Protection

I struggle with the concept of being protected. I find it difficult to give anyone that much power, to entrust myself into the care of another. And in our society being vulnerable and dependant isn't exactly looked highly upon. I guess to be loved enough by another that they would stand guard, at their own potential danger, to ensure your safety is beautiful... well in theory. As long as we have the general concept that we are all fallible...that really no matter how intentional someone is or how desperate they are to keep you safe, there is no guarantee, no real chance that awful things won't happen. But how often do we have high expectations, especially as children, only to fall hard and fall fast into the reality that there is no one big enough or strong enough to really protect you from the harsh pain of this life. To be perfectly honest I have struggled at times with the concept that the Lord is our protector. He is God. He is all powerful, all knowing, all loving. And yet sin entered the world and humanity fell. Our freewill allowed us the ability to not only hurt ourselves but also to impose our own will onto another person. We aren't puppets...because what good would love be if it was forced? So I understand all of that- and yet- what good does it do me to have a protector who isn't able to protect me from the freewill of others? As a child I came to many conclusions about this based on my limited ability to conceptualize life outside of myself. Pain and fear and a lack of understanding all jumbled inside of my little head and the only conclusion i could come to was that that I was the cause of everything and I could never ever trust anyone again. If what had happened to me was an example of protection, then protection from anyone was useless to me...it still left me shattered, and alone.


The discussion of protection has been brought up quite often in the last year. I had countless conversations with Tiffany where she explained to me that God's greatest protection for me was in my ability to not remember that which I felt like I wasn't protected from.. There was actually no recollection of memory, that was so dark and so deep it would destroy me. For years He allowed me to forget, until the time came when I could handle it. Which is fantastic, if that memory loss could have lasted forever. But as a 28 year old woman I now feel trapped inside the limited memories of a young child. Over and over and over again they play...each smell, each sound, each whisper echoing as real now as it was all those years ago. It would seem that forgetting still wasn't exactly my idea of protection....because what good is it to forget, if one day its all returns.

The other night I watching the TV show called the Mentalist. It is a crime solving show with a bit of a twist to it. Patrick Jane joined the CBI as a consultant after his daughter and wife were killed by a serial killer named "Red John." His life became dedicated to finding their killer and he found he could more easily find this man while working on the "inside" (police, FBI, CBI etc) instead of on his own. His only motivation however, is to find and kill red john with his own hands. Jane has an amazing ability to read people and emotionally draw things out of a situation that most people would miss. He is brilliant and is an amazing asset to the CBI. Well, in the last episode, while trying to investigate a murder scene Jane is attacked from the back and drowned in a swamp...they of course manage to find and revive him but he has memory loss. Now I know this is just a TV show but stick with me. The doctors say the memory loss is attributed to the fact that often times when the brain had endured great emotional trauma, in self protection it can retreat to only having memories before the traumatic event in the case of physical trauma. So Jane wakes up and doesn't remember anything about his live after meeting his wife...he can't remember her at all. And the doctors say to let the memories come back on their own in attempt not to re traumatize him. To make a long story short, it turns out Jane is a total jerk before meeting his wife. He decides to quite his job steal a bunch of money and move on. He knows there is some great emotional trauma everyone is tip toeing around and he says something to his coworker which hit me...He asked her to just leave him alone, because he is finally happy...something he never was after his wife and daughter were brutally murdered. There was finally an ability to go back to the time "before". Those are my words...to go back to "before". That moment in life when the veil that was up allowed you to see the world as innocent...to have no comprehension of the deep harsh reality of the pain in this world. The evil. In the end, his coworker decides to save him from being the horrible person he was and has now returned to being and leads him to a place where he will remember what happened. So she takes him to his own home and leads him up the stairs to a door that clearly stays closed...and she tells him to go in. Inside is what appears to be the room that his wife and children were raped and murdered in, with the blood thrown against the wall in the shape of a smiley face, the signature of the serial killer.

It is a TV show. I know. But Jane's face...it was the look I know and feel so often...one i have seen in the eyes of others who have faced similar battles. The feeling of recognition, two realities meeting for the first time or for the millionth time...and its as if the world has been pulled out from under your feet. You feel sick and your head is spinning...if only for the amount of time you can stay grounded, and stay in the present. You desperately want to go back to the blank feeling that tells you there is something more but never gives voice to more than a hunch. You want to run and sometimes you try...pleading with your mind to forget. To fall asleep one day and wake up and it be gone. For days, weeks, years, you hold onto the hope that it will. Because how could something that never was come into the here and the now and present itself like it always has been...and somehow you are the only one confused by it. You want the whole world around you to tell you its not true. You want someone to tell you that you are crazy...because anything, ANYTHING, would be better than the truth. The hair raising screams begin- the ones only you can hear... a horror story on repeat in the back of your mind. Nightmares bringing the subconscious to life.... reliving a pain so deep that it was shut off from your mind. Yet every night it comes to life. There is no escape. So you hide and deny and numb in desperate attempt to be free...while only burying yourself faster each day. There aren't words to express it. Literally...because you can't imagine speaking after the vow of silence. You hate that little girl who lives in your mind because if she would just stop crying, stop breathing, stop laying motionless staring at the ceiling then maybe you could move on. They tell you to love her and in disgust you look away...she is the reason for the inability to be happy. She is the reason for the sickness and the loneliness. "Love her?" I mock. I simply wish she would disappear and give me the chance to start living. And so I desperately try to separate myself from her. But it seems moving home has made that harder to do. Around every corner there is a reminder, a memory, a person... hyper vigilance has sewn itself onto my body like a shadow. Anxiety flows through my veins and trembles out through my hands and takes rhythm in my bouncing leg. But the choice to let the past overcome me is no choice at all. There is a life to uphold. A job to work. Friendships to keep...and new ones to be made. And I walk the balance beam, high above the tree tops, believing if I fall it will all be over. So I hold tight to myself, thinking that will be the only thing that won't hurt me. All the while God sent hands reach out on all sides of me, offering help, hope, and support...and I am so desperate to take them it scares me to death. What if I forget how to function without help? What if I lose my ability to need no one? What if I become so desperate to not be alone that I scare everyone away because I cling to them? For so long I have taught myself to never give in to what my heart longs for...the more desperate I am for it the greater the importance to prove my self control in my ability to want it and not give into it. But there are days that the thirst becomes to too great and in shame I take a deep breath in the comfort of someone holding my hand. Oh to be able to admit to weakness, to surrender to love, and to chance everything...and risk the seemingly unbearable pain of learning to be loved and letting some into the deepest places of hurt and then one day chance being alone in it once more.

I know God is faithful. I know his truth and understanding far over shadow my own... I see his faithfulness in the people he has placed in my life...in the fact that he continues to fight on my behalf. I believe this time of year is a reminder of his faithfulness...that he would love us so deeply that he would send his son to be born into this harsh world, then to die a horrific death just so that we could be with him forever. So on the days when the journey seems so long, i make myself remember, He is faithful.




You Are Faithful" - by Michael Boggs

Oh the mountains haven't always moved
When I prayed that they would
And the waters didn't always part
When I believed that they should

But You have promised You'd never leave us
To face this life on our own
So whatever You choose
However You move
I know I'm not alone

In the healing and in the breaking
You are faithful,
You are faithful
In the saving and in the suffering
You are faithful
You are faithful

Through the pieces of a broken life
Your loved has helped me see
I may never understand Your ways
But You'll always be good to me

'Cause You have promised You'd never leave us
To face this life on our own
So whatever You choose
However You move
I know I'm not alone

In the healing and in the breaking
You are faithful
You are faithful
In the saving and in the suffering
You are faithful
You are faithful

Your love is deep enough to drown my fears Lord
The plans You have for me are worth waiting for

watching the world pass me by

I don't have a feeling to describe the way I feel. Instead I have a picture, a situation per say... and that picture embodies my voice, attempts to communicate in my lack of words. Its a scene in a movie I have seen many times. A person in some shape or fashion takes a physical step backwards... within a busy street with people walking every which way to get to work or school or families at home. Everyone is in a hurry and talking on their phones or texting and trying to catch a taxi. But the character steps back and though they are standing still the world around them goes into some sort of fast forward...as if life just keeps moving and changing and somehow, mentally- which is being portrayed physically- they are separated from reality and time, and deep within themselves they are standing still. Body frozen in place, eyes staring blankly into the distance...in a way which would lead you to believe you could look straight into her soul, that is if anyone noticed she was there at all.

That's how I feel. Separated by my own lack of movement yet not able to fully withdraw from the reality which are the demands and expectations of an everyday life. Avoiding eye contact, avoiding heart contact...hoping to somehow come back to life in time to catch up with the world around me. Sand falling to indicate my number of breaths is running out. Lost inside a tunnel where a small dot of light is visible...yet seemingly too far away to get to before its too late. My mind completely still and simultaneously racing to the rhythm of my pounding heart. Screaming with no noise. Crying with no tears. Silence so loud it can drive you insane.

There is a song out right now by Rascal Flats called Easy. The exact content of the song doesn't parallel my situation, in terms of it all being about a broken relationship, but the concept fits perfectly. We, or I guess I should say "I" go through life trying to make living seem effortless. I try as hard as I can to be the version of myself I so desperately want to be. I work hard. I portray confidence and lightness. I say the right things at the right times and I laugh off pain as though it is nothing but a slight discomfort in my otherwise blessed life. The line of the song that I so relate to is this,

"But what she, what she don't know.
Is how hard it is to make it look so, Easy."

I so relate to that. I work so hard to make it look like living life is easy. That to love deeply is easy. That working hard and laughing light and taking risks is so easy...when in all reality I am stuck inside a heart that blocks out the world around me. I am the girl stepping back as the rest of the world passes by...staring blankly through the deep sadness, the heavy heart, the fear and the hopeless ambivalence.

All I really want is to be loved deeply...to be known fully, and to be worth fighting for. And the crazy thing is that deep love, undeserved worth, that hope is standing right in front of me. Its so real and so beautiful and yet feels so hard to embrace...to trust...to get used to. Christ thought I was worth fighting for. He loved me enough to see me in the depth of my sin and fight to bring me back to him...he loved me too much to let me go...to reap the consequence of my mistakes. Everyday He offers me that gift of grace. Moment by moment he offers his hand to walk me through...and more often than not I turn away in shame...because to be loved, to be known, is too painful. Which kinda bring me to the second rascal flatts song called I won't let go. I believe the chorus of that song is the Lord's heart for us...his deep desire for us to know that we are never alone.

I wish it was just that easy. To open yourself to love. To be known and be embraced for it. To accept the past in order to make it stop torturing the present. To let tears fall without shame. To put words to the unspeakable. To stop the cycle. To be whole. To be free.

I believe there is hope that is worth fighting for. Even when I can't feel it...even when I can't see it. Even when I am frozen in time, watching the world pass me by...I hold tight to the promise that with Christ nothing is impossible.

Better than a Hallelujah

Now matter where I am in my life it seems as though there is some other place I would like to be. When I was in Nashville I always thought moving home would fix the perpetual loneliness...because surly when you are living with your family there is never a moment to be alone...causing one to conclude there will be a lack of loneliness. It's easy to forget that loneliness is a place deep inside the core of who you are and isn't fixed with the presence of other people. Now that I am here in California I long for the days when I was in Nashville, thinking at least there I had friendships and relationships with people I loved and trusted. So I sit here perplexed because I can't seem to grasp the skill of being content. It is as though if I were to stop long enough to take in the moment, my lack of movement would cause the very beauty of the season to crumble beneath my feet.

Last night I was painting at a pottery place finishing up a dog bowl I was making for Bella. I had started it weeks before and hadn't quite finished the detailing I was doing on the sides and some of the stenciling needed a second coat. So I sat as still as I possibly could focusing all my attention into the precision of tracing back over the fancy letters that marked the bowl with her name. My hands were shaking and it took so much concentration to dip the tip of the brush into a tiny amount of paint and gently darken the paint already in place. I thought about the patience that was being required of me. I thought about how slow I had to go in order to get the result I wanted. And as I sat and listened to Amy Grant's "Better than a Hallelujah" my eyes welled up with tears. I am so careless with my life. I take things that are so fragile and delicate...my heart, my recovery, my trust and I refuse to slow down and with shaky hands brush by brush build upon the way I want my life to turn out. Instead I choose any brush and throw some paint onto a tray and hope the colors and textures match up...and then am honestly so surprised when the result is far from beautiful...far from how I envisioned it to be. I treat myself as though I am a useless piece of art with no hope of ever becoming something worthy to be seen. I throw away the tears and the sweat and the intense pain I have already placed into making my life free from the grasp of my past...I take the value that others have marked me with and have beat myself down to something no one would want...because at least then I won't be hurt by the worth at which I am appraised.

Its been a hard week. At times I refuse to write in order to preserve the image people have of me. I want people to think I am doing great and fantastic. That I have my shit together and that I am somehow different than the girl they remembered me to be. I fear forever being the hopeless cause...the girl who never got better because she was too stubborn to take responsibility for her life. And the funny thing is that my version of taking responsibility is taking responsibility for everything and everyone...or refusing the existence of things that would give someone else the responsibility over me. Have you ever had the pleasure of having a debt collector call you repeatedly? They leave intimidating messages or have people call with beautiful accents and threaten to take everything you own if you don't do what they say you must. Well instead of facing these people. Telling them what I can do to work toward the goal we both have, I refuse to answer my phone. I put my phone on silent and I feel sick every time I see their missed calls. I refuse to listen to their messages and hope that if i ignore them long enough they will give up on me and leave me alone. The problem is that it normally just doesn't work that way. It is a battle of wills and they are being paid to settle this so in all reality they have alot more motivation than I do to keep calling until they get what they want. This is exactly how I live my life when it comes to the painful things that keep my sick. This week I have felt the weight of some of my fears. Perceived abandonment or major change. Feeling so alone... people who once held you close are now holding you at arms length. After days of pulling away, trying to show them that I am not that hard to love, I open up my heart in total fear and vulnerability only to find that arms length is now the stance of our relationship and that my fears have been seemingly confirmed. Terrified. I spend so much of my life running from this very feeling all because of how deeply it tore my life apart. I see the anger that comes up inside of me which immediately turns to fear and regret and I start asking for forgiveness when there is nothing to be forgiven for. I have learned to operate out of always assuming I am doing something wrong and taking responsibility for things I can't control. And part of me thinks its this very attitude that keeps me alone and constantly fighting an uphill fight...every time I fall I roll back to the bottom and start from the beginning all over again. And I start to ask myself what it is that makes someone so afraid...like when a dog cowers at any raised voice or raised hand. You wonder what they have walked through that has taught them there is a need for their reaction.

So as I struggle to find a place to rest my head from the insanity that has become my life I pour out my heart before the Lord praying that, as it says in Amy Grants song, a broken heart and deep longing for His touch would be "better than a hallelujah."


*** Lord God I pray for my heart to be open to love, to be open to change, and be open to following you with total abandon. I pray that you would help me turn this path, this heart, and this life around as a testimony of your power and to bring glory to you alone. I pray Lord that instead of running from the people you have placed in my life to help me walk through this pain that you would give me the courage to push past the fear and walk with courage...and allow my heart to be healed through the love and relationship that is being given. Help me know that my hope is in you alone.***

A mean disease

It's a mean disease. Everything from the past root issues, the trauma, the abandonment to the numbers and the addiction and the desperation to cling to a lifeless embodiment of lies. It's cruel. It is vicious. It's mean. I know that seems childish. I know standing back as an innocent victim seems a bit naive or ignorant. But I think there are moments in time when I am just taken back by how deceptively the roots of an eating disorder slip down into the cracks of your life and before you know it your hands are tied together and you feel as though the world could never understand how you can love something and hate something simultaneously with such raw and desperate passion.
It doesn't play fair. In fact it actually serves a purpose and meets a legitimate need and brings relief to an aching heart. It confuses the mind by bandaging the wound and leaves you perpetually empty, a nice change from the fullness of emotion.
I drove home from work today in silence. Five O'clock traffic was wearing down my already shot nerves and all I could do was stare ahead of me. I didn't have the capacity to listen to the radio or even sing to music. I was incredibly frustrated because in that moment I ached for the numbness that the eating disorder would bring me. I was desperate for the sound of my mind racing with thoughts and numbers to the degree that it would provide white noise for the emotional torment of a triggered memory. I spent a lifetime avoiding the truth and now I feel like I will spend the rest of my life trying to forget. And its silly because I know food has nothing to do with why things are hard right now. It's not about calories or fat or numbers...and yet those are the things that send me over the edge... that take me from pretending nothing happened at all to melting into a puddle. I didn't want to go out to lunch again today. I really didn't. So when it was another restaurant I didn't know with another man I am still getting to know I was overwhelmed before we even sat down. Things just went downhill from there. By the time we were leaving our last agent's office I was reeling with anxiety and yet showing nothing but calm. I was amazed how put together I could appear to be when inside I couldn't think straight. Its a talent that has aided in my detriment. So as I drove home in total silence I felt like a drug addict needing a fix...an alcoholic needing a drink. But I can't stay abstinent from my drug of choice. I knew I had to go home and face the demon and stand against it, when I felt completely powerless to do so. It seems mean. Like making an alcoholic go sit in a bar 3 times a day or an addict go hang out at their dealers house. I am not saying those addictions are any less difficult to overcome than my own...im just saying its a different level of having to daily take part on the very thing that has destroyed my life.

There is a little girl who I have been connected with who just entered treatment for the first time. I have friends who are dying. Literally. Yes its about the food right now but its not. Each one of them have a story and within it food took hold of them in some way shape or form. Too much or not even close to enough. It promised to sooth their emptiness and bring control to a world that had failed them, crushed them, and left them to fend for themselves. It's a mean disease, fueled by a mean past. My heart pounds in frustration tonight as I continue staring..looking past the screen in front of me and into the eyes of the moments, the people, who took my heart away. Some days I wonder if the greatest treatment, when in combination with professional help, is love. Not for any other reason then that they are who they are and deserve to be handled gently and loved fully. Maybe, just maybe, if they could find the comfort of Jesus through the arms of his people they wouldn't be so desperate to be held by the illusion of control. What if we held them. What if we loved them. What if they really didn't have to be alone.

I simply long for the day that freedom flows out of my words, my thoughts, and my actions. I long for the day when I can feel the Lord pick me up and carry me through the past, healing the wounds, and bring me into my present...going before me into my future. It's a mean disease...but I have a God who is bigger.

my mind is screaming

This is the first time in a long time that I have felt such a desperation to write. There is no direction I am intending to go, no frustration I am trying to sort out. I simply, for one moment, need there to be no filter, no restraint, no pressure to be something or someone that I am not. I think I have carried hope for such a long time, believing that things will one day be different. However deep down I know it is not the kind of different that will ever happen. I have longed for there to be a day when suddenly I find what has been missing. The wound inside my heart is healed with no scars to show. Relationships are easy. Joy is found in abundance. Food is the furthest thing I am focusing on. It is the idealized depiction of a world that could be... but one that had become as easy to believe in as unicorns and mermaids... as there ever being perfection in every aspect of who I am.

I can't help but think its not supposed to be this way. I know that in the garden so long ago humanity became separated from the life we were created to live... separated from the one we were created to abide in. But everyday I see people who are living in this world and they are alive. They are not weighed down with anxiety and depression and fear of everyone and everything. They aren't overwhelmed by the idea of change and paralyzed in the midst of it. I meet people who enjoy life and seem to have peace in the confidence of our maker. And I wonder to myself, why can't I? I think the easy thing to do would be to turn to my past and place all responsibility on what has been done to me... but I just can't do that and actually believe it to be true. So its actually easy for me to take a can of spray paint and cover over all the pictures in the story of my life. I want so desperately to believe that my stories are nothing but lies and ploys for attention and excuses for failing to live a normal life. I want the sole problem to be me... that I have done something to deserve to feel this way or that I have brought this upon myself... because if the problem lies in my sanity and my behavior then I can fix it. Lets say I am a liar and I lie to everyone I meet. And lets say the punishment for that is extreme anxiety or fear... then the insanity will only last as long as I am bad... which means there isn't permanent damage, you know? I can change my behavior. I can be a better person. I can love deeper, serve more, encourage better. But lets say for argument sake something did happen. The abuse was real... then what. I can't take that away. I can't erase the damage that did to my heart and my mind. I would be abandoned with the memories and remain at the mercy of another person. I would be shattered, in a state that can never be flawlessly put back together. Millions of little pieces glued side by side, hoping to reconstruct something that resembles that life I once knew. But everything inside is different and the person staring back at me in the mirror is a stranger. I try to be better, just obviously not hard enough.

I know there are people who are able to find healing. There are people who bounce back and are able to resume life...often times being changed for the better by what they have endured. But I don't know if I have the strength to keep believing that for myself. I am so frustrated by how hard this transition has been for me. Every thought I have is intensified by anxiety and fear and it steals away joy, contentment, moments with my family. They say to stop freaking out and to just calm down but what does that even mean? When I feel like I am being swallowed alive by a life that is headed in an opposite direction of where I want to go. I feel like what I wants doesn't even matter. I feel like I am getting advice from everyone around me telling me about how good the direction I am heading in will be. I feel like I am screaming at the top of my lungs telling everyone I am going the wrong way and that this isn't what I want and I honestly feel like it doesn't matter. Like when I open my mouth nothing comes out... its like I am living in a nightmare where I am crying and falling apart and everyone somehow sees me smiling and happy. Outwardly I appear to be doing the right things but in all reality on the inside I feel like I am being tortured...like I am watching my greatest fears being lived out right before my eyes and no one except me sees a thing.

In reality the reason no one can hear me is because I actually am not saying anything. I am not screaming, but instead I am saying the right things at the right times... trying desperately to be the person I want to be. I kept living out the definition of insanity, trying harder and harder to turn into the person I pretend to be, and getting stuck in the same place I have been for the last 15 years. It isn't something anyone else has put on to me...but its this brokenness that so many days I don't believe I will ever live without. Moving is hard. It takes months, sometimes years to establish a new life. I have been here for a month. But I feel like I am drowning. I feel like the need is now. I feel like the world is slipping through my fingers and I am doing my best to hold on. But much like sand it slips through the cracks in my life and before I know it there is too little that remains to get back what I have lost.

I don't know what comes next. I don't know how to try and put a positive spin on how I am feeling. I do know the truth is that there is hope. That change takes time. And that there is a love that can heal the deepest wound. I pray for the strength to embrace, to trust, and to lose myself in my maker, so that one day I can honestly say, I am free.

silent understanding

I know I hold a double standard. I know that I expect people to be sensitive to a past that I won't share with them...that I wouldn't even consider allowing them to know the slightest details about... they say they would want to know. Trust me when I tell you just how untrue that is. There is a dark world out there. We watch the news and read terrible stories about people who have walked through horrific situations. Talk shows, books, and magazines all share details that make most shudder and sadly shake their heads, wondering how there are people in this world who could do such hurtful things to children, to spouses, to perfect strangers. However the very thing that makes those stories bearable is the disconnect between them. What is interesting is how different the story becomes when someone you love is a part of it. When you are a part of it. I listen as other people tell their stories, and God knows I haven't been through anything compared to some people... but they talk about their story, these horrific things as though they are talking about a movie they watched or a book they read. Stone faced, stone hearts, reconstructing a life that has been forever shaken by a past that won't disappear. New movies won't replace the words and the scenes that are forever etched in your mind. You fall asleep at night only to relive the same story told through different characters in different contexts in different nightmares.
Tonight I sat and listened to my sister, talking to my mom, telling a story of a friend from high school who was beaten by his father and step mom. I listened as she talked about him telling his story to her and my mom this afternoon and how they both were in tears. I listened to her shock and horror and her repeating over and over how confused she was that he wouldn't have said anything... that he didn't tell anyone. She understood that he was threatened... but still how could he have stayed silent all those years. They sat and talked and talked about how heart breaking it was and what she would have done if she had known.
It's weird when there is an unspoken understanding. It's crazy how the stories are different but so similar at the same time. Maybe its verbal abuse. Maybe its physical, maybe its emotional or sexual. The degree or severity varies and the situations are unique...but the unspoken understanding bleeds through and touches anyone who has been scarred by it. You can look in their eyes and know that they know and for a moment its beautiful because you don't feel so alone. But as quickly as that feeling comes it is replaced with brokenness. You often feel more broken for them than you ever could for yourself. You have lived with your own pain...you never get used to someone else's. You pray that the world will never understand. You pray that those you love will never get close enough to it to feel the chill that it leaves behind in its wake. You desperately want to protect those you love from the very thing that you were not. So the silence continues. The eye contact is lost and you go about your every day lives, putting as much distance between you and the pain that you can...trying to allow it to change you for the better...believing it has made you the person you are today...because believing anything else would be devastating.
There is no pity that is desired. I know very few who want the attention and pity that the world can offer. There really is no point I am even trying to make. I guess I am merely making an observation. I guess it seems that the pain in other people is the very thing that connects you to them. We want to have spot free lives that are easy to share and be a part of. I don't necessarily think that the silent understanding, the connection that is unspoken, needs to be anything other than unspoken. I guess I just find it interesting that no matter how hard we try or how fast we run from the past that seems to have totally screwed us up...how great the mask or how beautiful the picture we paint is...in a moment, in a story, you are transported back. No matter how many miles or bricks or road blocks you have put in place to keep it away... in a scent, in a word, in the eyes of a child you know is holding back more than anyone would assume...you return. And it's as real as the day, days, months, years it happened. You don't necessarily have to stay...but each time it makes it more difficult to deny its presence. Each time you are reminded that it's a part of you. The question then I guess is how to move forward without the intent to forget...because when you spend your life trying to forget it makes it that much more painful when you are brought back, and are forced to look it in the eyes...most likely not your own eyes... but in the silent understanding of those who have been torn apart by abuse. It's the club you never want to be a part of... and the one you are never asked if you want to join...

my prayer, my heart

I keep telling myself that I will look back on this season in my life and see all the amazing ways the Lord was providing for me. I keep telling myself that the job that will fit me best is one I haven't applied for yet and that I simply have not met the treatment team that will walk me through the fire. I keep telling myself these things all while looking into my reflection and seeing in my eyes just how much I don't believe a word of it. I mean I do. I do believe the Lord is at work...I don't think there is a place I can go or run to where He won't be at work in my life. However I constantly second guess myself. I wonder if I am applying for the wrong jobs or not applying to the right ones. I wonder if the therapist I met with this week just seemed crazy because she doesn't even compare to Tiffany...or if she was just tough with me and that's why I wasn't a huge fan...or if she really is not a great match for me...or if its what I really think it is - she lacks experience in this field and I really don't want to be a guinea pig. I don't want to walk away because I am closed off but at the same time I don't want to start with someone I won't connect with and waste weeks, waste money, and chance things getting worse. Everything seems to on edge right now. I feel like my whole life hangs in balance and as the wind blows I falter back and forth...I never know if one big gust will send me over the edge.
After talking with Tiffany today I was more aware of how hard my heart is and has become. It's like in my inability to be anything but real with her I see parts of myself surface that aren't nearly as kind and open as I would hope. I see patches of anger and roots of bitterness. I find frustration with the Lord and at a deeper level see that the frustration really is in my inability to surrender fully and yield completely. I see my lack of trust, resulting in a lack of faith. And on days like today I come face to face with a broken hearted God...one who I know loves me deeply...and one who longs for me to simply crawl into His lap and allow him to carry me through this land that is so foreign to me. If only I understood His love for me. If only I understood what it means to trust someone to never leave or die or grow weary of my constant failure. If only I didn't hide in my shame and remove myself from the hope that He promises I have in Him. If only I wasn't so afraid.

So tonight all I have to offer is a prayer, is my heart...knowing there is no amount of processing that can ease the pain and the loneliness... knowing there is only one who can comfort with true hope.

Father God I come to you Lord so ashamed. I feel like there are chains resting heavy upon my body, as if every movement takes more strength then I possess. God I repent for doing life my way. I repent for running from you instead of into your arms. Lord I pray for my heart to be awakened to your goodness. God make your presence and your love known to me this week. Reveal your heart for me to me and help me to daily trust in you more. I need your help. I don't know how to keep moving forward. All I have is you right now and I know that in some ways that is a beautiful place to be in...because you alone can get the glory for everything in my life. You alone must be my savior...you alone must be my God. I repent for placing idols before you. I repent for placing my hope in my appearance and my own strength. Lord show me where to apply for jobs. Show me where you want me to be each and every moment of every day. Show me how to love your children and your sheep and show me how to give that same love and compassion to myself. Show me when to rely less on the support of this world and when to rely solely on you. Lord give me wisdom to walk out this life well. Lord God I long to be the woman you have designed for me to be. Help me to walk through the fire and the pain and the testing without running away and numbing out the pain. Help me to cling to you and walk with courage believing that you will provide. That you have already redeemed me. That you will never leave me. That you love me more than anyone else in this world ever could...and that the plans you have for my life were made by you...the creator of my hopes, my dreams, and my desires. Help me come to you when i feel lost. Help me hold onto you when I feel alone. Help me to put action behind my steps when you tell me to move. I pray Lord that this week you would show me where I need to apply for a job. I pray that you would calm my anxious heart and help me to use this season to build my faith as I see you move mountains. I will trust in you. I will place my hope in your name. I give you my fears and my pain. I can't do this my way anymore. Lead me Lord and I will follow. Guide my steps and I will move as you lead. This is not my life...but yours alone. I love you. I need you. I am humbled to be called your daughter. Light the fire in my heart and remind me that you are near. Be real to me this week. I believe you for the life that is to come. I believe you for the life that is today. I believe you. You alone are enough for me.

Needing Peace

I am desperate for the ability to be content...to be happy. My world, my life, is nothing but transition at this point and I can feel the weight of nothing feeling certain wearing on my heart. It's not being back home in California in and of itself that is challenging. I think more of it has to do with what this place represents and the memories it holds. I didn't realize the extent to which I am used to living life on my own until I came back into a family dynamic. Everyone has opinions and suggestions on how and where I should be applying to work and where I shouldn't be applying and if I am applying to enough places and I am worn out. It's like the world is moving at the same pace it always has and my mind has slowed down as the thoughts race at an all time high. Trying to find a new treatment team while trying to figure out school deadlines for the spring and student loans that need to be paid and a job that needs to be found in order to finance any of the things above... and as my senses and emotions are overwhelmed and the only consistent things I had in place in my life before I moved are gone I crawl into the shadows of my mind and try to escape the unbearable noise of the chaos all around me. I feel ungrateful and selfish. I feel like my family is doing nothing but trying to help in any way they know how... so why am I so cold? Why am I so weighed down with guilt and shame and sadness. I feel like people look at me and I stare through them, not knowing how to answer the most simple questions. I am at a loss for effort, a loss for energy...im at a loss for words. I feel like all I do is try to figure out life right now and there is nothing but criticism...constant questions about turning in applications and emailing people about jobs and searching websites and the more I do the more I feel like nothing is enough.

The people at Summit have been so incredibly nice to me. A lady named Cindy who does assessments has made me feel so cared for and like I matter. But they can't set me up with a dietitian in their program and I don't know if there are alot of choices for their outpatient therapists. I fear the worst at all times...that i will be misunderstood and not believed and alone...and pay alot of money to be a diagnosis. So I start to rationalize why I don't need a dietitian and don't know if i need a treatment team all while I graciously slip back into the chains of an eating disorder. It's not what I want and I am not going to let it happen... but in order for that statement to be true I have to change something and make changes...changes I often don't have the capacity to make in this upside down world. So instead I manage. I do what I can to show my gratitude and love to my family. I try to be the person I want to be instead of the person I am...which is the very fault of the person who broke my heart just months ago...pretending to be the person you want to be instead of living in the truth of where you are does nothing but set up expectation you can't ever emotionally live up to.

So for now its a day at a time. I hold tight to the hope that is my God. I pray for direction and for His love and presence to be so real and tangible, that its as if He is right next to me, holding my hand. I pray for peace. I pray that I never take a single day for granted and strive to love above all else.

who am I?

The question of the day at church was who do you proclaim yourself to be...who do you see yourself as? The reality is that I am not who I see myself, I am who Christ says I am. Mike Glenn talks about the courtroom in his mind where he sat and was his own biggest prosecutor. He asked us who we would make claim to be. I sat and thought of the long list that came to mind. Failure. Addict. Never enough. Always too much. Bound with chains to anorexia and feeling like I will never be strong enough to be free. Hopeless. Selfish. And the list went on and on. And there is truth in every one of those statements. The enemy could present a case before God Almighty and be accurate with each one of those words. But I am so incredibly thankful that it doesn't end there. Jesus stepped in front of me, in front of God, and took the blame for each on of those things. And now, being bought with HIS blood, He gets to tell me who I am. I am no longer my past. I am no longer my failures. I am no longer the person I see when I look in the mirror. The full truth really is that I don't know who I am...other than knowing I am a child of God.
You see this fresh start in front of my should be looked at with great excitement. I know I have the chance to live the life I have longed to step into for so long. So I guess I don't know why I am so afraid and so skeptical. I guess part of me knows that if I consistently fail here, where I have an amazing treatment team and group of friends...then what chance do I have of succeeding without those things.
God used to speak to me with pictures all the time. I used to have these "visions" of sorts and for a long time I feel like they have disappeared. Today, in the stillness of the prayer time, I saw a picture. It started as me being face to face with Jesus. I was sweating and crying and freaking out, thinking I was going to die. I couldn't help but look around me but it was dark. Jesus kept putting his hand on my face and turning me back to him and would simply say, keep your eyes on me. Don't look down or to the side, watch my eyes and I will lead you. The fear didn't diminish. The sweat didn't stop pouring down my cheeks. But in desperation I willed myself to focus on Him. As I did the scene started getting small and a greater perceptive of where I was became more clear. I was up high walking on a thin stretch on land between two mountain tops. There was enough room for my feet to stand with maybe an inch on either side. The wind swayed me and in fear I wanted to lay down and inch along on my belly. I was holding onto Jesus who was walking backwards guiding me. He didn't sway or lose his balance. He was a rock...I was the one who kept tipping from side to side. And if I just held onto him and stayed close, He would shield the wind from hitting me.
Mike Glenn often talks about how it is silly for us to be frustrated that Jesus provides the only way out. To compare it to being in burning building and being trapped in a room huddled on the floor... and then to hear the voice of a fire fighter extending his hand and saying i know the way out. We wouldn't get angry at him and ask who he thought he was to tell me there was only one way out. We wouldn't thank him for his offer but wait and see if we can find an alternate route. No, we would desperately hold onto his hand and let him lead us out. Yet I get frustrated. I want there to be a way for my way to work and I get so angry at the thought of "needing" a savior. You see I don't want to need anyone... because with need comes power and there has been quite a few people who have used that power to strip me and beat me... and leave me cold and broken. I am so angry at the brokenness of this life that I allow my pride to keep me from embracing and enjoying any part of it. There has to be life beyond this. This can't possibly be as good as it gets. But I have to ask myself how desperate I am to find it and take hold of it and risk losing everything for it.
I know this wasn't all too cohesive. I know there was little clarity or hope offered from these words. But as long as they stay trapped within my mind I am held captive to their echoes. I will end with two songs, both of which are totally random... but have struck my heart in unique ways this week. The first is called Learning to Live Again by Garth Brook... this was the only actual Garth Brooks recording I could find



The second is by Martine McBride called Anyway

Statue

I was at Kairos tonight and during worship one of the leaders read a verse from 2 Corinthians. It was a verse I have heard many times before but this time it was read from a different translation that I was used to. It said,
"It started when God said, "Light up the darkness!" and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful. If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That's to prevent anyone from confusing God's incomparable power with us." (2 Corinthians 4:6-7 MSG)
I wasn't sure what it was exactly that stirred me so much about that. I mean other than the fact that its a beautiful thing really. The idea that we are so ordinary and God is so amazing and He chooses to reside within each one of us. But there was something about the analogy of a clay pot that brought tears to my eyes. If you think about a clay pot that was in perfect form it would be difficult to really see light that was inside of it. But take one with cracks and holes missing and the light floods out. Ok, so stay with me. At the end of the message tonight Mike Glenn, the pastor, was talking about eternity... living forever. I have always had issues with the thought of living forever. There is something so final and so exhausting about there never being an end. And tonight as He was talking about God's deep love for us and how He has the heart of a Father for us, my heart felt like it was breaking. I had this picture in my head of a statue, made of clay. Me, in a mold with a smile on my face, appearing to be happy and beautiful... and yet there was blood pooling at my feet. Bleeding from within. It's a disturbing picture, I know. But there is something so frustrating about life in that I can't figure out the magic secret that bring joy to life and makes it real. I have moments where I feel it. I have glimpses of hope, of running free with abandon...and then the darkness always settles back in and in a moment, its gone. I am back to being frozen, a statue. Trapped in a moment of time...alive but cold, as good as dead. I just can't help but feel like I am going through the motions of life praying that the bleeding will stop before its too late. I know that no one had ever died of a broken heart...and my heart isn't broken from a failed relationship. I feel like there is something from inside of me that has shattered and I have spent all these years trying to make it appear that I am the person I portray to this world while I am silently trying to piece together something that has been shattered beyond repair. I guess my fear is that this brokenness could be a blessing...it could be what allows the light of Christ to shine out of me and be used to point others to my Savior...but that I am so determined to make myself appear flawless that I am covering up what makes me unique. I just am not sure I believe I can be free from this pain...this sickness. I want so desperately to walk away from the voice of the eating disorder, from the voice of Satan, and stop believing the lies of darkness. I want so much to heal, to live, to love. I guess my heart's desire is that I can stop covering the brokenness in order to be the person I want to be...and instead live as the person I am, believing that one day being real will lead me to the path of the person I long to be. I want to become alive before I turn to stone...I don't want to be eternally frozen as the person I pretended to be while never experiencing the joy I believe the Lord wants to give me. I don't understand the path He has taken me...one which I am sure I have made many wrong turns independent of His leading. I don't know why I am the way I am or why it is that my heart is so perpetually heavy. I don't know why it is so hard for me to be real, be flawed. All I know is that if I live as I am now, though I have come a long way from where I was, I will still end up far from the place my heart desires...because I am still so stuck on presenting who I want to be instead of who I am.



Lord bring my heart to life. Help me to be so enmeshed with you that I lose myself and when others see me, they see you. God I long to be free. Set me free of the statue I present to the world and help me become the person who you have created me to be. Lord God I long to know your joy in a deeper way. I am so thankful that I am not who I was...and that you will use the brokenness in my life to show your glory. Your strength is made perfect in my weakness.

gas light

What does it mean to be empty? Why is it so appealing to stand up against something that everyone must submit to and to deify it? What is interesting is that I don't sit and question these obsessions most of the time. More often then not I take the thoughts in my head and simply agree with them, as though I'm joining into a protest, a riot, for a cause I don't even understand. I guess when I stop and think about it there is a degree of pride that comes in. I get an adrenalin release when I face what is a necessity for every human on this earth, nourishment, and over power it. I have this power struggle inside my mind. When I was reading the book redeeming love there was a part where one of the main characters is taunting a man who hates her...and yet He can't kill her because she is worth much more alive than she is dead. So in knowing that, she pushes him, hoping that he will indeed lose his cool and kill her in his rage...so she would finally be free from a life of being owned, even if it was in her death. On the inside she was terrified...but she knew he would take pleasure in any emotional evidence that he was getting to her. He wanted her to beg for mercy, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was destroying her. I understand it's insane, not to mention stupid. To stand against food and my body as though it were the enemy calling its bluff. In my attempt to be at the mercy of anything or anyone I have placed myself in total bondage. But every time I feel out of control. Every time this world throws more at me that feels terrifying and cruel, I stand and taunt it. I was to scream that it can take my possessions. It can take my body. It can take my dad. It can take whatever the hell it wants to throw at me...and I want to prove that it can't touch me. I don't want to show the depth to which it has destroyed my heart. I don't want it to know the degree to which is has destroyed the life that was once within me.
So there is something about feeling empty that is addicting. It's as if i can prove that I am invincible. The only problem then is when I put food into my body I feel weak. I feel used. I feel like a little kid who was refusing to eat dinner because they were mad at their parents and then gave in out of hunger. Or when I was little and refused to go to bed and out of exhaustion you give into sleep. It's like I'm giving in, knowing the bribe, knowing the consequence...and I am not strong enough to resist. The voice in my head insists that I am pathetic. That I am worthless. That I will never amount to anything. That no one will ever want me. That I invite in the shit that happens to me and then act surprised when it overtakes me. Stupid, so incredibly stupid to believe there could ever be more than this. And I know better. I really do. I know the Lord and know what He says about me...about all of his children. I just don't understand why it continues to feel so wrong to do something that is right...and it feels so empowering to do something that will kill me.
I hate putting gas in my car. HATE IT. I sit and watch the little ticker as the money I'm spending just grows and grows. I can't stand it. So I make compromises with it. A couple years ago I was telling a friend of mine about how I think that my car knows me...that I think the gas light comes on far before its on empty...that it tries to trick me. She laughed at me and told me that the gas light is supposed to come on before its empty....SO that you DON'T run out of gas. We laughed about it for a long time...she to this day still makes fun of me. However I still secretly believe I'm right. I don't believe the gas light. I think my gas light is actually a bit dramatic. It will come on one day and an hour later go off. So I wait. I see how long I can go and run it on empty with the gas light on until the very last possible minute and then will go and put in 5 gallons of gas. And then the whole game starts again. 5 gallons is normally my limit. If I just got paid and im feeling a little crazy I will put in 7. I never really thought about how that correlates to my relationship with food. I don't even really know why I feel the need to wait as long as possible to get gas...or why I think my car is just messing with my head, telling me a need gas before i really do. I mean why not just constantly go and fill up my tank instead of perpetually letting it stay on empty. But anybody can do that. That is being indulgent and needy. That is easy to do. It's almost as though i see myself being on my guard more when my gas light is on. I am more aware of the sounds my car is making and what it is doing. Similarly I feel like when I'm not eating i am more aware of my surroundings. I am on my guard... not a sitting pig getting fattened, living life being spoon fed everything. I don't want anything to take me by surprise. I don't want to be lured in with the candy only to be abducted from the life I once knew.
So maybe my gas light is really just a gas light. Maybe it is telling me when I need gas so that I don't run out. Maybe food in my body is simply nourishment. Maybe living life need free isn't beneficial...but instead, perhaps its detrimental. Because truth be told I will probably run out of gas. I will probably find that when something is created to need something, its not wise to try and go without it. Because trying to prove you don't need it to survive isn't looked upon as heroic... but in reality it is just looked upon as foolish or even immature. Why try to survive without our needs getting met to prove a point instead of thriving, relishing in the provision to live an abundant life. I long to live a life of abundance. I long to be free of the chains of my past. I can do alot more to glorify God and spread His love if I am alive then if I am proving a point unto my death.
So last night my gas tank was once again on empty. I had driven most of the day with my light on and after going grocery shopping I made the decision that it was time to fill up my gas tank. No more trying to play games. No more trying to have a power struggle with a simple indicator that is there to help me. So I listened. I filled my tank up until it stopped and accepted that it's time to start living giving ultimate power to my creator. I have tried living life on my terms...and I have been living with my indicator light on for far too long. Because in all reality controlling my food won't help stop bad things from happening. It won't make my life easier to handle or less stressful. It only numbs the pain and turns off the only indicator I have that actually warns me when I am in danger. I have to trust the light is there for my benefit.

fire

I don't know. I don't know what I am doing or why I am messing with something that is so fragile and so precious. My recovery isn't strong enough to withstand the sparks I am igniting. Why is it that I am so desperate and so determined to be thin. Why is it that I am so afraid and so sick at the thought of being an average size. There is a certain feel to my body when its in an "acceptable" place and when that feeling is missing my whole sense of being ok is gone. GONE. So everyday I wake up and start out the day restricting because I am so sure that I need to be strict and in control of the food i put in my mouth in order to manipulate the size my body is. I want to make sure there is still a science to making it all follow my rules and my commands. I want to prove to myself that I have the willpower to do anything. That no matter what someone does or doesn't do to me... that no matter how shitty or pathetic my circumstances become, that I have the strength to will myself into being alright. I sit and I tell myself that I can handle it. I can handle restricting and losing just a few pounds in order to be okay. I'm not like every other girl. I'm not like the ones who are weak and go back to their addiction. Oh no, I, Ican take it. I am strong enough. In fact I can survive in this world without the help of anyone or anything...right? I was listening to a sermon tonight and I felt this realization hit me that I am so stupid...so weak. I sit and believe the lies I feed myself in order to do the things I want to do and feel the way I want to feel. I am so selfish and so jaded. Recovery is the hardest thing I will ever have to do. Recovery takes humility. It takes vulnerability. It takes being strong enough to be totally weak in the presence of the people you love the most.
I get so depressed and so frustrated that my life hasn't turned out the way I dreamed. I stared at myself in the mirror in disgust on my birthday, ashamed of what I have become... and I know there is no shame in the journey I have walked. I know there has to be joy and gratitude for how far the Lord has carried me. But the sad reality is that messing with this fire will only leave me burned... and it will burn the lives of the people around me... and it will leave me dead. So maybe I won't be the thinnest person I know. Maybe I won't wear the smallest size jeans or have the flattest stomach... but the truth is that for me, freedom has to be worth more that a number on a scale. It has to be. I hate this journey. I hate that I am not married and that I feel so alone so much of the time. I hate my weakness and I hate how selfish I am. I hate that I don't resemble my creator more everyday. I hate that I can't just let go. Why is it so hard to just let go?
So it comes down to strength... true strength being in fighting for life. It comes down to the door in front of me being one which leads to the life I long for... but it means leaving the life I know how to do behind. It comes down to actions behind all the pretty words I have to offer, glamorous right answers that lead me no where without the backing of actually doing what I preach.

Father God give me the strength to walk through the door you have before me. Help me to trust you...and believe that you are who you say you are. I pray for the ability to fight with your strength when I want to give in... when I am desperate for the comfort of my drug of choice. Help me be more like you. Help me to not just desire freedom, but for the strength to make it a reality. I give my heart and my soul and my fear and my pain all to you. I give you my life once again...

Free

In my spare time this week, since i have been incredibly bored, I started writing again. This is the song I have been working on....


Free

Consistently Broken
Perpetually falling, to my knees
In a cage cold and daunting
Oh how I'm longing, to be free

chorus:
So take the leap
Air beneath your feet
Soar beyond the pain and suffering
Every setback, every tear you've cried
Has built your wings
Your strong enough
Its time to fly

vs 2:
Chains are in pieces
Door is wide open, heart can't you see
Walls are all self inflicted,
Christ died and He lifted, Me.

chorus:
So take the leap
Air beneath your feet
Soar beyond the pain and suffering
Every setback, every tear you've cried
Has built your wings,
Your strong enough
Its time to fly

bridge:
Little bird in a cage all your life
It's ok to be afraid
You deserve love, you deserve life
you deserve to be free
....beautiful, you're free.

chorus:
So take the leap
Air beneath your feet
Soar beyond the pain and suffering
Every setback, every tear you've cried
Has built your wings
Your strong enough
It's time to fly
(repeat)

Beautiful, You're Free

asking for directions

I was just getting back from my evening walk with Bella when a woman stopped to get a brochure for the house I am house sitting, which is on the market. After doing a normal polite smile and wave I proceeded to go towards the house when she called out to me. "Excuse me." she said. I turned and smiled and walked toward her. "How do I get out of here?" She asked me. Assuming she was trying to find her way out of the subdivision I asked her what road she was trying to get back to. "I don't know." She simply stated. I was rather perplexed. "Well, hmmmmm, ok." was all that really came to mind. She embarrassingly smiled and looked down at her hands and she said, "I don't know where I came from, so I don't really know where I am going." What she said immediately resonated with me and I wondered if she could tell how much I could relate. What was interesting was that I still gave her directions. The thing that was more interesting was that she wanted them. I know in all reality she probably would recognize her surroundings once she got to a main road. I know she probably just had gotten turned around within the subdivision but still. Isn't it so strange to have someone ask you directions when they don't even know where they are going?
The more I thought about it the more I could see parallels in my own life. How often do I look to others for guidance. I want their feedback, their opinions and their beliefs pertaining to me and allow their words to direct my path. I subconsciously "ask them for directions" in my own life when they have no idea of where my dreams or goals are leading me. Why is it that I so desperately need the reinforcement and approval of other people who really don't know me well enough to know where I long to be. I was talking to someone the other day about how I am so completely trusting and completely not trust simultaneously. The professionals in my life tell me what exactly i need to do in order to maintain recovery. I listen until I feel overwhelmed or my weight feels like it increases. So fairly quickly I disregard the road map they have given me and turn back to my own internal gps system...a system that has repeatedly landed me sick, miserable, and in treatment. At the same time a stranger could tell me that my arms are big or that my stomach sticks out and I would believe them. My ex boyfriend told me lie after lie about why we needed to break up only to turn around and do the opposite of what he told me. And I was surprised. It's just funny.
So as I walked inside and contemplated my encounter with this lost woman I was reminded that all too often I allow others to give me directions when I don't even know where I am going...and I realized how important it is for me to set myself toward a destination that will bring me life. Because once I set myself toward that dream the misleading words of other will fall lifelessly to the ground all around me. I won't waste my time following directions that don't lead to my destination. I hopefully will stop asking other people for their opinions of me when they carry no weight in my life. And also I need to allow those who do carry weight and who know where I am heading, to direct me when I get off track. I guess it all comes down to being mindful of who you are asking for directions. Life is challenging enough without getting the wrong directions.

How He Loves

I have started many posts over the last few weeks and never really had the energy to complete them. Some days I think the Lord saves me from posting things that really aren't helpful...for myself or for anyone else. I sometimes think He allows me to hit a place where I encounter HIM and am compelled by his grace to make a change of some sort. Today is one of those days.
It didn't start as one of those days. I am the queen of justification and rationalization...like if it was a talent or spiritual gift I would be amazing. And yet it isn't and it most likely gets me into more trouble than anything else... mostly because it allows me to deceive myself into thinking something isn't what it seems. I never intentionally or maliciously try to sabotage my recovery or try to do things my way, thinking i know better than professionals. That's not it at all. In fact its quite the opposite. However when emotions run high and my very fragile heart is reminded of the pain it so desperately is running from I panic and I turn very discreetly to my drug of choice...to food, or the lack there of. There are few people in my life who I really allow the weight to speak to the choices I make. For so long I lived allowing no one into that place...and somehow at the same time allowing everyone into that place. When it came to taring me apart anyone could throw words at me and break me into pieces. However when it comes to being allowed to call me out on my shit...to tell me when I am full of just that...well, the audience narrows drastically. And there isn't much I hate more than hearing one of those people call me out, tell me how it is, and be right. So that is how the day started. Other people have been expressing similar things to me over the last week or so and yet I blew them off...thinking they didn't understand. Thinking they were over reacting. So my heart was heavy after my session with Tiffany this morning. I have been playing with fire over the past week and I knew it... but i hate being reminded of that when I can start to feel the burn of the flames. But I am so thankful that there is actually somebody I will listen to.
So I took that heavy heart into our body image group at renfrew this morning. And when faced with the challenge of writing a letter to my body I found that I wrote with an anger that I like to pretend doesn't exist. I like to believe that I am not capable of cruelty. I like to think that there isn't anything in me that links me to the intense pain that suffocates the life from everything I put my hand to. I think to admit to that mean, harsh, power hungry energy is to see that I am just like they were...like the people who hurt me so deeply have poisoned me and there is nothing I can do to seperate that poison from my blood. I feel like to admit to anger is to unleash a narsasistic evil within me that has the power to unglue someone else, as it has unglued me. Never in a million years would i want someone else to feel the brokenness that haunts my dreams, haunts my past, and haunts my reality. And as that hatred flowed from my hand onto that paper I could see it all play, as though a VHS tape in my mind was stuck and the same part would replay over and over...louder and louder until it takes everything in me not to scream from insanity...scream for mercy...a willingness to do whatever the puppeteers are asking, if only for a moments silence. Feeling dead from within, staring out the windows of my soul... desperate for the ghosts of my past to shut up and leave me alone. It comes across as an unwillingness to share my heart. It shines through as a stubborn calloused heart, with an unrelenting appetite to be in control and keep other out. There of course is an element of walls built to keep others from pulling the same strings in my heart that others have before. However I wish more than anything that it was just that...just a stubborn pride. But really its a fear that someone will see me in a state of pure torture and be frightened and repulsed by the rotting caucus that has been picked over and left to decompose by those who were bigger, stronger, and more intimidating that I ever could dream of being. So I try to protect others from the graphic depiction of the reality of a past of sexual abuse...from seeing a disturbing portrayal of deep loss, abuse, and silence.
Tonight at Kairos the message was about dating. After learning over the last week that the man I thought i was going to marry is dating and sleeping with someone else it wasn't exactly the topic i wanted to touch on. And yet, as is quite often the case, the Lord knew better. There was so much solid truth and genuine wisdom spoken tonight. The necessity to "live like the person you are looking for is looking for" and the warnings of the vertigo that chemistry or excitement and desire can cause in our attempt to make decisions. It was helpful to be reminded that I don't want to bait someone in with my body because they will only stay as long as that bait remains...it was all so refreshing. However I think the thing that hit me the strongest was when we were doing one of the closing songs. Michael Boggs encouraged us by reminding us that God isn't here to bring condemnation...but instead to bring freedom to live the life we were created to live. We closed with a song David Crowder Band has recorded called How He Loves. And for a moment my whole world faded away and I encountered a God so in love with his children that He willingly came and faced their sin, my sin, and died to bring me out of a place of shame and death and into His hope...His life. There is a little girl inside of me who I hate. I feel like she represents everything in my life that I hate. She represents my weakness. She represents the filth the disgusting shame that I carry. She represents my inability or my choice to not protest the things which tonight Michael Boggs said were scarring to my soul. He said sex isn't just physical... but that instead it damages your very soul. She represents everything I have spent a lifetime trying to undo. And tonight as I allowed the words of that song to wash over me I was overwhelmed by God's love for that child. That even though there is evil and hatred inside of me that His love is greater. That the darkest night is light to Him. That no matter what happened He has already overcome it by His love. And to be honest it takes alot to simply allow Him to love her. I want Him to side with me and destroy her...and instead there is a righteous anger that comes in and blows away all shame and embarrassment. He doesn't look at the filth that is covering me...instead He picks me up and embraces me. I think of Ansley after eating a cupcake last weekend for her brothers birthday. She had used the frosting as finger paint and covered her hands and arms and face with it. I tried my hardest to wipe her down before even attempting to pick her up to take her into the bath. I didn't want to chance her getting her "tasty art" all over me. But that's not the stance Jesus takes. He runs in and picks up the little girl in the mess...not stopping to protect himself...but instead sacrificing his purity, his sinless body in return for her embrace. And just as no one can tell me that I can or can not love someone else I can't tell Him not to love her, to love me. It's not my place to make that decision. Though it's painful and scary to watch there is something so freeing in being loved despite anothers knowledge of why they shouldn't love you. It terrifies me to know that someone could hold that information...to know the truth about me and to know that at any time they could use it against me.... which i think is part of why I hold on to it so tightly. Because with knowledge there is power and I am so tired of anyone having power over me...I don't need to give anyone else a reason to hate me. But the truth is that I want to be married some day. I want to be the person that the somebody I am looking for is looking for. And if I am to ever be free I have to embrace and soak in that love, chancing that the anger and the hatred maybe be let out as well. They may present the world with one more reason to run away from me... but it opens the door to healing...to freedom...to hope.



So just for tonight I open my eyes and look to see that the God of love is standing before me with open arms... to see that there are tears in His eyes and that His heart is to love me and to lead me into the life He created for me to live. And to see that that is exactly what I am desperate for. That little girl is so calloused and hardened that she believes the last thing she needs is to be loved. But just for tonight I found the strength to see that is exactly what I long for, and what she needs. That it can be healing when it is genuine, pure, love...and tonight I found the strength to hope that one day there will be a man out there who will love me as I am... and that I will be the someone that my someone is looking for.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7
"4 Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5 or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 6 It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7 Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance."


"We will overcome by the blood of the Lamb
And the word of our testimony, everyone overcome"

Watering Flowers

I would like to preface this by saying I hate flowers, plants, or anything else that doesn't have a voice to remind me that its there. Their innate silence collides with my lack of memory and things die. They can't tell me when they have had enough water or not had their fill. I could water them some and they still really need or want more and i don't give it to them because they didn't tell me it wasn't enough. How do I know when they silently oblige, allowing me to continue doing what I am doing despite the pain or destruction it is causing them. Their silence isn't consent, but it might as well be.

Have you ever felt so powerful that it scared you? Have you ever been taken back by the ability you have to take power over the things that are weaker than you are? When I was little I got a pet rabbit for Christmas one year. Her name was Buttercup and when she was a baby I thought she was the most wonderful gift I had ever received. The only problem was that Buttercup smelled horrible. I tried to keep her in my bedroom but the smell of her cage, no matter how often i cleaned it, gave me horrible headaches. So eventually my dad built her a wooden cage outside by the fruit trees. The bottom of the cage was just wiring so that when she pooped it would fall out of the bottom and there would be no requirement for me to clean it. This seemed like a spectacular idea until the poop just built up under her cage and flies and bugs swarmed. Buttercup became big and hard to hold and she had a tendency to bite...the less I held her the less she was comfortable being held. My dad used to work out in the yard all the time and so he would constantly remind me to feed her and clean up her cage and hold her etc etc. But when my dad died the reminders faded away. For awhile I realized she was a connection point for my dad. She was a gift from him and for some reason there was something about her that helped me believe my dad had once been real...that his life hadn't just been a figment of my imagination. But that desperation faded as life got busy. The poor rabbit sat outside in that cage for months with no attention. Some days I would get sad and think about how awful life for her must be. Trapped in a small cage hanging over your own waste, alone. One summer when I was in middle school I had a busy month ahead of me and I didn't really think much about it. I went to summer camp for a week and then was picked up from summer camp by my friends family who then took us to the beach for two weeks. I returned from that trip long enough to unpack, wash my clothes, and leave the next day for another week long camping trip with my family. One night during that last camping trip I realized I hadn't fed Buttercup before i left...and in a panic i asked my mom to call and have someone make sure she had food. My mom agreed and I didn't think much about it until we got home. We got home when it was dark and I remember walking into my room to unpack and my mom followed me in and told me Buttercup had died while we were gone. I tried to shake it off and act like it was no big deal...i mean i didn't even like taking care of her anyway. My mom said something about not remembering to give her water or food while I was at summer camp and that she had fried out in the unbearable summer heat. What an awful death. Slow. Painful. Lonely. You may say Bethany, you were young. It wasn't your fault. But the same thing happened when my high school boyfriend gave me a pet bunny when he went away to college. She started off living in my room until it made me sick. She therefore had to move outside...only her cage was smaller. Summer came. She was out of sight and out of mind...and she died. Every time i step on a bug or swat a fly I am ridden with this sickening sense of power. I exert my will on something smaller and weaker...something unable to fight for itself. In my hands I could take the only life they knew and literally stamp it out of existence. I am just as bad as an abuser. It's the reason I cry anytime i accidentally step on a snail or see worms sizzling out in the sun after the rain clouds have disappeared. I frantically try to put them all back in the moist ground, hoping my good will somehow over ride the bad. You see I hate that in each of those things i see myself...and i feel helpless. Forgotten. Silenced. I see that look... the look when the fighting has stopped and the knowledge of the inevitable settles in. Eyes glazed over, you simply have to mentally take yourself as far away as you can without ever having to leave the position you are molded into. Its a look of begrudging survival.

It was never in those moments that I hated my bunny. I never even hated the bugs or the snail. It's that my desires or needs were more pressing or seemingly important than their voice or lack there of. I didn't give it a second thought until it was too late. I took their whole world only because I was too focused on a single moment in my own. It came at their expense...and it cost me nothing...but took from them everything. It's just a rabbit or insect you say...and I kinda get that. I guess its more that i am faced with what I am capable of and it terrifies me. The power I, or any of us, have is greater than we like to believe. I never want to get to a point where I am desensitized to the frailty of life. I never want to get to a point where I can see the empty look of death in the eyes of something smaller and more vulnerable then I am and not be moved, unchanged. I never want to become so distracted by my own wants that I stop seeing the cost that it comes at for anther animal, person, or living thing. The fact that its not intentional is what scares me. If it was something I did with purpose at least I would know how to change it. Instead I feel like I walk around with this capability inside of me to be evil, like it could strike at any moment without me even meaning to have it happen. It makes me feel like a time bomb. And what brought all this up you ask me? Watering flowers. Yep, I'm in charge of watering flowers and plants and they don't talk to me or remind me they need to be watered and i forget and they die. They suffer because I can't remember something so simple. It's not rocket science. And so I drive myself insane every day at this point trying to remember to water the flowers...and remember to care if I have watered the flowers...and remember to remember that my actions can either bring life or bring death. The power rests in my hands. I must use it wisely.

aimless

I don't ever feel like i have much to say and yet my mind is constantly racing, my heart pulled in a million directions at all times. I have been back in Nashville for 5 days now and I just can't seem to get back into the normalcy of life. I feel lost, like I'm wandering from moment to moment not entirely sure how i will make it to the next hour, next day. I feel like I should point myself in a direction and launch into a new life...and yet I am genuinely unsure of where to go, what i even want. I know I am fixated on ideals and wanting things to have turned out differently. And yet nothing I do today can change what happened yesterday or years before. I know that the only moment I have is really the moment I am in...and yet somehow that seems more overwhelming than simplifying. There was a memorial service yesterday for a man named Maurice Carter. He used to come to Mercy Ministries once or twice a week and lead our morning worship. He died of what they believe was a heart attack, he was in his early forties....young. I started to worry today about how much i yearn for what is in the future and yet how I am missing some of what could be the best days with my family. I started to panic at the thought of ever having to deal with losing my mom...how lost i would feel...how utterly alone I would feel...being left without any parents. And yet I choose to live thousands of miles away from her. I long for children of my own and yet i don't want time to pass...because time changes us and I want the mom i know today...not the mom who will have aged how ever many years. I live my life not appreciating the time i have with the people i love because i distance myself so far away from the those i love the most. I am a living contradiction and I am tired of it. I am tired of being sad and feeling alone because i haven't met "the" man who will suddenly throw my life back onto the track i feel like I jumped off of so long ago. It turns out I am searching for a man to be my savior, not my husband. I would never admit that. I know better than that. I know that I need someone to be my helper, not to be my Jesus. There is only one Jesus who can turn my pain into beauty and can turn the stain of sin to a color as white as snow. And yet I run from Him too. I keep trying to fix my own sin and transform my own life and I wonder why I am so burnt out and frustrated. I wonder why I feel so alone and depressed. It's because I acquired a taste for this world somewhere in the deepest darkest moments of my pain. I found comfort in something that was stealing my life...only because it distracted me from a void so raw and so deep I was left feeling as though i would be abandoned and bleeding to death. I hate facing those moments where I can't see God... i get terrified that the one who will never turn from anyone turned from me. I doubt. I have little faith. I feel like my circumstances are too big for the Lord. It's almost funny...I mean its not. It's not funny that I believe I am so big and so grand that I am beyond the Lord... it's depressing. It shows me that I live my life filtering my pain through the comprehension of a young child. I don't know the way out. I feel like I am in a maze and like the ropes that guide the path keep changing...and like me ever finding the end is hopeless. But in reality its not the end I am seeking. The fulfillment of life isn't tied in a bow waiting in that final moment i take in a breath and exhale for the last time...life is lived each and every day. We miss out on so much joy and laughter...so much purpose if we keep seeking, waiting for the day when life will be "worth" living.
My treatment team wants me to do a week of day treatment at renfrew, then 8 days of nested IOP. I don't want to. I don't think I need it. I honestly don't. I am doing better than I ever have before. I am eating all my meals and snacks and I am doing everything that is asked of me...everything except to do these three weeks of treatment. I know I am just being stubborn. I know I am not wanting to trust anyone besides myself. I really am just afraid to spend this much money and be in this much debt and months down the road be so overwhelmed that I can't function...and then go back to the eating disorder. I keep trying to convince them that they just can't see that I don't need to do this...and yet they keep reminding me that if my past is a predictor of my future I need to do these last few weeks in order to secure my recovery...to invest into my future. I think I am so afraid because this is actually requiring trust. I am allowing someone else to make a decision for me that I know is going to cost me money...and alot of self sufficiency. Making this decision I feel is going to make me more needy and dependent long term...when I know they believes this investment is going to make me more independent and happy in the long run. I guess I know what I should do...even though my gut is telling me not to. Every wall that I have built is signaling alarms right now...I am walking in to new territory ... territory that goes against all those rules that I thought once kept me safe.
So I have made the decision to live...not for tomorrow but for today. It's really all that I have. I don't know what will happen next week or next month and I want to truly use the time I have been blessed with to make a difference...and to really know the people in my life that walk beside me. I don't want to regret waiting to live until its too late. I can't remember if I used this quote a read a few weeks ago on here before...but even if i have its worth posting again. It is from the book Redeeming Love. It says,

"You're a bird who's been in a cage all your life and suddenly all the walls are gone, and you're in the wide open. You're so afraid you're looking for any way back into the cage again...Whatever you choose to think now, it's not safer there. Even if you tried to go back now, I don't think you could survive that way again."


God I desire to be thankful for each day that you give me...help me to live in the moment. Help me to make the decision to trust, even when it feels like its taking me and breaking me apart. I know you know the desires of my heart God and I give those things back to you. I want a husband, but I want Him in your timing. I want a family, but only in your timing. Help me to keep you at the center of who I am. Help me Father God to seek you every day...to seek you until I am found by you. God I am so tired of living life on my terms. I give you my life. I choose to walk by faith, believing you are who you say you are. Heal the wounds of my past. Help me to walk back through the things I need to in order to find true freedom in you...and help me to leave everything else where it belongs...in my past. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to live in constant surrender...but I believe that you do. Teach me. I desire to be a vessel for you to do something great for your name...not for my glory...but for your glory alone. I simply want to extend the love that you have given me and reach a hurting and broken world. Rid me of myself and fill me with you. Transform my darkness into light. I believe you are who you say you are... and once again I turn my heart over to you. Teach me how to love and be loved. Teach me how to receive without insisting I pay for everything i get. Show me what it truly means to receive grace. Point my life in the direction where you are and lead me step by step into the promised land. I surrender to you.