if we can defend and accommodate each other
Isaiah 1:18-20 :
18 Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.
19 If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land:
20 But if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.
I started school in elementary school and moved three times between first and second grade. I had a hard time adapting because I kept moving around with my dad, whose job and housing were inconsistent. My parents fought more and more as they moved, and my stepmother often took her children to her sister's house in Daegu and never came back, leaving me and my brother unattended. My brother is two years older than me, so he would go from place to place by himself, and there were many days when I was alone.
When I changed schools, my teacher once asked me to stand up in class and read a book. When he heard me reading, he said, “Who's chasing you? Why are you reading so fast?” This feeling of impatience and anxiety that someone is chasing me has been with me ever since I was young.
Because this mindset was formed and repeated from a young age, I did not realize my full potential and graduated passively with barely enough credits. Because I was so repressed, I couldn't speak well in front of people, and my tendency to bury myself in other people's opinions was unknowingly expressed. When I was entrusted with a task, I was expected to judge, organize, and report the results, but looking back, I was constantly asking my boss for answers and approval.
Fantasies and fears of being chased by someone with a knife dominated my life, and I never really established myself at work. What happened at home was confusingly repeated at work. The way my stepmother treated me was strangely repeated by female bosses and female subordinates.
My biggest skill in the workplace is the ability to communicate, but I'm emotionally ill, so my communication skills are not well expressed, and my metacognition is low, so I'm not measured in that area. I was always trying to prove myself, and I would end up raising my hand because people would turn their backs and the room would get small.
God says to the sin-stained Israelites, “Let us plead our case with one another. He says, “Reach out and talk to each other, and though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool. God is in charge of the relationship and promises to take care of the sin if we confess it to each other. We just need to trust God and move forward.
But I couldn't defend myself to my parents, bosses, and coworkers. I didn't understand myself, and I didn't understand my neurodevelopmental disability, so if they saw me as malicious, I didn't know how to explain to them that it wasn't that. I didn't trust my parents, and when I talked to my boss once or twice, he just pretended to listen and didn't do anything for me. My coworkers made excuses and refused to let go of their interests, so I ended up drawing parallels, and I ended up feeling like everyone hated me and wanted me out because I was the problem. But I wish I had believed in their good intentions and defended myself repeatedly.
They have problems in their own lives, problems that they've always had, and they've created more problems in their lives, and they're chasing after me, and they're dumping them on me, and they're trying to make me a scapegoat, because they can't be happy together, and they're in a love triangle, and they're trying to make me a scapegoat. I used to suffer from the suffocating symptom that my parents were always chasing me with a knife. I feel like I'm dying because they keep passing the buck to me because they can't fix the problems they've caused and the sacrifices they've made.
I've spent my life running away from my parents, who constantly misunderstood and followed me, and now that I'm not in contact with them, it's hard and painful to get out of that mindset. I've written and sent them my side of the story, but they won't understand or accept it. Their lives are too heavy right now and they need a child to sit on, but their own child is too precious and they keep summoning me and my brother, their ex-wife's child, to sacrifice.
I'm going to recognize that chasing and being chased, that suffocating relationship, and I'm going to accept that it's something I was born to endure. I've met parents who can't say, “Let's talk to each other, let's talk to each other openly,” and I'd like to be the first to make a suggestion, even though I don't know if it would be a proper conversation, but I'm not out of the abused child yet.
Maybe God didn't send them to be parents, but to be like children who mess up. They act like children to me and expect me to be in charge of their lives and their children. They enter into distorted relationships with each other, unable to clean up those relationships, and expect me to make it easier for them by paying the price they need to pay. I find this chasing, abusive relationship unbearable, even though I've cut ties.
I accept that such suffering is the price I pay for being me. The price I have to pay for being myself is so great, and my understanding continues to expand. I have pain when I am separated, and I try to accept it, but I don't plan to meet them again. I don't know how to deal with them, because I don't know how to deal with the resentment they've built up against themselves, which creeps in like a ghost at the slightest opening. What did I have to do with my stepmother in a previous life that caused me to suffer so much? I wish I had never met her. If I see her again, my sanity will crumble.
I shouldn't have kept my mouth shut and sulked because I couldn't get my point across. I should have fought and fought and fought, and even if the other person kept making excuses, I should have kept defending my position and giving them the opportunity to defend theirs. Now the misunderstandings are so piled up that they are as far apart as the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. I was too weak for that, and I was too wounded from my childhood and too open-minded. I couldn't get over the idea that I was a victim. I had to be able and willing to take responsibility for the whole situation in order to say, “Let's talk to each other,” and I wasn't. I wish God could have made me strong enough to defend myself and comfort each other instead of being chased and tormented by parents like children.