim. He had gone through the depths of despair, yet, here he was praising God for his chance to grow. 

Is that what this is? Am I growing again? I ask myself with a groan as I sit up in my bed. I am content the way I am. Do I really have to go through this misery? What is all this pain for? I look over at my son again. He loves me the way I am. Right? Another ripple of agony shakes my body. What if I'm not good enough for him either? 

"God! Why are you putting me through this when I’ve been doing so good.

 Why can't I just be happy? What do you want from me!" I shout out loud, startling my son, ripping his attention away from his tablet. He looks at me with wide-eyed concern. "You wanna talk about it?" He asks calmly. This is not the first time he has seen me break down. He knows what I need.  

"I'm just praying bud," I respond. 

"That sounds like an angry prayer mom. Won't God be mad?" He asks, his face squishing up in worry.

"No, God knows that we need to yell sometimes. He is just happy that I am turning to him. It's okay for me to feel angry and sad. God is really good at listening," I say. My son shrugs and turns back to his game, interest already gone. I think about what I just said. Is God really listening as I struggle? Why won't he just make me feel better? A soft answer comes to me, its low-resolution, more like a deep whisper.

"You know why I can't take your pain away. If I would have taken your pain away during your marriage, would you have ever learned how to stand up for yourself? If I would have taken your pain away when you felt betrayed by my gospel, would you ever have sought answers of your own? If I took your pain away when you were feeling like you would never be independent again, would you have ever begun to walk on your own? Now, if I take your pain away when you are feeling so lonely, what lessons will you miss out on?"

I breathed deep as my pain remained steady in my heart. Acceptance began to settle in. Okay, fine. I can do this. I will survive. I will grow. Into what? I’m not sure, but whatever growth brings, I will be better for it. I have to hold onto that thought, that hope. I am growing into a stronger me.