Let The Walls Crumble

There is a battle within myself that I have armored up for and lost...many, many times. My weakness: avoidance. If you have ever read anything on the ‘enneagram’ I’m a full blooded 9, through and through.

I’m going to be including another excerpt from a past journal into this post. Rereading it brought me to tears as it took me right back to days of feeling so isolated by my own actions–or I should say, inactions. I felt lonely and numb. When the numbness occasionally lifted, the emotions I felt were anger and shame. Feeling numb felt better than those, even in its loneliness and confusion. So I would walk myself into the quicksand of internal nothingness until I was pulled out.

“Mental anguish always results from the avoidance of legitimate suffering.”― Stefan Molyneux

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“I don’t want to become a shell of myself. This numb, non-emotive being who’s too hardened and bitter to let joy and hurt into. I want to feel it all, I do, but there are days where feeling takes up far too much energy than I have capacity for. So I avoid, I run away. I shut down, close off my emotions, and build walls. I have days I feel that just one more “I’m fine” and my heart will harden. One more excuse not walk into a nursery and my soul will become a stranger to me. When I do this, when I close myself off to others, avoid the hard emotions and say “I’m fine”, it’s merely a façade of strength. A Band-Aid. A play where I’m the leading actress and wear the costume well. Fooling others to believe whatever I tell them. But eventually the walls crumble from their weak foundations, the Band-Aids peel off, the play ends, and I take my costume off. The people have gone, and what’s left? I pushed my people away, closed the door, and walked away. And here I am, alone, with all of my brokenness and pain out in the open waiting for someone to see. Do I want them to see? No, not like this. I want to be strong and brave and honest. I want to go back and choose to be that. But when I go back I want to look at my life like an old VCR where I can press ‘stop/rewind’ so all I see is a fuzzy screen. I don’t want to see the pictures of moments moving by. I’m afraid if I look at one of the flashing images too long, one it might take me back. If I go back while I’m alone and softened by my lack of costume made of walls and Band-Aids, maybe I’d get trapped in the darkness of memory and sorrow. What if I couldn’t pull myself back? So I don’t rewind, I don’t stop to think of the past–the darkness of memories, missed opportunities and deep regret. If I’m too tired to go back, I’d never start moving forward. So this is what I'll tell myself as each new day comes, “let the walls crumble, tear the Band-Aids off, rip off your costume and take a bow. Your friends are waiting for you by the door.”

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I have always actively tried to name what’s going on through my head and inside my heart. Comparing big emotions to drowning, flying, sinking, suffocating, and other analogies is what has helped me pinpoint some of these feelings and look at them more rationally so that I can attempt to conquer them. Or at least acknowledge them.

“Emotional pain cannot kill you, but running from it can. Allow. Embrace. Let yourself feel. Let yourself heal.” ― Vironika Tugaleva

Avoidance is my downfall every time. I avoid conflict like the plague, I avoid hard questions, and I avoid asking for help. I’m really good at being the “peacemaker”. It’s easier to bend and go with the flow, take things as they come and let everything roll off my back. I’ve done it my whole life, so why wouldn’t I continue that plan in China? The problem with that is it’s not a sustainable tactic. Not when every day I was faced with conflict, hard questions, and the need for help. I couldn’t do it alone, and I couldn’t pretend to not be bothered. I was hurting, grieving, and any amount of change or disruption felt like a massive blow. I started avoiding phone calls and FaceTime. I wanted to talk to my friends and family about what was going on, but the thought of explaining it all felt so exhausting. How could I explain my daily life, or the emotions I was going through when I myself didn’t understand? Whenever I went through particularly hard seasons of brokenness, I would feel myself pulling away from loved ones. When we were hit with loss after loss and I felt as if the world was spinning, I would even feel myself pulling away from the kids. When that happened, the shame and anger with myself would sweep in. I would use excuses like, “I have a lot of editing/writing/craft prep to do today”. And sometimes I’d even fool myself by doing “busy work”. But I knew deep down that I was scared. I was scared to walk in and open my heart to only have it crushed in a month, a week, a day, or a moment later. I was scared to lose again. I cared too deeply to harden my heart, so my natural ‘fight or flight’ instinct was to run. I knew the nannies noticed. Because of the language barrier we relied heavily on body language, and they knew exactly how long it had been since I went into one of their rooms. I was ashamed that while they dedicated their entire life to this work as their own families were at home waiting for them, I couldn't handle it. They lost over, and over, and over again and still showed up to work. Yes, they sometimes had a chip on their shoulder or distant eyes, but they didn’t avoid and they didn’t run. They’re truly the bravest and strongest women I know.

But I didn’t give up. Because love and hope can outweigh any darkness. They overshadow bitterness and cast out shame. I’m learning how to forgive myself for the very human actions and thoughts I’ve experienced. I’m learning to go back in my mind and tell myself, “It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to be sad, and it’s okay to take step back and evaluate your heart.” What I’m learning to do is be more open when I’m not doing okay. To ask for help, to have the hard conversations, and to not think of addressing needs as conflict, but as a way to connect and understand each other. I got so swept up in the constant rollercoaster of our life there that I never stopped to check in with myself. I would forge through the next hard thing and the next, like I was this invincible superhuman who was living a normal but hectic life. Nothing about our life was normal. It was full speed ahead, crushing grief, incredible wins, and constant brokenness and beauty. I expected to be able to run on the same fuel I always had in a polar opposite life, which is impossible. I stumbled through and had a lot of moments where I felt weak and alone. But on the other side looking back, I realize that it took courage to walk back into those rooms every day. And that even in the hardest of times, I always found my way into them again. Even if I stumbled every so often...I realize now that we all need to give ourselves a whole lot of grace in everything we do. I'm so glad I had those nannies to watch and learn from. They taught me to keep going even when the world shatters. The children taught me resilience and to find joy in the darkest of days. Every hug, giggle, and tiny fist wrapped around my finger pulled me back in and taught me to never give up the fight.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." -Matthew 11:28

Though this post is about avoidance and pulling away from loved ones during hard times, I want to be clear that the people I had the impossible honor to live and work alongside in China with are without doubt; the kindest, bravest, loyalest, most beautiful group of people I could have ever hoped for. I'd love to include each of their pictures, but I was blessed enough to have too many to have room for on here. They are the family that doesn't stop fighting for one another, and they love fiercely. They, along with my friends and family stateside, are the ones who always "stood at the door" no matter what. They are the ones who kept me going through it all. So, let your people in–we all desperately need them. “Let the walls crumble, tear the Band-Aids off, rip off your costume and take a bow. Your loved ones are waiting for you by the door.”

“Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; ‘Tis grace has brought me safe thus far and grace will lead me home.” – John Newton