well, it did. for days. and days. and then one day i felt anger about it all. and i realized then that i was allowing it to run my life. and affect my happiness which DIRECTLY affects my children. because i'm not big enough to fake happy.
i had lots of advice from good friends about how to handle the situation. MANY said to walk away. to run away, actually. but i heard my daddy's voice saying, "be kind. put yourself in their shoes. walk around in their skin. and then decide."
but then, one day, while in my car...it hit me. i wasn't big enough anymore. i was broken and hurt. and i had to start protecting myself. because otherwise, it would literally cause me to breakdown. and i didn't have time for that. and the situation wasn't worth that.
i have prayed for a peace about it all. prayed to know that it's okay to walk away. because everything i read said that i was supposed to forgive. and forget. and be kind. keep being kind. even when you aren't getting that back...or ANYTHING back for that matter.
so i tried. tried to walk away. but there has still been a nagging worry at the back of my mind. like a hair that falls down your shirt. and gets on your chest, in your bra. you know it's there. you can feel. but it's so small and fine that you can't see it or find it. but it's enough to bother you.
enter my bff (who doesn't know it) jen hatmaker. and my other bff (who knows it) laura strickland.
laura sent this to me last night. and when i read it, i wept with tears of joy. and relief. and realized that maybe taking care of myself...maybe walking away REALLY IS THE BEST THING.
i'm copying the best part (in my opinion) here. but if you want the blog in it's entirety click here.
i have italicized the parts that spoke to me (ie: the parts where i couldn't keep reading because i was sobbing so hard because i felt like she really should be my friend and at the same time i worried she was videotaping me and my house). enjoy her words. she is such a blessing to me. may she be a blessing to you as well.
There is a tipping point when the work becomes exhausting beyond measure, useless. You can’t pour antidote into a vat of poison forever and expect it to transform into something safe, something healthy. In some cases, poison is poison, and the only sane answer is to move on.
Relationships, careers, churches, friendships, expectations, roles, tasks, organizations – these structures and connections can be the most life-giving elements on earth. They can lend meaning and purpose and belonging like nothing else. Within them, we find our tribes and passions, we come to life.
But anything that powerful has a downside, for they are the same things that can drain us dry and leave us for dead. When an endless amount of work and blood and sweat and tears leaves a situation or relationship or even an ambition (Perfect Mom, Size 4 Human, Person Who Has It All Together) as unhealthy as it ever was, when there is virtually no redemption, when the red flags have frantically waved for too long unheeded, the alarm bells receding into white noise after sustained disregard, sometimes the healthiest possible response is to walk away.
Assessing a circumstance as worthy of the toil is a discarded skill. Our culture doesn’t value safe boundaries like it should. We hold private disdain for the one who quit, the one who pulled out, drew a line in the sand, the one who said no more. We secretly wonder if they shouldn’t have tried harder, stayed longer, if this isn’t an indicator of their flimsy loyalty. Surely we would’ve done better in their shoes.
Locked in a toxic relationship or career or ambition or community, the levels of unhealth and spiritual pollution can murder everything tender and Christlike in us, and a watching world is not always privy to those private kill shots. It can destroy our hope, optimism, gentleness. We can lose our heart and lose our way. And here is the key: we can pour an endless amount of energy into the chasm, and it will never matter.
There is a time to put redemption in the hands of God where it belongs and walk away before you destroy your spirit on the altar of Futile Diligence. Not every battle has a winner; sometimes it is all losers, carnage everywhere. When healthy options exist, and there is a safer alternative right…over…there, often the bravest thing we can do is stop fighting for something that will never, ever be well.
Walk away gracefully; we need not fire parting shots over the bow. That only creates more losers, and you're better than that. Take your dignity and self-respect and precious humanity, and be proud of the way you handled yourself one year from now. You don't need to be proven right; much more is at stake than validation. You'll never regret being gracious, but you might deeply regret burning a bridge that might one day be safe enough to venture back over.
It is not ungodly to evaluate critically; it is the wisest thing we can do. Reaching a point where you say “enough” to a toxic environment is not cowardly – it is so very brave. It will free you up to expend your energy in worthy ways, protecting you and maybe even your people from brutal coping mechanisms. (Do we really want to teach our children that “identifying with your captor” is the best way? When all we do is defend our imprisoner, it’s time to take a hard look in the mirror.)
What is the tipping point? There is no formula here and I can’t give one. This requires honest self-evaluation, safe and wise counselors, the close leadership of the Holy Spirit, a sobering assessment of reality. Ask, “Is the juice worth the squeeze here?" and sometimes it is. You might discover signs of life and possibility rising up through the efforts, or the task at hand is simply too worthy to abandon, regardless. There may be necessary work left to do, and it’s too soon to assess. Or maybe the Spirit holds you in place for unclear reasons, which you may or may not ever know, but you will find peace in obedience and continue to listen for marching orders.
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