God has a frequency. Where did the very idea of radio transmission begin but with this true principle? For everything that works and has, and adds, value, is necessarily good, and if good, then of God. Think of your radio. If the station you wanted to hear was 90.9 and you tuned in to any or even every other station but 90.9, what result would you get in the natural? Unless you tune into the correct station, you will never hear what it has to say. It's the same with God, and the supernatural. Not that God can't or doesn't ever reach beyond that frequency--if He didn't, what hope would anyone have of being saved? But for us to walk in the power of the Holy Spirit, to see signs and wonders, we have to tune ourselves to the right station every day. Sometimes we have to re-tune throughout the day. We need to cultivate sensitivity to our conscious contact with God to know when it's time to re-tune.
How do you find the station? Humble yourself before God, confess your sins to Him, ask Him to show you and believe that He is doing just that. Trust God. He's the safest bet in the universe! He always comes through for those that humbly trust Him.
Often we are like the horse in the Horse Whisperer. We've been beaten, kicked, bruised, and abused and are very afraid to trust because of it, and it is understandable. Please do not think I judge if trust is difficult for you. It sounds so easy, and it is, but first we have to just do it. Think of God as the Horse Whisperer. He comes to each of us at the point of our need. God knows and He cares about every hurt we've ever had, but He is actually able to do something about it, but we must allow Him access to the very interior of our hearts, which of course requires trust.
Once that trust is given, expect a little excitement! Like you may feel a little uncomfortable as God starts working on you, as in the movie. Note that HW did take the horse out of its comfort zone, which frightened him at first, but as the horse kept his eye on HW, and he saw how though it was a different sort of treatment than he was used to, HW never hurt him, but day by day, moment by moment, HW showed the horse, not told him, but showed him through demonstration, what it truly means to trust. HW established a close, loving, bond as the boss of the horse, just as God will do with us
We may falter in our steps, but God is sovereign. He will once again meet us at the pt of need. Like HW, God comes to us once we submit.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Tuesday, cont.
Yesterday I cried out to The Lord about my bitter grief that son wasn't raised in an intact home, with two loving parents to give him the sort of life I see so many of his classmates have, why him? I don't mind being broken, but why him?
Last night in the sleepless night, God spoke into my heart that son and I are actually part of the best family ever-His family, where mothers, fathers, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, are just waiting to welcome & love us. This is a bigger family, a better family, and our Father is perfect and all-powerful, so how's that for a great family to belong to! And He said some of those families that you look at that seem so great are not what I think, that some of those kids-God forbid-will have bubbles burst, but we aren't even in a bubble to burst! Our future can only be bright with God, cuz we are starting at the bottom! The harder the struggle, the greater the victory! And God is protecting son from the lures & snares of the world, that God has it all worked out. Every time I see something that concerns me, I can say thank you, Lord, that this is being turned around right now, even when I don't see it yet. That's exercising faith.
It can be very scary to trust, cuz what if God doesn't come through? Then what? But those suggestions are just Satan's snares, just like with Eve. Basically repeating "Did God REALLY say...?" We are blessed because we don't have to rely only on memory, we have the Book! We can look it up, read it, then take it on faith, & keep exercising that commitment in our minds & hearts through prayer and ruminating on it continuously. Then exercise patience. Do not judge by what immediately occurs, wait for it with anticipation. He will come through for you, and it's usually in an unexpected, marvelous surprise that is tailor made for you & better than what you conceived. It will satisfy your soul, and bring joy to your heart. Life really is like an old Disney cartoon
He will take your past failures, addictions, experiences, and work them together to bless you & bring glory to himself which just blesses you more! There's no lack, no need, no greed, no fear of not having enough. There's abundance and you will eagerly desire to share all you have, because He just keeps filling you back up and bringing you even more joy than before. It's a true win-win, guaranteed. But you have to get yourself in the proper position of submission and obedience.
Faith without works is dead. We've been taught that's about salvation and entrance into heaven. It may be, but there's more! Just the idea of faith, without exercising it, working it, using it is dead! That's why so many people can't get over their hurdles. They possess faith but they are not working it out. Like we have a body, and we can pray every day with tears & total genuineness about wanting a body builders frame, but if we don't go exercise, all that prayer is futile. God will help you get that body, but you have to put in the work.
Faith should be always just out of reach or it's not faith. If you aren't reaching for something that you cannot grasp without God's help & intervention, then you aren't really exercising faith. You're just holding on to it like a souvenir. Thinking about everything in the past. Which is well & good, but you must keep it in the future for it to stay alive and not become dead.
Last night in the sleepless night, God spoke into my heart that son and I are actually part of the best family ever-His family, where mothers, fathers, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, are just waiting to welcome & love us. This is a bigger family, a better family, and our Father is perfect and all-powerful, so how's that for a great family to belong to! And He said some of those families that you look at that seem so great are not what I think, that some of those kids-God forbid-will have bubbles burst, but we aren't even in a bubble to burst! Our future can only be bright with God, cuz we are starting at the bottom! The harder the struggle, the greater the victory! And God is protecting son from the lures & snares of the world, that God has it all worked out. Every time I see something that concerns me, I can say thank you, Lord, that this is being turned around right now, even when I don't see it yet. That's exercising faith.
It can be very scary to trust, cuz what if God doesn't come through? Then what? But those suggestions are just Satan's snares, just like with Eve. Basically repeating "Did God REALLY say...?" We are blessed because we don't have to rely only on memory, we have the Book! We can look it up, read it, then take it on faith, & keep exercising that commitment in our minds & hearts through prayer and ruminating on it continuously. Then exercise patience. Do not judge by what immediately occurs, wait for it with anticipation. He will come through for you, and it's usually in an unexpected, marvelous surprise that is tailor made for you & better than what you conceived. It will satisfy your soul, and bring joy to your heart. Life really is like an old Disney cartoon
He will take your past failures, addictions, experiences, and work them together to bless you & bring glory to himself which just blesses you more! There's no lack, no need, no greed, no fear of not having enough. There's abundance and you will eagerly desire to share all you have, because He just keeps filling you back up and bringing you even more joy than before. It's a true win-win, guaranteed. But you have to get yourself in the proper position of submission and obedience.
Faith without works is dead. We've been taught that's about salvation and entrance into heaven. It may be, but there's more! Just the idea of faith, without exercising it, working it, using it is dead! That's why so many people can't get over their hurdles. They possess faith but they are not working it out. Like we have a body, and we can pray every day with tears & total genuineness about wanting a body builders frame, but if we don't go exercise, all that prayer is futile. God will help you get that body, but you have to put in the work.
Faith should be always just out of reach or it's not faith. If you aren't reaching for something that you cannot grasp without God's help & intervention, then you aren't really exercising faith. You're just holding on to it like a souvenir. Thinking about everything in the past. Which is well & good, but you must keep it in the future for it to stay alive and not become dead.
Tuesday
Well, it's the Tues after the Fri-Sat I restarted this sojourn with truth, God, & myself. It's been an amazing time. God has freed me from anxiety medication in 3 days. I've tried to quit on my own numerous times, but the withdrawals are too severe. I should not feel this good at this point. I can only give God the glory because He has done this, and not me myself. The key was being truly done. And fully submitting to God's will & taking each step fearfully and trembling, in faith. We have to operate our faith. Faith isn't something we have, it's something we DO. If we aren't challenging something in our lives by exercising faith that God will show us how to change it for the better, then we aren't operating in faith. Most people today think of faith as something you own, a possession, all bought & paid for, that we keep, like a treasured memento from a special place. We leave it at home, but if someone asks if we have faith we say yes, we sure do. But like love, faith isn't really faith til you exercise it. That means work it out, pull it out, put it to the test, line yourself up with God's word then whatever isn't on track, that's what you actively believe God for. Tell Him over & over that you believe and trust Him to work it out, because your words & thoughts are powerful.
"Whatever you bind on earth is bound in Heaven, and whatever you loose on earth is loosed in Heaven"
I never understood that verse until last night, another sleepless night spent with God dealing with my heart & soul. I felt it whispered into my spirit: speak out your forecast: you will be right! God partners with us & He will do for us what we can't, but He won't do for us what we simply won't. He's not a giant Santa in the sky, just waiting to give us a present no matter how we've acted, thought, & spoken. God is working with us, not for us.
Life is the ultimate video game! We have power to affect our outcomes, greater power than most of us realize. We've been told everything is already set, preordained, that we can't radically change our lives. Untrue. Life is an adventure, and it's like our faith & prayers are "power ups" in a video game. They don't change the game itself, but they do change our position, abilities, & power in it.
"Whatever you bind on earth is bound in Heaven, and whatever you loose on earth is loosed in Heaven"
I never understood that verse until last night, another sleepless night spent with God dealing with my heart & soul. I felt it whispered into my spirit: speak out your forecast: you will be right! God partners with us & He will do for us what we can't, but He won't do for us what we simply won't. He's not a giant Santa in the sky, just waiting to give us a present no matter how we've acted, thought, & spoken. God is working with us, not for us.
Life is the ultimate video game! We have power to affect our outcomes, greater power than most of us realize. We've been told everything is already set, preordained, that we can't radically change our lives. Untrue. Life is an adventure, and it's like our faith & prayers are "power ups" in a video game. They don't change the game itself, but they do change our position, abilities, & power in it.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Cont.
If God really does have it all figured out then maybe He's using son to draw, coerce, force, me back to Him and son comes too. He will heal son and me. He will restore the years the locust has eaten. He is so good and son is young, with a good heart, he's a great person. We just desperately need polishing up, structure, routine, and conscious contact with God. I've been so scared to mar him that I've retreated from loving him. How I want to go back! But I can't go back, I know. The bottom line is, either God is GOD or He's nothing. So I don't know what He's got planned for us, but I know surprises with Him are good! Not knowing just makes the surprise that much funner! And sweeter. And gives Him all the glory, which is the only way. God will share his glory with no man. So I trust, have faith, that He will pull this tapestry together into a beautiful scene.
Life...
Over the weekend, hubs noticed that in one room, the ceiling is about to collapse in, with water leaking large drops onto the bed. Hmm. It's almost midnight Sat. Not good. So he went up into the attic to see what it was, and he figures its the A/C. Not good. He patched it up best he could and now it's Monday and two men are looking up there to see what's wrong. It doesn't look like an easy fix to me.
And it's a busted pipe. They are going to replace what's bad, then hopefully work on our ducts. Nice guys, though; always a plus!
So far, I think I'm doing all right leaning on God, trying to maintain conscious contact with God, I've gotten a few things accomplished, like laundry, cleaning kitchen, doing some scrubbing of pots & pans, swiffering the floor, just generally doing the next thing in front of me. And that's so scary for me, because trust is so hard for me. I'm terrified to let go & really blindly trust, even God, to plan my day, but so far, He's doing an amazing job! He definitely runs my life better than I do! I hardly slept last nigh, or the night before, as I'm still getting rid of the toxins from my body and my nervous system is, well, nervous! But even on minimal sleep I've gotten more done by 10:30 am than alone I was accomplishing maybe all week.
I'm still terrified and concerned with the other parents, teachers, etc. because of my shoddy track record as a general human being and being undependable. And when I look at my son I see everywhere I've failed, all my missed opportunities, how I've not been there for him, sometimes not cooking, leaving him and hubs on their own. That haunts me. There was always food in the house, just I didn't always cook it. Bitter regret is a killer. Who can stand to feel this way for long? This is another reason God and His forgiveness is crucial. If I didn't have faith that God can and will pull all this back together, doing the parts that I can't, (not won't!), then I literally would not be able to stand the pain of the emotions. I'm so sorry, so desperately sorry. I tried so hard to parent the right way on my own, but I had no blueprint, and my default was: help! Somebody raise or show me how to raise this kid! I have no close family close. I have no close family period. I have a polite family who I'm sure has written me off, just about. How I wish my mother was here to help me. But she's been deceased a long, long time now. She died 10 days before my first wedding. I have no father, no sibs, so it's just me.
Then again, having her just might not be a good idea, as she was always prone to seeking my comfort and advice in life matters, and having son and mom leaning on me would probably have not been good. I wonder sometimes why things in my life have gone the way they have. I'm actually ok with my life, it's how my son has been cheated of an intact, fun, healthy family that kills me. Honestly I wonder why he gave me my son when He did. He's been through so much pain that he didn't deserve. I still burn with anger and resentment with my ex if I allow myself to think about it. I feel like he betrayed me and son so heinously, that he took full advantage of my earlier forgiveness and the torment he put me through caused me tremendous harm. And I felt I just had to soldier on, and the havoc, chaos, and stress with no one to turn to put me in the condition where CFS came on. And then it became a game of coping each day, never having a firm grip on things. Always feeling around for the next rung on the ladder in the dark.
This area has a relatively large amount of pretty healthy, intact homes and seeing the kids blossom from those homes and seeing how cheated son was-is of that structure for myriad reasons, many of which include me, it just grieves my soul. I want so badly to have him be 5 again so I could do it over. I didn't realize it takes years to see the results of parenting on kids. I thought hey, he's ok, we're ok.
And it's a busted pipe. They are going to replace what's bad, then hopefully work on our ducts. Nice guys, though; always a plus!
So far, I think I'm doing all right leaning on God, trying to maintain conscious contact with God, I've gotten a few things accomplished, like laundry, cleaning kitchen, doing some scrubbing of pots & pans, swiffering the floor, just generally doing the next thing in front of me. And that's so scary for me, because trust is so hard for me. I'm terrified to let go & really blindly trust, even God, to plan my day, but so far, He's doing an amazing job! He definitely runs my life better than I do! I hardly slept last nigh, or the night before, as I'm still getting rid of the toxins from my body and my nervous system is, well, nervous! But even on minimal sleep I've gotten more done by 10:30 am than alone I was accomplishing maybe all week.
I'm still terrified and concerned with the other parents, teachers, etc. because of my shoddy track record as a general human being and being undependable. And when I look at my son I see everywhere I've failed, all my missed opportunities, how I've not been there for him, sometimes not cooking, leaving him and hubs on their own. That haunts me. There was always food in the house, just I didn't always cook it. Bitter regret is a killer. Who can stand to feel this way for long? This is another reason God and His forgiveness is crucial. If I didn't have faith that God can and will pull all this back together, doing the parts that I can't, (not won't!), then I literally would not be able to stand the pain of the emotions. I'm so sorry, so desperately sorry. I tried so hard to parent the right way on my own, but I had no blueprint, and my default was: help! Somebody raise or show me how to raise this kid! I have no close family close. I have no close family period. I have a polite family who I'm sure has written me off, just about. How I wish my mother was here to help me. But she's been deceased a long, long time now. She died 10 days before my first wedding. I have no father, no sibs, so it's just me.
Then again, having her just might not be a good idea, as she was always prone to seeking my comfort and advice in life matters, and having son and mom leaning on me would probably have not been good. I wonder sometimes why things in my life have gone the way they have. I'm actually ok with my life, it's how my son has been cheated of an intact, fun, healthy family that kills me. Honestly I wonder why he gave me my son when He did. He's been through so much pain that he didn't deserve. I still burn with anger and resentment with my ex if I allow myself to think about it. I feel like he betrayed me and son so heinously, that he took full advantage of my earlier forgiveness and the torment he put me through caused me tremendous harm. And I felt I just had to soldier on, and the havoc, chaos, and stress with no one to turn to put me in the condition where CFS came on. And then it became a game of coping each day, never having a firm grip on things. Always feeling around for the next rung on the ladder in the dark.
This area has a relatively large amount of pretty healthy, intact homes and seeing the kids blossom from those homes and seeing how cheated son was-is of that structure for myriad reasons, many of which include me, it just grieves my soul. I want so badly to have him be 5 again so I could do it over. I didn't realize it takes years to see the results of parenting on kids. I thought hey, he's ok, we're ok.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Changing course
Changing course mid-stream, or in my case, mid-life, is not easy. But some wonderful things have been occurring. I found a beautiful little bracelet at Target with a cross on it and the placard it was attached to reads, " Faith doesn't make things easy. Faith makes things possible". What an apt phrase for me to recall each time I look down at my wrist. For things haven't been easy, but with, and only with God's help and listening the best I can to the Holy Spirit, things that I could not do a week ago, I am doing now. Yesterday was Saturday and I and my son did several things out of the ordinary. He drove me around on the highway for the first time. (And is a great driver!) As well as these, I found a recipe online, went to Walmart, bought the ingredients, came home, cooked dinner, then later cleaned the kitchen. These are common routine things, you may think, but for the horrible condition I've been in, this has been remarkable progress! And all because I'm submitting myself to God, His Word, and His authority. I've suffered from an awful combination of pride and shame. Too ashamed of what I'd become yet too proud to ask for help. Satan will take every opportunity to bind us on any level he can, and mine had regressed to mental, along with the physical.
I saw my old test results that put me in a category that would qualify me for disability, and I could get a check from the govt each month. I'm morally opposed to welfare unless extreme cases call for it, yet here I was, grappling with the reality of it for myself. A thought came to me, "do you want to be disabled or do you want to be well?" I want to be well, I immediately thought. "Then you must choose to be well. You cannot be both" That hit pretty hard.
Then today, we went to the great church I'm coming back to that I used to attend years ago that I've been reluctant to come back to because of how I left, my divorce, how people would view me, if I would be rejected now that I've been brought low.
But with and by God's power, today was another good day of accomplishing more things than before, with cooking & cleaning, and trying to explain and reaching out to my husband and son, trying to tell them that God is changing me, but I'm having to work at it. I do my part whether I feel like it or not, and leave the rest to Him. That's faith, and it works if you work it.
Tomorrow is Monday and with God's blessing and help, I will get to some things that I've sorely neglected over the years. I will clean, sort, & organize all to bring Him glory, because its His will that I do these things. There is a bittersweet quality to true submission. It really helps bring you back down to earth and pops the bubble of that pride and shame. You recognize you are no better, but also no worse, than any other, and the humility is a terrific tonic for the soul.
I saw my old test results that put me in a category that would qualify me for disability, and I could get a check from the govt each month. I'm morally opposed to welfare unless extreme cases call for it, yet here I was, grappling with the reality of it for myself. A thought came to me, "do you want to be disabled or do you want to be well?" I want to be well, I immediately thought. "Then you must choose to be well. You cannot be both" That hit pretty hard.
Then today, we went to the great church I'm coming back to that I used to attend years ago that I've been reluctant to come back to because of how I left, my divorce, how people would view me, if I would be rejected now that I've been brought low.
But with and by God's power, today was another good day of accomplishing more things than before, with cooking & cleaning, and trying to explain and reaching out to my husband and son, trying to tell them that God is changing me, but I'm having to work at it. I do my part whether I feel like it or not, and leave the rest to Him. That's faith, and it works if you work it.
Tomorrow is Monday and with God's blessing and help, I will get to some things that I've sorely neglected over the years. I will clean, sort, & organize all to bring Him glory, because its His will that I do these things. There is a bittersweet quality to true submission. It really helps bring you back down to earth and pops the bubble of that pride and shame. You recognize you are no better, but also no worse, than any other, and the humility is a terrific tonic for the soul.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Later today
Just wanted to say I'm feeling better. A bit, but enough.
I feel I've learned my lesson:follow the Holy Spirit. Do not quench the Holy Spirit. Die to self and do what is right if it's only a matter of self-discipline and not a case of overwork and my body requiring rest. This morning I actually felt pretty darn good, but I still did my will and did not trust God or the Holy Spirit in me that was prodding me to get out & get to Target & do the next right thing throughout the day.
Because I insisted on my way, I messed up my system, hunger-sleep cycle, leaving me depressed and mentally foggy. The absolute worst though was seeing the hurt in my son's eyes when he saw me hurting and feeling depressed. That look. Lord, help me never forget that others--my son-- are counting on me to take care of myself so I can be happy & spontaneous, fully in the moment with them, able to sense the Holy Spirit, and for Heaven's sake, dinner time comes every. single. night. Unless I'm seriously physically ill, I need to have dinner ready each night. We managed ok tonight, but the lesson needs to remain. Over the last few months, my son has seen me improve and he's a happier boy, more carefree, for it. Him seeing me regress today was painful for me to see. Why wouldn't he question whether I would sink back into the abyss? But praise God, as I'm feeling a bit better, I was able to talk & fully engage with my son, making plans for tomorrow for breakfast and that trip to Target. I'm coming to realize schedule & routine isn't a straitjacket, it is a comfort and a guideline that gives some form to a nebulous tomorrow. I'm adding back in church on Sundays, as we have found a church we both really like & feel accepted in, and feel God's presence in. Our former church was nice enough, but more of a social club feel, and we both felt a bit rebuffed. But again, i felt like this was "the" church that "the" people attend & wanted to be accepted into these circles. it proved impossible, however, to overlook the fact that I had nothing in common with these ppl and found conversing with most of them uncomfortable, creating extra anxiety I def didn't need.This new one is so much better, I can't wait to go back!
I feel I've learned my lesson:follow the Holy Spirit. Do not quench the Holy Spirit. Die to self and do what is right if it's only a matter of self-discipline and not a case of overwork and my body requiring rest. This morning I actually felt pretty darn good, but I still did my will and did not trust God or the Holy Spirit in me that was prodding me to get out & get to Target & do the next right thing throughout the day.
Because I insisted on my way, I messed up my system, hunger-sleep cycle, leaving me depressed and mentally foggy. The absolute worst though was seeing the hurt in my son's eyes when he saw me hurting and feeling depressed. That look. Lord, help me never forget that others--my son-- are counting on me to take care of myself so I can be happy & spontaneous, fully in the moment with them, able to sense the Holy Spirit, and for Heaven's sake, dinner time comes every. single. night. Unless I'm seriously physically ill, I need to have dinner ready each night. We managed ok tonight, but the lesson needs to remain. Over the last few months, my son has seen me improve and he's a happier boy, more carefree, for it. Him seeing me regress today was painful for me to see. Why wouldn't he question whether I would sink back into the abyss? But praise God, as I'm feeling a bit better, I was able to talk & fully engage with my son, making plans for tomorrow for breakfast and that trip to Target. I'm coming to realize schedule & routine isn't a straitjacket, it is a comfort and a guideline that gives some form to a nebulous tomorrow. I'm adding back in church on Sundays, as we have found a church we both really like & feel accepted in, and feel God's presence in. Our former church was nice enough, but more of a social club feel, and we both felt a bit rebuffed. But again, i felt like this was "the" church that "the" people attend & wanted to be accepted into these circles. it proved impossible, however, to overlook the fact that I had nothing in common with these ppl and found conversing with most of them uncomfortable, creating extra anxiety I def didn't need.This new one is so much better, I can't wait to go back!
Does this work with iPad? If so, cool.
Today has been blrgh. Dr. Phil today talked about learned helplessness. I feel that's me. I've been all over the map, through the spectrum of highs & lows, joy & depression, that to conform myself into staying in that middle lane feels safe. But it also strips me of some of my essence. All my life I've strived to just be normal, and I can't seem to find that setting. I married a stable, normal guy, wanting to achieve this for myself and my son.
Then dealing with CFS & all the medications that have caused me to be unstable...feeling the weight of guilt and shame of being drugged in public, embarrassing my son, myself. Feeling other mothers pull away from me, their kids from my kid. Wondering how much damage I've done/am doing to my son. He's a great kid, but I know I've failed him, I've neglected him, I see all the ways I've screwed up & don't know how to fix any of it, even if I could.
I have a strong belief in God, in Jesus. He is my savior. He filled me with the Holy Spirit as a teen. It was the most beautiful experience, like liquid love flowed over and through me, I remember asking or stating This is what Heaven must be like. I had a joy unspeakable, and I carried happiness in my heart. All I wanted was more of Him. But I was still a mixed up girl, and I thought I could have success in both worlds. I wanted it all. So I pursued it all. I fell into bulimia to lose weight while still satisfying that deep need for fullness. What I seldom hear about bulimia is how seductive and rewarding it is, at first. When you feel the need to binge, then do it, then expel every trace of it, there is a high that results. You feel satisfied, full yet empty, clean and beautiful. And the demon is tamed for a while and life feels very good. Plus the weight loss is fantastic and fast. People compliment you left & right. My Mom started approving of me more, as did other family members. Always in Drama, an aunt said to me that now that I was thin, I could be a leading lady rather than always being the mother character. She meant well, I'm sure, but it let me know just how un-okay I had been when I was "fat"-150lbs, and as weird social doors started opening to me in High School, I didn't know how to behave or how to interact with the popular kids who now started inviting me to parties. Quickly, though, I discovered beer made me feel a whole lot better. Beautiful. Desirable. Bold. And I could talk to boys without feeling insecure. Bingo! Bulimia & beer was my ticket to ride, and ride I did. I started pulling away from things of God & started first flirting with, then actively pursuing self-pleasure. Maybe I still am, and that's maybe a huge part of my problem. I have very little discipline, and my feelings lead me around by the nose even today.
I did start a beginner's running app workout that lets you walk a lot & jog for just 30 seconds at a time, and even that was so hard. I'm such a mess right now. I felt good & hopeful this morning, but I didn't act on it. Instead I went back to bed, back into my current escape of choice, sleep. I was afraid to trust feeling good. I was being rebellious. I was just doing what comes natural to me right now. I should have gone to Target, I had a couple of things I needed to do, but, again, there's that learned helplessness. So I do these things. So what? I feel angry with-at myself and don't even feel like I deserve to feel good. Or maybe I've grown so used to a pill doing it for me, I've learned this dysfunction.
Good Lord, I'm screwed up.
Today has been blrgh. Dr. Phil today talked about learned helplessness. I feel that's me. I've been all over the map, through the spectrum of highs & lows, joy & depression, that to conform myself into staying in that middle lane feels safe. But it also strips me of some of my essence. All my life I've strived to just be normal, and I can't seem to find that setting. I married a stable, normal guy, wanting to achieve this for myself and my son.
Then dealing with CFS & all the medications that have caused me to be unstable...feeling the weight of guilt and shame of being drugged in public, embarrassing my son, myself. Feeling other mothers pull away from me, their kids from my kid. Wondering how much damage I've done/am doing to my son. He's a great kid, but I know I've failed him, I've neglected him, I see all the ways I've screwed up & don't know how to fix any of it, even if I could.
I have a strong belief in God, in Jesus. He is my savior. He filled me with the Holy Spirit as a teen. It was the most beautiful experience, like liquid love flowed over and through me, I remember asking or stating This is what Heaven must be like. I had a joy unspeakable, and I carried happiness in my heart. All I wanted was more of Him. But I was still a mixed up girl, and I thought I could have success in both worlds. I wanted it all. So I pursued it all. I fell into bulimia to lose weight while still satisfying that deep need for fullness. What I seldom hear about bulimia is how seductive and rewarding it is, at first. When you feel the need to binge, then do it, then expel every trace of it, there is a high that results. You feel satisfied, full yet empty, clean and beautiful. And the demon is tamed for a while and life feels very good. Plus the weight loss is fantastic and fast. People compliment you left & right. My Mom started approving of me more, as did other family members. Always in Drama, an aunt said to me that now that I was thin, I could be a leading lady rather than always being the mother character. She meant well, I'm sure, but it let me know just how un-okay I had been when I was "fat"-150lbs, and as weird social doors started opening to me in High School, I didn't know how to behave or how to interact with the popular kids who now started inviting me to parties. Quickly, though, I discovered beer made me feel a whole lot better. Beautiful. Desirable. Bold. And I could talk to boys without feeling insecure. Bingo! Bulimia & beer was my ticket to ride, and ride I did. I started pulling away from things of God & started first flirting with, then actively pursuing self-pleasure. Maybe I still am, and that's maybe a huge part of my problem. I have very little discipline, and my feelings lead me around by the nose even today.
I did start a beginner's running app workout that lets you walk a lot & jog for just 30 seconds at a time, and even that was so hard. I'm such a mess right now. I felt good & hopeful this morning, but I didn't act on it. Instead I went back to bed, back into my current escape of choice, sleep. I was afraid to trust feeling good. I was being rebellious. I was just doing what comes natural to me right now. I should have gone to Target, I had a couple of things I needed to do, but, again, there's that learned helplessness. So I do these things. So what? I feel angry with-at myself and don't even feel like I deserve to feel good. Or maybe I've grown so used to a pill doing it for me, I've learned this dysfunction.
Good Lord, I'm screwed up.
three steps forward...
I'm having to face some uncomfortable things about myself and I want to document them, BUT I don't want anyone that knows me to see these things, so I set out to create a new blog, but I couldn't think of a name for it that wasn't already taken. Then I felt pressure to be cute or clever or original, and began to feel anxious about even writing a blog. Then I realized that although I started this blog some 3+ years ago, it has only had 4 hits, so the odds of ANYONE I even remotely know stumbling across this are so infinitesimal as to be ludicrous, so I decided finally to throw caution to the wind, and simply post here.
I am fat. I am right at 200 lbs. And I have been this way for awhile, a few years, now. I never dreamed I would get this fat. Pleasantly plump, sure. A roll here & there, OK. But this? No. And the weird thing is it isn't until I see pictures of myself that I even recognize how big I am. Which brings me to another struggle: denial.
Denial is easy when reality is avoided or escaped entirely. Which has indeed been the case for me for several years, due in large part to the prescription medications I've been on for the last several years. It really started when I caught mono during my tortuous, acrimonious divorce. It was the most bewildering time of my life. One day I'm teaching a Sunday School class on how to be an excellent wife, and within 9 months, I'm divorcing an abusive, drug- and porn- addicted raging, out of control being that I had never known before. And we had a 3 yr old boy to boot. The boy is actually the main reason I had to get out of that marriage, because although I was willing to take the abuse of living with an active poly-addict, I was absolutely not ever going to allow my precious son to grow up living like that and thinking it was normal. It's like I could see the future and how twisted our home was and would become, and I knew too much to continue to pretend that it was normal or acceptable. Not for my own sake, because I'd written my own life off long ago. But for my boy, I had to get the hell out of there and away from that man. Which proved way harder than I ever dreamed was possible, due to his sociopathic nature mixed with heavy drug use. He was NOT going to let me go, not because he loved me, mind you, but because I couldn't have "his" son. He was pathological in his torment of me, and though he never hit me, he did make my life hell.
I'd moved with him to a small town that he was from shortly after we married. I knew no one. His grown son was on the local police force. Oh yeah, he has a grown son. He's 12 yrs older than I and had been married three times prior. Oh, and he was in prison a few times, for drug charges, DWIs, assaults, etc. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He was so funny, could be the most charming man, made me feel like I was special because he chose to give me attention. And he was quite handsome. Great features. And he could make me laugh like no other human being has ever made me laugh. He was a little broken, basically a good guy who got mixed up with bad things due to an extremely physically and mentally abusive father. He was part little boy needing love and part grown man demanding attention, and eventually, obedience.
We met at an outpatient drug treatment facility. We were both clean 3 or 4 years I think, when we met. His road there and my road there were very different, yet shared common incidents and accidents, much like all addicts do. I am an "only" child, born to a mother who was married to a man, it turns out, was not my biological father. It was the mid-1960s, and Mom was running with a fast crowd of the intellectual writer sort. Think Hunter S. Thompson lite. By the time she married the man I called Dad, she was on her third marriage, and she was just 27, I think. What dhappened was, she was dating Dad, an Annapolis grad turned Dallas Morning News writer, but had had a crush for awhile on another writer, who I'll call W2-- writer 2-- who ran in the same crowd, and one night, love, liquor, & lust I guess, took over and after what I assume was a drunken roll in the hay, I was conceived. From what I gather, Mom & W2 discussed what was to be done, and they seemed to agree to let Dad think I was his, since that relationship had legs, while W2 was no where near love and marriage where that was concerned. Dad loved Mom. Adored her. Even though she was, from all accounts, a pathetic drunk, she was still quite lovely, well-bred and well-educated, a writer herself, she would later spend endless hours banging away at the Smith-Corona, cigarette in hand, endeavoring to write the Great American Novel. How cliché, I know. But it's the truth. And before anyone starts thinking I'm culling material from Augusten Burroughs, let me assure you, I was as startled to read & watch the similarities of our lives played out in pages or on the screen as anyone. I feel for Augusten deeply, though I don't know him at all, I do know some of what having a crazy, drunk and/or overmedicated mother is like and how it feels to feel responsible for making said mother--what? sane? happy? normal?
Anyway, my earliest memories of my mother were of her asleep on the couch. This is of particular significance to me because of ways my own mothering would eventually play out. So Mom slept a lot. Now I can infer that she was often passed out or hung over. By this time, we were living in Silver Spring, MD and Dad had a great job in the political machine on Capitol Hill. He was a heavy drinker, but an equally hard worker, and was instrumental in getting several politicians elected to national office. I still have a copy of the Congressional Record where he was eulogized by members of Congress and everyone remembered him as a good, honest man who worked hard. By all accounts these assessments are accurate and true. In fact, at some point in my infancy, apparently my Mom somehow let it "slip" that I wasn't Dad's, but W2's. And at that point they still all socialized together, part of a larger group. And by socialized, I mean got drunk, smoked weed, did whatever recreational drugs were around, stopping short of any "hard" drugs, of course. I guess. It was really all very DC cocktail-party respectable most of the time, but occasionally, depending on the guest list, would devolve into some flat out getting hammered. W2 was especially notorious for his appetite for booze and drugs, however, he did manage to get & keep a job at Sports Illustrated, wrote for Texas Monthly, wrote a few screenplays, one which would star Steve McQueen. He also went on years later to write a smash best-seller on the subject of golf. His true passion, though, was the Western, specifically the Texas Western. He did well for himself, had himself a good wife or two, along with some legitimate children, whom I have yet to meet, but do keep up with on Facebook. How very 21st century of us.
Anyhoo, legend has it W2 stopped by Mom & Dad's & they took him up to my room where I was asleep in my crib, where Mom stage-whispered to W2, "She's YOURS, you know." Dad must have been so proud. I guess it wasn't too long after that that the marriage fell apart, not that it was much of a partnership to begin with. Dad went to work each day in DC, Mom mostly slept on the couch, and obviously she managed more because I'm still alive, I just don't really remember much interaction with her. I do remember lots of TV and loving Sesame Street. Around that time, Mom realized she could not drink like a normal person, and she joined AA. And she got sober! So that was great. But she also got acquainted with a man who would become husband #4, a 70s-era cool dude who wore lots of denim, had a long ponytail, and smoked a lot of marijuana. Oh, Mom did too; that's how they stayed sober! They quit drinking by staying perpetually stoned. And Ben could not have been more different from Dad. Ben was a smooth talker, dirty walker, LOL! no, he was pretty much a straight-up hippie, while Dad was pretty straight-laced. I mean, dad had his moments, but for the most part was conservative and pretty straight-laced. Respectable. More the kind of man you would want your daughter to marry. Ben was more the type you would have to kick out of your daughter's bed.
I guess I was probably about 5 when Mom left Dad to move into a tiny, roach infested apartment with Ben and me. This was the point I was introduced to preschool, daycare, post-school, and lots of babysitters. But it was all okay with me. I didn't know what normal was, so this was just my life. I wasn't abused or horribly neglected, I just sort of went with the flow.
I am fat. I am right at 200 lbs. And I have been this way for awhile, a few years, now. I never dreamed I would get this fat. Pleasantly plump, sure. A roll here & there, OK. But this? No. And the weird thing is it isn't until I see pictures of myself that I even recognize how big I am. Which brings me to another struggle: denial.
Denial is easy when reality is avoided or escaped entirely. Which has indeed been the case for me for several years, due in large part to the prescription medications I've been on for the last several years. It really started when I caught mono during my tortuous, acrimonious divorce. It was the most bewildering time of my life. One day I'm teaching a Sunday School class on how to be an excellent wife, and within 9 months, I'm divorcing an abusive, drug- and porn- addicted raging, out of control being that I had never known before. And we had a 3 yr old boy to boot. The boy is actually the main reason I had to get out of that marriage, because although I was willing to take the abuse of living with an active poly-addict, I was absolutely not ever going to allow my precious son to grow up living like that and thinking it was normal. It's like I could see the future and how twisted our home was and would become, and I knew too much to continue to pretend that it was normal or acceptable. Not for my own sake, because I'd written my own life off long ago. But for my boy, I had to get the hell out of there and away from that man. Which proved way harder than I ever dreamed was possible, due to his sociopathic nature mixed with heavy drug use. He was NOT going to let me go, not because he loved me, mind you, but because I couldn't have "his" son. He was pathological in his torment of me, and though he never hit me, he did make my life hell.
I'd moved with him to a small town that he was from shortly after we married. I knew no one. His grown son was on the local police force. Oh yeah, he has a grown son. He's 12 yrs older than I and had been married three times prior. Oh, and he was in prison a few times, for drug charges, DWIs, assaults, etc. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He was so funny, could be the most charming man, made me feel like I was special because he chose to give me attention. And he was quite handsome. Great features. And he could make me laugh like no other human being has ever made me laugh. He was a little broken, basically a good guy who got mixed up with bad things due to an extremely physically and mentally abusive father. He was part little boy needing love and part grown man demanding attention, and eventually, obedience.
We met at an outpatient drug treatment facility. We were both clean 3 or 4 years I think, when we met. His road there and my road there were very different, yet shared common incidents and accidents, much like all addicts do. I am an "only" child, born to a mother who was married to a man, it turns out, was not my biological father. It was the mid-1960s, and Mom was running with a fast crowd of the intellectual writer sort. Think Hunter S. Thompson lite. By the time she married the man I called Dad, she was on her third marriage, and she was just 27, I think. What dhappened was, she was dating Dad, an Annapolis grad turned Dallas Morning News writer, but had had a crush for awhile on another writer, who I'll call W2-- writer 2-- who ran in the same crowd, and one night, love, liquor, & lust I guess, took over and after what I assume was a drunken roll in the hay, I was conceived. From what I gather, Mom & W2 discussed what was to be done, and they seemed to agree to let Dad think I was his, since that relationship had legs, while W2 was no where near love and marriage where that was concerned. Dad loved Mom. Adored her. Even though she was, from all accounts, a pathetic drunk, she was still quite lovely, well-bred and well-educated, a writer herself, she would later spend endless hours banging away at the Smith-Corona, cigarette in hand, endeavoring to write the Great American Novel. How cliché, I know. But it's the truth. And before anyone starts thinking I'm culling material from Augusten Burroughs, let me assure you, I was as startled to read & watch the similarities of our lives played out in pages or on the screen as anyone. I feel for Augusten deeply, though I don't know him at all, I do know some of what having a crazy, drunk and/or overmedicated mother is like and how it feels to feel responsible for making said mother--what? sane? happy? normal?
Anyway, my earliest memories of my mother were of her asleep on the couch. This is of particular significance to me because of ways my own mothering would eventually play out. So Mom slept a lot. Now I can infer that she was often passed out or hung over. By this time, we were living in Silver Spring, MD and Dad had a great job in the political machine on Capitol Hill. He was a heavy drinker, but an equally hard worker, and was instrumental in getting several politicians elected to national office. I still have a copy of the Congressional Record where he was eulogized by members of Congress and everyone remembered him as a good, honest man who worked hard. By all accounts these assessments are accurate and true. In fact, at some point in my infancy, apparently my Mom somehow let it "slip" that I wasn't Dad's, but W2's. And at that point they still all socialized together, part of a larger group. And by socialized, I mean got drunk, smoked weed, did whatever recreational drugs were around, stopping short of any "hard" drugs, of course. I guess. It was really all very DC cocktail-party respectable most of the time, but occasionally, depending on the guest list, would devolve into some flat out getting hammered. W2 was especially notorious for his appetite for booze and drugs, however, he did manage to get & keep a job at Sports Illustrated, wrote for Texas Monthly, wrote a few screenplays, one which would star Steve McQueen. He also went on years later to write a smash best-seller on the subject of golf. His true passion, though, was the Western, specifically the Texas Western. He did well for himself, had himself a good wife or two, along with some legitimate children, whom I have yet to meet, but do keep up with on Facebook. How very 21st century of us.
Anyhoo, legend has it W2 stopped by Mom & Dad's & they took him up to my room where I was asleep in my crib, where Mom stage-whispered to W2, "She's YOURS, you know." Dad must have been so proud. I guess it wasn't too long after that that the marriage fell apart, not that it was much of a partnership to begin with. Dad went to work each day in DC, Mom mostly slept on the couch, and obviously she managed more because I'm still alive, I just don't really remember much interaction with her. I do remember lots of TV and loving Sesame Street. Around that time, Mom realized she could not drink like a normal person, and she joined AA. And she got sober! So that was great. But she also got acquainted with a man who would become husband #4, a 70s-era cool dude who wore lots of denim, had a long ponytail, and smoked a lot of marijuana. Oh, Mom did too; that's how they stayed sober! They quit drinking by staying perpetually stoned. And Ben could not have been more different from Dad. Ben was a smooth talker, dirty walker, LOL! no, he was pretty much a straight-up hippie, while Dad was pretty straight-laced. I mean, dad had his moments, but for the most part was conservative and pretty straight-laced. Respectable. More the kind of man you would want your daughter to marry. Ben was more the type you would have to kick out of your daughter's bed.
I guess I was probably about 5 when Mom left Dad to move into a tiny, roach infested apartment with Ben and me. This was the point I was introduced to preschool, daycare, post-school, and lots of babysitters. But it was all okay with me. I didn't know what normal was, so this was just my life. I wasn't abused or horribly neglected, I just sort of went with the flow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
