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Showing posts from December, 2019

A need to get away...

Although we had asked my parents for space , I had no confidence that they would give it to us. My mom had sent an angry and confusing letter . It was very hard to interpret, but what I felt was a strong sense of shame, entitlement (she felt entitled to my space, myself, my children), and no comprehension or respect at all of my boundaries.  One aspect I found very disturbing -- and quite confusing -- was that she mentioned the scenario of meeting in the grocery store, and my awkwardly trying to ignore her, and scoot past her.  This was exactly the scenario I had imagined in my dream , months earlier. I had spent hours obsessing over this image: it was like a PTSD image, that I had on repeat in my mind. How did my mom have the same image/dreams as myself ?  Then she related a dream. This dream was very different than any dream I have had. However, the fact that she was also having symbolic dreams about our relationship also troubled me. Just how linked are we? Mother...just let me

My Mother's Reply (E-mail)

Ishmael, it is morally and biblically wrong and even illegal what you are doing (“In no case may the father or mother, without a grave reason, interfere with personal relations between the child and his grandparents.” - law [from our previous place of residence]. ) In Psalms and in Deuteronomy, we are commanded by God to teach our children and their children after them. If you believe us guilty of some heinous crime and can offer proof that your children would be unsafe with us, then we have a right to know what we are being accused of. I have tried to hang onto some semblance of hope throughout these past months. And it is certainly my love for you that has caused me to "always protect, always trust, always hope, and always persevere." (I Corinthians 13) I have been gradually becoming aware in the past year or so that my love is not reciprocated. And my mind often reels off to various possible scenarios to explain in some way how this could have happened. Something (

Why we REALLY left missions (Dec. 26)

In person, people may ask us the “real reason” we left missions. I don’t know how much we may share, but this is the truth, for us… The truth is that we felt God leading us to leave. But God leads through events, and through factors. Two years ago, we were anchored in our mission field like a crustacean wedged deeply into a crevice in the rocks. But God used some events to begin to pry us free: 1. Support It has become increasingly clear that our support base is “aging.” Our strongest support comes from our “home” community: people who knew us and loved us before missions. But every year away from this base means that these connections grow “older.” We have so much gratitude for those who have carried us for so many years. Every year, there is one or two more that has to redirect giving, for various reasons. As we seek to find support from new churches, we arrive as a stranger and a missionary, seeking support. The simple fact is that more and more support-raising energy is neede

I blocked my parents on facebook...

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[Written retroactively on February 25th] On about December 22nd, I finally made the decision to block my parents on Facebook. It was a colossally huge step. Usually quite active on social media, I had been posting less and less. As I write this, an enigma that still remains is how  my mother silenced me. I felt like she said something  in our phone call around one year ago, and from that day, all joy went out of my desire to podcast and blog. I have been trying to regain it. In the complexity of stepping down from a ministry position, there was also my parents. What they will think, their expectations. With them blocked, finally, I felt like I could begin posting again. Also, I felt like it was the final statement  that this was real. I was really cutting off contact with my parents. I was making a change. I didn't know what yet exactly. But I knew it was not going to be, "business as usual." From here on out, things would be very, very different. It took a surpri

Goodbye...

While at a Christmas concert, I had a moment.  During away in a manner, I closed my eyes, and began speaking to my father. Though a blue flame, I felt I could see his face... his perfect face, in heaven Goodbye, dad. I will miss you I miss you too. We will meet again You understand why I need to do this? I do not understand now, but I will later I love you, you know. I really do I have not loved you very well You did what you could Goodbye, dad We shall meet again. I’m proud of you.  Goodbye

Disturbing dreams (death eater, frozen horses)

Note:  I have been processing  a lot  with my parents. As I do, I have had quite a few symbolic  dreams . I have been trying to interpret my dreams, to better understand what my inner self may be wrestling with emotionally and spiritually. Go ahead! Shoot me! I was in a war, but the enemy had the same uniform as I did. He kept laughing, and saying, “Go ahead, shoot me! It won’t hurt!” I could see clearly that he had a bullet proof vest on. I was supposed to shoot him, he was the enemy. I didn’t really want to, but I shot my machine gun at his throat. “I didn’t mean to shoot me there !” he said. I had hit him four times in the throat. He was taken away to surgery. "We have fleas..." I was driving towards my parent’s house, but they lived at a different place. I remember passing the stop signs in town. Someone was asking me if I had paid for this car-ride. I said that for a long time now, I had changed. I was not a mooch like my parents. I had my own house, my own

Asking for space 12/21/19

Dear Mom & Dad: My e-mail is still the same. This is the best way to contact me. My post office box is Box 123, _______... We will not be coming to see you this Christmas. I would like you to respect my desire for distance at this time. Thank you, Ishamel

Hypnotherapy: "I am not responsible for my mother's emotions"

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Hypnotherapy is like being guided through a story or dream, by the therapist. It may seem a bit silly or childish. But I have found that these dreams/stories have a powerful way of communicating with my inner/subconscious/hidden self. I have found that after these sessions -- and I have had three so far -- my thinking/feeling on certain core issues has radically changed. The following is a point-form summary of my first hypnotherapy session. *Note to self: all images are just that…images. Who knows if they are true. They seem to be helpful, as I seek to navigate my new normal, and untangle my old mess.* Key thought which I am trying to reprogram: “I am responsible for my mother’s emotions.” When asked when I began to feel this, a wise man told me that the memories were too old: I would not be able to remember them. I began to think of times as a teen, when my mom was crying (because my grandmother was mean to her) and I comforted her. But I wanted to go deeper. I was directed t

Request for new contact information, from my parents

[Words in italics written retroactively on February 25th]  Over the course of several months, I ignored numerous phone calls from my parents.  They  did not leave phone messages, or write e-mails. I sensed that my dad knew that he had a significant advantage in a face-to-face conversation, or in a phone call, where he would have the  emotional and verbal "edge." It caused a lot of anxiety every time he called, and I did not exactly know what I wanted to do. I told myself that I would not speak to them until after our retreat. Then, after our retreat, I decided I was enjoying the silence, and wanted it to continue.  When we moved and got new cell phones, I did not give anybody our new information. Hence, my parents didn't get it either. Sometime around this time, my sister-in-law contacted me, letting me know that my parents had contacted her. They said  something  to the effect of, "We don't have Ishamel's address. So I guess we'll just send his prese

Two Buckets (Dec. 14)

When my older brother was a toddler (maybe 1.5-2) my parents were in Bible school. My dad said that my brother wiggled and fought a lot in his high-chair. Dad saw this as a problem to be fixed. And so he tells the story (with much laughter) of how he took two pails, set them end-to-end, and sat his child on top. So long as he sat still, he would not fall. But of course, he moved and fell (about 2.5-3 feet) onto the floor and cried. “But when I put him back, he sat perfectly still! Only his eyeballs were moving back and forth!” This is one of my dad’s classic stories that he tells over and over. A time when he “fixed” a childhood problem through creativity and control. In his estimation. *** This seems emblematic of a lot of how my dad parented. Things needed to be his way. Even normal things like having a child who is more active, throws food, wiggles in his high-chair, etc., were unacceptable. He needed to “fix” it.  What did it mean to be “fixed”? It meant to be 1

Demanding "Fuel" (Dec. 10)

In his book, "Fuel," H.G. Tudor asks, "What is it that a narcissist really wants? They want fuel..." Fuel is defined as emotional energy, be that negative or positive, that makes them feel affirmed or in control, and helps distract them from the gnawing self-hatred that they keep locked away inside. “If this fuel is not provided voluntarily then we will demand it and force it from those around us.” — Fuel : What Makes the Narcissist Function? by H G Tudor http://a.co/7rroWR0 Ways my parents demand praise: - Ask for my opinion (on a Bible study, book, etc). If the feedback is NOT glowing, will react with “hurt.” Often, will never continue working on that thing. (Eg. my brother stopped music, dad stopped bible studies) - One time, my mother reproved me (with much “hurt” in her voice) for not saying “I love you,” before going to school. I objected that it was morning, it was cold and dark, I was tired, and it wasn’t personal (something like that). (I was prob

How my mom made me mad... (Dec 10)

How my mom made me mad In a previous post, I mentioned that I had gotten very mad at my mom as a teen. Mad enough to yell “I hate you” at her. And for this, I was spanked. With a belt. As a 16+ year old. And I apologized for it. Try as I can, I cannot remember the specific thing that made me mad. However, I was able to remember the  feeling. As I focus on that feeling, a cluster of other memories comes to the surface.. ** I was sitting on the computer (now in the main area of our house) playing video games. I did that for hours at a time. They weren’t even fun or “good” games. My brothers were into World of Warcraft and Final Fantasy. But I didn’t play those games. I played simple games like solitaire, and basic, cheesy games with poor graphics. Much better games were available. Why was I playing so much? It is hard to say.  I was trying to find work, but not having much success. Why wasn’t I having success?  I had a job as a dishwasher one day. Only one da