Made in His Image: Part Two: Healing Is a Process

By Diane Wiedemann

My first therapist told me I needed a witness, and here on this date, 25 September 2022, the Lord spoke unto me that He was, in fact, the first witness to my story, and He then witnessed my story back unto me. He then did compel me to write first for the healing of myself and then for the healing of others, so they, in turn, can witness to others the power and healing contained within God-therapy that was first given unto me and is now available for all who have need, which means you, for that's how much He loves all of us to His glory.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891126275

Book preview

Made in His Image

Part Two: Healing Is a Process

Diane Wiedemann

ISBN 979-8-89112-626-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89112-628-2 (Hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-89112-627-5 (Digital)

Copyright © 2024 Diane Wiedemann

All rights reserved

First Edition

All biblical references are from the King James Bible published 1966.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

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Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Endorsements

Preface

(Written 5 August 2012)

Introduction

(Written 21 April 2019)

Chapter 20

Missing Links Revealed

Chapter 21

Where Am I Now?

Chapter 22

Freedom Awaits

Chapter 23

Change Was Coming as the Wind Blows

Chapter 24

Time Marches On

Chapter 25

Attachment Disorder

Chapter 26

Time Never-Ending

Chapter 27

What Was Happening to Me

Chapter 28

Change Becomes a Good Thing

Chapter 29

Change Is a Process Itself

Chapter 30

Love Continues to Heal Me through Change

Chapter 31

Unchartered Territory

Chapter 32

Going Back to Be Able to Go Forward

Chapter 33

Thoughts and Beliefs Questioned

Chapter 34

Change Has Now Become a Good Thing

Chapter 35

My Peeling Continues

Chapter 36

Some Things Not Obvious

Chapter 37

The Hardest Part

Chapter 38

Come What May

Chapter 39

How Could This Have Happened?

References

About the Author

I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with Mine eye.

—Psalm 32:8

This Bible verse reflects to me the lengths that the Father will go to, to attend to the details of my every need, such that to write a book as He commanded of me was to fulfill my calling in this life for His glory and for the healing of those in need.

The Lord God hath given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to Him that is weary: He wakeneth morning by morning, He wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned.

—Isaiah 50:4

I have received and participated in God-therapy, and now you can too.

Color codes in the book:

Red—issues of concern

Blue—spiritual healing

Green—growth

Brown—contemplation

Highlighted in yellow—the therapist's questions to me from reading what I wrote

Endorsements

One Sunday, my wife, Amanda, and I visited a friend's church where we saw Diane for the first time. She spent the whole church service staring at the floor. We, on the way to our car after the service, prayed that the Lord would send her to the people who could help her. The next time we saw Diane was at a community support group, about five or so years later, where my wife and I volunteered as resource people. Diane, again, spent the meeting staring at the floor. During the meeting, we were introduced as pastors of a local church. Diane came over to us after the meeting and asked, while still looking down, Can I come to your church? We told her that yes, she could, and that she would be welcome. Thus began a two-year, four-month, and three-week journey (as Diane puts it). Much of the private meeting times after church or at scheduled appointment times (up to 5–10 hours/week) was spent unraveling, as she describes in this book, the teachings of certain Bible perspectives and events from her childhood, some which carried over into adulthood.

Diane, as a widow, was not only a professional occupational therapist but also a mother who completed the raising of six children by herself, inspiring them to be self-sufficient and well-educated no matter what their challenges. She has, as a result, several children who have distinguished themselves in academia with graduate degrees or are currently doing so. There were times during the process of sorting out spiritual matters when Diane would become agitated or even triggered by things I said in the sermon. We would regularly meet for a couple of hours after each church service where she would comment on things in the message. One of those things, which was particularly vexing to her, was when I said in a sermon, As Christians, we are not victims anymore. Diane's response was to explain to me how upset that made her and the difficulty she had in understanding it because she felt victimized by the way she was taught the Bible in her youth. This very subject actually became a foundation through which Amanda and I could help her.

Diane's journey in counseling had begun many years before she met us, so I certainly would not want to make it look as though we were the only ones who had spoken into her life. Some of the people with whom she had experienced counseling had been, from what we could observe, quite helpful while others, not so much. Nevertheless, by the grace of God, we continued to love her, walk with her, and be a resource to her. After a considerable time with Diane, I became inspired to pray a prayer with her that I have carried with me in my calendar year after year with great results. We prayed that prayer with Diane. The following weeks and months showed rapid positive results. She grew and grew and grew for which, to this day, we continue to praise God. We continue to cherish her as the fine, exceptional individual she is. This book, which is the result of a copious journal of her journey, will, I believe, be a blessing to anyone who reads it—whether they be someone who needs recovery, be professional counselors, or be clergy.

—R. E. Fuller

Founder and Senior Pastor of Sojourners' Fellowship Churches

Diane wrote her story while she lived it, bearing witness to her search for truth and wholeness. She faced the grim reality of her past and the uncertainties of her future with great strength of mind and courage, knowing she must forge ahead to find peace and healing. Her search was facilitated by her conversations with God, documented in her book, and by His grace.

Those of us who face similar journeys will profit from reading this gospel according to Diane.

—The Rev. Marion Rectenwald +

Diane, the author, and I traveled the road toward health and wholeness together for nearly a decade. I listened to many journal entries; both she and I experienced transformation in this exchange and conversation. I recommend reading this compilation of her entries and journeying with her. May you find inspiration and hope in her story, and may you discover transformation in your own life as well.

—Sister Elizabeth Mills

A monastic in the Episcopal Church

1982. College. I am the lucky girl who came up the stairs and met a lifelong friend Diane. At an early age, she could discern the voice of God—the voice that helped her survive horrors of childhood, life challenges, and mental fragility and the voice that directed her to tell this story of hope.

I am grateful my friend has the fruit of faithfulness and is willing to share.

—Constance Gold Parry

Diane is a remarkable individual who seeks to help her clients, friends, children, and community in every way that she can. Diane cares deeply about people and their stories. She is extremely perceptive and has a keen sense of people and things happening before during and after they happen. She is a healer in every aspect of the word. She aspires to let her life be an example of what is possible. Diane is a living example that we can overcome any adversity. Her life and work are testimonies that with faith, hope and love along with persistence and determination, healing and joy are obtainable for anyone who desires it and will work hard for it. If ever I needed an occupational therapist, I would want Diane to be mine. If ever I needed reminding that all things are possible, I will call and/or remember Diane. I appreciate who she is and the work she does both professionally and personally. Diane is a beautiful writer. She has a way of combining words that are mysterious, supernatural, and spiritual and invites the reader or listener into the story. I am blessed to know Diane Wiedemann.

—Janet Gail Castle, MA, NBCC, LPC-MHSP

My sister and I first met Diane five years ago when she walked into a support group that we facilitated. She did not speak or look us in the eye. Her hair was hanging in front of her face to hide it.

We took her to lunch several times to get to know her. She did not know how to be a friend or hold a conversation, so she always brought along her journal and read to us from it as she packed away the food. We found out later that she had an eating disorder.

My sister is a hugger, and Diane did not know how to give or get a hug. She became a challenge for my sister! Diane's arms would hang by her side when you hugged her. My sister made Diane hug her back. Eventually, Diane found that she really, really liked hugs!

We have watched her grow both emotionally and spiritually over these past five years of God therapy. She is like a different person now and loves to share her story with others of how God brought her through the dark times.

We are both proud to call her our friend.

—Brenda Herschberger and Pam Henson

Preface

(Written 5 August 2012)

This is my story, but I didn't write it; God did, by my hand, for I knew not the language and words to my own story, and as He revealed unto me I wrote, never knowing what I was going to write or how it was going to go or even what it meant or how I was to be effected by it.

The story of my life was even a shock unto me as I learned it, and it never failed to bring untold anguish, never-ending sleepless nights, unbearable pain, torment, tears, never-ending tears and the distress of unspoken anger and rage—that showed up as painful moments of awareness and lightbulb moments of revelation.

There is nothing about me that was not abused, not a single aspect that I could ever think of.

One must understand that I was so…so very shut down that the depth and breadth of my own story overwhelmed and scared me to the extent that my therapist told me once that I couldn't stand to be in my own skin, and she was right. God knows how I tried to run and leave it behind, but that didn't work. I had come to a place in my life where I had to deal with what it meant to be me, and this is my story…

Many may not understand what is written, and that is okay. If what is revealed brings help and healing unto you then that is exactly as it should be.

God gave me the gift of knowledge and caring October 2009. I never wrote this way until I started therapy, and from the very beginning, my desire to be heard—that which was never spoken—begged, pleaded, and escaped from me at all the right times and came out as one sees it here.

This book is dedicated with the Lord's blessing to all those who are like me—an adult with a story to tell, that which has never been heard because it has never mattered until now—that your secrets come out.

This dedication belongs first and foremost to the unheard and untold stories of my brothers and sisters and then all people like us.

With heartfelt love and gratitude, I honor the desires of a person who invests their life to learn the art of therapy so that people like me can benefit.

They will say it is their honor to go on your journey with you—never knowing what they are getting into and one learns that it is true.

For my first therapist—my mother figure, my friend—I wish to bestow God's highest honor: that of love, as God is love, and you gave unto me, along with life, a most treasured and cherished individual who learned her craft well.

To my second therapist: To a therapist I had to learn to call my therapist that evolved from a bur on a donkey to a therapist who learned that no matter if she has heard it before, she hasn't heard it all, as everyone's story is a first edition in the moment of revelation.

Introduction

(Written 21 April 2019)

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.

—Jeremiah 29:11

Once the Lord had placed upon my heart that the story of my life was to be written into a book, He then gave unto me the words that followed as you see them. In the relationship I share with my Father and He with me, it is my desire that if my story can help even one person, then it was all worth it. This is a story about the little girl lost whom God saved from obscurity, from herself and even from death.

This is a story about how God went to therapy with me from that first moment of urgent need and has been with me through it all. As I poured out my heart, my hurts, my anguish, my sorrow, and my pain, He and the therapists heard it all. Though, and more importantly, I heard it all and have stayed in mournful grief for the losses I have endured, for most of it. At the same time, I learned about the meaning and purpose of my life as God intended. Through the use of a dictionary, certain books, shows, movies, people, animals, places, songs, words, phrases, and experiences, God directed my path through it all for my good, for that's how much He loves me.

In the Bible there are many stories about the shepherd and his sheep, and I have always felt myself and believed myself to be the one lost sheep referred to in Matthew 18:12–14.

The challenge to God—if You truly loved me, You will come and find me—while hoping that He would, thinking that He won't because He's got more to worry about that's far more important than me, and praying that He might, but He doesn't have to because I'm not worthy enough to be found, and He doesn't have to love me if He doesn't want to.

This is a story about how Love found me in my darkest hour and truly brought me back to life.

This is also a story about my relationship with Him, the God of us all.

I—who had no voice, no hope, no desire, no wants, and many needs too numerous to count and who desired death even more than life, who had asked God for help all of her life through tears, begging, pleading, her anger, and her rage—wanted to know the answer to one simple question: if I am to live, then show me a life worth living because I don't know how to live. (I was angry and hurt, so very hurt.) And just like that, I had spoken my innermost secret at the time. After all, at age forty-seven when I began therapy, I should know how to live, right? Only, I didn't, and no one knew it, least of all me. I was tormented by my own thoughts and couldn't figure out a way to get away from myself.

In a desperate cry for help within days of my husband's death, I began on a journey of healing with the Lord's help. He had agreed with my request, and together, we went to therapy.

This is the story of our journey together as one inseparable from the other, even in my anger and rage. This is the story of my life as the one sheep gone astray trying desperately to find her way home to her Father. He, who was there all along; I had shut Him out and put Him in a box in the only way I could handle Him, because I was angry at my Father, so very angry. After all, He had let me get hurt, so very hurt, and did nothing about it. He didn't stop anything from happening the way it did.

In my mind, as a child, God was a liar, because He said He would never leave me nor forsake me, but He did because I couldn't find Him anywhere, no matter where I searched, how often I looked, nor for how long. Time had no meaning to me and everything was forever.

And yet here I was a phone call away from death, six children who needed me and absolutely no idea of how to live, where to go from here or why I should even want to.

God heard me in my tears, my fear and my anguish, and in one moment in time, I begged yet again for life while desiring to die, and He came.

The most important verse in the Bible at this time was that which is written in John 11:35. Jesus wept. And when I knew He came, because I felt Him and His presence, He wept for me and with me, and I knew that whatever lay ahead for me I was not alone.

In the story you are about to read lays many revelations, epiphanies, clarifications, understandings, wisdom, insights, and challenges that will leave you speechless, breathless, with awe and wonder, about how the Father of us all could bring such good from that which man meant for evil.

Everything written is dated, numbered, prayed about, anointed and brings solution and resolution where none was thought possible. And the miracles unfold one by one, as the little girl lost comes with her Father kicking and screaming, with stubbornness and obstinance to this moment now.

Love plucked me from obscurity, from self-exile, from pain, anguish and sorrow, deep grief, and remorse for what could have been unto life to give me hope and a future as written in Jeremiah 29:11.

He did it through His Word, the essence of Himself, when one remembers that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and lastly, through removing His veil of protection from around me regarding those things I needed to know the truth of for my healing.

Many parts are not necessarily complimentary of certain people, places, experiences, or thoughts, but I was abused, and bad things happened over a very long period of time.

As the Lord would have it, each part tells its own story and often has a beginning, a middle, and an end, which can stand both alone in its subject matter or as a continuing component of the total story.

Many stories are invariably filled with horror, anguish, pain and sorrow, rage, injustice, anger, and even insanity; I daresay, my insanity. At the same time, there are many stories that are revealing of the light, love, and hope the Father gave unto me, especially when I didn't feel I could go on, neither in therapy nor life as I lived it even now.

Every person referred to in the book was provided a pseudonym to protect their identity. It is not my desire that they be judged by you as reader based upon my experience with them.

Many have told me to take credit for my part in the writing of my journal and all the revelation therein; and I have never known how, for my life is not my own, it never has been. To God be the glory, for I am nothing without Him. At the same time, a pastor told me, in 2018, that Mary carried Jesus.

So yes, I wrote my journal that is the substance of this book now written, and as we are in relationship with one another, I was the vessel through which God chose to teach others about God-therapy as I have been witness to and the recipient of.

May you find the strength of the Lord within its pages to bring an end to your suffering, light to your darkness, love to your brokenness, peace to your mind, and joy unimaginable as you embark on this journey of healing. As you read, you will feel many feelings and emotions you may have never felt before, ranging from sadness to happiness, from anger and rage, to love and feeling the peace that surpasses all understanding that only comes from the Father. Alas, you may feel all these things and anything in between, for all is possible.

It is my desire that as you go on my journey of healing with me, that you will realize that you may be going on your own journey of needed healing at the same time with understanding, because I say to you most assuredly that all the words written belong to you as well, and those that apply to you in the moment of your reading them will seem to come alive of their own accord as the Holy Spirit brings the gift(s) of their blessing to you as spoken of in Isaiah 55:8–11 for your need.

There is no mistake that can be made, nor come from sharing and giving unto others what was given unto me over this long length of time in meeting me at a time of great need and having my most dire need being met as only the Lord can do, in bringing the chaos of my life into order, such that, I may thrive and not just survive.

And He wants this for you too. What first belonged to me now belongs to you dear reader, and then to all of us, as God-therapy happened to me as is written and contained within the pages of this book. May you too find health, healing, happiness and hope, cause for celebration, and make room for grief and sorrow, for they too have their say. I did come to the place where I stopped trying to rid myself of my darkness, as if I could get better if it would just leave me alone. Instead, my darkness that needed first exposure to the Light was then given the time and space it needed to be transformed by the Light for my good, during my long length of time in therapy.

The darkness is still there in terms of memory, but its power and strength to change me into or ability to cause me to do that which I do not desire for myself as spoken of in Romans 7:15–20 is gone now.

I was born and raised in abuse never knowing there was and is another way.

My life changed forever when my husband died. My life changed when I realized I still had children to raise. My life changed when I asked for help while desiring death just the same, and my life changed when I asked God to go with me to therapy, and He came.

David wrote 150 psalms, and in my mind and in this day and age, I told God that I wanted to write one too, asking God, why does David get to write them all, why can't I?

A TV show I watched one time had a story titled The 151 Psalm therefore, this is Psalm 152—my prayer for you dear reader (written 1 October 2013):

Psalm 152

What is it Father, that Thou must wrench our stories from us for healing to happen…

That pain, anguish, sadness and soul bearing despair must be brought out of us for it has lain in hiding for so long that this is the only way

Oh, Father, must it all be a lament of the soul for freedom. I can feel it to be yes, for I have been there, we all have, and still are.

Never do I stop crying in grief and mournful sorrow of how it's been for me, and it is not wrong, for in bringing the dark to light I can feel love, healing, and even happiness trying to take hold

In the end, it must be, and it is only Your will for us that makes this journey worth the effort for all who have need.

Give us strength, Father, for Thou knows we have not our own.

And whilst upon my knees and in supplication, I beseech that You see in us, hear in us, feel in us, know in us that we are broken people; needing to be held, loved, nurtured back to life and without the strength of You in us; we are but dust without form, substance and reason for living…for the only story we know is our own; the only life; ours, which is broken beyond repair, save the seed of Hope planted in groups such as ours.

The strength, support, love, and kindness of us, drawing strength from each other with You as our guide, allows for nothing more than miracles to take place.

May we all come to the place where You are and know that we are wanted. That attachment to You comes with No strings. That unconditional love is real, that the scars of our battles will fade from memory for no longer do we have to fight to live.

Oh, Father! We have all been through so much and our very own lives overwhelm us more than we can stand.

I implore You to hear us in our tears, and bring rest, peace of mind and desire to live a fulfilling life in spite of our circumstance…

Knowing that we need You to show us the way so we can follow and learn the way home.

Through the medium of this book now written, the little girl lost found her voice, as the lack of language and word is exactly what I was being given back, a piece at a time. And in uttermost revelation, it did not stop me during the all of this time of healing and learning, for it was not my Father's desire that it would.

In the first volume, Where It All Began, is identified as part 1 of my story. Here, my diagnosis was revealed and comorbidities discovered. The presentation of me and the discovery of how all that had happened to me to this point in time shared, and all that occurred in conjunction with, as my mind could tolerate its unveiling was then noted. Everything began to spill out of me, fall out, and spew forth in a kind of revelation I had not known was possible. Everything that was familiar for those things I did know and remember I spoke, and everything unfamiliar to me, the Lord recalled to my mind in bits and pieces, that which I had lived but was unable to voice in recognition of, name, nor put my finger on. In this manner, the elusiveness of my plight and the reasons I came to therapy to begin with, as He determined my steps forward within the work He had begun in me, began, both now and nary I say, a long time ago.

This book which is volume 2: Healing Is a Process, is identified as part 2 of my story, and picks up where part 1 left off and begins with the continued revelation of that within me hidden and unknown to myself, though not to Him, as my journey in therapy continues to reveal its contents for my needed healing. As reader, you will experience the continued chaos, disorder, and confusion still present while also witnessing little shards of healing happen, sometimes in big ways and sometimes in small ways, but they did happen just the same, as healing is a process of which I continued to have need.

The most amazing observation I made as I continued to witness my own story unfolding as the Lord spoke, shared, and revealed unto me was this: His manner of approach. As He continued to bring healing unto wholeness for me, it was in my awareness, and I seemed to notice that He never pushed, that my changes were subtle and cumulative over time, so as not to overwhelm me, even with any setback I incurred. His hand in my life as the great Healer meant that He continued to accept me exactly as I am in any given moment of time and never judged whether what I said or did was bad as if I were bad in the doing of. He simply walked beside me through the good, the bad, and the ugly, celebrated the successes with me whether they were big or small, and supported me with Himself as love, that which He is, when I would take two or three steps back as you, as reader, will find out in the last chapter of this book.

28 September 2023

A thought to ponder came to my mind as soon as I asked the Lord to give me guidance to write this transition from book 1 to book 2. I suddenly wanted to know what it meant to be Christlike for myself and Christlike for the therapist when we are in the same room together. What did that look like for me and what might that mean for the therapist who treats me.

The Bible has numerous verses that refer to imitating Christ. In looking up the word imitation, all I could think about was the word counterfeit that I saw as a synonym and immediately thought of the word imposter as it crossed my mind and knew that because I already struggled so much with my self-image, this word was not going to work for me. I didn't want to be a counterfeit. I also knew I was not trying to be Christ, but to me, the word imitation implied to my mind that I was trying to be Christ; therefore, I chose a different word that I could better understand. I could tolerate the word resemble as in If I do something considered Christlike, I am resembling something He had taught us to do, and I could then feel confident that my ability to reproduce in effort, as would be my desire, could or would bring only good in the outcome.

As for the therapist, I thought of the manner that the Lord had used to provide me therapy just revealed to me this date for my continued healing, and I simply realized how important it is for therapists to consider their approaches to the individuals they serve, and remember, that one size does not fit all, to not be shocked if what worked before with this diagnosis does not work with the next client coming in the door with the same diagnosis, and that treating people as persons and not their labels takes into consideration the unique qualities of the individual and how they impact one's story as part 2 of my story continues.

Chapter 20

Missing Links Revealed

When they were filled, he said unto his disciples, Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.

—John 6:12

God had just told me how rainbows were made. The science of it. I was so in awe of what I was hearing that I couldn't move. I didn't write it down for the Lord did not tell me to, as this was a gift just for me in that moment, on a Wednesday between 6:00 and 6:30 p.m., and I savored it.

God had been collecting my fragments for a very long time, and as I began to learn more about how man is connected and disconnected from his fellow man, I began to see the value and gifts from those who did and did not have my best interests at heart, as either way, God continued to step in and make good come from what man meant for evil.

There is a phenomenon not oft spoken of that needs acknowledgment in my desire to get well. Something not even noticed by me as the phenomenon that it was until it kept happening repeatedly, and it is thus: that of the value of others' experiences and even their lack of experiences that had a direct influence/impact on me at the exact moment of my need on my journey of healing. A phenomenon best described through the two journal entries that follow.

19 June 2013

Dearest Father:

In my love of You, in the calling of me in the rain unto You, has the following been revealed:

When grace happened, love allowed. At long last, Father, I know the words, the name of that which I feel, the reason that the longing of those with attachment disorder feel despair that never goes away. The reason for the depth of connection with Ms. Kind and even the reason for the not-so-deep connection with Ms. Ignorance.

In the love of the Father lies the love of Jesus and the Holy Spirit, the Holy Spirit within is that which allows the soulful connections with others. That which connects Father, Son, and Holy Spirit not only with each other, but is how others, in this case, man is connected not only with himself, but himself in connection with others. In our lives, life happens in relationship (Kruger 2012).

I know now that God loves me, because I can feel it, when never before could I, as I was even pushing away the greatest love of all, that of the Lord, the One who made me, for how great was my pain and anguish and how sorrowful my heart, for not only what Satan was doing in me, but also for what I was lacking and missing out on in Him, my Father.

I am free! And now, connection with my fellow man can happen, as God allows. I have encountered Jesus within myself, and in my brokenness, the Lord is bringing me healing that now I can accept.

Those who are abused can't just have the exposure of pain that comes with disruption and repair, for that is only one side of the equation; we must also have connection with those whom God brings to complete the cycle and bring life to the story.

We must feel with those whom God brings, as it is that connection that allows for continued connection with others.

The Holy Spirit within me and Ms. Kind connected so that I may live during the dark time to come, so that I could learn about love, God's love in interaction with others, so that I could and would survive the disruption of her (Ms. Kind's leaving) in the desire of the Lord to bring the repair of Him unto me, as it is this connection I have need of most of all.

God used the spirit of Ms. Kind to bring grace unto me through Him.

Ms. Ignorance and I have much in common, and it couldn't be that I could know the truth as the evil one has run amok within me, and I allowed, for I didn't know how not to without grace. The commonality of attachment disorder between she and I is the bond that we share, and it has been very painful for us both.

The need for unbridled love is what we need, and now I know: to love her was to love the enemy as the devil would have me believe and for her to love me was likewise the same, as it's hard to have compassion for you, Diane, for you can be mean as a snake; what man meant for evil, God meant for good. The harder we pushed for connection, the harder it became, well, not for lack of trying and not because it wasn't meant to be, as man is so quick to believe. The I don't know why I feel compelled to do this, the I don't know why I said that or need to say this, the I don't know why everything with she and I is so instinctive, why everything is thought out, planned, and goes awry, why Diane runs amok and tries to take Ms. Ignorance with her. Well, now I know.

She needs the connection of those with attachment disorder as much as I do, for it has never happened for her. Sure, she feels connected with others, feels fellowship, has friends, and experiences ease in meeting others, but on this day, and for reasons known only to Him, the ache in her heart that lingers from why she became an alcoholic to begin with (years ago/now recovered) needs the healing of that which is written. I know because the Lord has told me. I know because it is now clear that Satan knew of our connection and used it against us, whenever she felt and said, There's something about me…that triggers you.

You see, the greatest obstacle of all for someone like me who has been abused with the Bible and skewed in her views of others and how relationships are supposed to be is a God who is worthy of our praise, in His need to rid me of Satan who had a stronghold that nearly took my life, makes effort to destroy what life I do have and who interferes every chance he got to stop the healing of one little girl with a 1 percent lifeline that she perceived as threadbare and mustard-seed faith used a therapist without experience to do it, and it was working.

You see, I know You do, Father, but I needed to. This story is about me, my life, and exposing the secrets that for so long needed protecting for that is what we are taught, that our lives are shameful, that we are shameful, that it is wrong that we exist at all, and we spend our lives trying to hide in the shame, not knowing or having any idea what others see, for we are living out the legacy we were given because we don't know any better, and the cycle becomes vicious, never-ending, and without resolve, or so it seems.

The deceit of the evil one cannot be denied in this story, as multiple journal entries attest to.

I have been in a spiritual war since before my life began, and the evil one was winning and not without a little help from me, but as You know, Father, Your love is greater than any evil that may befall me for You love him too, and while he may forget, You do not.

I love You, Father, and as the door to healing has been opened yet wider, I ask that the Holy Spirit within me connect ever deeper with the Holy Spirit in her (my therapist) in bringing healing to me, to us, through You in me. Thank you for listening.

Diane

*****

Suddenly, I could see it ever so clearly. I have been ashamed that I have need of help. I have been ashamed that I have existed at all for no good that I could ever see, sense, or feel. I have been ashamed that I have brought great shame to the only Father I have ever had, that I couldn't stop or control my anger, that I could willfully hurt the body He gave me, and so often I wanted to, and needed too, even while I didn't. That I could act against my own will. That hurting others was easier than facing my own pain, for always, I was overwhelmed by its enormity and bigness. That I had to hide my shame from so many and for so long because the pain, anguish, and torment of what was on the inside could not be let out, lest it come out and I couldn't control it.

The shame of living a shame-filled life, as that which was beaten into me, commanded of me, and demanded from me is all I know, as it has been all I have known, as is the biggest reason I couldn't look at people, especially those to whom I let something slip. The ugliness in me would come out, and I didn't know if I would be able to stop it.

That there is so much shame in being good, the façade that I could manage for a time, at times, as long as the pressure inside didn't blow.

Being good was not so difficult and yet it was, for it defied the way I was raised, brainwashed, and taught to believe; that as an unwanted child, you're not supposed to be here. Please kill yourself because you have a handicap, and I don't want to raise you. The baby crying in the dark for the arms of her mother that never came. I am ashamed that I have lived, and I've been trying to die ever since.

Ms. Ignorance said that no matter what she gave me, it would never be enough in her desire to help me deal with having attachment disorder, and I always felt that she then didn't want to give me anything in some twisted desire to show me how strong I was or could be, and never could she be further from the truth. If she read that in a book, I hope she burns it, for she has been led astray.

Ms. Kind understood that in her giving to me, whether from a book, though I suspect more instinctively, I had to receive and come to believe that it mattered that I was here, that her touching me in love, whether Buddha given or Godly spoken, was the beginning of the long road ahead for me. Ms. Ignorance said initially that it was what was needed at the time, and yet even she questioned her own beliefs and understanding in this because later, she would say that what happened between Ms. Kind and me exactly proved what happens when people with attachment disorder get too attached to their therapist. Ms. Kind said it leaves no room to accept kindness from others, and Ms. Ignorance, in her behavior, said, This isn't happening to me, thereby contradicting her own initial proclamation.

I have often wondered why it was that I so noticed this contradiction and why when I tried to explain to Ms. Ignorance, it never came out right. My lack of language and word should have told me, my desire to speak kindly of both therapists failed me, when I repeatedly favored one over the other, my inadequacy in speaking about God in the manner He deserves failed me, and because my feelings, words, and actions don't match, I could never, on the spot, speak what was in my heart, while hearing anger, hate, and rage spew out of my mouth, knowing I couldn't stop it, and even feeling better because I had done it; thus, initial intention lost.

They were both wrong in their conclusions, which for me were based on faulty assumptions that I could not understand, but now I do. Kindness begets kindness. My first therapist's kindness has since inspired me to give more acts of kindness, as in this behavior, I was in control and could give as I could handle, thus opening the door for me to accept kindness without apologizing that I had because it was not wrong, and how could I and what gives me the right to deny kindness from another when I had just given and told myself it felt good.

A door had been opened, and in this behavior, attachment to others began in mere baby steps as that is all I could handle.

Ms. Ignorance got the raw end of the deal, and because she has attachment disorder as well, though not as severe as mine by her own admission, she may not have been able to give me what Ms. Kind did, and because they are two different people anyway, why would she. Two different women, two different schools of thought, and two different ideas about how things should be done. What's not different, they have me in common, and I came with a lot.

Ms. Ignorance, in particular, had suffered in the leaving of Ms. Kind as well, maybe not evidenced in all the clients of Ms. Kind, but certainly in the presentation of me.

It is not wrong to go back and look back to where we began, and this I must in order to go forward this day.

In the Lord teaching me now about how to connect with others, one thing is very clear: this thing society has about being strong, independent, you can do it, look how well you survived, is all wrong, a bunch of lies that promotes independence in isolation, perseverance without direction, singularity without connection, and definitely, it frowns upon togetherness.

No wonder my pain is so great, in her fear of me getting too attached like Ms. Kind and thinking that she could never give enough so it's better not to give anything, it's all wrong and served to widen the chasm of me to the intolerance of myself for I am not worthy to receive her kindness for she has said so. That's what my mind told me, true or not, and I could not tell her, for I knew not the words, and now I know this…

My acts of kindness to her were and are the result of what Ms. Kind did for me, were the result of my need to prove to myself I could be kind, even while proving myself to be mean as a snake to her.

Love from Ms. Ignorance will propel me forward into where I'm going and freedom from her own attachment disorder as it has proven to be a hidden hinderance in my healing and hers, for she has needed what I have needed, and she cannot give what she does not have.

This is not a proven moment of painful awareness for me; it is a moment of connection between she and I, born of my need to learn compassion for my fellow man, no matter his circumstance, for we can all lie and say we have it until a moment happens when we realize that we don't really, maybe, even we never have, and we are ashamed to admit the truth, for look how long I have lied. Shame will do this; shame has done this to me and has served to squeeze the life out of me.

*****

Dearest Father:

Thank you for my life, as from it will I grow into maturity that reflects Your love of me, while remaining ever more the child You delight in when joy I bring unto others that will likewise bring joy unto me in the giving of You through me, for I am in You as You are in me.

Thank you, Father, for Ms. Ignorance, for I have judged her unfairly and for a very long time. May she have forgiveness in her heart for me.

May she understand in this moment now that what Thou has told me has come to pass. I am forever changed, for You have molded me, changed me, and remade me in Your image through it all, for I was every downtrodden human You have ever took delight in that others turned away and looked down upon and saved them from themselves for the greater good of You.

I remain humble in my spirit, Father, knowing from whence I came, and the song that asks this question: Who Am I, a song by Hall (2003) that asks this question in the first stanza and then asks a few more. I know the answer: You are Yahweh, Lord, God Almighty in whom my spirit delights, and from this day forward, I give myself to You in humbleness of Spirit and gratitude for the night that grace happened to me, for my eyes have been opened, and now I see…

Love, Diane

*****

I shared with my one spiritual friend the joy of seeing her during my vacation retreat, as it was the most healing experience I have ever had in my life, a much-needed respite I didn't know I needed, but God did.

My therapist sent me an email and actually said she had tried to call me the night before, but it went to voicemail, and she said she left a message to let me know that she was thinking about me. Being that she never did that and I never heard a message from her, I really didn't believe her, but if I was wrong, it was kind of nice to believe she may have actually done this, considering how bad our relationship was from one moment to the next.

24 June 2013

I had spoken with Ms. Kind the night before. It meant the world to me. I could hear the wisdom in her words, and that for me was the greatest good. I felt such a peace for where I am at on my journey, at this moment now.

26 June 2013

By this date, I didn't feel like going to work and work as hard as I would have to because it was the end of the month. I was going to have to survive work now, telling my therapist that I did not think my job was a good fit anymore, and I have to do something, and I feel too paralyzed to do anything; walking out is easier, but then I can't pay the bills.

Suddenly, six more years seems like a really long time, time when my youngest child will be eighteen and graduating from high school. Totally overwhelmed. God, I need help.

My therapist offered some wisdom, but really, it was things I already knew about how to leave a job. By that evening, someone had said something hurtful to me at work, and I shut down, feeling numb, disconnected from myself, and wishing I could sleep forever. The next day was going to be even harder. I felt something good trying to happen, I don't even know what it is yet, and then it was gone. I had to make myself stay at work. So help me, God; I am so incredibly tired. I couldn't sleep last night. I have to take pain pills today to help myself, and I hate it.

28 June 2013

At the same time all of this with work was going on, my therapist was leaving again, and I was going to have to see a fill-in yet again. So when my therapist told me I had shifted and somehow was making progress, and here I was falling apart, and in the last two hours, I had to go see someone because I had lost perspective, was overly distressed, and didn't care if I was homeless because of my job, so I didn't know what amazing place I was in that my therapist was speaking about, stating that that would be hard for me to believe, but I'm glad you do. I'm always the last to know, and I don't understand why. I might be doing great work, but I'm not sure what the work is. I'm just trying to get well, and it feels like it's killing me to do it. Maybe if I could see better what you see, I could understand more/better. Ms. Kind told me once she thought she should share some of her process with me, and now I believe my current therapist needed to too. All I keep thinking is the day I told you we wouldn't fight anymore, and/or a day when I told you something good came out of this, and you couldn't see it, and I'm pretty sure you didn't believe me, but we haven't been fighting, and I think in what you just wrote that time willed out the proclamation that something good came out of whatever was the concern of the moment; that's the progress I see. Sometimes, it still amazes me, but I'm glad.

I think I'm where you were in that place of unbelieving about me, but the difference between you and me, I want to know the words without the doubt. I need to believe in this thing called the process of therapy.

I believe that if anything of this amazing place is true, God allowed, because this work is so very difficult and nothing but painful. I look forward to a day when I can be pain free because my stomach hurts just writing the words.

Thank you for your response, I think. (Just imagine me asking you if I'm supposed to say that or is that the right thing to say?)

When my therapist told me who the fill-in was, I knew I was going to have to see the bubbly and over-the-top therapist again, maybe I could handle it this time, and I could gain a fresh perspective on whatever topics are brought up. Having someone was better than no one, and I was committed to trying.

Drawn June 2013. This is still where I was mentally.

The date in the picture itself refers to when I discovered my inner child.

I came to a place where I wanted to learn about compassion because I knew I didn't have any, and if I did, I didn't know I did. The name Paul Gilbert came across my search and so I watched a video by him on compassion and took notes as the Lord bid me notice. I wanted to know what it was that my therapist would say, she had compassion for me and I couldn't feel it. I needed to know if that was a true statement and why. Mr. Gilbert had developed a concept of compassion-focused therapy, and he had a website: www.compassionatemind.coUK. The emphasis of the video I watched focused on this definition of compassion: focus on shame and shame-based difficulties with compassion-focused therapy. I was overwhelmed by it all, but there was one sentence that would not leave my mind, and it was thus: one, that a person can become their own object of shame, and number two: compassion is for the bad stuff, and compassion is for the place where you go to calm down in order to deal with the stuff that's painful for you. And then, there was this for the therapist: If a person has been traumatized, we (referring to therapists) have to create an experience of compassion for them before going anywhere near the trauma, because if they (referring to the patient) don't have the capacity for slowing down, feeling compassion in the body, feeling that sense of deep commitment to be healing and you take them into the trauma, they haven't got anything to help them in the trauma memory (Gilbert). For me, this was the missing piece my therapist needed to deal with me. The difference between compassion and empathy was paramount to my understanding and hers. I cried for a long time when I learned this, yet grateful that this fact had been learned and was now being shared with others. It described my dilemma with her.

I was so in awe of what I was learning that I wrote Ms. Kind and told her about the night that grace happened to me, gave her a copy of that journal entry, and told her yet again how much she meant to me. I also acknowledged that I had indeed put God in a box as she had insinuated when it came up in therapy, though I denied when we were together, and the icing on the cake that I shared with her: that she was right and I was wrong, that I don't have to be right anymore, all the time, thinking that I may die if I'm not, for that is what is called a faulty perception. This was a first for me, and I took my first bath for me, today after three years, two months, and twenty-two days of therapy, I finally took a bath just because. Also a first for me, as it was Ms. Kind's first recommendation for me toward self-care when we were together and I had told her how stupid the idea was at that time, and I wasn't going to do it. And now today, I thanked her yet again for continuing to be a witness to the story of my life.

29 June 2013

A week ago this date, I came to the inner circle of a labyrinth and felt compelled to speak words that really just came out of my mouth. To reach a point of acceptance in my story didn't happen because I was trying to get there; it exactly happened because I hadn't. I heard myself say that I had to proclaim out loud these words, and in tearful agony, I did. I was abused, and I could feel and know in that moment that I had never realized that I hadn't known I was abused and yet I did not.

The full impact of what my life meant and how it's been suddenly made sense to me. Before now, nothing about it did.

I am ashamed, Father, of how I have been, and yet now I know, it wasn't my fault, and yet for my whole life because I have lived, people have blamed me for what I say and do, stupid choices I make, mistakes I have made, without even recognizing that they were mistakes to them that I was not capable of seeing or recognizing within my own self.

So many times, people say let it go or get over it, and the pain in those words is what I see, sense, and feel, and they are years of anguish, rolled up in careless thought in three simple words that stab the heart and fuel the unspoken anger and rage of the tragedy in what happened to me.

You have never spoken to me the words get over it or let it go, and if You don't, why do others? I know that in becoming Christlike, speaking those words diminishes the essence of who I am, and never will I speak them to anyone.

You love me just the way I am, and Ms. Kind told me last week that I have the right to be and feel bad about what happened to me, and I need to take the time to do it for my own healing. If it takes what it takes, then why do others get distressed if I do not get better or heal fast enough for them, for it is not for them this journey is about.

30 June 2013

I know, Father, that later, their time will come for Thou has told me. Today I was reminded at church about the Bible verse that reminds one to be in the world, but not of the world, and about Galatians 5:16–26 regarding the desires of the Holy Spirit unto me and the fruits of the Spirit, what they are and are not.

The transformation of me unto You is the desire of You to change in me that which is not of the Spirit: spoken this date in summation as that which is of the Spirit is against that which is of the flesh, words such as anger, greed, lust, hate, jealousy, uncleanness, wrath, strife. To look back is to deny the