What if I just jumped in?

Yesterday at MOMSnext (think MOPS but for moms with school aged kids) the speaker posed a couple of questions.  These questions have been gnawing at me anyway but hearing them verbalized quickened the nudging in my own soul.  She asked, What is it that God is calling you to dive into?  You know what it is because it has already been nagging at your brain. What is the voice in your head saying that is preventing you from stepping out into that calling?

I had planned on either not answering or keeping it shallow.  Several ladies that I work with are in my MOMSnext group and I didn't really want to bare my soul in front of coworkers.  But if you know me at all, you know that if you directly ask me a question, I will give you a direct answer.  I don't lie well and I really don't see the point of lying anyway.  I tend to be far more of an open book than is probably beneficial.  So I answered the questions when my coworker looked me in the eye and said, "So what about you Dawn?  What is God doing in your life, how is He moving and how is He asking you to plunge all in?"  And here is the truth about what is going on in my heart.

What is God asking me to plunge in to?  I'm supposed to write.  And over the last year I have been feeling a nagging at my soul that the writing is supposed to turn into speaking at some point. When I came to my current job, I felt very strongly that the Lord was telling me that it is a place where He will grow me and stretch me, that it is to be a training ground for wherever He takes me next.  I don't want to stretch and grow.  Growing hurts.  God and I have been battling that out for a while now. 

What is the voice in my head that is keeping me from doing what God is calling me to?  No one wants to hear my story, no one wants to listen to what I have to say.  That is the voice in my head.

And then there is the fear of the ripple effect of how this will impact the lives of my family outside of Hubby and the kids.  My in-laws are the most private people on the planet and I'm pretty sure that as much as they love me, they think I share WAAAAAAAAY too much.  My parents, well that is its own complicated drama.  I also want to find the boundary of while telling my story, protecting other people's stories.  Other stories play into my story and I want to find a way to be true to myself without crossing over into a realm of gossip and divulging things that are not my place to divulge.

I'd rather follow God's leading in a small and safe area than step out in faith.  I'd rather write on a blog that I don't advertise that each post gets between 5-15 views.  I'd rather not speak at all.  What if God leads me big and I totally blow it?  What if I cause more than a ripple effect in my family and instead of ripple circles, huge tsunami wave wash over us and leave a wake of devastation?

I'm terrified to take that step. I love to write, it ignites my soul, and I have no earthly clue what I would do if more than a couple of dozen people were to see something that I wrote.  I have no college degree.  I'm sure my writing would drive more than a couple of grammar snobs or editors completely bonkers.  It isn't perfect, neither am I.  What if being imperfect is not really what people want to see?

live free or die trying

My day started yesterday with scripture going through my head.  Thank God that it did because I needed that to carry me through the rest of the day. (I'm just writing right now, not looking up the reference because I'm on a limited amount of time.)

"It is for freedom that Christ has set you free."

Hmmmmm, freedom.  What does it really mean to live free?  I pondered the question through the morning.  I looked up the definition of free in my lovely Webster's Dictionary on my desk. 

 

free: adj  1.not imprisioned or constrained 2. not under necessity or obligation .....

4a.not affected by a specified circumstance or condition......7a. not being occupied or used

freeing 1.to set at liberty 2. to release or rid 3. to untangle or clear

 

Free.  I'm not feeling very free right now.  How do I live in the freedom that Christ has given me?  How do I live not imprisioned to eating disorders?  What exactly does that look like?

 

Ok, now fast forward to later in the day.  I'm surrounded by people who have decided that mexican is the fare for the day.  Already struggling, this was a bit of a freaky choice for me but I was bound and determined to get over myself and enjoy the time together.  But then they talked about weight, hunger cues, body image, NUMBERS, and everyone had an opinion about eating disorders that they felt the need to share.  It isn't what you think it is.  It isn't about what you think it is about. 

 

Is it about weight and size?  Yes, but not in a vain sort of way, because it isn't actually about weight and size at all.  I don't care what the measurements say, what society says, what friends say, I am convinced that my hips are huge.  What I see when I look in the mirror, though not truth, is still what I see! It isn't really about society saying skinny is good, but it is about the fact that I feel like the less physical space I take up then the less people will see me.  I sometimes really do long to be invisible and let no one see the hurts inside of me.

 

I texted Hubby, I told him that I wanted to run and hide.  I told him that I wanted to curl up under the covers.  I told him that I just wanted to get drunk.  Yes, go ahead and hold that shocked face and wag your finger at me.  Good Christian girls sometimes just want to get drunk to escape their reality too!  I wanted to escape but there was no where to escape to. 

 

Did they know that the voices in my head were already loud?  Did they know that the conversation made the voices turn to screaming and demeaning?  The orange inside of my head hates that I still ate with them.  The orange inside of my head is telling me that I'm not worth taking care of.  The orange inside of my head is angry, really really angry.  And she is letting me know it.

 

And somehow in the midst of it all, I still find a little part of me that really wants freedom.  There is a little part that wants to not live affected by a specified condition.  There is a part of me that wants to live not under necessity or obligation.  That voice needs to start talking louder than the voice of slavery and quickly.  That seed of longing needs to produee something bigger than the seed of hatred that demands that I am not good enough and that I need to be punished.

7 almonds a.k.a. screw the new health class

I swear that if I hear one more person tell me that you can only eat 7 almonds for your liver to function properly, that I will scream!  If I hear one more conversation in the lunch room about sugar grams, fat grams, appropriate forms of protien, I may pull out all of my hair! But hey, at least I could make bald a new fashion statement, right? 

I think that for the next 6 weeks of this stupid health class I will be enjoying lunch anywhere but the lunchroom!  Sitting at my desk with my oatmeal and facebook suddenly seems like the best option EVER.  I want to scream at the top of my lungs.  I want to tell people that sometimes there is such a thing as "too healthy".  I want them to know that sometimes people like me take knowledge of health and distort it and use it as a weapon against my body instead of a tool to help my body.

I still read labels.  I still refuse certain ingrediants.  And I also am trying really hard to balance that with moderation.  You know, the kind of moderation that says it is ok if someone brings in cookies to work to have one in spite of the fact that there is no label for me to read.  The kind of moderation that that knows that homemade veggie lasagna is still a healthy option, even though it has noodles in it.  The kind of moderation that has lacked in my life for a while now.

For the record, work is very orange enabling right now.  I could count my almonds like they recommend, or I could trust that my nutritionist knows what she is talking about when she tells me that 1/4 cup is a serving and to not measure or count but instead trust my intuition.  My health depends on trusting my nutritionist right now and not letting other voices interfere with the plan that she has laid out for me.  That is so much easier to say than to do.

HR confessions and more

I've had so many thoughts attacking my brain that I haven't even known where to start or the words to say to debrief.  Sunday was a beautiful day of worship at church.  For a while I was able to bask in the presence of the Almighty.  I was able to worship without reservation.  For a few moments and for a few hours later, I felt at peace.  I felt that my life really mattered.  I knew that my sole purpose in life is to bring glory and honor to the Lord, to reflect Him and the work He is doing in my life.  For a few moments, the size of my body didn't matter and didn't even cross my mind.

Today was a rough day.  Nothing specific, just felt like going through the motions was like waking through mud today.  I am so grateful for those moments in time, like Sunday, when I feel the Lord's presence so profoundly.  Those moments carry me through the rest of the days when I struggle desperately.  Today I didn't feel God, not even once but times like Sunday remind me that He is there even though I don't feel His presence.

Is it completely wrong for the girl who loves God, who believes He is good even when life isn't, who works for a Christian ministry, to say things like I didn't feel God today?  Does that mean, as was so often told to me growing up, that I don't really trust Him because I don't always feel Him?  Does it make my faith less if I share my doubts and fears?  I don't know the answer.  I do know though that on days like today, I have to hold on to what I know to be true not what I feel to be true.

Today brought the opportunity to talk to the HR person at my work.  I really like her and I trust her.  I went into her office and told her about my concerns with the health class that our work is sponsoring being either triggering or enabling to me.  She is the only person at my work who I have told that I struggle to eat, that I have major depressive disorder, and that some days going though the motions is overwhelming.

I told her I don't want to make this public knowledge at the moment.  I don't want my plate analyzed by every person in the office.  I don't want the calorie police hovering over me and worrying even when I'm doing ok.  (I told Hubby that calories are the little bastards that hide in your closet and sew your clothes smaller while you sleep.  He laughed.  And that is completely off subject and random. :)  )

On a food note, I'm both struggling and doing well.  I'm maintaining but at the moment the thoughts are pretty aggressive.  Like for instance, I had my physical recently.  My weight was satisfactory.  My ideal however, I realized in reading through my journal, is 5 lbs lighter than what my ideal was this time last year.  I feel the viciousness of the cycle that insists that no matter how much you lose, it isn't good enough for Orange.

My doctor allowed me to opt out of the metabolism screening which is good, that is always very triggering to me.  So I didn't have the extent of numbers to contend with that I usually have but I still had the scale numbers to contend with.  I still had questions from the new nurse wondering if I'm eating enough calories.  I told her yes.  And then I told her that I'm not counting them so I suppose I'm getting enough.  When I'm counting them I know I'm not getting enough.

For the TMI part but it does show how distorted Orange can be.... Before my physical I had a severe kidney infection.  The medicine I had to take for it backed up my bowels a LOT.  The doctor recommended some different products to help cleanse my colon without being laxatives.  It took several days to get back to being able to go.  Then for a day it turned into diarrhea and I stopped taking the supplements.  Today I contemplated starting them again.  The conversation in my head went something like this:

You should finish the full 14 days

No, I don't want to deal with cramping stomach and emergency trips to the bathroom

Yes, but think of the weight you are losing in cleansing

But the goal of cleansing is to be healthy and get my system jump started a little to get back in the swing of things, it isn't supposed to be about the weight
Keep taking it.  A little diarrhea shouldn't be enough to stop you.  You can still be in control but really, isn't the diarrhea worth it for what it will do to flatten out your stomach?

And just that quickly the battle is raging again.  In my actions I am still pursuing recovery.  I am still striving to beat the voice in my head.  Sadly though, that voice isn't little and it torments me day and night right now.  I covet your prayers right now as the voices are really loud.  Please pray for strength for the battle and peace for my heart. 

There is still so much more  but I've already made this really long and also it is getting very late and I need to attempt to sleep.  I need rest so I can be productive at work tomorrow.

Perfect

                                  
I'm struggling with doing this challenge right now.  And oddly enough, it has much to do with this word.  Perfect.  I wanted so badly to do this right but I got tired, I went out with friends, I spent time with my family and then I realized that I wasn't doing this challenge perfectly.  I cannot keep up.  I even started out behind.

I'm at this strange place in recovery.  I am angry with myself for not being able to blog every single day to a new word.  And yet, I realize, maybe for the first time in my life, that the reason I haven't kept up is that I am actually LIVING my life.  I'm going to concerts with girl friends, I'm tucking my kids into bed, I'm having sex with my husband, I'm getting to bed early enough to be productive at work.  I'm living instead of hiding on my blog.  And that is ok, good even.

Not to say that blogging is bad.  It isn't.  I love my little spot in the world where I can just be, no matter what it is that I need to be.  This is therapeutic for me.  But I can't let it control me either.  I nearly gave up on this challenge.  I had intended to since I'm so far behind.  Then I saw the word perfect today.  I strive so hard for perfection that I was about to quit rather than be less than perfect. 

The dream of perfection is a hard one to leave behind.  I wish I could tell you that every day I just accept myself and all of my imperfections.  I wish that I could tell you that I am always, or even usually, as willing to love living and be able to accept imperfection as well as I just did two paragraphs ago.  Sadly, that is not the case.

I'm learning to live again.  But giving up perfection is still hard.  Acknowledging my limitations is still difficult.  I still think that the physical laws of nature should apply to others but not me.  I still think sometimes that perfection is achievable.  The important part in it all though is that I'm making progress.  I'm learning to accept myself, slowly but surely.  I'm learning to live.  I am learning that perfection is not realistic.  I am learning that I am enough, exactly how I am.

And I'm grateful for those lessons though sometimes overwhelmed and scared by them.

lunchroom chronicles

I'm trying so hard and I'm so tired.  Office lunch hour I must figure out how to do healthily.  After 2 days of being able to skip the whole horrible affair, today I tested the waters again.  At first it was manageable with the anxiety not being overwhelming.  I made sure to sit with the 2 ladies who were in the lunchroom.  After all, my job is with a Christian ministry and much of my job revolves around cultivating relationships.

Shortly before my lunch time ended, several other ladies came into the lunchroom.  Someone pointed out that everyone had a salad for lunch.  I had already finished, but boy was I glad that I had brought salad, wouldn't want anyone to think poorly of me based on my lunch choices.  And then it started, fat talk.  Diet talk.  I'm not good enough just the way I am talk.

"Are you doing THE diet again?"  "Yeah, but only for ten days."  "I need to do IT again."  "You shouldn't do it, you are supposed to be training and you need the extra protein and calories."  "I'm just going to do it for swimsuit season and then get back to training."  "Yeah, I'm doing it too, I need to lose about 10 more pounds."

The talk was swirling around in my brain and I just wanted to scream "STOP" and run from the room and hide.  I guess I had hoped that working in this office, though filled with women, would be different from other places.  I thought a place of ministry would be my refuge from the storm of orange inside of me.  I so wanted a shelter from the storm, a safe place, a place where orange would be easier to keep at bay.

I guess it turns out that women are women and we all battle this perfect body bullcrap, even in places that should be safe.  My anxiety skyrockets just thinking about lunch tomorrow.  Do I eat at my desk, like I did on Monday, just to avoid the triggering conversation?  Do I keep trying to make friends and build bridges and eat in that lunchroom? 

I've had a hard time wanting to eat anyway but I have been putting one foot in front of the other, making myself stay present and in the moment, and making the choice to eat anyway.  Everything in my head is screaming at me.  I want to say that the voices aren't bothering me, but I'd be lying.  The diet talk in the lunchroom has my head spinning.  I'm wondering what food games will be played here and wondering how I can minimize their damage to a firm and yet very shaky recovery place.

how did you do it?

I was chatting with a customer tonight at work.  We started talking about the wildfires here in Colorado right now, then about the wind and then about our kids.  It was a pleasant conversation until it came up how many kids I have.  She looked straight at my stomach and said incredulously, "YOU have THREE kids?????"  I smiled, forcing myself to not mention that I had just watched her stare at my stomach and confirmed, yep, three boys.

And then she said it.  "Wow!  How did you lose the weight?  You look fabulous. I'm still 40 lbs more than I used to be. How did you get your body back?"  And then I said it.  You don't want this body.  It hasn't been worth it, the 40lbs would be better. You don't want to live this life.

She suddenly looked at me with empathy and comfort instead of awe.  She assured me of my beauty and told me to not dwell on my perception of my body.  And I'm grateful for that.  But it is still hard that someone looked that closely at my body when I'm afraid to look closely at it myself.

weight gain *dislike*

Thanks to Hubby's "and" rule, I just had some peanut butter and milk with my banana.  I didn't exactly feel thrilled about that.  I have scoured the leaflet about my latest medicine.  I was convinced that I would find weight gain as one of the side affects.  But, no, there is not one word about weight gain in any form (even by increased appetite).  If anything the opposite should be true because nausea, vomiting and diarrhea are common side affects.  I have no vomiting or diarrhea.  I have no increased appetite.  I do, however, have more around my middle than I did have.  Not liking that!

I had been eager for my period to start this month because it always cures the "fat blues".  Unfortunately, this month when my period came, the pooch didn't go away.  I'm convinced that I look pregnant, though everyone else is too kind to agree.  It didn't used to be about my body looking a certain way.  It used to be about hurt and control and numbness.  It still centers on those things but somewhere along the way, how my body looks and feels has also become a bigger issue.  It used to be just to cope.  When did that change?  Why did that change?

I'm in the low phase of my "body bi-polar".  Body bi-polar,you know, when one day you can look in the mirror and say, "Ok, if this is as good as it gets, I'm ok with that" vs. "I can't live in this body.  It feels so foreign to me and looks so hideous!"  I'm in the second one.

I just can't get past the line in the song I shared that says, "Those damaged goods you see, in your reflection.  Love sees it differently, love sees perfection."  How?  How can love, that of my Savior and that of my husband see perfection?  Wish I could see what they see.

e.d talks in orange (previously titled: ahhhhh, much better)

Ok, now that my everyone in my house is sleeping peacefully and I can think straight instead of just having random emotions dive bomb me sporadically, I'm back.  My house is quiet, my beer is not quite cold but not warm either, and my brain is focused.

This morning was the follow up to the thyroid check I had 2 weeks ago.  I stepped on the scale, facing forward, confident that I was going to be ok.  The number wasn't actually too scarey.  I half smiled.  Then e.d spoke.  "You know, that number isn't too terrible.  It is only a pound higher than your desired weight and 6 pounds higher than your ideal weight.  That would be easy enough to get rid of."  Wait, where the heck did that voice in my head just come from.  Wasn't I just ok with the number a moment ago?  I had just half smiled because I knew my doctor wasn't going to scold me.  I knew this number was still within my acceptable range.  But for a moment, e.d. told me it wasn't actually an acceptable number.

So then there was actually seeing the doctor.  She was going over my thyroid labs, explaining them to me.  She informed me that we have over-corrected my thyroid and now it is functioning too high (and for anyone out there with endocrinology experience, I do know know that running "high" is actually a lower number and running "low" is a higher number!) .  Grrr, come on body, find your balance!  She asked me a series of questions, the first being, "Have you had any unexplained weight loss?"  Well, yes, now that you mention it.  I did ask my hubby just yesterday if he thought I had lost weight again.  My shorts that fit well just last week were pretty loose this week.  He said he thinks I have, but said I don't look unhealthy at this point.  She concurred.  I am down ____ lbs since March.  She isn't worried.  I'm still within healthy range, though on the lower end of it.  She said it is because my thyroid is running so high right now.

So we are decreasing my dose of thyroid meds, which I'm actually glad about.  I was so jacked the past few times that I have had a thyroid test, that my dosage had gotten high enough that it required 2 pills because I had exceeded the highest dose they make.  I do not mind going down to just 1 pill.  Then e.d spoke.  "You do know that when your thyroid balances out and quits being hyperactive that you will gain weight, don't you?  You know, you could keep taking the full dose.  She would never know unless you told her and then your weight wouldn't go back up."  E.d. lies.  My body won't properly use the nutrients that I give it if I let it continue out of control, and yet e.d tried to tell me that wouldn't be a big deal.

*****in case you are wondering, the voice of e.d being in orange is not a coincidence.  orange is probably my least favorite in the rainbow.  E.d's voice is the color I like least so that I can actually see how much I dislike it!  Yes, my logic is interesting, but it works for me :)

I don't think I actually was able to acknowledge how far I have come until I spoke with the doctor.  It was encouraging to be able to look her in the eye when she asked me questions.  It was encouraging to hear her comment on the difference in me in the last year.  I'm actually making progress!  Yay for progress!

The other things of the day weren't as big as they felt earlier.  I am still discouraged in the taking care of the house aspect though.  I need someone who can help me get through this, someone who can teach me and not judge me at the same time.  In a perfect world I would have someone who was both a professional organizer and a therapist all in one who could help me clean up and deal with whatever the issues are that are contributing to my chaos.  Oh, yeah, and their help would be free because we cannot even afford ANY extras right now!

It is hard knowing there is a massive perfectionist in me when I look around.  Earlier, when I was over the top upset, all I could think of was, "I can't even be a perfectionist right!  What is wrong with me?!?"  Only I would think such a silly thought.

So that was my day.  On a side note I may soon be employed by someone who pays me with real money instead of hugs and kisses.  Now, don't get me wrong, I love getting paid in hugs, kisses, colored pictures and "I love you mommy!" 's, but to be able to contribute to our financial situation and still get to spend most of my day with my boys sounds wonderful.  I'll only tell you more if I get the job (I don't care if it is nearly for sure, I'm not talking about it until it is really for sure!).

On another side note, this morning I told my doctor how much you all have played in my recovery.  The support I feel when I'm overwhelmed, having a rough day, hating my body, or crying when I eat is unparalleled.  I'm guessing that a bunch of people who have affected my story, don't even know I exist.  Not only do I get great encouragement from you guys, I also find that those you follow give me great encouragement as well.  You guys are an amazing support system and I love you all!  Thanks for making the journey of recovery as pleasant as it is possible for it to be.

my idol

I am annoyed and convicted about my quest for perfection.  Only one is perfect, God.  Only one man to walk the earth was perfect, Jesus, God incarnate.  Who do I think I am to think I deserve the status of perfect?

Another once wanted what only God had.  He was kicked out of heaven, out of the presence of the Almighty.  By any name he is still the same, Lucifer, Satan, the devil.  He thought he deserved a place that only God could have.

I am my own idol.  I desire what only God can have, perfection.  To be imperfect is to be human.  To hate my own humanity is to deny my creator.  To think that I could ever attain perfection is to say that I think that I am more important than God. 

My body is my idol.  My control is my idol.  I am my idol.  I put myself in a place that belongs to God alone, that is idolatry.  I think I can do it all on my own.  I can't.  I wasn't made to make it on my own.  I was made to need a Savior. 

If I could be perfect, why would I need God?  Why would I need redemption?  Why would I worship anything but myself?  I am not perfect.  I will never be perfect.  And the longer it takes me to accept that about myself, the longer I deny the power of God at work in me. 

Not even God expects me to be perfect.  If He did, He wouldn't have sent His Son.  He would have expected me to make it on my own without His grace and mercy.  God doesn't ask me to be perfect, He asks me to follow Him.  He asks me to trust Him, even when I can't see where He is taking me.  He asks to use my brokenness to allow Him to shine through the cracks. 

God doesn't want me to be perfect, He wants me to be human.  He wants His glory to shine through me, not my own accomplishments to shine. 

And yet I still war with the frailty and imperfection of my humanity......

loving my enemies

There is a lot of commands in the Bible about love that keep me going.  Two summers ago, I was completely convicted by the command to love my enemies and pray for those who hurt me.  I had had a rough time with some people and was dreading the new school year and having to face them.  So I wrote out the verses in Luke 6 about loving people who I really didn't feel like loving and put it on my kitchen cabinets where I was daily face to face with it.  Every time the situation came to my mind or the names of the disliked people, I would pray for them.  I would pray that God would help me to love them even though I didn't want to, I would pray that He would help me to be merciful as He is merciful, I prayed that He would draw them unto Himself.  It started out difficult and by the end of summer it was second nature to pray for these people instead of gossip about them.  Over the years I have found praying for people who have hurt me to be helpful to me.  I find myself not harboring the resentment that was once festering.  Not that it is always easy peesy but praying for my "enemies" has become part of me, part of what I do. 

And now I struggle to pray for and love someone who has hurt me in the name of love.  The others did not have emotional attachment to me.  They were people who I've had to deal with in comings and going but not people who are part of my life.  I can distance myself and be objective and wonder what might be going on in their lives to cause them to behave like they do with minimal struggle.  Yet, I cannot seem to have any desire to want to love someone who I should indeed feel love for.

I don't want to pray for my mom.  I am angry with her.  I don't feel love for her right now.  I struggle to even want to love her.  Wow, this is quite an unload.  I try so hard to keep my feelings for her under a veil on my blog because I don't want her to look bad, or maybe because I don't want to look like a bad daughter.  Today though I realize, this is my blog, my emotional outlet, my place to be honest about my feelings and besides, no one in my family reads anything I write anyway. 

Yesterday we had to go over to her house.  I was excited for the reason, to see my extended family that I was moaning about the other day, but I was less than excited to go.  When she called me and bumped dinner up by an hour and the new start time was only 15 minutes away, I lost it.  We got in a nice little yelling match on the phone.  I got off the phone and let the expletives fly.  My hubby then let his expletives fly (in regards to them not at me!).  We both sat in our basement, me crying, both of us venting and swearing and dreading going to see my parents.  Hubby has been bottling feelings of anger and disgust towards my parents since September when I went to the hospital.  Finally they spilled out into our conversation last night.

He is angry that they never got me help.  When I was battling depression that left me regularly attempting suicide, they refused to acknowledge my pain.  They told my principle that I did not need professional help, I just needed more time with God.  When I was wasting away before their eyes, they never acknowledged that I had a problem.  See, good Christians didn't have problems so rather than admit that I had a problem, they pretended it didn't exist.  Hubby is angry that they didn't help me get help when I was younger and that it had a chance to get as bad as it has as an adult.  Now, from a very long time of battling anorexia on my own, I know that even if they had gotten me help when I was younger that relapse is always possible.  And yet, hubby has some points also.  Some of the sh*t that I am working through now should have been handled 2 decades ago and wasn't. 

He is angry that when I was in the hospital that we had to keep it from my parents.  They still don't know that I completely disappeared for a week.  He called in at work and was a single dad for a week with support from his parents and help from them so he could come and visit me on visiting days.  And where were my parents?  Oblivious.  Yes we chose to keep them in the dark.  I have seen the hell my mom has put some of her friends through for being on antidepressants and refuse to go through the same hell for my medications or my hospitalization.  She is convinced that godly people should not need psychiatric drugs.  Hubby feels like in their choosing to ignore all the big issues in my life growing up, that my adult life has been a series of working through things that I should have been already starting working through.

And I am angry.  I feel like no matter how good I am that I'll never quite reach her standards for me.  I'll always be just one task short of being good enough.  I don't understand why she can be a mom to people from their church who don't have family here but she can't be a mom to me.  I don't understand why I'm not loveable, why I am always second best.  I'm really hurt.  Really. Really. Hurt.  How do I love her when everything inside of me wants to hate her?  How do I pray for the one who hurt me who was supposed to love me?  I know that God doesn't ask us to love and then not provide the means to love.  I know He can fill me with His love for her if I ask.  The problem is that I don't want to ask.  I don't want to love her right now. 

I have all of the right answers.  I know that not only has God commanded me to love, He has also said that anyone who harbors hatred is not living in the light (1 John 2).  I guess I need to pray that God will give me the desire to be willing to love her and pray for her.  That is the starting place.  I'm not quite to the point of praying that God will help me to love her as He loves her, I'm at the first baby step of praying that God will make me willing to ask His help in loving someone I don't want to love.

For those of you who have an awesome relationship with your mom, you are so blessed and I envy you!  Treasure that gift.  For those of you who are like me and have rocky relationship with your mom, join me in praying that God would make us willing to be willing. 

The Pursuit of Perfect

I have recently developed the habit of getting audio books when I go to the library.  I love to read but often just don't have the time.  I started getting audio books when I had a cd player in my car and now I play them in my kitchen while I am cooking dinner, doing dishes, and whatever else keeps me in the kitchen kid free for more than 5 minutes.  The other advantage of this is that I have a "dead tree book" (my dad-in-law's phrase since he got his Kindle) that I actually read when I have time to sit down and I have the one I listen to, so I get to have 2 books going at once and both get equal attention.

Currently I am listening to The Pursuit of Perfect by Tal Ben-Shahar. 






My first impression of the audio version is that the guy reading sounds vaguely like a robot and is at times a bit boring to listen to.  But the content of the book, however, fabulous.  I have only listened to the first of 7 discs and so far I have to say this book is hitting home in way too many ways.  I find myself on one hand agreeing with much of what is said and on the other hand wanting to throw my cd player to the ground because it is so right on that it is a bit eerie.  He even addresses eating disorders and the role that perfectionism can play in it.  


One part that resonated is how a perfectionist sees things only in black and white, success and failure.  There is no middle ground.  In the case of eating disorders, the perfection drives one to starve to achieve perfection and there is no moderation.  There is no such thing as one piece of cake because that means failure.  If you have had one piece you may as well finish what's left because you have already failed by swerving from your strict acceptable foods list.  It is all or nothing.  


I have also seen how others expectations of perfection, specifically my mom's, have shaped my own view of what is ok and what is not.  I am suddenly aware that my inner perfectionist has been come by naturally.  I was raised with often times unrealistic expectations and have come to put those on myself.  I don't try new things or like to make decisions because what if I fail?  


The author does a really great job of portraying stories to support the evidence that failure is a necessary part of a healthy life.  It is a terrifying perspective to be sure, but also a healthy one.  It is definitely worth the time to read, especially if you have bold or latent perfectionist tendencies in you.  I would recommend the actual book over the audio on this one.  The content is fabulous but the reader is a little boring.  If audio is all you can get your hands on though, it is still worth it.