Our human nature is so fickle. Sensationalism has had its way with me this past year.
10am I was in a valley, asking to simply be seen.
11am I was singing on a mountain top.
12pm I was fighting anxiety and 1pm I was surrendering.
2pm the thought of food made me sick and 3pm I had ordered the entire McDonalds dollar menu and a large mocha without feeling a calorie.
I’m not even pregnant. Imagine…
Anyways, as I rode the waves, latched onto Gods word in belief, the pain slowly faded. As I continued the “ride the wave method” and “this too shall pass” mentality, I found the waves losing strength. And my peace returning.
There was a time this past summer (one of many times) our toddler refused to go to sleep and I desperately needed him to sleep. I felt like I was going to break and I needed privacy and a safe place to do so. I needed to close his bedroom door, turn on the tv and go hide under my covers and let it rain.
I had just got done reading some incredibly hurtful messages from my sons dad who I still love deeply, and found myself screaming inside about what I did to deserve this.
I was being told I didn’t have a good enough job. None of the four jobs I had were good enough. I was being put down because the school I am attending isn’t good enough. I was being told I didn’t make enough money. I was being accused of being after a paycheck I never wanted from him, but accepted for our son. I was criticized at every turn, every decision. Nothing was good enough. I was being pulled in 20 directions while doing everything I could to stay in recovery and not relapse in my eating disorder.
A disorder that remains incredibly socially acceptable today, but nearly ended my life. A disorder that there is still very little accessible education around. And probably the hardest to find support groups for without a 45 minute drive.
“Just keep the weight on. Just keep the weight on.” Is what I was telling myself.
I had hit a limit I didn’t know I had. I just needed our son to stay in his bed and stay asleep. After attempting the 5th time to get our son to bed, I sat on my knees at the end of his bed, defeated, and plopped my face down on his lap. I started praying. It was the only thing I could think to do.
Right as I felt the wave of tears coming up, our son grabs my head with both his hands and pulls my face upwards and looked me straight in the eyes. He pushes my head back into his lap and starts stroking my hair.
I picked him up after a minute and sat on the bedroom floor with him in my lap, cradling his whole 34 lbs of amazing. It was the only thing he wanted all along. He just wanted to be held and for me to sing him to sleep. He fell asleep almost immediately.
That night changed my life. It changed my perspective. It changed my vision. It changed my relationship with our son.
As I’m holding our son on his bedroom floor, alls I remember is crying and asking God why he chose me for this role. Weeping, I have the audacity to try and be mad at God and tell him he made the wrong choice. Our son deserved a stronger, more capable, less needy, less selfish, more emotionally stable and mature parent. Not a parent who lets little lies and jabs get the best of her.
I begged God to speak to me and just tell me what I was suppose to do. I was trying everything I could to simply survive this crazy and I knew I didn’t need to live like this. I couldn’t understand. I just wanted to understand. I found myself asking God “why would you keep me here? Why would you save my life if I’m not going to be able to do anything right!!? I’m doing the best I can. How long is this going to last? Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it..”
Feeling sorry for my abundant life while trying to tell God he’s wrong about where he had me and who he had me with. A real winner here.
As soon as I stopped talking, what I heard was a reminder. “I got you covered. I got it under control. I just want what’s broken. I’m right here. You’re doing it. It’s done. You’re mine. It’s mine. Trust me.”
I laid on the floor and cried quietly for longer than I can remember. I may have even fallen asleep cross legged on that race car rug with my back against the wall and our son in my lap and arms. I’m not sure I’ve ever held him that way before.
With all of the pain and frustration, all of the criticism and backlash, all of the defense and fighting, alls I took from that night was gratitude. The deepest peace and appreciation for Gods love, I think I’ve ever felt. I was heard.
I cried because of the expectation I had had for someone who I believed loved me. An expectation I had to own up to. An assumption I made, putting someone in a place they weren’t in, and then being let down. I cried because I was wrong.
Getting ready to dive into another round of court battles in two days. This time without an attorney. My energy levels are drained and just today I considered caving. More than once. I’m exhausted and don’t know what the best thing to do is at this very moment.
I’ve been up all night. Late enough to catch the morning news and make sure the recycling got put out on time. I don’t have the answers. And it feels good to not know anything besides the fact that I’m covered. That no matter what’s ahead of our family, I have a family. That no matter the struggles and growing pains I may face with my career, I have a job. Many. Jobs. And that even though we are struggling right now….This too shall pass.
I read a meme the other day (I love funny memes), that said something like:
I came into 2018 like “come at me Hoe”
2019 I’m like “you know, why don’t we sit down and talk about it. No need to jump to conclusions or make any hasty decisions….let’s be friends. Can I buy you a drink? Would you like a foot rub?”
Surrender is no joke. The struggle has been tough. Anyone who is committed to their recovery knows how real it is.
But without doubt, there wouldn’t be any room for Faith.
Keep the Faith they tell me. Keep your peace.
Eat. Drink. Be Merry.