Monthly Archives: December 2020

Seasons

Posted by justthegoodstuff in Journey to Peace and tagged with , ,

Every first weekend in December for at least the last five years, my daughter-in-law, Virginia, and I spend 4 days together, with 16 other women, at a creative retreat that is essentially a bed & breakfast with a space for creativity. It has, to the joy of my heart, become ‘our weekend’

This year, the retreat didn’t happen for a variety of reasons. Cancelled two days before we were to leave and determined we were going SOMEWHERE because of the generosity and encouragement of my sweet Blake, we were on a mission to find an alternative location for just the two of us. I was super busy and told her ‘just find something and I’m good.’ She sent me some options, we picked one in Carlton Landing, OK. Booked and excited, but no clue where we were going, we just knew we were clocking out Thursday morning. 

Thursday morning arrived and I was going in every direction  trying to get ready to leave – I had numerous texts going- personal and business, a little drama in some areas, emails and messages for my business that I was trying to wrap up, and a friend who had a hard situation to where I felt it was a priority to talk to him with my full attention. 

I started packing randomly and, flustered, I text her, “I’m so sorry I’m running late.” “I’m just sitting here, in silence , reading,” she replied, “take your time.”

Dang it I love this girl. We were starting out with one of the weekend goals- peace, not stress.

Our original creative retreat was ‘amazing’ to a healthy minded person. The house smelled of food 24/7, cooked by the sweetest staff and that guests are served family style, in abundance.

Personally, every year something unknown left me feeling “weird” and I had to step out, be alone, and try to regroup, many times in bed filled with anxiety and self-hatred. I had no idea, until this year and all the work of eating disorder recovery collided with preparing for this week, that what I had been experiencing was the painful effects of over eating – some binges – for days in a row. 

Before we cancelled, I talked to Berry about effective strategies for making this situation work and we had a fairly solid game plan, but I was in no way settled in my heart about going there. No matter how much we talked it through and he ever-so-kindly agreed to help me navigate this, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Sitting for four days and eating those foods didn’t feel right in any way. Little did I realize how grateful I would be that we canceled the retreat. 

On the 4-hour drive to Carlton Landing, Virginia and I had the most beautiful conversation and so much fun. I felt peace settling in with each mile driven.  She has been in my life for about 8 years and I love her more all the time. During this entire journey, all the way back to my time with ML, she has had the desire to be involved and walk with me but I hadn’t really known how to make her understand. On the drive, she opened her heart to me, telling me, as she had been for weeks, that she wanted to walk with me in this and to do it WELL.  In the car, under an umbrella of peace, I really heard her. She had prayed for Jesus to be in her words, was praying for me, wanted me to never be alone in this mess – and I could feel that she truly cared and that overwhelmed me. 

She had already met me where and how I was on many occasions in weeks prior – in parking lots, struggling, at my house, all twisty, hugging me so tight I could feel her heartbeat. But in this four hour, easy and stress-free car ride, I TRULY heard her and the pivot was that I allowed myself to BELIEVE it. 

Additionally, in that four hours, was her understanding of me. I am still struggling with this all being ‘too much’ for anyone. It’s too much for myself many days so thinking that anyone wants to be involved is hard. She does, though, and I was able to explain more about what I was going through, the depths of the dark days, the fears the enemy spoke to me so harshly at times, and we discussed this blog. Each word I spoke, and those that I have written, she was able to understand it all more.

Here is a recipe we can all use, created in a 4 hour car ride to Oklahoma. To truly walk side by side with someone in this complex life, in a world where we were never meant to be comfortable but need to “make it work” while we are here – pray for one another, listen to each other, seek to TRULY understand them, walk arm in arm with those that you know God meant to be in your life. That may be a big ‘ole group for you, but for me, in this season, it’s three amazing and empowering people that I cherish and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The importance of this is beaming into my life right now. In so many ways.

Every time I hit ‘publish’ on these blogs the enemy works on me hard.  I feel so fearful that I will be completely misunderstood, possibly even shut out by some, but she, and so many others, are rooting me on, encouraging me, keeping the tank filled with all that’s needed to continue this journey – to run this race with endurance. Encouraging and powerful words spoken to me over and over, most of which are things that I have never before considered or seen in myself. All of these carefully chosen words are being poured into me by people that care and are speaking life into me. They are healing the most broken parts of me.

When this eating disorder journey began in early 2019, ML told me numerous times I needed a ‘support system.’ I didn’t know how to allow anyone in – I was fighting to understand all of this myself and so to explain to anyone else seemed far too daunting.  Now, here we are, with four hours alone to bond and develop deeper and deeper trust. Any balking on my part of sharing thoughts was met with “get it out.”  

In the pitch dark of night – you know, about 6:30pm – we arrived in Carlton Landing, OK with a tightly woven bond of trust and understanding. Four perfect hours, set aside by God, for us to know each other on a deeper level and under no pressure to “be on” or “entertain” or “care for”.  It was glorious time, set aside by God for this very purpose. 

That first night was a ghost town in Carlton Landing. We hopped in ‘our’ golf cart (turns out it wasn’t ours at all and that was part of the weekend shenanigans), laughing gleefully and cruised this dreamy neighborhood, fully decorated in Christmas lights. We found the pool and hot tub and ONE family. 

The next day started with her coming in my room and telling me to come look at this greatness – and what greatness it was. God’s handiwork was on full display. We were facing a huge lake, in this community that can only be described as Mayberry. 

After discussing and realizing the hard effects on my emotional state after eating poorly for a full weekend at the retreat, we went to the grocery store and carefully planned each meal, that we prepared ourselves. That may not sound like a vacation to most, but for me, that simple act salvaged my self-hatred that had plagued me each year.

In case you haven’t seen the score card here is a recap of the ways God orchestrated the most beautiful and perfect time, in what originally seemed like a mess. 

-The original retreat was canceled. 

-The realization of how that retreat affected me emotionally caused a new and beautiful plan – we have permanently cancelled it but will still leave town every first weekend in December – just the two of us – for a mother-daughter weekend. Location is TBD and we have big dreams.

-We were given four beautiful hours of spectacular bonding and understanding time that I will never forget or take for granted

-We were at peace, with nothing to encumber it

That’s just the start. There’s the rest of the weekend. 

We relaxed, walked everywhere, stayed active (as opposed to sitting all weekend after over eating), hot tubbed, polar dipped (you know, bucket list #53 and also Berrys fault – he told us cold water increased metabolism), rode golf carts, met the sweetest people, made fresh greenery wreaths in the city pavilion, laughed and laughed some more, sat on the overlook on Lake Eufaula, gazed and amazed at the feel of this beautiful community, inhaled peace and exhaled stress, sent tear soaked prayers down the stream along the nature trail, baby hiked, and then ended the weekend at the most beautiful service at the community church. 

Four days of pure blissful perfection. Understanding. Knowing someone I love so deeply even more. Feeling Gods beautiful creation of nature surrounding us. Meeting new people. Laughing hysterically. Each thing carefully and beautifully orchestrated by God.

As I’m finishing up, I keep thinking of two things.

The first is this verse – “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:1‬. The creative retreat held so many fun memories, but it’s season has ended and that is totally okay. There is never good in trying to keep making something work that really no longer does. 

The second thing is this. What i saw as a mess in the chaos surrounding the retreat cancellation, turned into the most beautiful time of connection and renewal. I am choosing to see this as a picture of this journey as a whole. The deeply chaotic and painful moments are going to reclaim what has been lost and create renewal. The light looks a bit brighter from this perspective. 

Bill

Posted by justthegoodstuff in Journey to Peace and tagged with , ,

On the first line of my first blog of this journey, I use a random, exaggerated amount of time that I have been in counseling – “523 years.” In a FB story, while on a trip with my daughter-in-law and after doing a “Polar Dip” I wrote “Bucket List #53 – Polar Dip” with a pic of our frozen selves, seemingly a random Bucket List item number, but actually one that doesn’t exist at all.

In reality there is no randomness to either number. These numbers represent the birthdays of two people that have impacted my journey the most – Bill #1 (5/3) – my dad, and Bill #2 (5/2) – my son’s dad and my first and only true love. I knew that each of them were involved in this journey in impactful ways and I have had a post formulating in my mind from the beginning – even thinking of quirky titles like Stackin’ Bills, Too Many Bills, Stack of Bills – you get the picture.

Here is the thing about this journey and this blog, however. First, what I always think I will write about, after some time, transforms into an entirely new thing. With that being said, this post is all about Bill #2. Second, this “journey” is no copy of any other diet or exercise plan I have previously been on, and I absolutely don’t want it to be. It is a journey to peace that involves better physical, mental and spiritual health (totally hijacked those words, but they work.) It has taken me two-plus months to realize this to the fullest extent, and not for lack of being told. What was said months ago: “This will be a hard journey, a battle.” What I heard: “It’s going to be hard to get my fitness level back after all this time.” What this person knew, and I didn’t at the time, is that this road would be twisted and confusing and complicated and that the physical part would be the easier piece.

Oops. My bad for not listening more carefully.

The thing is this – pain, hurt, brokenness, deep struggles – that I buried far, far down inside are being pulled to the surface, and I’ll tell you this, there is no fun in it. In all honesty, the last few weeks can be summed up with one word – suffering. I’m very visual and I keep imagining this giant garbage can being dumped upside down. The things at the top, well, many are wet or burned – not even able to be recognized. They are forgotten. At the bottom, however, are things that are still sitting there, intact as they were so many years ago, not disturbed, and certainly not forgotten as I falsely believed they had been. These things form the base of where all of the disordered eating and self-image issues began.

The two Bills each form varying pieces of this base but as the garbage can has turned over the past several weeks, Bill #2 came flying out with a vengeance. I realized that the neat little box he was in was being ripped open and pieces were flying out all over the place – little bits here, little bits there in a huge whirlwind in my mind. Separating out this pile of garbage is proving to be absurdly painful and deeply confusing.

Bill came into my life when I was a teenager. I began working at his family’s company and I fell fast and hard for his charm, wit, fun spirit, beautiful looks, and let’s be honest – the excitement in the way he lived life. Already struggling with my self-esteem and not really having a goal for my life, there was nothing to ground me. I know that even had I had those things, I couldn’t have stopped my heart from loving him with everything it had. To fuel my deep feelings for him, his family wanted us to be, were very vocal about it, and that tangled me tighter into the dream of an us.

It’s vital to add in here that I began attending church with him and his family and this is when and how I became a Christian. Saved and baptized at 19 years old with the man I desperately loved in the audience. Yes, my testimony involves a person that has hurt me more than any other I have known. It’s interesting how God uses people in our stories in ways that seem so uncharacteristic of the overall version. But that is how it happened, because of Bill #2, I became a Christian. I think to see that this was a beautiful purpose in this relationship is vital, as well as healing.

Bill’s family and I went on a ski trip one Spring and while there, I got really horrible “altitude sickness.” A few weeks after we returned, I knew in my heart, and a quick test confirmed, I was pregnant. I can remember with so much clarity this entire day. Going to get the test at Target with a friend, taking and seeing the test results, crying so uncontrollably laying on a bed in a friends apartment with pieces of a roll of TP laying all around me, little white representations of the scattered mess I felt I had made of my life. I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t think of what to do. I couldn’t see anything beyond that moment of pain and fear and uncertainty. What I did know, in the midst of it all, is how Bill would respond and he didn’t disappoint. As a matter of fact, he trumped my expectations.

Another friend went to get him and told him. Still laying on that bed, sobbing and terrified, I heard the apartment door open when they returned. He walked in the room, sat down beside me on that bed and said “I don’t love you and I’m not going to marry you.”

I don’t remember moments after that – any other conversation with him, leaving there, driving home, only a desperate and dark pain. Later, I remember telling a few friends. One of my best friends cried, which heaped more hurt on me. I told a few people who were supportive and encouraging and that may possibly be the only lifeline to all that happened in the following weeks. Then I told my mother. It was a truly painful conversation with tears and words said that I will choose to not share. Ultimately, she was supportive and that is all that matters. I never told my dad, my mother did that and I have often tried to imagine the conversation. Bill #1 and his response are set aside for another time, but possibly never. I’m unsure. What I will say is that their disappointment was palpable and even more painful.

The next conversations with Bill #2 were hard and deceptive and excruciating. I can’t and won’t write any more about that except to say that he gave me absolutely no support whatsoever. It became clear that I would navigate this pregnancy alone – emotionally, financially, physically, and in every other way. I made the choice to have this child and love him with everything I had. I have to give a shout-out to an angel in this part of the story – one that I don’t even know her name and that will never see this, but that said and did all the right things at just the right moment to bring me over a giant Bill-created mountain of deception.

Lack of self esteem, rejection, indescribable pain- each of these led me deeper into the world of what I now know as an eating disorder. Prior to becoming pregnant, I had been on a long bout of starvation. Becoming pregnant following starvation proved to produce ridiculously quick weight gain and a deeper and more dire insecurity and self hatred with my body.

During my pregnancy, Bill began dating another woman. I don’t have words for how broken my heart was because the truth was I was holding out hope for us to be a family. This broke me into a million little pieces. At least a million. I was still working for the family’s company, watching up close and personal all of this unfold. (Don’t be thinking to yourself “why didn’t you get another job” because YES, I DID try to get other jobs.) I would go home in the evenings and sob uncontrollably laying on my bed and fall asleep. It was a brutal time.

After my son was born, they became engaged and the unfortunate thing is that my feelings were never a consideration, or he was too weak of a man to face them. I came into work and a caring coworker told me about the engagement. I stood outside of the building and I broke, fully and completely. Every dream I had hoped for lay shattered on the ground around me.

My cycle of dieting started as soon as my son was born. Embarrassing to say but true, many diets began with, “I’m going to show him what he is missing.” I knew I loved him, I knew he knew I loved him, I was “nice” about everything that had gone on, and the unknown-at-the-time ED just led me to believe that the reason he rejected me was because of my weight. Now, years later, I know that I was facing a giant of an enemy that was already working to destruct me alone and then in conjunction with someone I loved and we were rolling down hill at warp speed. When I see pictures from that time, I see a girl that thought she was enormous, that felt desperately rejected and unwanted and unloved and so deeply insecure. They are hard to look at and realize how severely broken I already was.

All things Bill #2 were shoved into a neat little box at the bottom of the garbage can, and I began to date, lived with different men, had ‘flings’, drank a little too much, anything possible to try to fill the raging voids within me. Each relationship was more dysfunctional than the last, some emotionally and physically abusive, and I had no clue at all about how I should be treated, how a real man treats a woman, how I should respect myself, or anything else relationship related. The never ending dieting cycle continued, bingeing, purging, starving, exercise as punishment, and the nuclear bomb got bigger and bigger each year. Only, I didn’t know what was happening, I was just moving forward. I definitively knew that I wasn’t right, I just didn’t know what was wrong.

There were moments where the lid at the bottom of the pile cracked open a little and I would dream of what it would have been like to have the three of us be a family. Then there were the opposing moments when I knew God had saved me from a life full of even more pain and destruction than had already happened. Despite everything, I truly am thankful for that, but it certainly doesn’t negate the hurt this caused. I knew that I would have hung on with tenacity to a deeply sick person and would have tried to save and change him with everything I had. I knew he was hurt and broken and I knew the ways that he tried to solve his own problems, I just thought I could solve them for him because I was the one that truly loved him.

That knowledge was well known by some close to the situation and used carelessly – “Melissa has always loved Bill” with this nostalgic tone and isn’t-that-so-sweet facial expression. I got a highly dysfunctional thrill out of being known as the one that always loved Bill. It was the thread that kept me woven into the sickness of it all and into my own sickness.

Over the years, some moments caught me off guard and when our son had children was one of them. Out of nowhere, I was engulfed in yet more Bill-related pain. I went into a space of wondering what we would be like together as grandparents – Meme and Pops with their grandkids. In my twisted vision it was so dreamy but the reality would have been anything but. I cried heavy, hard tears when he would text me when they were born and say how he was so excited “we” had grandkids. Always lingering there was the “what if.” What if he could straighten up and we could be together. Stabbing hot pain burned me again but I would shove that box closed as fast as possible and binge the feelings away like the pro I had become.

Here is the truly hardest part of this entire ordeal. I have, yes HAVE, held onto shame from the very beginning. I can’t begin to explain the number of times shame engulfed me as I heard words such as, “OHHH how are you related to . . .”, “Who is your . . .”, “Are you Bill’s . . .” It happened two days ago and I felt the same dread as I have each of the thousands of times before it. This is how I have always handled it. I would formulate any type of sentence to avoid saying that we were never married. I wouldn’t lie, just use an arsenal of carefully chosen words to not have to admit that I was rejected, unloved, unwanted, etc. It is a heavy and crushing burden to carry. Sometimes, I think I will live under the umbrella of shame and brokenness with this forever.

But nope. On my own terms, I’m ripping the lid off the box of shame surrounding this and it is well beyond time. For anyone that questions, and wonders and whispers or boldly and carelessly asks, such as happened two days ago, it’s out there in all of its truth. I see no way forward in physical, emotional, spiritual, or mental freedom without being free from this part of my life – from the shame, guilt, rejection, pain, and unlovable feelings that defined me so long ago.

Here is when and how it became clear that Bill is the only man I have truly and deeply loved.

At the beginning of 2018, his life had reached the low point of a years-long spiral. It is not my intent to divulge his sins and demons as this is not what this is about. It was actually achingly sad to watch the continual destruction happen. In February of that year, there was an incidence. My sister and I were setting up for an event and I told her about it all and how when we were finished setting up, I wanted to go make a well check on him. I said these very words, “It won’t upset me to find him if he is dead. I would rather it be me than Blake.”

While we were at the place setting up the event, Blake called and my sister answered and handed me the phone. “Mom,” said the saddest and most quiet voice. And I fell into the floor bawling. He was gone from this earth forever. I DID care. I WAS upset. My heart was shattered into another million pieces. I was asked to write his obituary as “the one who had always loved him” and I did it. I had to do some other hard things involving the funeral and I cried and cried and cried some more. Some were shocked that I was so deeply broken and sad. Others completely understood. It was just a weird and hard time. Back into the box it all went, healed I thought. He was gone, after all, and I had cried. ALOT.

But, and you know about the buts by now, it’s December 2020 and I started on this journey to peace back in October, never realizing I would be working through one of the hardest things that has defined more of my life than I wish it would have. With great intensity, I learn that I will have no peace until I resolve years of feelings surrounding Bill. I have to get over it all and truly move on.

We had no closure and will never, but I want to move forward with forgiveness without a sorry. I want to love someone else, prayerfully as much as I loved Bill and that I don’t ruin the relationship BECAUSE of Bill. I believe that there are people God has put in my life that are showing me how I should be cared for and treated by a man. That may be the hardest part for me – allowing myself to be cared about but with that I can feel that the cracked edges of this part of my life are softening and healing. It is a hard journey, this part of it. ED wants to deceive me with everything in him right now – into going back into those old mentalities of pushing people away, isolating myself, believing that I’m unlovable, thinking everything hinges on the number on the scale, finding solace in men, or anything else.

I’m fighting my way to the other side of this no matter what. I’m going to walk through the pain of this part and pray that the healing and newness on the other side are as sweet as I can imagine.

Danny Gokey wrote the song that has defined this part of my journey and word for word tells this entire part of my story.

I was there the moment that it happened
But you couldn’t see me through the pain
I caught every tear as they were falling
When you lost your heart that day
Yeah, you lost your heart that day

And now you only see through broken lenses
Trying to keep your head above the shame
You believe the lie that I am distant
But I hold you every day
Yeah, I hold you every day

If you could see it through my eyes
You’d know that you are wanted
You’d know that you are wanted
And if you’d let my love inside
I’ll show you that you’re wanted
I’ll show you that you’re wanted

You’re more than all your darkest moments
You are defined by what I see
You’re my reflection, you’re my treasure, you’re my heartbeat
Oh, child, you belong to me, ohh’

Cause if you would see it through my eyes
You’d know that you are wanted
You’d know that you are wanted
And if you’d let my love inside
I’ll show you that you’re wanted
I’ll show you that you’re wanted, oh

Not rejected, not unwelcome
You’re wanted (You’re wanted)
Oh, you’re wanted (You’re wanted)
Not abandoned, not forgotten
You’re wanted
Oh, you’re wantedI’m right here in this moment
And I’m singing over you
Yeah, I’m singing over you, oh-oh

If you could see it through my eyes
You’d know that you are wanted
I’d sure you that you’re wanted
And if you’d let my love inside
I’ll show you that you’re wanted
I’ll show you that you’re wanted
Ooh, hey

https://open.spotify.com/embed/artist/5Yu3b48Y29bZlI1cLPOZJz

Berry Proud

Posted by justthegoodstuff in Journey to Peace and tagged with , ,

Just in case my randomness has been hard to keep up with, let me give a quick summary, mainly for the purpose of catching up to what’s currently happening on this journey.

I began seeing ML in April of 2019 and we worked together until July of 2020. During this time, she created goals for me each week and we addressed many aspects of the eating disorder diagnosis. Some of the goals were to do yoga because it is more therapeutic and I couldn’t exactly “punish” myself with it, to practice intuitive eating to try to get my body to learn hunger cues and to reset my thinking on all the good and bad foods, food rules, diet failures and everything else that flitted around in my brain for so many years.

There were many ways that the intuitive eating didn’t really connect with me because my intuition was to binge eat, or starve myself, followed by binge eating. I understood the concept but also could never fully get on track with this – and not for lack of effort because, remember, I am have the perfectionist mentality.

In July of 2020, I had a cancer scare. A BIG scare. As a matter of fact, its the scariest thing I’ve dealt with that had to directly do with me. I had written my obituary and made arrangements of who would get custody of my dogs (not a bit of drama within me.) During this time, I focused all of my energy on this ordeal and all that went along with it – dr. visits, tests, scans, more tests, surgery, and all the 2020 struggles of getting all of these things done. I quit seeing ML during this time, and I realized that we had reached the peak of what we could do together. So much good came out of it. So much awareness, light shined into the dark pit in my soul, and an understanding that I wasn’t a failure as ED the Enemy had me believe for so long.

A few months into working with ML, she gave me an assignment to write a letter to myself. I don’t really remember the specific goals of the letter but what I know is that this letter very quickly shifted to a letter from God and my realization that this was a spiritual battle. I had initially intended to share most of it, but I just can’t do that. What I will share is how low of a point I was and some specific lines that have come full circle and overwhelm me with the goodnesses of God.

5/2/19

“I see that you feel like that storm raging outside. Anxiety is trying to attack you. You are in the beginning stages of self-hatred. No. the truth is, you’ve hated yourself all week.”

“. . . the more you feel the need to apologize to everyone who you feel you didn’t live up to their standards.”

“I can see that you feel completely unloved, unworthy, misunderstood. I know that you think you have disappointed everyone and ruined everything.”

“I want to tell you some things, Melissa. I want you to listen hard to them and begin to believe them.”

“First of all, and most important, the person who is telling you all the things about yourself is NOT ME **Truth** The person telling you these things is the enemy. He is ED. He is the liar. He is the destroyer. He is the one who sees your every weakness and is trying to jump in and bring you down. . . . . He’s won control of your heart, your mind, your self-esteem, your self-worth. Your total value as a human. He has made you believe after all of these years of battle, that you are totally unworthy.”

“He hasn’t worked alone in this! He has brought along people to work with him. You have loved some of these people. Truly, with your whole heart loved them.”

“Scars have been left. Those scars have changed you. You feel more unloved, insecure, unworthy, than you ever have in your life.”

“But, here is the thing! You aren’t going to give in to that. You are going to begin to work toward something new! You aren’t going to get there over night, Melissa. After all these years, there is going to be a struggle to get back what has been lost. It’s not going to be easy. There will be times where this seems impossible and where you can’t see that anything can ever be different. Guess what? It CAN and WILL be different. You are worthy of this. You are worthy of my love.”

Hang with me here because what happens in October of 2020 – 18 months after I wrote this letter to myself, answers so many things in that letter.

After the cancer scare, I told my son, Blake, I wanted to make some real changes. His company purchased the old Tyler Paper building and along with it came a gym. They hired a trainer to come train employees in the mornings and Blake and I had talked numerous times about me coming along. I couldn’t get my head around it and was also still trying to practice the idea of doing more yoga type stuff so that I didn’t fall into the exercise-as-punishment mentality.

For some reason – okay let’s call it what it is – God pulled me out of bed on Friday, October 23, 2020 and I got up and just showed up to the gym at 6:30 a.m. I told no-one I was coming. There was no plan. When I got there Blake and the trainer, Berry looked out the window and I saw Blake say “oh, it’s my mom.”

In my mind, there was no commitment here. This was just a try-out. My experiences with trainers in the past just weren’t that great. I never felt connected, or heard, or . . . anything really. Just like another number on the roster of people seen in a day.

We did our workout. I was so anxious and fearful the entire time. Every glimpse in the mirror was just another chance for ED the enemy to berate and torment me and he did a great job at it. After strength stuff, Berry had me get on the elliptical. I did about 5 minutes and couldn’t do more – between no exercise for so long and so much anxiety, I just couldn’t do more.

I came home that day, feeling like garbage. ED kept telling me how Berry would be going to tell all of his trainer friends what a loser he trained that morning. On top of that, I kept feeling like I was going to be sick and thought that was just because I had worked out for the first time in so long. As it turns out, I had a raging stomach virus.

I missed Monday’s workout due to the virus and when I texted Berry to tell him, ED was working hard some more. “You’re just verifying to him what a loser you are, Melissa. He’s going to send you back the most aggravated text, just wait” BUT. Berry responded with so much kindness and concern. One point for maybe being able to work with him.

The second week, my son was out of town and not at workout, which led me to some mental struggles about going alone. I felt insecure and ED was taunting me relentlessly, but I went anyway. As it turned out, this opened the door for talking to Berry just a little about my journey, where I had been, a tiny glimpse into my struggles. It was just a little, and very hard for me to open up, plus not thinking that he was really interested in this mess.

Guess what? He listened, heard, and responded. I realized quickly he was an intelligent and kind person that didn’t push me beyond my abilities – just the opposite actually. I felt no judgement, or irritation . And here’s a big one. He wasn’t forcing ANYTHING on me. I think he figured out from the start I would run from anything that started with “you have to . . .” – that I wasn’t the kind of girl who would respond to that. I could write a thousand reasons why, over the last two months, the person that God brought into my life to walk beside on this journey has become a friend, an encourager, a cheerleader, a listening ear, and on and on. I’ve expressed fears and frustrations and past failures, and have been met only with the kindest and most carefully chosen words – many of which are written down so that I can reference them when the battle overwhelms me. Bigger than ALL that, he hasn’t given up on me, he has only expressed wanting the best for me and to see me succeed.

See that letter up there, where that girl wrote out of her heart’s pain that she had no idea how things could ever be better. See what He did? He put the EXACT person in my life that He knew I needed, when I needed him and for so many purposes. You just don’t get that every day and every day I’m so very grateful.

Today, I went to the elliptical with the goal of 45 minutes. I did 50. The same person that only 2 months ago struggled through 5 minutes did 10X more. “So Proud,” said my encourager. No Berry, I’M the proud one, proud to have the privilege of knowing you and you being part of this journey. I realized, as I was stepping those minutes away – that it’s incredible how the body responds when treated well. Up and to the right is how I would describe the exercise component of this journey.

Nutrition wise, It’s been about 8 weeks since a binge, and the majority of that time, with that gentle and wise guidance, I have worked on my nutrition in the way that I was already feeling led to before we met.

Always feeling the need to be “real,” I will be transparent in the current struggles. For one, clearing up my past mentality on starvation is proving a challenge on some days. I like instant gratification and what the sick side of my mind knows is that under eating will provide me with the weight loss I so desire. There have been a few days where this was a real struggle. I notice this runs parallel to the emotional component.

While the exercise feels up and to the right in a steady, straight line, the emotional side feels like the trickiest of roller coasters. Some days are great, others are a beat down. It’s exhausting, right now, full of more emotional energy expenditure than I may even realize. (How many calories does crying burn, Berry?) However, I know these emotional ups and downs are providing healing. I actually looked in the mirror two times this week and instead of feeling disgust, I said “we are going to do this girl.” I can say with 100% honesty that I have NEVER said that to myself.

I MEAN. God’s goodness in orchestrating this connection, just who I needed, when I needed him overwhelms me so so much, and – there’s more. Next time, I will be introducing my other cheerleader and that fun Carolton Landing, OK trip that created such a sweet bond.

As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. Proverbs 27:17

Not Alone, But Lonely

Posted by justthegoodstuff in Journey to Peace and tagged with , ,

This past weekend, my daughter-in-law, Virginia, and I took an incredible four-day trip to Carlton Landing, OK. I have an entire post in the works about the NUMEROUS reasons this trip was so incredible. Spoiler alert – God was ALL UP IN IT.

Today, however, I’m going to jump to the end of the days there. Up until Saturday evening, I couldn’t have even made up something that had been wrong – it was that great. Saturday evening, we were in the pavilion in town square, next to the meeting house, making fresh greenery wreaths with a group of local ladies (no, I’m not making this up). This feeling came over me of just sadness and for everything in me I couldn’t stop it. We walked back to our house and I just couldn’t get past it, the tears were just welling up despite every effort to not “ruin the moment.” I laid down on the couch and tears just rolled out uncontrollably.

While we were having dinner, Virginia asked if I wanted to talk about it. “I don’t know what to say,” I told her. And I didn’t know, I couldn’t put words to it. We got in the hot tub after dinner and I just kept thinking, “what is wrong with me?”

After the hot tub, and as soon as I stepped one foot in the shower – where, oddly, so much self awareness happens – it hit me like a freight train.

Loneliness.

In the year-and-a-half-ish that I saw ML for my eating disorder, we talked about how this was not a linear process. Not even close. In one session, where I was berating myself because I continued to have all this mess swirling in my thoughts, she had me draw a straight line on a piece of paper and then in the middle of it make a tornado shape. “That,” she said, “is how it will look for you during recovery.” SIIIGGHHH. I wanted things to be better. I didn’t want to feel this way anymore – I wanted linear and I was pissed off I didn’t have it.

Currently, during what is the next phase of this process where I am ACTIVELY working on my health with good nutrition and exercise, as well as trying to get the binge eating under control, things are coming out that haven’t yet been addressed. To clarify this, during the time with ML, I was not ACTIVELY working on recovery. I was passively listening, taking it in, trying to understand and connect myself to something that had no name until this time. It took me a hot second to accept and move forward.

Saturday, when I stepped one leg in that shower, it occurred to me that the loneliness piece had never been dealt with. I knew it was there, I knew it hurt, and what had I done with hurt in the past? Shoved it down hard and binged it away. I began to put the pieces of loneliness together with binge eating. They had walked hand-in-hand, step by step, for a long time but until this moment, and with eight-ish weeks under my belt without binge eating, I saw a clear picture of it.

Let me clarify what I mean by lonely. My son and his family live within walking distance, I have great friends, a business where I interact with people all the time, I have lunch dates on the reg, clubs and groups and bible studies and etc. I am in no way alone. At night, however, when I go to my house, the roar of loneliness is surrounding me. I haven’t yet been given my hearts deepest desire to have a partner in crime in this life. Someone that I can care for, pray with and for, love, share life with – and that can do all the same things for me. In this season of life, on this journey, in this year of weird, during the holidays, I feel it on a deep, painful level.

The loneliness that I felt on Saturday night was just that. We were going home the next day and when I got there I would be – alone. Where in the past I would have consumed that hurt away with some absurd food in a just-as-absurd quantity, I now had to face this differently. What I am learning is that all of these moments, handled in new and better ways – well, they are freaking hard. Not linear. Not I’m okay, I’ve got this. Not even close. Each of these new moments that arise catch me off guard and are painful to navigate, creating a desire within me to stay in the safety zone of my people and places.

What I do know, however, that in this safety zone, healing is happening. Each time I walk through these things in a better way, no matter how difficult, will make the next time a little easier, then easier the next. What I also know is that you can get tackled in the safety zone and that was yesterday.

Yesterday yelled at me from the time I woke up, looked on Facebook and saw the most careless of memes. In a very poor quality meme – I mean they should have consulted with me, I could have made that thing look stellar with a little Canva action, but anyway – it said “People swear they fighting demons. When the whole time they’re fighting the consequences of their actions and decisions.”

DANG, I let that make a little hole within me. Yeah, girl, I’m fighting the enemy and some days he tries to devour me, just like it says in the Bible, sister. I got sassy angry, then I consulted my team – yes I have a team and they’re the bomb. They agreed, garbage. But that little hole was there.

Next was lunch with a new friend that is nothing but kind. Going in with that little hole, ED, my enemy, talked to me the entire time. (I’m calling the enemy ED because, as advised in that first book “Life Without ED,” the idea is to separate that sucker from you by giving him his own name and identity – so that’s who the enemy in this journey will be from now on.) I knew this friend was reading my blog so ED taunted me like a beast – “she’s evaluating what you are eating,” he said 100 times. “She thinks you are a hot mess,” he whispered in my ear. Over and over he tried to make me believe that I shouldn’t even be writing this because I had to “face” people who were reading it. ED worked me over and I left lunch unsettled.

I drove around a while, filling myself with my Soul Food playlist, headed home, and then ED began his work again. He used one of my most trusted and caring friends. While this friend and I were talking, ED jumped in to use loneliness to crush my spirit again. In the course of the conversation my friend said to me, “God gave me a spouse because He knew I would take a long walk off a short bridge.” His words jabbed into me like a hot dagger, literally wrecking me at my core. He has never had anything but good intentions for me and I know without doubt he would never say something to hurt me. But it did – it hurt deeply.

Today, I am working through this. I am trying to understand, connect and correct the loneliness and binge eating relationship. And it’s brutal. Last night I was done, had no intention of going to the gym today, toyed with the idea of a binge, and this morning I felt every self destructive thought and wanted to go into full self sabotage mode. Not with just food – actually not with food at all – with anything that would make me feel better. I’m sure you can list the top three in your mind.

BUT, I’m no quitter and I’m NOT quitting. Those replacement comforts will be squashed by making sure I stay in the safety zone right now. I know I won’t have to stay here forever. I know I have something good to give and I also know ED the Enemy wants to take it all away. I believe in my mind, and am waiting for my heart to catch up, that I’m worth more than “feel better” moments that would only temporarily replace the comfort of binge eating and cause more hurt.

I want one day to know and FEEL my validation come from Him alone. That currently sounds like a lofty goal, but I know it’s achievable.

This is my “therapy” song for helping work through those lonely moments. I may or may not bawl EVERY time I hear it, but it’s a tool I’m using to fight this battle so that at some point I see a VICTORY.

A New Thing

Posted by justthegoodstuff in Journey to Peace

“With your history,” ML is telling me one day, “there was a very low chance that you wouldn’t have developed some form of an eating disorder.”


Each term she used felt like a dagger, partly because putting definitions to each thing I had done connected me to the reality of having an eating disorder and I was struggling to accept that. Again, my sick thoughts were (and still are, at times) so comfortable accepting and believing the lies of the enemy, that trying to peel that away felt impossible at the time.

Here is a breakdown and, in parentheses, what I had been calling each of these.

Binging : (emotional eating) A period of excessive or uncontrolled indulgence, especially in food or drink.

Purging: (getting rid of something I shouldn’t have eaten) behavior to induce weight loss or manipulate body shape and can mean a number of things, including self-induced vomiting.

Restricting: (starvation diet) Limiting food intake to a certain number of calories or to certain foods or food groups.

I had used each of these to varying degrees, and in combination with each other, over the years and had fallen into binge eating, which was my ‘official’ diagnosis (with a slight twist, of course).

Binge Eating Disorder defined: When you have binge-eating disorder, you regularly eat too much food (binge) and feel a lack of control over your eating. You may eat quickly or eat more food than intended, even when you’re not hungry, and you may continue eating even long after you’re uncomfortably full. After a binge, you may feel guilty, disgusted or ashamed by your behavior and the amount of food eaten. But you don’t try to compensate for this behavior with excessive exercise or purging, as someone with bulimia or anorexia might. Embarrassment can lead to eating alone to hide your bingeing. A new round of bingeing usually occurs at least once a week. You may be normal weight, overweight or obese.

The twist on this was that I would go through periods where I ‘punished’ myself with hard exercise. I was pissed off that I couldn’t get addicted enough to the hard exercising in order to offset the ‘emotional eating.’

The other disorders – anorexia and bulimia – were the only ‘real’ eating disorders I knew of prior to all of this. I had to continue consulting the Google to verify in my mind that this was a ‘real’ thing. During an extremely emotional conversation with ML, while I was in a particularly dark state of self-hatred, I said to her “well, I SURE WISH, mine would have “manifested itself” (using sharp air quotes to emphasize how truly angry this made me) as anorexia.” “Being skinny would be far more accepted by others than what I am,” I said as anger turned to sadness and tears started rolling. Again.

I shocked even myself when I verbalized this tightly guarded feeling. I knew that the bodies I considered goals were unhealthy. Correction. I didn’t REALLY know this, but had been told over and over by others when I would point out one of the rail-thin figures that I thought would be ideal to look like.

ML, again, ever-so-kindly pointed me back to reality. “Melissa, you do not REALLY wish that. I promise you that rehabilitation for anorexia is far more complicated than what you face.”

We spent much time discussing the reality of all the dieting that I had done. Diets, as we know them, are set up to fail and the failure rate is something like 98%. That stung, but certainly made sense. Of all the hundreds of diets I had been on, my failure rate was 100%. Additionally, the residual damage was harsh. My body had no trust in me. Was I going to starve it, over feed it, “intermittently” feed it, use the ‘good foods’ or ‘bad foods’ list to nourish it?

Worse was the emotional damage. I felt like a complete failure and my perfectionism was raging. I needed others to see that my world was controlled because I was deeply out of control inside. This was where I learned that my perfectionism was related to my eating disorder. Remember how I ‘simply’ wanted to maintain a 4.0 in college, graduate Summa Cum Laude? That was to the detriment of my own sanity as well as others. I had just discovered that was my way of attempting to control the chaos and failure I felt in the area of food and health. I NEEDED to get other things right. There was no balance.

My mind was ALWAYS in some state of dieting – either planning the next one, thinking about how I needed to, or ALL IN on one. With a simple exercise on paper, ML had me draw a pie chart and fill in how often I was in ED mode and how often not. 85/15 and part of the 15 was probably when I was asleep. I was so sad looking at that, knowing there were hundreds of better ways to use my mind.

Even more harmful was how I spoke to myself and the self-hatred within me. Maybe I had the I’ll-get-myself-before-you-can-get-me mentality? What I am now blogging about in full was formed in my mind as just one post titled “I’ve Always Been A But” where I intended to basically share all of the hurtful comments I’ve heard over the years and that I believed were a huge source of my struggles. “Melissa, you are so pretty, but (insert a variety of weight-related comments).” “Melissa, you would be this, but just if you were this.” Yes, people do this more than is believable. However, in an attempt to now STOP reliving that garbage, and having people in my life that are helping repair the damage, that post may never happen. TBD.

In the past few weeks, a year and a half after this journey began, I have realized that I never want to comment on anyone’s weight, ever again. I’ve never negatively commented to someone directly, but even acknowledging a weight loss – an intended positive, may not be what someone needs. Someone like myself, who’s still recovering from a disorder, may perceive a slight look, a tone, or at the very least it will set those wheels of negative thinking in motion. The enemy can take even a nicely intended comment and start his devouring. TRUST ME on this.

At any rate, it was all a tenacious, soul destroying mess that, to be honest, I often felt hopeless by.

“Can you think of anyone else that you would talk about the way you talk about yourself,” ML asked me one day. Eyes as wide as those previous air quotes had been, “Nooooo,” I said.

Sobering.

I spoke to myself worse than I would ever speak about anyone else. Sadder, I couldn’t help it.

Plenty of times I felt, and at times still do, that this battle will always be within me. Fear drives me on some days, fear of failure, fear that this painful recovery process will not result in full healing, fear of judgement, fear I will always look in the mirror with disgust, even if I achieve a certain weight, as I have done in the past. So many fears that the enemy wants me to believe.

BUT – and I’ve always been a but, I invited God along with me on this journey. Yes, I fully believe He has been here all along, but I asked Him to join me in an assignment from ML – a letter to myself that quickly became a letter talking to God. As It turns out, this is less about a weight battle and more about a spiritual battle that is going on and, with extreme vulnerability, I will share parts next time.

One of my God-given cheerleaders told me last week when I was on a “Worst” level day, when I could feel the enemy ripping at me with reckless abandon and a vengeance, “that just means you have something good worth taking.” I keep on and keep on thinking about that. I, Melissa Vance, have something good worth taking. That one positive comment, genuinely given, probably burned at least five bad files with fire.

“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43:19‬


Meet ED

Posted by justthegoodstuff in Journey to Peace and tagged with ,

So many things happened when scheduling that first appointment that if I had allowed them, they would have prevented me from beginning. There were two big ones that came close to doing me in.

First, before I made this appointment, I looked through the website and discovered there was more information than not about eating disorders. I didn’t have an eating disorder and this immediately threw me off. People with eating disorders, in my opinion, had anorexia, were extremely thin, etc. Thinness equaled eating disorder in my (lack of) knowledge.

Next, the original Registered Dietician (RD) that ‘M’ suggested wasn’t taking new patients, but they had another RD that was. I am someone that needs a basis for trust, it isn’t an automatic with me. That may come in the form of a referral via someone that I respect, from my own assessment, or another source, but if I don’t have it I feel a loss of control. This whole process was breaching my control issues anyway, so I wanted to throw in the towel at this news. As is obvious, I hadn’t invited God into this mess.

After some coaxing and grumbling, I made the appointment with the available RD and, surprise, God knew who I needed on this journey. He knew then and He knows now.

While waiting for my first session, a very underweight young lady came out. “See,” my twisty, messy thoughts began, “you don’t need to be here.” “These people are even wondering why you are here.” “You don’t belong here.” On and on my thoughts were trying to coax me to leave but I had already made eye contact with too many employees. How could I jump up and leave?

Appointment started, and I recounted the cupcake story that led me here. We tried to untangle some of the past diet failures. (I have been on so many “diets,” that to this day – a year-and-a-half later, I remember ones I forgot to tell her.) She jotted as I talked. I cautiously opened up to her that I felt I was an overachiever and a perfectionist and it made no sense that I could not achieve and maintain weight loss. She just nodded.

In the next few sessions, she approached the eating disorder issue, which I very quickly dismissed. “Eating disorders are anorexia, bulimia, things like that,” I quickly told her. She just nodded more. We talked about some family history, some patterns of eating, the starvation, the fact that I binged, and purged, on and on. I was so ashamed every week that I think I cried every session. I would resolve myself as I went in that I wouldn’t cry, but I felt so exposed and vulnerable and she hadn’t achieved pedestal status with me yet so I would just cry out of anxiety and fear.

At one of the sessions, she suggested I get the book “Life Without ED,” begin reading, and we would discuss. She warned me that this particular girl that wrote the book DID have anorexia, but I needed to read for content, that the anorexia wasn’t her main focus. She went up the ladder of the pedestal a little more each week as I could feel her “getting” me – she knew that the anorexia factor would be a stumbling block for me in this book.

I thought ED was a person when ‘ML’ first mentioned the book – Life Without “ED” – some jerk that had wrecked this girls life and now he was gone and this was her life. Okay, I could relate to that – I had a list of jerks that had wreaked havoc on my life. “None of them had been named ED, but I can maybe relate to this book after all,” I thought.

The first few pages in and it was perfectly clear ED was not a jerk ex that had caused chaos in this woman’s life. ED was her eating disorder – anorexia – that she cleverly named ED.

I got a pen and started circling, starring, underlining, exclamation pointing, WOWing, and more. As I read, it was as if this girl was, well, me. I was confused how we could be so similar – the same story, the same feelings, the same voices in our heads telling us we were worthless and worse, yet we were so different.

During our next session, ‘ML’ asked me what I thought about the book. “Well,” I said, “her and I have much in common.” Yes and what specifically? I start telling her things that I can relate to – “well I can relate to it all,” I say. “Outside of her eating disorder, we are the same person.”

She hints at the idea oh-so-gently that I do have an eating disorder. She makes more steps up on the pedestal because of her gentle approach. She knows this is brutal for me to digest and she makes the suggestion that at my next appointment, I see ‘C’, the “expert”, for an actual eating disorder evaluation. SIIIIGHHH. More unknown people to try and bring into this circle of chaos. “I don’t have an eating disorder, but Ok, whatever you think is best.”

This next visit was the absolute worst. ‘C’ was all that you envision a therapist being. Sitting crossed legged in the chair, fast-ish talking, holding a thick booklet on a clipboard of what I quickly learned were questions that would, in essence, slice me open and leave me exposed and vulnerable. It was like being asked to the “second” part of a bad date – no get-to-know-you or dinner, just the . . . second part.

As she rapid-fired questions and flipped pages, I was trying to explain some of my answers and she was having none of it. I’m an explainer to a fault, I wanted her to understand the answers I was giving her. Or possibly, I was attempting to explain away the truth.

I had never met her, after all, and she was asking me the most personal and painful questions one could be asked. Early family history? Early sexual abuse? How I used food? Was I a perfectionist? How I felt about myself? How I saw myself? On and on she pecked and pecked at me. My mounting anxiety was crippling me more and more with each painful question, which she appeared to be annoyed with because she kept glancing abruptly at my tapping fingers and legs. Nightmare. I was in a nightmare of pain where each thing that hurt me since forever was pulled out of it’s file, all of them at once, and were whirling around in a tiny room with a woman I had never met.

After the evaluation torture ended, she sat for a few minutes, jotting notes and then spoke. “This test is the (I can’t even begin to remember the name) test and it calculates the likelihood of you having an eating disorder,” she began. “On the scale of all the factors involved, you scored 8 out of 10,” the word EIGHT emphasized just a little much for my liking.

It possibly makes no sense, but it was hard to hear and even harder to believe. It was easier to believe the convincing lies of the enemy that had tainted my thinking for so long. That I was just a weak, out of control, failure. Those things were easier to believe than to think that all of my past had led to coping mechanisms that involved food.

The next visit with “ML,” and I expressed my struggles with “C.” “She’s just not for me, that was all too much,” I told her. She convinced me to just “try” to see her again, to discuss test results and work through some of the issues. The plan was to alternate weeks with “ML” and “C.” I reluctantly agreed to this plan, and seeing “C” the next week. In summary, “C”, sitting there in her chair crossed legged and sassy, asked me abruptly, “So, what do you want to discuss today?”

HARD. STOP.

What? You just ripped out most every piece of pain from me, things that I had no desire or emotion to deal with and then you sit here and ask flippantly what I want to discuss. I can’t recall what we even discussed that day, but “C” was so far from the pedestal that there was no going back now.

I let “ML” know in as kind of a way as possible that this relationship with “C” was irreparable and I wouldn’t be seeing her any longer.

There are some important things I want to mention here. There are people that God has put in this part of my life for a season, that served their purpose and I am now, after more than a year, okay with saying that they served (insert specific purpose) and they may or may not still be apart of this story.

“C” served her purpose of making this diagnosis and I am okay with that being her only role. I am in no way discouraging anyone that thinks they need a clinical evaluation to avoid it because of this particular disaster. Just the opposite actually. I would greatly encourage doing what needs to be done to better your life.

The long journey of work with “ML” and all that I discovered about eating disorders will be coming in hot in the next few days. Obvious plot twist. Anorexia isn’t the only eating disorder.

The Good, The Bad & The Worst

Posted by justthegoodstuff in Journey to Peace and tagged with , ,

Jumping forward, I have been in the process of addressing these issues – full details on the next blog – from the time the cupcake incidence happened in Spring of 2019. There have been varying stages of work involved.

Currently, the stage of work is that I am actively trying to better my health, working out, correcting my eating habits, etc. With this has come an absolute roller coaster of emotions, feelings and struggles. On the good days I feel like the baddest ass in the bad ass society. On the bad days, I question if I have it in me to do this and make it last, then take my thoughts captive and move forward. Then there are the today’s – the worst days.

On these worst days, the enemy pulls out all the old files still residing in my mind, then sits directly beside me taking them out and tossing them around flippantly and carelessly, berating me and toying with my every weakness. It’s ironic when you think about it, how we get devoured by the enemy when we are trying so hard for something we want so desperately. In reality, it isn’t ironic at all, it’s scriptural.

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. 1 Peter 5:8

On these days, the trigger can be so random, that most wouldn’t even recognize it – a certain look, a word that hits harder than it should, a situation, or a difficult person. The Enemy, as crafty as he is in his workings, sees it and runs rampant with it, knowing that he can pull me down with the slightest effort. “Melissa you aren’t worthy, you aren’t lovable and never will be, you aren’t wanted or valuable, go ahead and hate yourself like you do,” he SCREAMS in my ear. Loud and brash and believable.

The connection this attack has with eating is harsh – the next thought after all of the garbage dropped in my ear is “starve yourself, you don’t need to eat.” Starvation is powerful for control, but destroys the bodies ability to trust itself – and ultimately ends in bingeing. A viscous cycle happens with the tiniest of tiny holes formed in my thoughts. It is an exhausting and soul wrecking battle.

BUT. There was a point early on when I DID invite God into this mess. So with Him by my side, I am tackling all of these “WORST” days piece by piece. And let me tell you, it ain’t pretty much of the time – it’s incredibly ugly and exhausting and WORTH IT.

Yes, it’s WORTH IT. Can I say I’m ready to be on the other side of some of these things, to have some of these files destroyed with fire? Yes, I’m ready for that. In the meantime, I will keep working because I refuse to allow the Enemy to have any glory from what good God wants for me.

I’m stopping here and sharing the playlist I turn up as loud as possible and let it feed my soul and drown out that ugly mess trying to take control.