uninsurable

My insurance agent made a mistake and didn't switch my bank account on my life insurance when we changed banks.  He switched it for my car and home insurance, he didn't get the life insurance policy switched.  It lapsed, I realized, I panicked.  He told me reinstating it  was easy, just fill out these forms.

I fill out said forms which ask  questions about physical and mental health within the last 5 years.  Well, you can't lie, that is insurance fraud, and I do have things on my medical record that weren't there when I first got my policy.  Things like an eating disorder and a stay in the mental hospital.  Things like suicidal ideations, Major Depressive Disorder, anxiety, and PTSD. 

Apparently insurance doesn't like those things.  They asked more questions.  I answered them.  Yesterday I received the letter stating that my request for policy reinstatement was denied.  I have no life insurance anymore.  I am not insurable anymore.  And I lost my coverage all because of a clerical error.

I have a myriad of emotions about it.  The first was anger.  And let's be honest, I'm still pretty hot about it.  I felt a little bit of overwhelm.  And I also feel a bit like Marshall in the episode of How I Met Your Mother when he is imagining bears jumping out at him in NYC and attacking him.  Ok, so that last one makes me laugh so at least when I feel the pit in my stomach growing I can switch gears and laugh for a moment.

One more thing that this eating disorder has taken from me, insurability.  I don't know if I'm most angry at my agent for the error, at myself for not catching it sooner, or at Orange for stealing one more thing from me.  I'm going to get better.  I'm going to prove them wrong. 

And now I need to take a deep breath, finish getting ready for work and take this day one step at a time.  I will trust myself to my Creator, both physically and emotionally.  He sees it all and He is here with me, even here, even without insurance.

a broken heart that must keep going

There is a difference between corporate grief and personal grief.  Though I am burdened and grieved one thing is different right now.  Though suicidal thoughts are swirling in my brain, and have been for a while now, in the midst of corporate grief and huge tragedy, I don't want my family to hurt the way that the families of these precious slaughtered children hurt.  My baby has been regularly breaking into tears telling me he is sad but doesn't know why.  I don't want to give him a reason to be sad.  My sweet, sweet family.  They need me, though I don't exactly always understand why. 

I'm emotionally exhausted.  News of another shooting didn't help that exhaustion.  My sweet boys.  I went into my youngest son's class at school yesterday, even though he was home sick.  I hugged his little friends and his teacher.  I thanked God that they were all safe.  I cried.  I won't watch the news.  I have taken a break from Facebook.  My heart was already full and about to burst.  Now I want nothing more than to hide under my blankets and never ever come out.

For the record, I've had more wine than usual tonight.  It was completely intentional.  I'm feeling tipsy.  I don't even care that I am.  I'm hoping the wine will kill the dreams of terror that have been haunting me.  I'm hoping the wine will mean I can sleep through the night tonight.  I'm hoping for a few short hours that the wine will erase the hurt I feel.  I'm heading to bed now.  Sorry if I've been spastic, I don't usually write when I'm feeling unsure of my brain.  I just tonight needed a safe place to say my broken heart is really heavy.

walking throught the muck with my kids

Friday the news broke that the body they found was indeed the body of the missing little girl.  Friday my son spent the night at a friends house.  Friday the friend's mom told my son that the girl had been found.  Friday she told him that the body had been dismembered.  Saturday I had to pick up the pieces of a very broken little boy.

Wouldn't you think that maybe it isn't ok to tell other people's kids big news like that?  Or maybe send me a text if he was asking questions to ask if I minded if she talked to him about it?  Or at minimum, TELL ME that she talked to him so that I know what he knows so I have a starting point when he breaks down in my arms? 

We believe that our kids should hear from us whenever possible the things they need to know.  We tell our kids hard things because we want to be able to help them process their emotions in a safe place.  We would have talked about this with him.   We talked to our kids about the theater shooting.  We talked about the little girl being missing and the reasons we have certain outside rules in place.  We talk about sex and answer uncomfortable questions.  We answer all of their questions when we are asked, even if the answer, like this time, is "I don't know.  I don't understand either." 

Maybe that is why it made me angry that someone else handled it.  I know it will get talked about at school.  My son is in the same age range as the little girl was.  He and his friends have been talking about it.  I just wanted him to hear the big part from me and dad.  I wanted him to be in a safe place that he could completely loose his temper and punch his pillow and scream and cry and do all of the things that he did when he got home to the safety of his room.  I wanted to be there to hold him when he asked through his sobs why someone would do that.

This morning  I asked his little brother what they talk about at school.  He told me at lunch that they talk about the bad guy who broke into the theater.  He told me they talk about the missing girl.  I told him the missing girl was found, that someone had hurt her, that someone had killed her.  He asked me why that person would steal her if they were just going to kill her.  I told him I don't know.  He doesn't have the same details that his big brother has.  He doesn't need the same details that his big brother has.  But he knows that he can ask us questions if he has them.  He knows home is a safe place to feel what you need to feel.  But it isn't affecting him in the same way as it is affecting his brother.

This parenting stuff is hard.  Helping my kids to feel the emotions that they need to feel and to walk alongside of them as they process is important.  It is also hard.  I understand why some parents choose to not talk to their kids about issues.  It is painful.  It hurts to see pieces of your child's innocence taken away.  It is a very helpless kind of feeling to have your son break down into gut wrenching sobs in your arms and know that you can't make it better.  It is very humbling to have no words of comfort and to only be able to pray that the Lord will bring us His comfort.

sleepless nights

I didn't sleep well last night, I was really restless.  Maybe it was because I didn't want to fall asleep because the night before I didn't sleep well either.  The night before, I had a nightmare.

In this nightmare, I was in a house that apparently I was familiar with and I heard someone yelling.  After a minute or so of hearing it, I realized that I didn't know where my youngest son was.  I started looking around the house and realized finally that the yelling was someone yelling AT him.  The yelling escalated to screaming at him.  I was trying to get to him but suddenly there were boxes and piles of papers and clothes blocking the hallway and I couldn't get to him.  The screaming escalated to hitting.  The person was beating my son while he whimpered and cried and I couldn't get to him.  I needed to protect my child and I couldn't get through the hallway to the room because more and more things were blocking my path.  Finally I screamed, "NOOOOO!" and lunged but the stuff still held me back.

There is no worse feeling in the world than feeling like your kids need you and you can't help them.  There is no worse feeling in the world than the one I had in my dream of listening to my son being hurt and not being able to stop it.  Thankfully, Hubby was awake for some unknown reason.  Apparently I whimpered and he woke me up.  My son was safe.  It was a dream.  No one was hurting my family.

Now I will tell you the real reason it bothered me so much.  The person hurting my son was someone who loves him.  It was someone who he loves.  It was someone who should never hurt him (and who in real life would NOT beat him).  It was my mother who was attacking my son.

I know all of the psychological reasons that I had the dream.  I was hurt and angry with my mom over something else that had happened in the day which is why she was the aggressor in my dream.  And I feared for a few minutes for my sons safety at a pool party when he went into the restroom with another little boy who has before made a point of repeatedly showing his "man junk" to my son.  The combination of wanting to protect my son and being hurt with my mother created this dream.  I know that.  It doesn't make it any less disturbing though.

My head hurts this morning.  Probably from lack of sleep this weekend.  I should be getting ready for work, instead I sit drinking coffee and typing.  I wish to insulate my heart from the world, but mostly from my mom.  I've been trying not to cry since yesterday morning.  My heart is very troubled today.  Pray for me today, friends.  Pray for God to wrap His arms around me today and for Him to bring healing balm to my wounded heart.

Please define "real"

I am torn to shreds hearing comments about "real" rape, "legitimate" rape and "forceable" rape.  Is there any other type of rape?  Is there a polite way to violate someone so viciously?  If there is, I am certainly unaware of it. 

How is it possible that once again it is all the woman's fault?  SHE got pregnant (never mind that it was because HE forced his deviant way upon her).  It must be her fault.  Wasn't it her fault that he couldn't control himself in the first place? 

I'm sorry, but this time I call bullshit.  Ask the friend of my friend who recently birthed the baby of her rapist.  Ask her if his assault was welcome.  Ask her if her body could have shut down his sperm.  Ask any victim of unwanted sexual touch if their experience was "legitimate". 

Although I know the controversy is a launching pad for an abortion debate, I can't even get that far right now.  All I can hear is that women are responsible for having bodies that men want.  All I can hear is that women are responsible for getting pregnant when attacked.  All I can hear is that women don't really matter, that their voices aren't heard, that their bodies aren't worth protecting.  All I can hear is a man saying what far too many women have been through isn't significant.

Guess what?  ALL rape, assault, harassment, unwanted touch is evil.  Every last bit of it.  If they didn't say yes, then it was forceable.  Every single time that someone is raped, whether by a stranger with a knife or a "nice guy" on a date who forgets his boundaries, it is a crime against her body and soul and is a legitimate rape.  No matter what, she walks away broken.  Physically, emotionally and spiritually broken. 

surreal, until it is real

Yesterday was about keeping it all together.  People I love needed me.  I didn't have time to fall apart.  And honestly I wasn't ready to fall apart.  I was shaken but I think I was in shock still.  The shock was too great to allow the emotion through.  I chatted online with my friend.  I told her I felt guilty for feeling so shaken because there are so many people who have more right to be shaken up than I do.  She responded with, "When it happens in your backyard, you have the right to be shaken."

My backyard.  Almost.  If I walk to the corner I can see the mall.  The theater is in the mall parking lot.  My Girl called last night (she needs a name, I talk about her far too often to keep calling her my friend.  For now she will be S until I decide on something better).  She asked if my boys were asleep.  When I said yes she asked if she could come over.  She wasn't hysterical anymore but I could hear the tears in her voice.

She walked in and I pulled her into my arms and held her while she sobbed.  And then I heard the words I hoped I'd never hear.  "Micayla is no longer with us."  I didn't know Micayla but S did.  Micayla was part of the group of friends that S was supposed to be with to see the movie.  Seven of her friends went, she was supposed to go.  Only one was physically injured, the one who died. 

When she heard of the shooting, S called her good friend.  He described the horror of a 6 year old girl screaming hysterically and the frantic rush to try to get out.  On the way out the 7 friends were separated.  He thought everyone was fine.  Then later he told her that Micayla was missing.  And then later she was confirmed dead.  My sweet S was supposed to be there.  It could have been her.

As I walked her to her car I was thinking how much I love her.  I introduced her to my dear friend and now neighbor. S tried to shake hands but my friend shook her head and said, "No, Honey.  You get a hug!"  As they embraced the emotion finally came.  I pulled S away and held her tightly.

We both sobbed.  I told her how much I love her.  I told her how relieved I am that she is safe.  I told her that I have never in my life been so glad that she was too tired to hang out with friends.  I told her that I can't imagine a world that doesn't have My S in it and that I'm so glad that I don't have to.  I didn't want to ever let her go.  Suddenly the reality and depth of my emotions hit me full force.

I slept poorly.  Guns and blood and bombs and screams filled my dreams.  I woke this morning to the sound of helicopters.  They have been flying over non-stop providing live aerial news coverage.  Helicopters and sirens and ambulances seeped into my sleep.  I was grateful this afternoon for a reprieve from the sound of helicopters.  The sound is disconcerting.

We had to tell our kids last night.  It was hard.  We had to tell them though.   The mall was closed.  Streets that we travel regularly were closed with police tape.  People in our church have lost loved ones.  They will hear about this, we wanted it to be from us.  Parenting is hard.  Telling your kids about bad people who make evil decisions is hard.  Reminding them that there are far more good people than bad people in this world is hard.  I have squeezed them extra hard today.  I've hugged them every chance I've had.  Tomorrow is not a guarantee.  Do the people you love know how much you love them in case tomorrow never comes for you to tell them?

in which I admit to shameful faults and resolve to work on their root cause

My kids had spring break last week.  It was a fun week of getting things done and catching up with old friends.  One of my friends who I only see a couple of times a year because of the hour plus drive between our houses came to visit me one of the days.  She said some things that have had me pondering all week long, things that the more I think about the more I think she is on to something.

So I've mentioned before that my house is messy pretty much always.  Have I mentioned that messy for me is not what messy for most people is?  There are always dishes in my sink.  I get told "Of course there are dishes, you feed five people!", but this goes beyond some left over because with boys someone is always eating in my house.  I'm a slob, people.  We eat in the living room lately because my kitchen is overwhelmed with dishes and stuff.  My laundry pile is seriously out of control, I'm not kidding when I say I'm going to try to scale Mt.Saint Laundry.  My desk?  Well, I hold my keyboard in my lap when I type because of the bills/papers/dvd cases/magazines/etc. that have overtaken the top of the desk. 

So now that I have stated my slob status, I realize that there may be a deeper issue to my aversion to cleaning.  My friend asked me questions about why it is so difficult for me to clean up.  How often does your mom come to visit you?  Rarely.  Is keeping everything messy possibly a way to keep her out of your house (ahem, life)?  Would she visit more if you kept up with your house? Crap, probably. 

This has been on my mind all week.  I keep pondering and pondering her words.  And I added my own questions.  Like, is this my form of rebelling against everything my mom stands for?  Is this my way of telling myself that I AM NOT LIKE THAT WOMAN IN ANY WAY?  Does my lack of interest in cleaning stem from much deeper issues than I just don't want to?  Hmmmmmmm.......

My friend has known me since I was a tween (hate that word and yet totally just laughed at using it).  She knows my family well.  She had lived with my family for a time when I was younger.  She also mentioned that maybe this is my connection to my mother and my childhood.  Her observation was that my mom's main communications with me while I was growing up were either manipulating me or nagging me about cleaning. I wasn't allowed to be me, to feel my feelings or to think my own thoughts.  Have I taken that to a new level as an adult in my effort to separate myself as my own person?

I have spent so many years defining myself APART from my mother and refusing to let her still run my life, only to realize that I'm still allowing her to control me, just in an opposite way than it used to be.  Until I work through my mom issues, it's never going to get better.  Why did it take me so long to realize this?

Sigh.  I guess I've got some heart work to do.  I'm annoyed that my friend was right.  And I'm relieved she was right because now I at least have a starting point of how to change it.  There is nothing about recovery that is easy.  I do consider this recovery work.  How I keep my kitchen definitely plays a factor in my recovery vs. disease progress.  Plus, I have come to the belief that recovery is combined of all of  the heart issues that cause me to use food (or rather the lack of) to cope with my feelings.

I do hope there will be an "other side" to this disease.  I do hope that as I work on the garbage in my heart that the physical side will get easier.  I do hope that as I find healing in my heart that I will also find healing in my body.  It does seem like it should be a natural assumption, right?

Um, yeah, can't postpone feeling until after Thanksgiving afterall

Tonight on the way to work, those feelings hit me full force.  Yeah, those yucky ones I haven't known what to do with.  Yep, those are the ones.  My anger actually graduated to rage for all of a few minutes, but then I arrived at work and had to pull myself together.  I don't know if that raging moment felt unbelievably good or if it felt absolutely terrifying!

I did the good girl thing I always do.  I pushed the feelings back and settled for just plain grumpy and annoyed.  My body feels very awkward to me.  I feel like the pounds are packing on around my middle.  My clothes all feel uncomfortable to my body.  My son got in trouble at school today.  A professor was rude to me tonight at work.  I had other customers who were thoughtless tonight.  I came home to 2 of my kids still awake and had to put them to bed.  I ran a hot bubble bath but ran out of hot water before I realized it so my bath was warm not hot.  And throw in what seems like PMS symptoms and you have my night.

I'm so hungry.  The tiger is clawing at my tender insides (read this amazing post from Jenn, you'll understand what I am saying) but the pain won't let me give in.  How long will this hurt?  I feel like every time I get through one hard thing, within days something new comes up in my heart.  I have a day, maybe two where I can breathe, then WHAM something else hits my heart and mind full force.  I'm tired of feeling like I always whine.  I'm tired of feeling like orange is winning, or at least that she is not losing.  I hate the days of feeling hungry and not being able to give in.  I much prefer those handfuls of healthy days or even the days when I'm just sick, no hunger, no arguing with myself, and no guilt.

It is a sad day when my desire is to still be sick so that I wouldn't have to hear the dialog in my head.

confused

I grew up in a home where anger was repressed and hurt didn't exist if you didn't acknowledge it.  Now I'm an adult and you would think I would give myself permission to feel whatever the hell I want, but sadly no.  I am so confused about how I feel. 

On one hand I know God created every emotion within me.  On the other hand I'm pretty sure that I think somewhere deep inside of me that my emotions are still not ok.  I grew up on this.......

James 1:19-20  My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry,  because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires. 

Ephesians 4: 31-32 Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. 

Ephesians 4:26-27  “In your anger do not sin.  Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry,  and do not give the devil a foothold."

One will tell me that because of the last verse it is ok to be angry as long as you don't sin.  Another will tell me that anger is a sin because of the verses that say to get rid of anger.  And I'm confused.  I hear my parents in my head telling me that my anger is a sin, that it is unjustified, that I'm just too sensitive.  I hear in my head that I'm not allowed to feel.

But then I also know I need to feel in order to heal.  And God created me and my emotions.  He must have intended that I would feel those emotions if He created them in me.  Right?  So why does it feel like a betrayal to myself to feel angry? 

The anger has been ebbing and flowing.  I'm not sure how much of it is natural progression and how much of it is being uncomfortable with the intensity of my emotions and stuffing them down again.  Anger scares me.  It scares me when I see it in others and it TERRIFIES me in myself.  How do I get angry and not sin?  I've been brought up to believe that anger in and of itself is a sin.  Where is the line between being angry and sinning?  Is it wrong that I am starting to feel angry now? 

Hubby tells me that there is a lot of anger that I suppress.  When I tell him I'm frustrated, or even when I graduate to anger, he is never as surprised as I am.  He can't believe it has taken me this long to get angry over some of the things that I realize I am angry over.  He also says that of course the feelings are overwhelming; I've been denying them my entire life and now they want out! 

What's a good girl to do with negative emotions?  Why do they still feel so wrong to experience?

painful realization # 3,762

So yesterday some more issues at the core of my heart came to light.  My entire life I have held my mom indirectly responsible for the abuse that happened to me.  I have absolved my dad from any guilt.  What little girl wants to not see her daddy in a hero light anymore?  Last night I realized something.  I am angry with my dad.

This is a very new feeling for me.  I have defended my dad fiercely for my entire life.  And now I am realizing that I felt just as unprotected from him as I did from my mom.  My dad is a great guy but he has not much in the line of a backbone.  My mom rules her house.  He is not the head of his house.  She speaks, he does.  Sometimes begrudgingly but none the less his hatred of conflict outweighs mine and he always does what she wants. 

I told Hubby last night that I was frustrated with something my dad did.  Hubby validated my feelings.  I thought I was being sensitive.  Hubby told me it is my dad being insensitive, not me being sensitive.  I started to feel angry.  I felt uncertain of the strength of my anger.  It has been repressed for so long that I was shocked by the intensity of my feelings.

I am at the difficult reality that my dad is not perfect.  He is a good man.  But some of the hero status has left him.  I would continue to live in denial if I did not acknowledge that he too played a part in this.  I am hurt by his actions, both now and in the past.  I am hurt that he never listened to what his gut was telling him and didn't stand up to my mom when she insisted that I go over to the abusers house.  He never liked those people and yet he couldn't stand up to my mom and defend me.  As a matter of fact, they would have been my legal guardians if anything would have happened to my parents when I was a child.

It is a painful realization to know that my daddy isn't perfect and that he too shares in the responsibility of not protecting his daughter.

feeling betrayed

Maybe it shouldn't bug me.  Shouldn't bother me at all. 

but. it. does.

None of my business if they want to remain friends.  Doesn't affect my life.  Doesn't mean I have to be friends with them.

so why does this hurt like hell?  why do I feel so betrayed? 

maybe it is none of my business, but I still feel like I just don't matter to them as much as what others think of them does.  Others opinions and keeping up a good appearance matters more than I do.  It always has.  I should be used to it by now.

sadly. I. am. not.

when profound thoughts wound

****Blogger is pissing me off tonight, changing some of my stuff and rather than ensure the post is the perfect way I want it, I'm deciding to say screw it and post anyway.  I guess we'll just call it a step toward beating perfectionism..... *****


Today I had a very profound thought, one I'm not so sure I like.  I could tell you all the steps that led to it but then you would have to follow the incoherency of my thoughts as I put them together.  The end result is this...

Romans 5:8 But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. 

 

This is a verse that brings me much comfort.  While I was still lost in sin, Christ came for me and died for me.  He came because He loved me enough to want to save me from the wickedness of my own heart.

 

And today this same verse brought me much grief.  While my attackers were still sinning against me, Christ died for them.  Someone on the radio mentioned the book The Shack.  I haven't read it yet so I don't know if this is a spoiler alert or not, but she mentioned that God loved the victim and God also loved the perpetrator.  I am so glad that I left my youngest at home and was not quite to my older kids school yet when I realized that God loves the men who hurt me.

 

That thought made me really angry.  God, how could you love them?  Didn't you see what they did to me?  How can you love me and hurt with me and yet love the ones who hurt me?  This isn't right.  This isn't ok with me.  How can I believe that you love me when you love them?  How can you love us both?  I felt like my breath had been stolen away.  It couldn't be possible.  Of course, I believe that Jesus came for everyone.  Of course, I have always been a person who believes He can redeem anyone.  And today, He asked me to believe that He came for those men just as much as He came for me.

 

 That is a big pill to swallow.  Angry and hurt I said out loud, God loves........but I couldn't even finish and say his name.  I tried again with the next one, God loves.....but I still couldn't finish it.   I spent some time alone this evening.  In my car I kept asking how God could love us both, it just doesn't make sense.  I felt like God was telling me that they are His children too.  I wouldn't stop loving one of my children if they hurt one of the others.  I tried to argue that point.  My boys wouldn't do this to each other.  But if they did, wouldn't I still love them? After a bit of driving, questioning and arguing I came home to my family, still ill at ease with a God who could love me and yet still love them, especially  him. 

 

Sadly tonight, God did use my boys to illustrate.  I left the room for a few minutes and suddenly my middle son was knocking on my door crying saying his big brother had punched him in the eye over and over again.  His eye looks it.  It is red and puffy and has the possibility of a black eye in the making.  The oldest tried to tell me it was an accident, he was stretching and his brother was behind him and got hit.  No way in heck this was unintentional. There is no way that someone simply stretching could make a mark like this.  

 

 I took care of my little boy, got him ice for his eye and comforted him.  And then I comforted the older one who was now crying "I'm the worst big brother in the entire world."  Was I mad that the older one hurt his brother? Um, YEAH!  Was I hurt for my little guy who was crying?  Absolutely, no mother could not hurt for her child when he cries in her arms.  I was hurt and angry that someone had hurt my child.  But did my love for my oldest ever lessen?  Not for a second.  I was angry with him, I was hurt for his brother but I never stopped loving him.

 

Somehow, I have to come to terms with the fact that these men are just as much God's children as I am.  Somehow I need to reconcile inside of myself that God loves them.  Even though He was hurt and angry that they hurt me, they are still His creation and His love didn't wane though His anger flared.  Somehow I am needing to absorb the knowledge that God was never ok with what happened to me and that I am not the only one that He never stopped loving. What a painful reality this is.

 

God, give me the grace to walk through this.  Minister to my heart, it is bruised and battered.  

conviction

This morning in the car the kids brought up the issues with my mom again.  Obviously I am not the only one who is hurt.  So we added her to our morning prayer time.  We prayed that God would help us to walk in forgiveness toward her even though we are hurt and don't feel like forgiving.  We prayed that God would bring healing to the rawness in our hearts from the wounds she caused.  And we prayed that God would give us grace so that we could extend grace to her.

It sucked.  I so didn't want to pray for her.  I'm still angry.  But what better time to pray?  I was reminded of Luke 6:27-37 while we prayed.  The summary of it is to pray for those who hurt you.  Everyone can love someone who loves them but God asks us to love those who hurt us.  It ends by saying "Be merciful just as your Father is merciful."  The next part says don't judge or you will be judged.  Um, yeah, conviction.

So then tonight at work I saw the textbook for a communications class.

I decided that even though I had a fun, little brain power, quite enjoyable novel to read that maybe I was supposed to read this one instead.  So tonight I read from yet another text textbook, this time to help me understand the conflict with my mom.  I was annoyed reading it because really, I know most of it but hearing it was still difficult.  The short version is that I have to take the high road and act with integrity or else all we will do is continue to fight, possibly sever what is left of our relationship, and in no way help my son.

The book gave advice like using "I messages" instead of "you messages".  You know, saying, I was really hurt and I felt disrespected rather than attacking and saying you were disrespectful.  It also suggested focusing on the future rather than the past.  Rather than focusing on the fact that she handled this completely wrong, focus on what our expectations for future interactions are.  Informing her that we won't be ok with certain behaviors in the future but not keeping the conversation centered on what she did wrong this last time.

Still hurt?  Heck yeah.  Still angry?  Yep.  But I have a better perspective tonight.  I know that I cannot harbor hatred and bitterness in my heart toward her and still be walking in God's truth (1 John is full of examples of if you harbor hate you are not living in the light, if you hate in your heart you have committed murder in your heart, etc.)  I know that God made her and loves her.  I know He can give me love for her.

I'm still not looking forward to talking to her about this, but still feel like it needs to be done.  I still very firmly feel that my son needs to know I've got his back.  And my kids need to see me honor my mother in the midst of conflict.  Someday they will be adults.  When that day comes, I pray that they will remember that I spoke the truth in love and honored my mother, their grandmother.  I pray that they will still know that I will always have their backs.  I pray that when I frustrate them, they, having seen me model it first, will act in love towards me.

And I pray right now that God will give me wisdom and grace to handle this and that He will help me to love her the way He does.  Heaven knows that is the only way I can do this!!!!!!!