This touched something really deep in me. That moment in the classroom, trying to do something good and being completely misunderstood, felt so vivid and heartbreaking. You captured that kind of pain so honestly, the kind that lingers far beyond childhood. What you said about someone judging a good heart to be bad being its own kind of poison… that really stayed with me. It’s such a specific kind of hurt, and I don’t think it’s talked about enough. I also really appreciated how you brought it back to the Lord holding your reputation. Letting go of the need to be understood and trusting that He sees clearly is not easy, but it’s freeing. And I love how your pain has made you more thoughtful toward others. Thank you for sharing this so vulnerably. I think a lot of people will feel seen in your words.
I felt all of this. Being misunderstood has been my life as well. Mostly because of the autism but also coming from a life of trauma. I spent so many years masking but also just not understanding why people are why they are.
That most people respond with anger, shaming you, judgment and accusations??? To this day, I am confused by this. I suppose I will never understand it. I will continue though, to teach others why this is a broken approach to building all the best things towards what we want in life.
Thank you, Mary for this post. I can relate to being misunderstood and judged. It wasn’t until 2015 a couple weeks before my dad died at the age of 91; that he told me my Kindergarten teacher lied to him about me. At least he admitted it. Had he told me that years prior I probably would not have suffered so much as an adult but I do my best daily to remind myself God loves me and sees me. At times, the ugliness of being misunderstood rears its’ ugly head but knowing God will eventually make things right helps remind me He is with me.
I went through something similar and i try to remember what it felt like so that i dont judge others the way i was. Its harder when the others i am falsely judging are adults, but i still need to use love instead of trying to force people to conform to what i want instead of loving them like Jesus wants me to. Here is an excerpt of what i wrote about my 5yr old experience but it happened at a church instead of at school.
" When I was a little child, I attended a church for a little while. I was the sometimes hyperactive, sometimes depressed child. I was needy and whiny sometimes, I hated being told what to do. My family was poor at that time and the church members thought of me as that odd, unruly, poor child. They often cringed when they saw me coming into their Sunday school classroom.
I remember two times during the years I went there that there was a very nice kind woman that told me Jesus loved me just like I was, she helped me ask him into my heart. I wanted so much to see her again but I never did, she died shortly after I saw her those two times.
I kept going there though because our parents sent us to the church so they could get a break and I sat through endless hours of glares and “sit down, sit still, be quiet”. I hated going there. I was allowed the “honor” of attending their institution, as long as I acknowledged their superiority and holiness and as long as I promised to do everything they said without questioning.
Whenever someone told me that I had to do whatever they said without questioning, it made me feel unable to sit still, it made me afraid they would abuse me. They didn’t know that before I was 10 years old I had been violently sexually assaulted twice by distant relatives and that on another occasion a group of men in town had gang raped me. The rape by the men started when the sun was just going down and lasted until the next morning. Some of the men that gang raped me were store owners in town and I occasionally had to speak to them after that happened. When I saw one of the men in his store his steely eyes pierced me, causing me to say, “yes sir, nothing happened”.
I didn’t want to die, I was 5. I had horrible nightmares and no sense of security, I felt I could be assaulted again at any time, and I was slowly dying inside. The people at that church didn’t know that about me, Jesus knew though, and If they been listening to Him, He might have been asking them to help me and love me, just like I was instead of trying to make me into a perfectly obedient child.
I was naked, and a stranger, locked in a prison of horror and fear, but I was judged for my lack of civility and manners. I wasn’t clothed, taken in, or visited in my prison."
For several years i volunteered in homeless shelters and drug abuse groups, by the grace of God i was blessed to see it in the people there. I notice that now that I’m not among them due to illness i see it less and become more irritable and want everyone to just modify their behavior. I want to tell them to shape up and fly right and just stop their nonsense to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and then the Lord lovingly reminds me of the days i couldnt pull myself up by my bootstraps because i couldnt even find my boots... I pray to always be allowed the grace to see people through His eyes with His compassion.
I was just talking to my mom about this yesterday. I feel this almost primal need to fix it by explaining it, as if my body won't be safe until I am understood. I know it comes from years of not being able to use my voice and speak up at home. One parent didn't want "excuses." I was often harshly punished for things I didn't do. I took this lesson and added the meaning that being misunderstood means not being loved or safe. Working with my child parts in this area and finding some growth. Thanks for sharing, Mary.
This touched something really deep in me. That moment in the classroom, trying to do something good and being completely misunderstood, felt so vivid and heartbreaking. You captured that kind of pain so honestly, the kind that lingers far beyond childhood. What you said about someone judging a good heart to be bad being its own kind of poison… that really stayed with me. It’s such a specific kind of hurt, and I don’t think it’s talked about enough. I also really appreciated how you brought it back to the Lord holding your reputation. Letting go of the need to be understood and trusting that He sees clearly is not easy, but it’s freeing. And I love how your pain has made you more thoughtful toward others. Thank you for sharing this so vulnerably. I think a lot of people will feel seen in your words.
That's my hope, that folks will feel seen and not so alone.
I felt all of this. Being misunderstood has been my life as well. Mostly because of the autism but also coming from a life of trauma. I spent so many years masking but also just not understanding why people are why they are.
That most people respond with anger, shaming you, judgment and accusations??? To this day, I am confused by this. I suppose I will never understand it. I will continue though, to teach others why this is a broken approach to building all the best things towards what we want in life.
Grateful you are teaching others this kind of judgment is a broken approach.
Thank you, Mary for this post. I can relate to being misunderstood and judged. It wasn’t until 2015 a couple weeks before my dad died at the age of 91; that he told me my Kindergarten teacher lied to him about me. At least he admitted it. Had he told me that years prior I probably would not have suffered so much as an adult but I do my best daily to remind myself God loves me and sees me. At times, the ugliness of being misunderstood rears its’ ugly head but knowing God will eventually make things right helps remind me He is with me.
That's a long time to wait to hear about the kindergarten misunderstanding. I'm so sorry.
That was a tough experience you endured as a young child. That scripture will be added to my arsenal.
It's a great passage!
I went through something similar and i try to remember what it felt like so that i dont judge others the way i was. Its harder when the others i am falsely judging are adults, but i still need to use love instead of trying to force people to conform to what i want instead of loving them like Jesus wants me to. Here is an excerpt of what i wrote about my 5yr old experience but it happened at a church instead of at school.
" When I was a little child, I attended a church for a little while. I was the sometimes hyperactive, sometimes depressed child. I was needy and whiny sometimes, I hated being told what to do. My family was poor at that time and the church members thought of me as that odd, unruly, poor child. They often cringed when they saw me coming into their Sunday school classroom.
I remember two times during the years I went there that there was a very nice kind woman that told me Jesus loved me just like I was, she helped me ask him into my heart. I wanted so much to see her again but I never did, she died shortly after I saw her those two times.
I kept going there though because our parents sent us to the church so they could get a break and I sat through endless hours of glares and “sit down, sit still, be quiet”. I hated going there. I was allowed the “honor” of attending their institution, as long as I acknowledged their superiority and holiness and as long as I promised to do everything they said without questioning.
Whenever someone told me that I had to do whatever they said without questioning, it made me feel unable to sit still, it made me afraid they would abuse me. They didn’t know that before I was 10 years old I had been violently sexually assaulted twice by distant relatives and that on another occasion a group of men in town had gang raped me. The rape by the men started when the sun was just going down and lasted until the next morning. Some of the men that gang raped me were store owners in town and I occasionally had to speak to them after that happened. When I saw one of the men in his store his steely eyes pierced me, causing me to say, “yes sir, nothing happened”.
I didn’t want to die, I was 5. I had horrible nightmares and no sense of security, I felt I could be assaulted again at any time, and I was slowly dying inside. The people at that church didn’t know that about me, Jesus knew though, and If they been listening to Him, He might have been asking them to help me and love me, just like I was instead of trying to make me into a perfectly obedient child.
I was naked, and a stranger, locked in a prison of horror and fear, but I was judged for my lack of civility and manners. I wasn’t clothed, taken in, or visited in my prison."
I'm so sorry. This breaks my heart. I wish adults knew that behavior can indicate trauma underneath.
For several years i volunteered in homeless shelters and drug abuse groups, by the grace of God i was blessed to see it in the people there. I notice that now that I’m not among them due to illness i see it less and become more irritable and want everyone to just modify their behavior. I want to tell them to shape up and fly right and just stop their nonsense to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and then the Lord lovingly reminds me of the days i couldnt pull myself up by my bootstraps because i couldnt even find my boots... I pray to always be allowed the grace to see people through His eyes with His compassion.
I was just talking to my mom about this yesterday. I feel this almost primal need to fix it by explaining it, as if my body won't be safe until I am understood. I know it comes from years of not being able to use my voice and speak up at home. One parent didn't want "excuses." I was often harshly punished for things I didn't do. I took this lesson and added the meaning that being misunderstood means not being loved or safe. Working with my child parts in this area and finding some growth. Thanks for sharing, Mary.