By Carmen Ramos
Growing up with Puerto Rican parents, I was taught to be resilient. No matter what, you keep pushing, you keep going, you keep fighting. I also learned this as I watched my mother endure painful things in the name of resilience. Yes, she kept pushing, she kept going, she kept fighting. But it came at a cost. Her self-esteem, her dignity, her sense of self-worth and so much more. She didn’t know any better then, so there is no judgment there. But the body keeps score and so does the soul. What you ignorantly endure, will shape how you live out a good portion of the rest of your life if not healed. But for my mom, the consequences weren’t just hers to bear. They were mine too. Because what you don’t face your children will!
Affection, validation, and affirmation were rarely present in my home—neither between my parents, nor from my father toward me. When he did show it, it was often followed by criticism—not constructive, just criticism. Starved of these things as a young girl, I found myself reaching for anyone or anything that promised security, belonging, and validation—beginning with relationships.
Through my teenage years and into young adulthood, I found myself in toxic relationships that kept me in a constant state of struggle—mentally, relationally, and even in securing life’s most basic necessities, like stability and a roof over my head. It was the worst kind of struggle love too. The kind of love that will have you sleeping on someone’s couch just so y’all can stay together although you know y’all shouldn’t be together. My thought process was, ‘What relationship doesn’t have issues? What couple doesn’t argue?’ But there is a huge difference between imperfection and unhealthiness—and unhealthiness was what I experienced. But I kept pushing, I kept going, I kept fighting. Just like I was taught to do. Porque hay que seguir adelante verdad? Because we have to keep going right?
So what about God—where was He in all of this? Because of my roots, I thought of turning to him. I carried such an unhealthy fear of God that kept me from even considering running to Him. The Gospel that was introduced to me made me feel like God was always mad at me. Like God would only be pleased with me when I wore the right things, said the right things, and did the right things. Having experienced church as a child, I often felt on edge despite the beautiful encounters I had with God. I was always waiting for Him to strike me down the moment I stepped out of line. It was difficult to reconcile what I had experienced with what I was being taught. Because although my experiences were leading me to know Him as father and friend the religion was teaching me to know Him as judge and Boss. I didn’t know Him as love, compassion, long-suffering. I knew more of what He was against rather than what He was for. No balance. No grace. Just performance.
The nature of my relationship with my earthly father became the lens through which I understood God’s character. Ask me how? My father and the God that was introduced to me had a few things in common. Law and performance. So I was able to accept that flawed representation of God as easily as I had accepted my fathers character as normal and right. No matter how wrong it felt. Many fathers are unaware of their roles and how it prepares their children for their relationship with God, our heavenly father and the real world. The role of father / man in the home represents the same security, protection, leadership, divine order, and authority that God provides. Earthly fathers, just like our heavenly father, set the standard on worth, value, and identity. When one or more of these things are missing in the foundation. Trust and believe the enemy will send a counterfeit to keep you on the hamster wheel of an identity crisis.
I don’t want to suggest that I can blame every bad decision on what I saw as a child. That would be unfair, as if they were responsible for everything that went wrong. But there were patterns I followed and normalized simply because I saw someone close to me survive them—without realizing they were surviving, not truly living. I would often hear this Spanish saying from so many who lived through the same patterns that says, “Dios aprieta, pero no ahorca” This is a saying that’s literal meaning is, “God squeezes, but does not choke.” Something like, “God will not give you more than you can handle.” Sounds familiar? Oh beloved, this is not justification for unnecessary hardships. Yes, pain is universal but it shouldn’t make every experience of pain normal either.
No matter how good of home you come from or good of life you might’ve had. None one is exempt from pain—everyone will experience it at some point in their life, in some capacity. It may begin as early as that first scraped knee from falling off your bike. Or your first trip to the ER for stitches after a day at the park. Rejection may come in the form of your first heart break or a rejection letter for that promotion you worked so hard to get. These are all a part of life. But what happens when these all-too-common emotions are rooted in abuse or parental abandonment—traumatic instability that removes any sense of predictability from your life? If unhealed, it changes how you view the world, yourself and it changes how you view God. It builds walls so high that not only keeps God out but keeps you isolated. Your pain will make you believe that no one understands you, no one knows what you’re going through. That there is no hope, and no way out. This is where the enemy takes advantage of life circumstances and uses your pain and trauma to keep you bound.
This exact spot is where I found myself on my 22nd birthday. I was sitting at my kitchen table with a cigarette, a glass of vodka and my pain. I had just ended a three year toxic relationship that I knew I should’ve walked away from a while ago. I left that relationship more broken than I was before it began. I barely made it out sane. I was angry, filled with bitterness and resentment toward myself and others because of everything I had endured—both the things I chose and the things I didn’t. I carried so much unforgiveness toward those who contributed to my hardships, including my parents. I was full of hate, fear, anxiety, depression, and hopelessness. I had hit rock bottom. So lets re ask this question. Where was God in all of this? Right there with me. At that moment, I cried out to God with all the sincerity in my heart. I didn’t recite a sinner’s prayer. I didn’t have a pastor guiding my words.—just a broken and contrite heart that God would not deny. My exact words, “God if you want me out of this, you have to get me out, because I can’t do it!” That vulnerable, emotional moment was a prayer of surrender to God.
After a very interesting encounter at a family member’s home, I decided to attend a church that I had been invited to. I was so afraid to go because of what I had already experienced with my childhood church and churches in between. Upon arriving, the anticipation and apprehension kept building. Honestly I wasn’t sure what to expect. But I will say that God also met me there. I left with peace and a new beginning. I am now fifteen years in, walking with the Lord. There has been so much healing and transformation that has taken place by encounters and people that the Lord has brought into my life for specific purposes and seasons. God worked with me. Layer by layer with all the love, gentleness and truth He had to offer. Oh! It was a process. Sometimes even painful to say the least. There were times I wanted to go run back to my Egypt because it felt easier to deal with dysfunction than it did to navigate healing. Because healing, unlike dysfunction, comes with accountability and responsibility. I couldn’t blame anyone for what I didn’t become or what I didn’t have and I could wallow in sorrow. Healing was now my choice and my responsibility. I had to learn to do it God’s way. I had to learn how to forgive those who didn’t deserve forgiveness. I had to learn how to lay down my pride and ask for forgiveness too. I had to learn how to honor my parents without repentance. I had to learn to lay down the “altar of my feelings” in exchange for God’s truth of my identity and my future. I had to become teachable and allow others to disciple me. It wasn’t just a spiritual thing. There were many practicable things involved in my healing too. It was a humbling experience. Like I said I wanted to quit so many times. But if I could commit to all the wrong things, for the wrong reasons, regardless of the same results I continued to get, then I could commit to the right things, for the right reasons, and get the best result. The Jesus result.
I no longer identify with any of the pain in rejection of my past. I don’t feel like an orphan because I didn’t get what I needed from my parents. I don’t see myself as less than because of all the things I have done. I see myself as redeemed and righteous through the righteousness of Jesus Christ. Fearfully and wonderfully made. Whole and set apart. New and renewed. I have a seat at the table, an assignment in the body, I am the apple of my heavenly fathers eyes. I often look at the life I have now and wonder how I almost gave this up. I really believed that God could not give me better than what I had. Has life been perfect since Christ? Good God! No! I’ve dealt with some things my friend! But life was so much harder without Christ. My life is Jesus thang! Only God could’ve done it and He’ll do it for you too if you’ll let Him!
