Tag Archives: acceptance

“There smites nothing so sharp, nor smelleth so sour as shame.” William Langland (English poet, 1332-c. 1386)

It ranks among the most painful incidents of my life, an event I never could have foreseen.  It happened during a grueling, four-hour counseling session with my abusive husband – the day before I left him.

At several points in the session, my then-husband stood and raged at me, arms outstretched as I sat terrified in my chair only a few feet away. The counselor did nothing to calm or constrain him (which I now know was highly unprofessional of her).  Over so many years, I had grown accustomed to his blistering, if false, accusations, and was so beaten down I didn’t dare offer a defense.  When my husband finally sat again, awaiting my response, the counselor turned to me where I sat trembling and asked, “What are you feeling, Cindy?” and at that moment the weight of years of torment shredded my composure.  I could muster only, “I’m afraid in my own home.”

“For You have been a defense for the helpless, a defense for the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shade from the heat; For the breath of the ruthless is like a rain storm against a wall.”  Isaiah 25:3

There are days when it feels as though the battle is never-ending, when assaults on your reputation and your credibility are coming at you from every side.  So know this:  No matter what your enemies and detractors say, you have a Defender who knows and sees all.  You can be strengthened by the knowledge that you are never alone as you walk this often lonely journey.

Even clinging to that truth, though, there will be times when you will thirst for a word of compassion and validation from someone with skin on.

One afternoon less than a year into our marriage, I returned to our apartment to find my then-husband waiting impatiently for me in the living room.  He didn’t waste a moment before severely scolding me for failing to turn off the stereo receiver before leaving home.

He then launched into an in-depth lecture about the sensitivity of the components and the value of the equipment and insisted that my singular offense was “absolutely unacceptable.”  I humbly apologized for the oversight, but he immediately dismissed my apology.

“You have to promise me that will never happen again,” he demanded.

I explained that I would do my best while confessing I could not make such a promise.

“That’s not good enough,” he fumed.  “You have to promise me.”

Upon separating from my abusive husband, a whole new realm of emotions surfaced:  a constant fear of what new tactics my abuser might employ to torment me now that I was no longer within easy reach, fears with regard to the kind of future my children and I might face, and on top of it all there was the heartbreaking realization that some people whom I considered friends clearly could not accept the reality of what was going on my life.

Unfortunately, what might have been deemed simple ignorance was insufficient to enable me to dismiss some people’s responses to me.  It went much deeper than that.  It felt more as though that they simply refused to believe that something so penetratingly dark could have possibly invaded our lives.  Many came alongside to whisper, “There, there,” and pat me on the back and insist that things couldn’t be that bad.  Those ignorant or insensitive or foolish people only made things worse.

I’ll confess I have no idea what day of the week it was, or even the time of year. But, I remember the incident with absolute clarity – a day that had the most profound impact on my life.

Doug and I had been married for a year, maybe two, and he was well-acquainted with all of my idiosyncrasies and soft spots. Although many areas of my broken heart had mended, all the years of trying to please a man who could not be pleased had manifested itself in an unbalanced, never-ending pursuit of personal perfection. Wherever I went, whatever I did, I was constantly looking for ways to improve myself, to stay out of trouble, to get it right. I sought to conceal every blemish, while simultaneously chastising myself for each and every insufficiency and then committing to do better.

 Even my preferred escape from a day’s stresses was a long soak in a soothing bubble-bath. Yes, my sweet respite represented a few more minutes in which I might add to my self-improvement duties, a little time spent filling my heart with the stories of incredible people with impressive testimonies. I would soak up tales of inspiration and feed my spirit on each and every devotional. I wanted to be the best me I could be, to know that my life had value and purpose. But in my heart, I believed that I would never ever be good enough.