Archive for shame

Signed By God

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on May 2, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

I have made some really dumb decisions over the past years. However, most of the decisions I have made in my life have been based on my security scale rating for that day. I can tell you it has never been very high.  If I was feeling rather low (which was most days), my choice in any matter, would tend to run on the self-destructive side. The result was either me trying to sweep the left over crumbs of my behavior under the rug or just pretend the situation never occurred.  Out of sight, out of mind!!

It really took most my life to figure out that my poor decisions equaled the level of my insecurity, thus, causing total misery. Early on in my drug use, I made every attempt to stop.  Every morning when I woke up it was the same conversation with God. I promise to do better. And I did mean it– But as the years rolled by, I eventually quit trying. Why bother, it was the same story every morning. Shame had overtaken me. I fell deeper and deeper into depression.

Once I quit trying, I realized this only compounded my wretchedness. I could no longer see God’s face. I was too ashamed of myself and what He thought of me.(I did not know He could still see my face. I was like the small child closing their eyes so their parents could not see them. I was no different.)

I have heard it said ( I believe Beth Moore), “Pain is easier than purposelessness.” I understand this now. I had lost my purpose in life…

I was no longer a wife to truly speak of…I was no longer managing our home. I slept too much.

I was a terrible parent. I was missing my children s functions at school while they are so young.

My identity as a nurse was gone.

Everything I knew… was gone.

I was no longer fearful of any type of pain… In a sick sense, I felt I deserved it. When I got sick or hurt, I welcomed it and I challenged it because I felt like it was warranted as my punishment.

So now that I am on a journey of healing, I am better but I still have days that I struggle with the security scales… I have days that I base my acceptance of how others receive and perceive me.  I am still learning to turn this over to God and leave it in His lap… for good.

I have to understand that those around me are on their own journeys and however I may have hurt them in the past or that it may have nothing to do with me,it may just take time. I have a tendency to want things back to normal….a sap. But then do I really? For to go back to where I was, would mean death.

So today, I come as a blank slate before God…. I let Him write my life with His words…

In the Hands of God

Beautifully Awkward

Mirror Mirror On The Windshield

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on April 13, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

I ran into a “friend” the other day at the grand Ol’ Publix while I was listening to some Grand Ol’ Opry music playing in the background and trying to focus on my much-needed grocery shopping. Fate would have it of course as this would be the one time I chose not to wear make-up, looking my very worse. Why does this always happen? I Knew the minute I jumped into my car, I would look in the mirror to see how bad it really was!!

Anyway, I hadn’t talked to my friend since she tried to help me find a job. She must have felt bad because she tried to avoid me. Make-up or not, I was going to take her down approach her. I was curious to what had transpired since our last conversation.  Truth is I had been hurt. I would rather someone call me and tell me ‘no’, than not call me. It’s the not knowing that drives me crazy.

Today, she said she had been thinking about me and was still working on the Director of Nursing.  But as of now, the Director of Nursing was firm in her stance that she would not hire another “Impaired nurse.” When those two words rolled out of her mouth, they came with such might; it felt like an army of terrorists, they shot down every last humbled soldier in my body.

Humbled!   Humiliated! Stripped of my dignity…My identity had always been that I was a great nurse. And in a split second that changed. I became “damaged goods” because of a label, a disease—treatable if monitored like any other malady but at this point who cared.

Standing in front of my friend, speechless–“Impaired nurse”—echoed in my head!! I’m not sure I heard anything else she said. A visual before me of someone on crutches, bandaged up and quite retarded. Although I have been known to fit this description on occasions, I don’t think this is a true account of my disease …

Looking up the definition, this is what I came up with for I.N. (impaired nurse) — Impaired nurses are considered the victims of chemical substance abuse such as alcohol, narcotics, drugs or any other substances that support mood alteration. Notice the word “Victim.” Nowhere does it say moral defect, flaw in character, a criminal, or traitor to the profession.

The unspoken definition is we are fragile merchandise; tender spirits, high achievers and we are victims to a disease that just needs to be managed. Yes, some of us have committed crimes by diverting (someone who steals drugs from patients, pharmacies or other sources)drugs, or come to work intoxicated.  But guys, that is the drugs—the disease…having been clean now, I am appalled myself at things I used to do. I needed help. I need help. I will always need help.

I am learning through my experience the employer’s standpoint. They fear litigation which often makes it easier to not bother with saving a great nurse with many years of experience.

The current punitive system creates barriers to reporting and keeps impaired nurses from getting help. This is distressing. Sadly, if I knew what I know now, I would have definitely gone a different route. I have been persecuted for a crime of saying, “I need help.” The system in place is not a true “advocacy” program.

As I got back into my car and looked in the mirror (remember I had to check on my make-up situation or lack of) and it finally hit me, I was seeing where I had been and I don’t want to forget that. But it is time to move forward, shift gears, to drive and to change the course of my life, maybe I will find something even bigger.

Someday I hope to be able to change the world’s image of us—the impaired nurse, God willing.

For today, my saving grace to this new passage was and will be filtered through my Father’s hand for He is working this to His good…Romans 8:28

Today, I am a better person for it…

Li”e”bility

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on April 11, 2010 by Her Broken Wing


(Job 34:6)  “Although I am right, I am considered a liar; although I am guiltless, his arrow inflicts an incurable wound.’’

I still remember the haunting pain caused by a friend’s parent that became one of the many chisels which broke my spirit. I didn’t understand why it hurt so badly then. Today, that same pain has come back to life, 41 years later.

I was with my friend and his parents, we were listening to Three Dog Night on the radio when the song, Liar, came on; their dad said, “There is so&so, they are singing about you, /—ME in other words– /she’s a liar.” My friend’s dad wasn’t kidding around either. He looked through my soul like he knew something I didn’t. I subconsciously thought then how I would never forget that look.

At the moment he called me a liar, my world stopped. The pain was so severe, tears welled up in my eyes and I had to turn away, but I did what I learned early in my childhood years—laughed it off and made a joke of it.  I prayed the day would soon be over,  hurried home, and I told no one. Telling someone in my home, would only put my shame and embarrassment under a microscope. My parents would ask, “What did you do to cause this?”  It was always my fault. So, I went to my room and silently cried myself to sleep.

Fast forward some decades later, “She took those pills from her patient.” My world started spinning, and I was 9 years-old again, the same pain and embarrassment as a little girl. I wanted to run home and hide. I couldn’t laugh it off this time as not a soul was laughing. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for an answer.

“Well, did you?” My supervisors asked one more time.

The truth is—I did not take anyone’s drugs but I abused mine. So regardless–I was a liar. I learned fast that as a drug-addict, you are automatically considered a liar. They go hand in hand. Your credibility goes down the toilet. Because–we are!

How did my friend’s dad know as a little girl? … Why would the memory come flooding back in my mind like a damn breaking loose?

I was a liar.  (Jn 8:44)

I ran home, buried my head in my pillow and cried buckets—and there wasn’t facing any  dragons or demons for my children, I couldn’t be their hero, I had my own villains and I couldn’t seem to manage them.

In reality, I have lied to a lot of people through the years, especially my family. My spouse would ask me over the past year, “Are you taking drugs?” and I would look aghast, “Of course, not.”

Liar”—Three Dog Night– ran through my veins…cold, calculating, and numbing … I had come to a point that I could lie and no longer feel any remorse. That is a scary place to be.

You can plug in any disease here–drugs, alcohol, pornography, food, lying, anger, work, shopping and really anything that takes away your worship from God or causes you to lie or “fudge” the truth a “little”.

We are prisoners to our own cell. Locked away from the place where we think God will meet us.

So what happened?

One morning, I woke up and got out of bed. Just like every morning, I prayed but unlike every morning, I heard Gods whisper, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” (Jn 8:32)

It was nothing I did, but everything He did…

As always, To Be Con’t

In Search Of Me

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on April 5, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

I know I have talked a good bit about shame. But shame became the obsession in my life that kept me from freedom. It is one of the most powerful emotions known to mankind. It is a binding entity to our spirit that won’t let go. It is present in the healthiest of people.

So why is shame like a cancer that if not taken care of will grow and take over our soul? Because it comes from Satan. But he will present it in its pretty little package making it look like we deserve it. Sure I brought this on myself. I am the reason for all my troubles. This isn’t a disease. it is a character defect. I am a moral failure.

“I just can’t help you” may have been the most painful words I have ever heard. When I was coming forward to get help, most of my friends and family stepped up to the plate. But there were some very important people who did not. And those words “I just can’t help you” or even just the silence (which is sometimes worse) cut through my heart like a knife. I was left standing there bleeding. The pain was at times almost too great. When the words hit my soul, I bit my lip as if I could stop the tears but my eyes would fill with tears. My pain seeped through my eyes. And soon, I couldn’t stop the pain. I began to cry rivers. And then the ugly heaving chest thing began. Snorting, and all that stuff. It’s really ugly!

Why were those words so painful? They knew! Why does our exposed life revealed send us unraveling? Was I embarrassed, had my self-worth been challenged, yes but also my weaknesses had been exposed and put under a microscope. Were they saying, I’m not worth saving? Or she is one of those.  Tickets were free for those that wished to see the woman, who had fallen from grace. “Did you know that she…?”

Can you just imagine the pain? I sat alone for many days, wondering if life was worth it. I had reached true brokenness. I understood disparity in its pureness.

Shame had become a backdrop to my life now. I had been robbed of true happiness and joy. I had been robbed of the abundant life. (Jn 10:10)

Until one day I woke up and my hungry soul needed food. Searching for  morsels of life, I found something.  My facades were not working any way. God kept sending people and situations my way–so just maybe God did love me. Soon, I found a few more crumbs of God’s Word. And they tasted good. Those few bites increased my desire for more.

And my search began.

Her Broken Wing Princess

Shame on You

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on March 22, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

Shame On You

Shame can be a debilitating emotion.  It is like carrying the proverbial ball and chain. We go to laugh and there is present some internal hurdle keeping us from the true release of the moment. I have actually felt foreign in my own land. Meaning—I did not recognize my own laughter. It was frightening.

Growing up, I experienced hurtful things, very hurtful things said to me. Bad things happened, situations out of my control. When I was young, I was molested by a family member. That was the beginning of my living alone and experiencing tremendous shame. I am sure I caused this, and I had nowhere to go. My mom never believed me and because of who the accuser was, she would have defended him to the end.

It was in those moments, that my life shifted its destination.  The course of my life that I imagined — died.

Once my purpose changed, I felt like I had landed on a desolate island. An island in which I was alone and fending for myself. As the Cruise ships passed, happy Go-Byers would look over at me and just laugh. Pity—I hate pity. So I began to build a wall, keeping by passers out. Alone—on an island—The island of destruction.

My wall was built of drugs, extra weight and too much make up, I thought if only my life were like those out of a soap opera or love story. The bottom line is the same— I wanted to escape the horrific pain deep inside my soul.

I deserve to suffer… because if people only knew!

Drugs were a great escape in the beginning. But it would not be long before I soon felt more shame and guilt than ever before. I became an expert of lies.  I was now a woman drug-addict and a liar with a drug problem . (Ephesians 4:28He who has been stealing must steal no longer, but must work, doing something useful.)

I remember lying in my bed one day; the sun was warm and shining through my bedroom window. I couldn’t get up that day– too tired. But I could hear my children playing outside. My neighbor was watching my children. I lay there and cried defeat. Is this what I have become? My days became months and months became years. My children grew. I missed out.

But this was not enough to stop me– Shame on me and shame within me.

And there I was, isolated on a deserted island with my walls of shame—dying.

When does my ship come in?

The Daughter of the King