Category Archives: confusion

abuse, Christianity, confusion, disrespect, emotional abuse, faith, fear, recovery, religion, shame, testimony

Do You Ever Feel You Are Too Much? Not Enough?

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“I feel like I’m either too much or not enough,” my then-teenage daughter shared in a moment of heart-wrenching vulnerability.  She shared the words tentatively – almost apologetically – with tears brimming in her eyes, like she was revealing a deep, dark secret that no one else could possibly understand. 

They were words that had been holding her captive for a good part of her adolescent life.  The messages spawned fears about her own value and identity, the result of words spoken and wounds inflicted by others in her life.  And as the words fell from her lips, I inwardly groaned.

It was easy to hold her and grieve with her, knowing that she had been carrying the weight of that terrible self-doubt for many months and maybe years.  I assured her that she was absolutely worthy of love and more than adequate in every way that mattered.  Yet even into her adult life, she battled the messages, having felt those pronouncements upon her life issued by some of the young men she dated, whether through words, attitudes or actions.

Those words painfully identify what I believe may be a common belief system and perhaps an ongoing struggle for many of us.

The implications of such a profoundly destructive declaration over our own lives cannot be understated: 

It seems I am too much.  I am too high-maintenance, too much of a burden, a perpetual inconvenience.  I am unworthy of anyone’s devoted time and attention.

It seems I am not enough.  I am inferior in a thousand ways to just about everyone else.  I don’t measure up.  I am unworthy of love and affection. 

Not only did I adopt those messages into my own life from a young age, but there are times they still haunt me.

My mother divorced my father when I was five, my sisters then nine and 12.  We saw our father occasionally, but it felt like glorified babysitting more than quality time together.  Soon after the divorce, my father married a woman with two children of her own, and she did not care a whit about me or my sisters.

My mother worked full-time.  While she fulfilled her primary roles as a provider, she preferred to spend any free time in outings and hobbies that didn’t include us.  While my sisters leaned on one another, I was the loner.  I learned from a young age that my role was not to need my mother or ask for much of anything.  It seemed she viewed me as little more than an obligation and a burden.  

I was too much for her.

I tried to earn her love and approval.  I got good grades, avoided getting into trouble and basically stayed out of her way.  But my good grades didn’t yield any measure of praise; they were simply to be expected.  When I was 11, some of my friends urged me to audition for a solo in our elementary school Christmas program.  But when I told my mom I was considering auditioning, she responded coldly, “Why would you want to do that?”  It was clear to me that she believed I would only embarrass myself – or her.  So I didn’t even try.

I was not enough.

When I began dating in my later teen years, a few caring and personable young men expressed an interest in me, but it was I who almost always ended the relationships before they began.  I had a deep-seated fear that they would see through me – how inadequate and broken I was.  Surely they would quickly come to recognize that I was unworthy of their time and attention.  Rather than face that kind of rejection, I chose to beat them to the punch.  I wasn’t confident enough, strong or emotionally healthy enough. And as I looked at the other girls in my circle, I felt certain that I wasn’t pretty or outgoing enough either.

Then there were the guys who were more sarcastic and disrespectful.  The feminine gender’s romantic, sentimental hearts were seen as an annoyance. Girls were really only good for one thing.  Consequently, some young men treated me as though I should feel gratified to receive whatever paltry measure of attention they conceded to extend.  Their attitudes and behaviors told me that I was too much – someone to be tolerated rather than appreciated.  I was made to feel like I was too girly, too emotional and too needy.

Every shake of the head and every slight served to solidify those untruths and added to my belief that somehow everyone around me was superior to me, while I felt like a pretender. 

Based on my history, it is no surprise to me that I married an abuser.  The man I married was obsessed with me.  I figured no one would ever love me like he did.  He also had some health issues, which provided me with the opportunity to prove that I could love sacrificially while being low-maintenance at the same time.  Our marriage could prove that I was enough without being too much.  It felt like a valid perspective at the time.   

True enough, the messages I had come to accept about myself and those around me made me an ideal victim.  Throughout my abusive marriage, I received more of the same messages, that I was too much of a logistical, financial and emotional burden, and never quite worthy of his love, respect or protection.  I sacrificed my value to accommodate the lie.

That was then; this is now.

For the past 13 years, I have been married to the best man I have ever known.  When we first began to get acquainted, one of the first words I used to describe myself was “independent.”  I saw that quality as a strength.  As I came to know Doug, he told me that he knew what that word really meant, and that it kind of broke his heart. 

He said that he knew I had no choice but to be independent, because I didn’t have anyone in my life who looked out for me, protected me, someone I could always count on to be my defender, my safe place. 

He was right.  And although I was touched by his perceptiveness, I was also terrified that he could see my wounds and longings so clearly.  But how affirming it was to be able to finally bring the shield down, to know that when I was with him I was free to be less than perfect and vulnerable because he saw me as worthy of love – an overwhelmingly gracious, giving, protective, all-in, no-regrets kind of love.  Whatever my shortcomings, Doug has never failed to assure me that I am never too much and always more than enough.

None of us is perfect, nor were we ever meant to be. We were created with our own unique gifts and strengths to complement one another.

Even knowing this, I confess there are times I occasionally struggle with doubts about my worth.  I will quickly apologize for the slightest oversight, and my daughter still has to remind me to claim my space at the shopping mall.  Sometimes I still feel guilty asking for help, or feel badly because things don’t turn out the way I planned, or I feel guilty for purchasing some small thing that makes me happy.  After all these years, I am still trying to absorb the fact that I matter.  I know I need to declare the truth and live like I believe it:

I am not too much, and I am more than enough.

Maybe you need to declare this too.  If so, do yourself a favor and take a moment to rebuke the lies and speak that powerful, life-giving truth into your own life.  Let me assure you…

You are not too much. 

You are more than enough.

“…now God has placed the members, each one of them, in the body, just as He desired.  If they were all one member, where would the body be? But now there are many members, but one body. And the eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you”; or again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” On the contrary, it is much truer that the members of the body which seem to be weaker are necessary; and those members of the body which we deem less honorable, on these we bestow more abundant honor, and our less presentable members become much more presentable, whereas our more presentable members have no need of it. But God has so composed the body, giving more abundant honor to that member which lacked, so that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another.” 

I Corinthians 12:18-25

Amen.

Me and my protector.

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Cindy Burrell

Copyright 2019, All Rights Reserved

abuse, confusion, disrespect, divorce, domestic violence, emotional abuse, faith, fear, manipulation, marriage, recovery, religion

A Season of Man-Hating

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There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven… a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.  Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4

Just a few months after separating from my husband, I was hired by a prominent government official to be his receptionist and personal assistant.  In that role, I was responsible for greeting those who came to meet with him, people from all walks of life.  Still reeling from the effects of the abuse and dealing with my husband’s ongoing harassment, in my mind’s eye every man who walked in the door was automatically presumed to be an enemy – a self-serving, conniving jerk.  As far as greeting those who came to meet with my boss, I knew how to be cordial while remaining thoroughly entrenched in my cynical mindset toward the opposite sex. 

Continue reading A Season of Man-Hating →

abuse, belief system, children, communication, conflict, confusion, disrespect, emotional abuse, enabling, faith, fear, marriage, recovery

Enabling Isn’t Noble

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“A man of great anger must pay the penalty.
If you rescue him, you will only have to do again.”  Proverbs 19:19

For some of you reading this, what I need to share may be difficult to receive; nevertheless, I hope you will consider what I have to say, for I have been where you are…

I know you are determined to fix it, to help the man* to whom you are so devoted, to help him work through whatever pain he is carrying, to love him unconditionally in spite of how he treats you.  I know you want to believe that hiding somewhere beneath that prickly exterior is the man who found a way to win your heart however many months or years ago.

I know you want to be strong, to prove to yourself, God, those who know you and the man you live with that no matter how he treats you, you won’t break and you will never give up.  You believe that somehow, someday his heart will soften, life will become sweet and safe, and you will both bask in the kind of deep, transcendent love you imagine.  I know that each morning you awaken with a new hope that maybe today things will be different.  Maybe today he will see you and decide to love you back.  Maybe today you will find the key that will unlock his seemingly lost and hurting heart.

Continue reading Enabling Isn’t Noble →

abuse, Christianity, conflict, confusion, domestic violence, emotional abuse, fear, hostility, messages, perfectionism

The Messages Your Abuser is Sending

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“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” – Laurell K. Hamilton

One afternoon many years ago, before I had children, I was gardening in the front yard of our little house when I saw a woman emerge from her home a few doors down.  Clearly in a rage, she walked briskly to the street where her car was parked as a boy of about 8 years old ran close behind.  The boy was clearly crying and called out to her as she got into her car and slammed the car door.

“Where are you going, Mom?” he said, clearly distraught.

She didn’t respond or even turn to acknowledge him but put the key into the ignition and turned it.

“Where are you going?  Please don’t go!” he fairly yelled, even as he called out to her.  “Where are you going, Mom?  When are you coming back?”

She ignored him and drove away, her young son standing barefoot alone in the street weeping as the car pulled away.  He then ran into the house, crushed by his mother’s response to him.  It was a heart-wrenching incident to witness.

 Whatever happened after that, I’m not sure that anything or anyone could ever completely erase that child’s terrible memory of his mother’s decision to drive away without any acknowledgement of his terror.  That morning, she sent him a message that had the potential to color that child’s life.  In that singular moment, without using any words, the woman told her son that he didn’t matter.

The truth is that every day, through our words and actions, we send messages to those around us.  And if I may be so bold, I think that the messages we send to those with whom we come into contact may be narrowed down to two.  Either “You matter” or “You don’t matter.”

Of course we may have contact with many people during a given day, and some interactions are simply in passing or of a benign nature – neither overtly favorable nor unfavorable, yet even in casual interactions, our words and body language hold the power to convey what we all need to know – we matter.  But even in the presence of our local bank teller, the server at our favorite restaurant or the cashier at the grocery store, just acknowledging those around us, looking them in the eye, and offering them a smile and a ‘thank you’ tells real people with real lives and real wounds and needs that they matter.  I don’t know of a greater gift we can give to people that literally costs us nothing.

Even more so, within our intimate circle of friends, co-workers and particularly our family members, the messages we send and receive can have a powerful impact.  Having recovered (mostly) from my 20 years of living with an abuser, I realize now that my former husband’s almost exclusive message to me was:  “You don’t matter” or perhaps even more hurtful:  “I matter, and you don’t.”

The only thing that really mattered was him – what he wanted, when and how he wanted it.  Anything else was an issue, a problem, an inconvenience.  Anything less than perfection (from me) was cause for criticism, condemnation and/or correction.  Even when everything seemed outwardly acceptable, he could find an excuse to be discontent.  He made sure I knew that, at the end of the day, I really didn’t matter, for nothing I did or said would ever be sufficient.  The smallest measure of love and acceptance I sought was consciously – and cruelly – withheld.   There were times when he was happy – when he got whatever it was he wanted, but even in those brief moments of peace, I know now it didn’t matter to him one way or another whether I was happy or not.

“You don’t matter.”

All abuse victims know the feeling.  Yet in the midst of our unhealthy relationships, we believe we can convince our abuser that we matter.  It is what we live for.  We become almost exclusively preoccupied with finding a way to prove ourselves, to earn value and acceptance in his* eyes.  Most of what we do is heavy-laden with the hope that perhaps tomorrow, through his words and his actions, the doubt will be erased.  He will finally convey once and for all time the message we desperately long to receive from him:  “You matter.  You are special.  You are wonderful.  You are worthy of the deepest love and respect and care.”  

But in my case, as in the case of so many others, tomorrow didn’t come.

So the question is, “What are the messages he is sending you?”

When he is unpredictable, manipulative, sarcastic, hostile, angry, selfish and cruel, then he is sending you a message.  “I am dissatisfied with you.  You are failing to make me happy, so you are not allowed to be happy.”

When he controls the finances and decides that he needs a new truck when you and your children are in dire need of basic necessities, he is saying, “What I want is more important than what you need.”

When he refuses to lift a finger to help with any of the household responsibilities or complains when things aren’t done to his standard, he is saying, “You need to do more, while I am free to do whatever I want – or nothing at all.”

When he trumps the plans you have made to suit his own, or he simply doesn’t want you to have time to yourself, he is telling you he alone decides whether or when you may go anywhere or do anything.  Your plans and needs for relationship and social interaction mean nothing, while his plans are not even subject to debate.

When he decides to move your family away from your friends and other sources of emotional support, and he doesn’t even invite your perspective before making the decision, he is telling you that he doesn’t care how you (or your kids) are affected by his decisions.

When, even knowing how physically exhausted you are, he wakens you in the middle of the night or early in the morning and insists that you be sexually responsive to him, he is reminding you that his sexual needs matter more than your need for rest.

When he criticizes you, curses at you, calls you names, yells at you for the slightest thing or tells you that you are lucky he puts up with you, his design is to convince you that you are inadequate, that there is something wrong with you, that you don’t matter.

But you do matter, although your abuser wants to make sure you don’t figure that out.  If he is conveying these messages to you, then know he is deliberately trying to keep you down, convince you that you are unworthy of love, and make you feel obligated to try ever harder.  Know that he is neither innocent nor ignorant, but rather he knows exactly what he is doing.  He is simply a liar, a tyrant, a control freak, a manipulator and a bully.

He is an abuser.

And if your abuser is anything like mine, he will occasionally toss out, “You know that I love you…”  Those few words are specifically designed to disarm you, to dare you to believe the words rather than the overwhelming measure of evidence to the contrary.

If the messages he is sending you fail to convey not only that you matter but how much you matter in real and practical terms, then you must claim that truth for yourself.

Looking back on my own history, I can see the emotional trauma my former husband inflicted on my heart through his words, attitudes, behaviors and even simple body language – a glare, a shake of the head, a slamming of the door.  For so many years, I felt much like that barefoot little boy standing in the street, wondering if the person who mattered most in my life would one day assure me of my love-worthiness, show me that I mattered.

So do yourself a favor and take a step back.  Watch and listen and analyze what his words and actions are saying.

  • Is his love conditional and always subject to doubt?
  • Does he try to make you feel inadequate?
  • Does he imply that you are a burden?
  • Does he infer that he is merely tolerating you?
  • Do his wants and needs matters above all?

If his messages to you are that you don’t matter, then (in my humble opinion) you may presume that you are living with an abuser.

Someone who loves you will make you a priority, invest in your life, ask for your perspective, do whatever he can to ensure that your needs and desires are met, accept you as you are, and prize you and make you feel special.  Someone who loves you will demonstrate in a thousand different ways you are absolutely worthy of love – that you matter.

Because you do.  ###

*Although abusers may be of either gender, abusers are predominantly male; therefore the abuser is referenced here in the masculine.  The reader’s understanding is appreciated.

Coyright 2018, All Rights Reserved

abuse, belief system, Christianity, confusion, controlling abuse, disrespect, domestic violence, emotional abuse, fear, hostility, loneliness, manipulation, marriage, neglect, unsafe home

Where’s My Gumball?

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Consider the gumball machine; it’s a relational analogy that works.

Practically speaking, it should be understood that in any relationship there is a give-and-take dynamic.  It should not be a matter of I’m-gonna-get-what-I’ve-got-coming-to-me sort of attitude, but rather a natural, mutual desire to meet the needs of the one we say we care most about.  Both people make investments of goodwill for the sake of the other, and both enjoy the benefits of one another’s gracious contributions.

But what happens when one person consistently, intentionally fails to demonstrate love and care toward the person they claim to love?

In an abusive relationship, the enabler-victim in the relationship is almost always in a perpetual struggle to reach the heart of her* abuser.  Although he is cold, emotionally cruel and frighteningly unpredictable, she remains committed, believing that her persistent love will reap its intended outcome – a healthy, mutually respectful, intimate partnership.  So day after day, by her practical and emotional investment, she puts a nickel into the proverbial gumball machine hoping to receive a small, reasonable return on her investment, if not today, then perhaps tomorrow – or the next day.

She reminds herself to be patient, learns to go without, and tries to dismiss his cruel words and habitual selfishness and neglect.  When he is hurtful, she tries to talk to him about her needs and longings, but rather than hearing her, embracing her and endeavoring to remind her of her worth, he instead insists that she is overly sensitive and needy.

Nevertheless, she continues to look for ways to remind him of her love, does those little extra things that she thinks will make him happy and help him to see how hard she is trying, believing that he will one day reciprocate.  Over time, she begins to wonder if or when she will receive the kindly attention and genuine affection she craves.  As hard and frustrating as it is, day after day she puts her nickels into the gumball machine and expectantly waits to hear the sweet morsel as it tumbles down the chute and falls into the cradled palm of her hand – concrete evidence of his love for her.  But as hungry as she is for the reward, it doesn’t come.

As the months or years pass, she might receive an occasional pat on the back or a sterile kind of “You know I love you” from her abuser’s lips, but those words cannot compensate for the countless coins of care she has invested with so little return.  Of course, we don’t love our spouse demanding a reward, but realistically, in a marriage, it is perfectly reasonable to expect one – healthy measures of genuine, spontaneous tenderness, affirmation and encouragement.  In a practical sense, our spouse’s presence should be the safest place to be.  But in an abusive relationship, the abuser expects his victim to keep investing in him while he offers little but endless criticism and a hostile, demanding presence.

So after so many months or years, why would anyone be surprised when the abuse victim leaves?  There is no mutual love there.  She has been emotionally bankrupted.  She has no nickels left to give.

But what happens when she finally leaves?  Typically, her abuser will suddenly chase after her.  He will offer a one-size-fits-all apology, tell her, “It will never happen again,” and expect her to unquestioningly return to him.  And what kind of fallout might she expect should she refuse to buy in?  What if she doubts his sincerity, having no reason to trust his words?  What if her instincts are telling her that nothing has really changed?  What if she feels certain that she must keep her distance?

In most instances, the abuser will soon become angry, and his weary victim will hear, “I said I’m sorry.  You need to get over it and forgive me and come back to me.”

With demanding anticipation, he will exclaim, “How dare you keep me waiting?  How dare you turn me away?  How dare you be so selfish and unfeeling?”

At this point, the truth is that he has invested nothing, so his victim owes him nothing.

Yet the abuser will almost always have the audacity to whine, moan, groan and complain, saying essentially, “Hey, I put in my nickel.  Where’s my gumball?”

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*Although abusers can be of either gender, the overwhelming majority of abusers are male; therefore, the abuser is referenced in the masculine.  The reader’s understanding is appreciated.

Copyright 2017, All Rights Reserved