Shame and freedom

I have worn shame like a coat for most of my life. Shame for my own actions, shame because of things done to me by others.

The latest round started a few years ago. I was suffering terrible back pain. The doctors at the ER dismissed me, sent me home barely able to walk with a "follow-up" to a specialist. He could not find the problem, so I was shuffled around some more. A few months later, I resigned myself to asking for a referral to a pain clinic. There, one doctor found a source and treated it, yet the symptoms continued. After he began suggesting more and more ridiculous ideas, I decided I would try one more time for help at a nearby hospital. Fast forward several months and a cause was found, treatment was given. The rest I will live with for the rest of my life, but I was finally mobile and gaining strength. The shame I felt that year was immense. Even though a cause was found, I felt trapped by it.

All seemed fine for a year or so. Then one day, the week of Halloween last year, I suffered a stroke. After going to the nearest ER (yes, the one that shuffled me off a year later), I was sent home and told to follow-up with a neurologist. My physician sent me to someone outside of the hospital system. There, I could see the skepticism in his eye (an MRI was never done at the hospital, only a CT). In an attempt to appease, he recommended an MRI, but suggested that I was suffering from Conversion Disorder. For those of you that don't know what that is, it's the modern name for hysteria. Basically, my mind was so broken, it was mimicking symptoms of a stroke.

We left the doctor that day in disbelief. God bless my husband who refused to accept this disorder. At the urging of a good friend, and the recommendation of a therapist, I had the MRI done a few days later. I can not describe the crushing weight of shame I felt. So many people were trying to help my family, praying for us, bringing meals, etc. I felt like had betrayed everyone because I was broken. I didn't deserve the love, care, or prayers. When the results came back that, yes, I had indeed had a stroke, I knew I should feel vindicated, but I didn't. I still felt like I let everyone down somehow. That I was in fact, so broken mentally, that things would never be the same.

Fast forward 8 months. I have mostly recovered. I still feel the shame and battle it even now. Then came the next round of news. I found out I am pregnant. It was not by design, but deep in my heart, I knew it was meant to be a blessing from God. Yet, I still felt shame. The doctors warned me not to get pregnant. The list of medical issues and risks are long. The reactions from people were shock and then the timid questions about how I felt about it. I tried to keep in my heart that God ordained this and He had a reason for this also.

Yesterday, I told one more person because I knew that my youngest would tell her friend. To my surprise, this mother's her face lit up and she told me how happy she was for me. I was stunned. This was not the reaction I was expecting. I have braced myself for the looks and the questions. Yet, here she was, handing me a lifeline saying all of the things I had been telling myself. When I saw her today, I told her how much her support meant to me - I even started to cry. On the way home, I mulled over the conversation. Her total belief that this was a blessing and that things would be ok. That she was excited to be able to watch the progression of the pregnancy. She was celebrating for me and genuinely hoped that I would be free to enjoy it also.

I felt bad that I had let myself fall into the pattern of letting others dictate, to some extent, how I felt. I started to ask the Lord, why I have felt so ashamed all of this time. I began to recognize the pattern over the course of my life.

During this 2 year period of my life, I have taken great solace from a passage from the Bible. There was a father whose child had been tormented for years from a demon. He asked the disciples for help, but they were unable to cast it out. The father asked Jesus, that if he could do anything to help, to please do so. Jesus responded that all things were possible if you can believe. To that the father cried out, "I believe, help my unbelief". How many times have we done something similar? Faith allows us to believe, but the mind and other people erode that belief.

I have struggled with my unbelief. I believe Jesus can do anything - but mainly for other people. I carry my baggage somehow believing he can't really help me. What arrogance on my part. How am I so special, that even the Lord of the universe can not help me? Yet, He is patient and loving and waits for me to come back to Him, crying out, "I believe, help my unbelief".

So today, I asked Him to free me from the shame. Help me live with the knowledge that I AM free. To see the lingering physical problems from the stroke, not as a curse of shame, but of a blessing to remind me of His grace and mercy. To accept that He has already set me free. There is no room for shame in His story for my life.

Then the quiet urging came, "You are already free". Just like the prisoners in the Bible that were unchained by the angels, I have to take the steps out of the prison. I am at the doorway now, trying to make my feet move forward. I think I see the other side now!