not enough words

Not much has been accomplished in my time in Jeonju. Maybe I just need to change my definition or understanding of accomplishment.

I had high hopes of being some great spiritual catalyst in this family, stoking fires and all that. Those fires were put out before even getting here when my mom didn't support ideas of family worship or whatever. She had been wanting to do it but when I was here to support, she didn't want to. After hearing from her today about some things, I don't think she feels that responsibility at all.
My step-dad went to church only one Sunday since I've been here. If the Korean culture depends a lot on image, you think he'd at least make it look like he goes to church and then just stop when I leave. He can't even leave me with that false peace. But I guess it helps me to see the reality and really pray for him. When there's no relationship with Jesus, there's no desire for church.

I'm still a secret, just got sent off to hide in my mom's room when one of my step-grandma's friends visited (apparently this woman is nosy and a gossip). It sucks to say the least.
Does my mom think more of the people in her apartment building than me? I know there are cultural issues involved and as much as I feel she's ashamed of me, I guess she's ashamed of her past. I already can't introduce any future children to my biological dad (if I even cared to know where he was) because I saw how he ignored my nieces (and me) and I couldn't put them through that. Now I wonder if I could come back to Korea with a future husband and kids, would we get sent off into a room when a visitor comes? My kids couldn't get baptized at my mom's church, not because of any issues with infant baptism but because I can't ever go to my mom's church, I don't exist to them. I probably never will. I don't know what I expect but it affirms why I need to go back to America. At least I exist there. I might be alone, but I exist.

Today I hate Korea. Today I hate the Korean culture which means I hate part of me, of what God made me to be. And I hate that.

It's easier to deal with this culture when you have control. When I lived in Seoul, it was my life, I was never ashamed of who I was. But here, I know I wasn't locked in that room but I love my mom and even though I had the desire to just walk out into the living room and sit at my computer and leave my mom to explain to the old lady who visited who I was, well, I couldn't. Love shouldn't bind us in that way. Love shouldn't make us feel ashamed or make us feel like we aren't worthy.

Of course I knew saying anything to my mom would bring her guilt and shame and I told myself I wouldn't say anything but that's not me. I say how I feel. For the first time I fully understood what the pain was. It wasn't just that maybe my mom is ashamed of who I am, it was the feeling that she was more concerned with a bunch of people she barely knows than with how her own daughter felt alone in that room, trapped.

Right now, I know she wouldn't even want me to type this, my own feelings, because she's caught up in concern for what people think. I am too, with certain things. Making the devotionals for Russia, I was overwhelmed and then full of anxiety when I sent them to be checked over. Waiting for the response was hard, it was harder to actually get it and open the file and wonder what each word would say, but it was fine.

I'm not judging my mom for worrying about other people but I don't like the way I feel about all of this. It's not fair. After nearly 25 years, I'm finally ok with who I am, why can't she be? It makes me wonder if I should be ashamed, if I should stay a secret, maybe I'm not worthy. I hate that the most. I wasn't worthy of my father's love and now I'm not worthy of my mother's...

I know that's not true. I know I'm worthy of more, but I sure don't feel it. And they haven't shown it.

Without God, I know I couldn't be here (like living). I know that I wouldn't be able to forgive even though it's hard enough with God to do that. Guilt. Shame. Doubt. Why do we do that to one another?

There's my struggle. Will I regret posting this? I hope not. But I have to...I can't be ashamed. I won't be.