Love Isn't Supposed to Hurt

by Paul, Christi

  Colleen helped me realize that this was one of those times I had to go into full-throttle faith mode.

  “Can you change what Justin’s going to say to people, Christi?” she asked.

  “No,” I admitted sheepishly.

  “Then you just have to let it be and remember that in the end, the truth will always win.”

  I had to take comfort in the truth that ultimately Justin and I both knew what had happened. We both knew why I left. Whether anyone else ever fully understood wasn’t the issue.

  On top of that, my happiness couldn’t hang on whether he ever truly understood, whether he took responsibility. That had to be his journey. I simply had to rest in the knowledge that I’d done all I could the best way I knew how.

  Still, it’s a tough pill to swallow—letting someone spout off blatantly false information about you through a megaphone. It can be downright paralyzing, and at times you feel desperate to defend yourself.

  But for me, there was also a powerful lesson in it. These attacks on my reputation made me realize that the only people who know what really happens behind closed doors are the people behind them. All other commentary is just speculation.

  I know I’ve been guilty of speculation in the past. I’ve found myself on the outside looking in, wondering, What really happened? Did someone cheat? What drove them apart? It’s just human nature. And I’m a reporter, after all. If you don’t have a healthy curiosity, then you’re not doing your job.

  But being on this side of things was an eye-opener. Having felt the rush of anxiety when people whispered behind my back, trying to dissect my relationship, I vowed not to be guilty of the same thing in the future. When I’m tempted to judge others, I try to remind myself what it’s like to be on the other side of that fence—the fence that separates the players from the spectators. As I’ve learned firsthand, watching the game isn’t the same as playing it. So when I’m on the sidelines and I feel judgment creeping in, I ask God to forgive me and to give me a more gracious, humble heart.

  It was shortly after my visit with Colleen that one of my mantras was born. Back in my town house one particularly difficult day as I was trying to sort through the chaos of the last six months, I said this prayer: “God, I invite You into this moment, and I give all this to You.” It was short and sweet, but it was enough to help me step back. It gave me a second to breathe and think about what I needed to do next. It opened my mind to a new way of thinking—a hopeful view rather than a pessimistic one.

  The funny thing is that when you truly let go and surrender what you’re dealing with to God, He takes all of those things. That’s exactly what He has been waiting for—for us to trust Him enough to give it all to Him. He’s never too busy to deal with our problems. He’s not too angry with us for being less than perfect. He’s not too ashamed of us for thinking our love life or our finances or our grief needs His attention. Our issues aren’t too small for Him—He’s just as tuned in to us as He is to the devastation in Sudan and the wars in the Middle East. If it matters to us, it matters to Him. And if it hurts us, it hurts Him. He’s ready to help us change . . . if we’re ready to ask Him.

  And I was finally ready. Once I got that and began the process of surrender, I no longer felt helpless. I was on the path to becoming what I craved—fearless.

  Years later, after I moved to Atlanta, I heard a one-liner I wish I would have come across when I was going through this whole fiasco. My pastor Vic Pentz said, “You know the only difference between us and God? God doesn’t think He’s us.”

  Vic was right. Who among us hasn’t tried to play God with our lives, deluding ourselves into thinking we could understand it all and control it all? And how often have we found ourselves in a pit after trying to drive that truckload of chaos on our own?

  But we never run out of chances with God. We may make mistakes again and again, but He holds out His hand every time, happy to pick us up out of the mayhem we’ve made.

  God uses imperfect people, and I fit that bill perfectly. He counters my incompetence, my weakness, my arrogance. And He responds with forgiveness.

  I remembered a passage I’d read by Beth Moore: “Our self-condemning hearts can’t block our forgiveness, but they can keep us from feeling forgiven. The result will be a twisted resignation to our own capacity to sin rather than any confidence in God’s capacity to restore us.”

  I shuddered to think how many times in the past several years I’d made the mistake of confusing faith in myself with faith in God. I’d let myself down so much I couldn’t even identify who I was anymore. Now, sitting alone in my home, with only Bruno asleep at my side, I had a renewed sense of who I was.

  I was a child of God.

  As imperfect and fractured as we are at times, we give up on ourselves long before God ever will. Yes, we will tumble. But He’s ready to open the gates of grace every time we fall.

  There is strength in surrender . . . as long as we’re surrendering to Him.

  Chapter 15

  Your Worth Is Intact, Right Now

  Justin and I finally came to some financial agreements regarding the divorce, but he refused to sign the settlement. It included harassment stipulations, and he wasn’t about to sign his name to that.

  After I’d told my legal adviser about some of the late-night phone calls and combative, belligerent messages Justin had been leaving me, he believed it was important to stipulate that any harassment would cost Justin—not necessarily monetarily, but in some capacity. So we were yet again hashing out the verbiage of the contract.

  Even so, the divorce wasn’t consuming me like it used to. I actually felt somewhat disconnected from the situation at that point, as though it were just a technicality. Which, in many ways, was accurate. But I couldn’t ignore the reality that while the past might not be holding me hostage, it certainly hadn’t abandoned its grip on me.

  One day when a girlfriend and I were talking about fashion sense, she casually said, “Oh, you’ve got great taste in shoes! You’re such a shoe whore.” I knew she meant nothing by it, but that word whore just crawled up my spine. I couldn’t believe how deeply Justin’s comments were seared into the core of my being.

  I talked to a friend of mine about how I wasn’t letting go of things the way I wanted to. She referred me to a doctor she knew in Chicago named Dr. Amelia Case, who guides people through a series of questions that help move you toward a life of gratitude and certainty about the truth and about yourself. These questions help you neutralize antagonistic thoughts so they no longer control you.

  I had to admit I’d never heard of such therapy, so I called Dr. Case myself. Fortunately these were sessions I could do over the phone, which was convenient since we lived a couple of thousand miles apart.

  “We all have perceptions of our past, whether from relationships or events, and those perceptions can be polarizing,” she told me. “These perceptions rule our present lives. In other words, we’re still allowing feelings from the past to dictate our current state of mind.”

  Okay. This much I understood. This had been my reality for some time.

  So we started to tackle that concept—that something as simple as a word or two could send my view of myself into a tailspin. I didn’t buy it completely at first. Just one word had that kind of power over me? No way. But as we talked more, I began to absorb what a devastating effect verbal abuse can have—and how long-lasting it can be. It sits in a dark corner, just waiting to sneak up on us and pounce on our insecurities.

  Dr. Case started by inquiring about my relationship with Justin. We talked about the divorce and my desire to discard any harsh feelings I had about him and about myself. I told her that my goal was to toss out all my baggage so I could fly freely—so I could live a life of authenticity.

  Dr. Case then began asking me specific questions about the past four years. How would I describe my relationship with Justin then? Now? What things did he say to me that frightened me? In what ways did he make me feel worthless? The
questions forced me to look squarely at the verbal abuse itself—the specific words Justin used to berate me. I didn’t want to relive it, but suddenly I knew that was exactly what I had to do in order to amputate it from my life.

  As I relayed to Dr. Case the names he called me and the threats he hurled at me, she replied, “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Okay, the first question for you: how are you a whore?”

  Bam! I felt a ten-ton weight crashing down on me. What did she just say? Did she call me a whore?

  I started coaching myself silently. No, Christi. Listen to the question. How are you a whore?

  I sat there for a minute, and for the life of me, I couldn’t make heads or tails of the question. It was so offensive! I didn’t even want to address it. But I had faith that Dr. Case knew what she was doing, so I tried to strong-arm myself into honestly answering. Here’s the thing—I was utterly baffled. After a few more seconds of silence, Dr. Case stepped in.

  “Let’s think about this,” she said. “How are you a whore in your job?”

  Uh . . . okay. More silence. I still had no idea what she expected me to say. So she took the wheel again.

  “Let me help you out: (a) you sell yourself; (b) you have to look great to do it; (c) you work to make others choose you over other women in a lineup; (d) you’re aware that the more people choose you, the more you get paid. How’s that for a start?”

  I was dumbfounded! She’d just compared my job as a journalist to being a whore . . . and it actually made some sense. She was taking the very weapons Justin had used against me and giving me the power to take some of the poison out of them.

  Initially I fought the comparison. Even as I felt my brain bending toward understanding, toward neutralizing that word, I found myself resisting. I didn’t want to admit that my job was anything like being a whore. But I was gradually gaining a new perspective from which to view that one simple word—a word that up until now had made my skin crawl like no other.

  Dr. Case left me with a homework assignment: I was to continue thinking about her last question and add answers to those she had already given me. By the time we hung up, my head was aching. It was as though the strenuous mental exercise of trying to reposition my thoughts had caused physical pain to my body.

  I spent a couple of days ruminating on this assignment. As I did, I felt the punch of the dreaded word slowly fading. When I heard the word whore in my mind, it didn’t have the same sting to it. Now, don’t get me wrong—it still wasn’t a word I’d use to describe anyone, but the edge it once had in regard to me was softening.

  As I was considering all this, a lightbulb went off in my head. I was amazed at the gravity of words—how a simple utterance can act as a chain, binding us to a perception for much of our lives. When words are used against us—intentionally or not—we often become imprisoned by them. If we can start seeing those words from a new angle, we are freed from their power. And in my case, I was also freed from the man who targeted me with those words.

  I was making some progress with my own perceptions, but the anxiety about how other people might see the divorce wasn’t dissipating. That was the next concept Dr. Case worked with me on: seeing myself as God sees me and loving myself despite what anyone else might think.

  The sooner we realize that God doesn’t judge us the way the world does—or maybe even worse, the way we judge ourselves—the sooner we’re going to realize that we have worth. Imperfect parts and all.

  Here’s where true transformation begins: when we realize how valuable we are in God’s eyes. Then we’ll be able to accept ourselves as human beings, and we’ll be able to accept everyone else as humans too. Not as larger-than-life perfect people who have it all together all the time.

  Take it from a reformed Anxious Annie like me. Spend too much time sizing yourself up against everyone else, and you’re bound to tumble into a trench so deep you won’t be able to recognize another human when that person is standing two inches away.

  All of us have secret insecurities we’re dealing with, hidden struggles we try to conceal. Whether we realize it or not, we’re all in this together. We’re fighting the same inner battle. We need to tune out the lies the world feeds us—that if we don’t have the looks or the money or the man, then we’re not worth the effort. The truth is, our worth and dignity are fully intact. Right here. Right now. God designed you specifically to be you, and no one can take that away. When you know your sense of worth is from Him, you don’t need to rely on someone else to give it to you. And that is freedom.

  As I was driving home from work one afternoon, I was overcome by the enormity of that freedom. The mountains surrounding Phoenix were stunning to me, as always. But on that day, they were stunning in a new way. I used to look at those mountains and feel like a prisoner. When I was married to Justin, those bluffs were like a jail cell that kept me imprisoned in this parched valley. Now they looked majestic and adventurous—as though they were inviting me to explore them and see what joys lay beyond their borders.

  I found it intriguing that the exact same scenery could exude two completely different emotions based on my perspective. I wasn’t afraid or resentful of those mountains anymore. There was a fresh stream of hope springing up in this parched land. I wanted to stand in its flow and get drenched. Covered in hope from head to toe.

  Still, my emotions were like those mountains—one minute as high as the peaks and just hours later as low as the trenches between them. That night I had another appointment on the phone with Dr. Case, and this time we really got down to the nuts and bolts. I had to address those feelings of unworthiness that lingered in my head. I felt like such a mess!

  “God didn’t create a mess, Christi,” she told me. “On the whole or in parts. He has made you just right the way you are. Your greatest challenge is to thank God for the way He has made you—every minute, not just during what you perceive as your ‘best minutes.’ Do you think you—or any thoughts you have—escape God’s ever-present view?”

  Wow, I thought. And He loves me anyway? This was big.

  My homework was a series of questions Dr. Case formed out of our conversation. One question was particularly daunting: “What would have been the drawback if Justin had been a sweet angel and had never been mean to you or scared you?”

  Seriously? There would have been a drawback to being treated like a valued human being?

  Ouch. Yeah, I guess I was still harboring some resentment there.

  I took some time to let this all sink in. If Justin had been wonderful and kind to me, what would have been the detriment in that?

  I started thinking about where I was at that moment.

  Slowly, a thought from an entirely different corner of my mind started taking shape in my head.

  If Justin had been a wonderful husband, I thought, I’d still be with him. I would have missed out on the life, the freedom, the faith I’ve come to appreciate so much. I would have missed out on this journey back to who I was meant to be. I would have missed out on the exhilaration of living a life of authenticity and peace.

  Dr. Case asked me to find ten answers to that seemingly impossible query. As soon as we hung up, I started typing ferociously as thought after thought, revelation after revelation, popped into my head.

  What would have been the drawback if Justin had been a sweet angel and had never been mean to me or scared me?

  1. I wouldn’t have learned to lean on God so much.

  2. I wouldn’t know how strong I am.

  3. I wouldn’t have learned about taking risks.

  4. My faith wouldn’t have expanded so much.

  5. I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to be introspective and examine who I really am.

  6. I wouldn’t have learned that I’m capable of forgiving someone who hurt me badly.

  7. I wouldn’t have learned that I can forgive myself for my shortcomings.

  8. I wouldn’t have learned that I can forgive someone and still extract him or her from my life.

/>   9. I wouldn’t have learned that forgiveness doesn’t mean condoning what someone did.

  10. I wouldn’t have learned to recognize potentially harmful behavior in the future.

  11. I wouldn’t be able to help other people who have experienced similar situations.

  12. I wouldn’t have learned that forgiveness doesn’t equate to weakness; it’s one of the strongest, bravest decisions a person can make.

  13. I wouldn’t have learned that I’d rather be alone than be with the wrong person.

  14. I wouldn’t have realized that money or a nice home doesn’t bring true security.

  15. I wouldn’t have realized that simply being married isn’t a guarantee against loneliness.

  16. I wouldn’t have opened my heart to change.

  17. I wouldn’t have learned how detrimental it can be to judge people.

  18. I wouldn’t have learned the power of words.

  19. I wouldn’t have learned the power of friendships.

  20. I wouldn’t have learned that it’s okay to lean on friends so much.

  21. I wouldn’t have learned to choose my words wisely.

  22. I wouldn’t have learned true humility.

  23. I wouldn’t have learned to hold on for dear life to hope.

  24. I wouldn’t have discovered that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

  25. I wouldn’t have discovered the importance of authenticity.

  26. I wouldn’t have discovered that being married doesn’t guarantee happiness.

  27. I wouldn’t have realized that no matter how far we stray from God’s plan for us, if we finally surrender to Him, He’ll lead us back to the correct path.

  28. I wouldn’t know the thrill of second chances.

  The list was pouring out of me. One reason after another to be grateful that Justin had not been a loving, supportive husband. It was crazy—but exhilarating!