Letter written to Sue Scavo, December 12, 2003:
Sue,
I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you in the way Marc had hoped I could, the way I was able to the last time we spoke about your working on the book. I saw you clearly at Leslie's. I saw the call in your heart to be involved in this project and I saw through the lie of the pathology when you said I shouldn't trust you. This time, however, I took the bait your pathology set me up with. I felt all the things you were afraid I'd feel...taking the bait that was set in the trap because of the trap my pathology had set for you.
When I received your email I was anxious about your response to my beginnings, to what I had written. I wanted something from you, your feedback, your response, your support. It was really scary to send it to you. I hoped to alert you by email subject, "scared but sending anyway" and asking for gentle but honest feedback to let you know how fragile I felt. I mean who am I to attempt such a challenge and I exposed my beginning to you in spite of myself. It even took me a month to send anything to Marc because I was afraid it wasn't good enough, because of my selfdoubts, my shame, the way my pathology distorts my truth. So in sending my writing to you I really put myself out on a limb, vulnerable and exposed by needing something back. An easy target for a direct hit. My pathology set you up to define my worth based on your response. I didn't know this at the time of course. The perfect blindspot for a big misunderstanding.
You didn't understand how hard that was for me and I didn't understand what you were suggesting.
I read your email looking for your response to my writing and what I saw was that you wanted to write it. That fit right in with the way my complete worthlessness looks to be confirmed in the world. What I had exposed of myself wasn't even worth a response...in fact was better off being handled by a professional.
I spoke with Marc this morning and he told me your idea is to use examples of these different points we are writing about to flesh them out, add musculature to the bones of what we are doing so far. That sounds great, Sue. And I like the idea of somehow bringing in these examples by using the writing of others who have experienced the very thing we are trying to describe. What a rich tapestry. That's just the kind of thing I had hoped you would see: what is needed, what to clarify, ways to do it. That feels like a response, like what I sent was a jumping off point rather than a wash.
I would have been so excited to hear what came to you because the way Marc described it, it sounded like a collaboration. It seems like the pathology edited the heart of the matter right out and made a case for coauthorship sound like an assertion of ownership, which I reacted to as a threat: that you indeed were trying to push me aside, just like your pathology was telling you you were doing. What an efficient way to deal us both an incredibly painful blow! I reinforced your shame by my reaction (I'm guessing), leaving you wondering what you meant by coauthorship anyway (your next email).Your pathology, my pathology, its all the same thing, the demon enemy getting in there.
The next time I will call Marc first to understand what is being asked of me before I respond. Our collaboration will bring up more of this to look at, so we can recognize it for what it is. I'm scared to go through it again but I trust we'll get past it on our way to a great working relationship. My desire is to serve God, to do the work He wants me to do, however it unfolds.
This whole experience with you and with Marc has brought up how profoundly unloved I feel and how much I hurt. I've been bouncing back and forth between pain and nihilism. I know my nihilism is pain pereverted through my shame. That pain is something old and buried that I've been too afraid to feel. I hate myself when my shame gets in there, otherwise I just feel profoundly hurt.
How are you?
Again, I apologize for reacting and being unable to stand in the breach for you in your struggle. I hope you'll feel freer to share your ideas with me. My pathology is so much worse than your honesty could ever be.
Love, Ellen