How I ditched the Jumper (Sort of)

In my first post, I explained how I came to start the whole “denim jumper” lifestyle. This lifestyle entails so much more than just wearing a denim jumper cause you like them. It is the philosophy that causes one to take the wearing of the jumper (or being dresses/skirts only) with grave seriousness in thinking that they are pleasing God. And many other ideals of characterer…. besides wearing only dresses.

In my first post I wrote about how I was first bewitched to begin this lifestyle.

Galatians 3:1

O foolish Galatians, who hath bewitched you, that ye should not obey the truth, before whose eyes Jesus Christ hath been evidently set forth, crucified among you?

In this post, I will attempt to write a short synopsis of the events that led me to ditch the jumper….with my faith in Jesus Christ intact. In fact, it is my faith in Christ which has  made me dump the jumper.

perhaps some of my acquaintances and friends from the “old days” will simply not understand this concept. That it was faith in Jesus that caused me to ditch this “godly spiritual” lifestyle. In fact, I have heard quoted to me in debate “those who cry against legalism the most, like to dabble with lasciviousness”

What I am about to embark on here is very sensitive for me. I had this post typed up for a while. I am sort of scared to publish it. This is going out on the world-wide web and  chances are, people who actually know me might read this. Not many that know me, know this part about me. I tried to keep it secret for so long when I was going through it. I am not ashamed that this is what took place. What happened, happened. And God used it for good.

But I fear that there will be those that I know, who read this and make unfair assumptions, and judgments. What I am about to write is the darkest of darkest points in my life. And I think my fear is a legitimate fear. The reason being, is that when I have attempted to share a little bit of my story with people who know me, many have said a typical trite “bible” remark in response. No one seems to listen, cause they already have the answer. And there is the risk of writing this out and being totally misunderstood.

But the podcast tonight on ThatMom, with Hillary, gave me the bravery to post this. So with much fear and trembling, I share my darkest day.

My morning began like all mornings. Dreading to have to wake up yet again. Dreading to be a mother. Dreading to be a wife. I was completely (for lack of a better term) crappy at it.  I was a crappy wife. I was a crappy mother. I was a crappy daughter, I was a crappy friend. Heck, I didn’t even have friend’s I was so crappy.

I got up, because I had to. I fixed my kids breakfast and then put them in front of PBS to go and “seek the Lord”. I was begging Him to make the pain stop. If I was a real Christian I wouldn’t be so depressed. I would be joyful, and happy, and not such a crappy person.

Since I was in the bathroom, “studying” my Bible, I glanced at myself in the mirror. Not only was I a crappy person on the inside, I was an ugly person on the outside. Dark circles under my eyes, bad breath, thin hair that looked like a rat-tail sat on top of my scalp.

What did I have to offer to my family? What did I have to offer to my husband? If I went away their lives would be so much better. If they didn’t have me to deal with, they would be free to enjoy their lives. I was a burden to my husband, to my children.  My husband deserved a better wife. My children deserved a better mother.

I began to fantasize, as I looked into the mirror. I fantasized a better woman for my family. I knew a beautiful young widow with little children that needed a husband. And she was an excellent mother. Unlike me.

If I left… if I ran away… the shame would be on me. Not my husband nor my children. And if I ran away, my husband would have a chance at true happiness with a woman who would take better care of him and his children.

You, see I couldn’t kill myself, even though I despised life. I couldn’t, because I wasn’t sure if I was truly saved. I would risk the chance of going to Hell. So I couldn’t do that.

But…. if If I did run away, I could live life trying to figure out this God thing, and find the way to be truly saved. And hopefully, before the end of my life, God would make it all clear to me.

So running away made sense to me. I couldn’t go on treating my family the way I was treating them. I was selfish, and I had been told that in so little words by someone who I went to for counsel. I honestly did try hard to stop being selfish, but the pain, the depression, the panic attacks would not go away. No matter what I did. Diet, exercise, mineral supplements, vitamines, reading my bible more, praying more, serving God more. Forcing myself to be what I ought to be…left me feeling more empty. More hopeless.

The only thing that made sense to me was to run away. It seemed, at the time, the most unselfish thing I could do.

Of course I didn’t really want to run away. It pained my heart deeply the more I thought about it. It made me sob tears of bitter agony. Did it have to come to this? Leaving those that I loved? I loved my kids and my husband, I truly did.

But that love was so twisted by lies that it made me think I wasn’t good enough for them. And because I thought I wasn’t good enough for them, that love in me for them, to stop the pain I was causing them, drove me to think the unthinkable. Runaway.

Not because I didn’t want my children. Not because I didn’t want to be their mother. Not because I didn’t want to take care of them and raise them. Not because I hated my husband.

In fact, it was my dream of dreams to be a wife and a mommy since my earliest memory. My husband endured a lot from me while I was depressed. To this day, my heart aches when I think of the pain he experienced while I was in the darkest of moments. Living with a depressed person is not a pleasant experience for anyone!

I was tempted to run, because I thought I was so undone, filthy, and nasty, that they, my family, deserved someone better than me.

I figured out a place I could go. I could go live with a friend whose life was more messed up than mine. We could be messed up together.

And the shame would be on me. Not my husband. People would take pity on him, and help him. He was young enough to make a new life. He was a good man. And my children were very young, they would be barely old enough to remember me.

This fantasy was real, and a very huge temptation. Thankfully, it only lasted a few minutes. Something shook me “awake”. Something told me, even though if felt like my husband might seem relieved of the burden of “me”, it would only make his burden worse. My oldest child would remember. And what if I did get my life figured out? Would she want anything to do with me, when she was older? Would any of my kids?

What about my mother? My mother had been through so much heartache herself. This would probably do her in. I couldn’t do that to her. Because my mother has always believed in me. She nurtured me to be more than this.

So, I dug through the junk drawer to find the number that my friend gave me. (Remember, I didn’t have any friends? 😉  ) It was the number to the “ungodly” psychiatrist.  I figured if I sinned by going to a “shrink”, then that sin would be less than if I deserted my family and ran away.

I picked up the phone and haltingly dialed the number. The receptionist came on, and I said I would like to schedule a first time appointment. She put me on hold. A very nice lady came on, and introduced herself and said she would be the one seeing me at my appointment. She wanted to ask me some questions.

As she asked the questions I began to bawl and cry. She was so sweet and sympathetic towards me. She said, “Hang in there Heather. We will help you. You will enjoy those children that God gave you. There is hope.”

I hung up the phone feeling like I had failed. I was going to see a shrink! I was relying on the World instead of God and my faith.

But something had to give. And I wasn’t going to desert my family.

My mother came along with me to that first appointment…along with another friend (Gee, for someone who didn’t have any friends, I had  more true friends more than I thought). My Friend sat and watched the kids in the doctor’s office, while my mom went into the appointment with me.

I cried through that entire appointment. I told the Lady that my issues had to do with my spirituality. That, I didn’t feel comfortable sharing with her what those exact issues were, because I don’t think she would “get it”.

She didn’t even ask what those issues were. In the end I was prescribed two drugs. One for panic attacks and one for depression.

Mom made me go fill them right away. I started the protocol the next day.

As the weeks passed, and I began to feel my mind clear, it seemed like I could finally began to think again. No more confused swirling thoughts that made my head ache. As this began to happen, I began to be able understand things. Things that were simple concepts to healthy-minded people, but that I, could not, for the life of me, grasp when I was depressed.

This is when I began to try to  study the Word of God for myself. To evaluate and re-evaluate a lot of things, that I once believed were “gospel truth”. Those things I found out were based in legalistic barf.

To make an already long story short, the above is what led to me ditching the jumpers. I did a study with the Bible about clothing. Instead of listening to some preacher, teacher, and “godly” woman tell me how to dress. I went to the Bible. I found in my Bible, that jeans were not a sin. (GASP!) 😉 In fact, I found out a lot of things in the denim jumper lifestyle, that I thought were deadly sins, really were not at all.

So I went to Kohl’s and bought my first pair of blue jeans. And it sure felt like freedom! And yet in a strange sort of way it felt like rebellion. And I suppose it was. Rebellion against a man-made, works based religion.

Of course there is waaay more to this story than what I gave. I will be writing the “in between” parts in the future posts. And also some “after” this story posts.

But I ask you this. How did that sweet, naive, full of life,innocent, little, 12 year old girl, who desperately wanted to do right, get to the point of wanting to run away from her husband and children?

If that interests you in the slightest, stick around. 😀