Guess what, y'all? It's National Invisible Illness Awareness Week! I'm about half a week late on this, because, guess what else? Yeah, that's right-- I was busy being sick with my invisible illnesses ;) Funny how that works, ain't it?

Anyway, I'll be catching up with a few little things here and there that other bloggers are doing to 'celebrate' this week and to bring awareness to invisible illnesses and what life with them is like, but for now, all I've got is a post from my other blog, the more public one, that gives a little insight into what life is like for the invisibly ill. It's hard to deal with diseases that no one can see, and ones that aren't main-stream, popularly accepted diseases like cancer or ALS or autism. ALS and autism have some symptoms that are on the more visible side, but for the most part they suffer in relative anonymity.

When you have an invisible illness, it's easy to judge and be judged. "But you don't look sick!" I know, I know. In fact, I look pretty good, if you discount the weight gain. (Some would even say that I look better now, with the extra weight and curves, than I did before!) But the suffering is just as real, just as valid, as someone with a broken leg or a shattered spine. My disability is just as devastating and pervasive as anything else you can think of, but I don't have the "legitimacy" of a cast or an IV pole or something tangible that signals I've got a terrible reality squatting on my shoulder at all times. I suppose that I'm "lucky" in that I need my walker, the Bling Chariot, to get around outdoors because it lends me an air of disability that wouldn't be there if I simply limped around and sat whenever I got the chance. People often ask me if I've had surgery or injured my leg somehow, though. When you see an otherwise healthy looking young woman your first thought will probably not be, "I wonder if she is dealing with crippling physical symptoms that have totally devastated her ability to participate in society in a regular manner?" I think that now, when I see people with a particular gait or look on their face. I watch people much more closely now, and I understand a bit more than I did previously, but here's the thing: until you or someone you love has experienced something, you just aren't going to think about it. You don't know, you don't know a damn thing, and you really can't. And you know what? That's okay. That's okay because how could you possibly, unless someone explains it to you?

That's the whole point of Awareness Weeks. People don't know, they don't understand, because it's not visible and it's not obvious and if you haven't had experience with it you could never, ever guess what it's like and what we face. I didn't know. I'd never heard of fibromyalgia or chronic pain or connective tissue disease or Addison's or thyroiditis until they all happened to me. Food allergies I'd heard of, in passing, but I didn't know anything about them until I was forced to, for my own survival. I was told by a doctor yesterday that I am one of the most well-educated patients she's met, and though it's not the first time I've been told that by a medical professional it always shocks me. Shouldn't at least the people who have the diseases care? Shouldn't they want to know, to learn, to be as in control of these crazy diseases as you can via knowledge? But apparently many choose the path of ignorance, even when their very own body is on the line.

In closing, I can tell you that some of the most moving and profoundly meaningful things I've heard since I got sick came from family and friends who have told me that when they learned the name of what I have, they went and researched to understand it better, to understand me and my new reality better. My friend, The Artist, shares stories with me about how she defends me to friends of hers that see my comments and posts on Facebook through her account and question the veracity and legitimacy of my claims. Am I faking it for attention? Exaggerating? Fibromyalgia is just a "throw away" diagnosis; it means the doctors don't know what it is and they tell you that to keep you happy. She's probably not as sick as she claims to be. And so on. But this girl stands up for me, she calls these friends of hers out, and she shares what she's learned from me and from her own research and she shuts those kids the hell up! And it melts my heart with gratitude and something more, every time. It reaffirms my value as a person, as a friend, and her trust in me and the self that I present to the world. In short, her bringing awareness to others on my behalf validates me entirely, and our friendship to boot. It totally almost makes me cry every time I hear about it.

Personally, I think that's how awareness spreads the best-- through the personal connections. I am not going to stop sharing the hell out of articles and pictures and blog posts on Facebook, but it's the personal connection I have with my friends that makes them want to read the articles, to learn more, and to pass on the information to others when they hear ill-informed opinions being bandied about. Truthfully… I'm super humbled by the friends that have stepped forward to be by my side for this lifelong fight I'm enlisted in. There's no way, absolutely no friggin' way, that I could do this well in isolation.

With that in mind, happy National Invisible Illness Awareness Week! May our friendships and relationships be sturdy and true, and may they lead to greater awareness in others… and within ourselves.

So I'm thinking about death tonight. Is that weird?

I'm just thinking… my body is pulling all kinds of crap that it shouldn't be doing, stuff that healthy, normal bodies don't do. I'm not getting better at all. I'm steadily worsening. Does that mean that I'm dying? Like, when do you actually cross the threshold from "sick" to "dying"?

I feel my life force ebbing away a little more each day. Does that qualify?

We had quite the adventure tonight as C advocated for me via phone and (politely and calmly) demanded answers to tough questions. The end result is that I'm not going to the ER tonight, but I am going to raise hell tomorrow to try and get some pain meds that actually work. I've been fluctuating between an 8 and 9 for hours now, and I'm totally exhausted, but I hurt so bad that I can't sleep.

Does that count as dying? I'm certainly not living anymore. I'm just kind of taking up space… bringing smiles and irritated groans wherever I can. I still have hopes and dreams and things that I want to accomplish, to be sure, but I'm not able to do anything about them right now. I simply don't have the energy or the will any longer.

As I lay inert on the couch tonight, fading into the buzz and fuzziness of my mental state (overwhelmed by pain and not able to function properly… how am I even typing coherent sentences?!), I sincerely thought that maybe I was just going to, I dunno, kind of fade out and just… stop being. Right then and there. Clearly, that didn't happen, and mostly because I wanted to update my Facebook status one more time. (Hey, any reason to live, right?)

I thought, though, about what would happen if I did just fizzle out tonight. How would C know who to notify? How would my friends know that I was gone? Would I be happy with what I'd left behind, the blog posts and the Facebook timeline and the conversations with friends and the gifts given and the super hot sex with my husband…?

The answer was yes.

If I were to just fade out tonight, I would have no regrets. I have no bones to pick, no relationships awry that need mending, just a little credit card debt (sorry, honey, I guess you'll have to pick that one up!), and no skeletons in the closet.

Okay, I take that back. I would regret not being able to do more, to give more, to make more of a mark on the world… to make the world a better place. I'm not done yet. I want to help the HJ grow, I want to work with my girls and see them rise triumphant from their broken pasts. I want to paint and see sunsets  and gloriously starry skies in different states. I want to visit the East coast, travel in New England. I want more hot sex. I want to eat pizza even though I'm not supposed to… or maybe a forbidden donut! (There's an awesome allergy friendly bakery in Boston, I think it is, that I really really really want to go to. I miss baked goods!!!) I want to cultivate more friendships and make more people smile. I want to put more good energy out there into the world. I want to visit Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch in Oregon. I want to see my sister K get married this summer. (Though reality whispers that I probably won't be able to do that one, sadly.) I want to make jewelry and sun catchers. I want to cuddle my niece and do silly stuff with my family.

I want more love, more laughter, more life and light and happiness. I would regret missing out on that, being able to create that, that's all.

So, ok, maybe I'm not done yet. But if I do fade away, if I am dying like I feel I am (in a totally non-melodramatic way, you understand), then I shall pass with the knowledge that I am loved, that I have loved, and that I have brought good into the world. That's a good thing to know.

This video I watched this morning perfectly illustrates what I was talking about yesterday, about meeting myself and not defining my worth or capabilities by my appearance. It's definitely, definitely worth a watch.

Sometimes it all just comes crashing down on you and you just need to cry. At least, that's how it is for me. Funny thing is, C has this freaky sixth sense and somehow always just knows when I'm crying, no matter how quiet I think I'm being. And he always comes to find me. Once or twice I've been crying while he's asleep and he woke up to wrap his arms around me and cuddle me. He didn't remember it the next day, though, which I find amusing.

So I was crying in the shower/bathtub in the wee hours of the morning because I couldn't sleep due to so. much. pain., and because I was just so frustrated with my health and how out of control I am of so many things (all traceable to the fact that my health has gone down the crapper and there's nothing I can do about that beyond what I'm already doing) and I hate that I'm gaining weight and can't do diddly squat about it and I'm terrified that C will no longer find me attractive and will be unhappy in our marriage and we'll both just be sad and upset and live these lame lives because I'm sick and fat and sad. I know, I know… silly, right? But when you're hurting very badly and it all just seems so frustrating and unfair, logic seems to step outside for some fresh air and a cigarette break.

I got to thinking, though, as I was sniveling away in the tub, that my appearance is so not all there is to me. I thought about my friends and all the good they see in me, and how they're not friends with me because of my rocking cleavage (although that does help, so I'm told) or my fabulous cheekbones. I started to wonder, what would I think about myself if I were someone else meeting me for the first time or getting to know me?

Here's something a new friend of mine sent to me via a private message on Fb. (I hope she doesn't mind my sharing!)
"I just want to tell you that you're absolutely stunning! Your positive energy and the care I can see you have in you for others. I admire it don't pay attention to the numbers on a scale or douchey doctors! It pains me knowing they don't know what's wrong with someone so kind who doesn't deserve all the mayhem your body is putting you through! Keep a smile on you face because someone is always paying attention to it < 3"

If I were getting to know me, I think this is what I would think. I would think that this person is…

• Funny. She laughs a lot and likes to laugh with others, not at them. If something can be made into a joke, she'll go for it, and she often finds little humors in every day things.
• Smart. She is well spoken, well written, has a large vocabulary, and "has a mind like a trap" according to D. She likes to collect obscure tidbits of knowledge and is fascinated by etymology.
• Kind.
• Giving. She loves to give to others in whatever capacity she can, however little it is.
• Compassionate.
• Stubborn.
• Creative.
• Strong and determined. It takes a special kind of person to withstand those levels of pain and still be able to laugh, smile, and care about other people.
• Ambitious. She has big plans for her life and making the world a better place.
• Talkative. Especially during movies.
• Neat and tidy.
• Sensual. Takes pleasure in the signals received by her senses and in things that bring physical pleasure.
• Has a large, bright smile.
• Thoughtful.
• Skilled at many things. Writing, cooking, creating, interpersonal relationships, attracting and entertaining small children, etc.
• Wise. An old soul.
• Open to growth and learning/Teachable. All this, despite being stubborn.
• Emotional. This is not a weakness, and not a shame.
• Highly relational.
• A nature lover.
• Persistent.
• A lover of the aesthetically pleasing. This goes hand in hand with "sensual".
• Exuberant. Often described as "vivacious", "vibrant", and "bubbly".
• Honest. Hopefully tactful as well.
• Committed.
• Good work ethic.
• Sensitive.
• Loving.
• Encouraging.
• A bit clumsy. Minor injuries are inevitable.
• Responsible.
• Too hard on herself.
• Insecure.
• Authentic.
• Eloquent.
• Adventurous.
• Loyal.

Frankly, this sounds like the kind of person that I'd want to be around, and that I'd want in my life in a big way. Like, she sounds amazing…and none of those qualities and quirks and personality traits that make her amazing have anything to do with appearance. None of them. If I knew a person like this (and I do, actually!), they could be "ugly" according to society's current standard of beauty…but they would still be a desirable person. They would radiate an irresistible quality that would make them attractive on such a deep level that the superficial physical traits would resolve themselves into a beauty of their own. Think about it. If someone is just so wonderful and lovely from the inside out, you find things about them that are attractive, do you not? One day while you are sharing a hilarious joke, you notice the curve of their lips and the slight dimple to one side. As they look deep into your eyes while sharing your pain, you notice the rich and intense color that is only enhanced by the sheen of their sympathetic tears. During a hug, you notice the strength of the muscles rippling in their back, the graceful taper of their fingers and the suppleness of wrist as they hold your hand.

People can be beautiful aesthetically, but a flat, displeasing, or grating personhood will strip them of all attractiveness. All that is left is a lovely shell. Useless. That is not me. My aesthetic beauty has changed, to be sure. I know that I am still attractive, but I do not align so closely anymore with the standard of beauty that is vaunted in our culture at this point. I need to come to terms with that, and to realize that it really is not the most important thing. As I look at the list above…what I would see upon meeting myself, getting to know myself…I find myself very attractive indeed. Or rather, I would if I saw those same things in someone else. It is still so hard to be friends with myself! Step by step, though… I'll get there. Why? Because I'm persistent, and loving, and committed, and kind, and...

May or may not have had a meltdown with C today.

Okay, definitely may.

Fiiiiine... definitely did.

It's just... I've been in so much pain lately, and my fatigue has been thoroughly ridiculous. I'm really not even sure how I managed the honeymoon. I mean, how did I walk around at Sea World and Balboa Park all day? (Well, okay, I didn't. C pushed me around for a good chunk of the day, that's how.) It's nothing short of a miracle.

But I've basically been living in a giant flare hell-hole since the wedding, with a few brief surfacings for air and sanity. I actually had an entire 20 minutes without pain while I was on the acupuncture table the other day. Twenty minutes, y'all. I cannot remember the last time that I was not at least at a 3 on the pain scale for twenty minutes, and I got to be a zero. A ZERO! Yeah, it was pretty freakin' fantastic. I was very sorry when the flood roared back in.

So the past few days it's gotten to the point where just one painkiller doesn't take it down to a manageable level anymore. I can be on two at a time and I'm still floating around a 5 somewhere, barely hanging on to "I can function, I can function, I can... who am I kidding, I'm gonna lay down with my heating pad now."

I'm trying not to be poppin the pills constantly, I really am. I take baths, I stretch, I have the heating pad,  I get C to rub the affected area... and sometimes it helps a little, sometimes it helps some, and every once in a while it makes a noticeable dent for a little while. But always, always... the pain comes back, gnawing at my sanity, my patience, and my optimism. (Also, apparently my guts are back at the point where I'm not allowed to eat without pain, especially protein of any sort. Or fiber. Or... well...)

So today I went to pick up an over the toilet organizer rack dealie, because the new house (which we got the keys to yesterday!) has very little storage space. I mean, like none. No pantry, one cabinet in each bathroom, no linen closet... The only saving grace is that there's a closet in each bedroom and a coat closet in the living room. Oh, and a closet for the washer and dryer to reside in. So we have very limited storage, and I'm gonna have to get creative... and go through all my stuff again and be ruthless in getting rid of non-essentials.

Yes, so, back to the toilet rack. I borrowed C's truck and went to go pick it up. I got it home just fine (it's quite light), and even got it up to the apartment myself, despite, of course, being in bunches of pain and limping and all that... but I was so proud of myself for getting the rack up to the door myself without asking for anyone's help!

That's what did it for me. When I realized that I am now proud to have carried a 5 pound object all of fifty feet.... I pretty much just lost it. Because, really, that's something that I would not even have thought about in my "other life". I would have just grabbed that sucker and carried it inside, gone on with my day, and that's that. But now? Now I'm all like, "Look at me! I carried something! By myself! From the truck to our apartment! Yaaaaaay!"

It's the same feeling of accomplishment I get when I shower. When I shower.

Really? Really?!

So I dissolved into tears, because what kind of a life is this? A life where my accomplishments have been reduced to things so... so pitiful...

And I tearfully told C that I needed a hug, and he came over and wrapped me up in his arms and let me cry, and listened to my sobbed explanation of how sad I was, and how I feel like so much of my life has been stolen from me, and then he wiped away my tears and patted my hand and told me to lay down. So I did. And he sat back down at the computer and proceeded to remind me that I am so much more than just my sickness... I am a person, and being sick is just a little part of my life and who I am. Not only that, but I'm doing the very best that I can, so I just have to remember that, keep doing my best, and not worry about anything else. So I took that and ran with it and kinda pep talked myself back into feeling sort of okay with myself and the world again... and that's where I'm at right now.

I'm still sad, it's true. I'm grieving the life that was... I'm grieving the Saturday that could have been, had I not been sick. There are so many things I'd love to do with today... but I can't. I really just can't.

But there are things I can do. I can spend time with my husband. I can write a blog post. I can continue to plan and plot for our new house. I can go for a (short, very short) walk, and that's what I'm going to do right now.

I'm taking the stick, though.

Okay, I know the title of this post sounds like a downer, but I'm really not depressed or all angsty or anything. It's just how I would sum up my how I was feeling on Saturday.

Going to church screws me up.

As my friend C points out, that may be a good thing.

It brings out all my God-issues again and stirs up the disappointment, the anger, the profound sense of betrayal and loss... the caustic, sarcastic disbelief and the wounded, trembling child.

I don't like it.

But... I think she's right. It is still something that must be dealt with, layer by layer, from the inside out.

I left church because it was the right thing for me. I wasn't able to be healthy there at that time, and I still feel that way. It's not just because it stirs up all that stuff (although I won't lie, that's definitely a motivating factor), but because I always, always slip back into being this fake person, this achiever, this outward-focused, judgmental bitch, and I hate it. The worst part is that most of it is focused on myself. It is almost a given that I will hate myself, hate God, or both while I'm a church-goer.

I can't say that I'm not going back until I learn to get over that stuff, because it could very well be that I need to go back in order to learn to get over that stuff... but it's still not time yet. It's closer than it was, but not yet. I do feel as though I've learned more about myself and who I truly am since I walked out the doors and got rid of the mold I was trying to force myself into. That's been a pleasantly surprising process, and I know I'm far from done. I also know that I don't have to complete it before I go back.

Still, I'm glad I went. My grandparents were so pleased to see me, so excited... it almost made me feel guilty. Almost. It's like their joy at seeing me in church was an unconscious pressure to come back, to make their joy complete... but I can't go back for that reason, either. It wouldn't be real, and I would stifle. So many people had the same response. I felt very loved, yet also... bad. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't know the mindset... the thoughts of "she's a young person wandering from the path but she'll be back..." I guess it just annoys me to think that the path I'm on could be so unworthy that I must be required to abandon it if I am to be "right" again. Blech. I can't even really verbalize this one this time. That's unusual for me.

The hardest part was not God, was not the quiet pressure from the pleased expressions, hugs, and well-meaning questions about where I've been.

The hardest part was the walker.

"What's that for?"
"What happened to you?"
"That's not yours, is it?"
"What do you need that thing for?"
"You're too young to need that!"
And, the very worst...

"What's wrong with you?"

Okay. Pause. Breathe. Think. Process.

I know they mean well. I know they're caring individuals who are shocked to see me with a walker, when the last time they saw me I was walking about freely. I know it's just the car-crash effect, and I know that they ask because they care.

But really?

There is nothing wrong with me. I am not defective because I struggle with constant, overwhelming pain. Just because certain parts of my body don't work as well as they ought to doesn't mean that I am somehow inherently flawed, alright?

When you hear the same thing over and over again, you start to believe it... and I left pretty down. I'd already been struggling with depression for the last week, and yesterday was a tough blow. Fortunately, I have some pretty potent tools in my toolbox, and I was able to avoid sliding into a depressive spiral, but it was tough.

I think the worst part is that I don't look sick. The walker/limp/stiffened gait are really the only outward indicators that I've got any illnesses at all. My wedding pictures are gonna come out great, because I'm slender and fairly toned, my skin is clear and my teeth are white, and my smile is as wide as ever. My thyroid problems don't show up outwardly now that I've got my acne under control. My adrenal issues aren't emblazoned across my forehead. My food allergies don't flash like a neon sign above my head. My miscellaneous gastro problems don't announce their presence via loudspeaker. (Um, unless I'm having flatulence issues... lol) It's just... that walker.

Usually, I'm pretty proud of it. I mean, I know I have to use it, so I might as well rock it, right? It's beautiful, and to me it's a sign that I'm a fighter and an overcomer. I will not let my illnesses keep me housebound or immobile. I will figure out ways around my problems and keep on keeping on.

But on Saturday... I felt like it branded me as some sort of defective piece of lower-class workmanship.

What's wrong with you?

How about this? How about asking me a different set of questions? Something like...
"How are you doing?"
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"You didn't need this before. How are you handling the transition?"
"Is there anything I can do to help?"

I liked the way the young man in Wal-Mart approached me. He pointed out the existence of the walker and politely asked why I needed it. When I told him I had fibromyalgia, the first thing out of his mouth was, "How are you handling the diagnosis?"

Wow. I've never run across that before or since. It really impressed me. I felt like he saw me as a person, not as a "less than" or a poser. I felt like a human being, and it was really nice. I felt the same way I do around C and my other supportive, understanding people, but it was coming from a total stranger.

I tell you, this has definitely impacted my thinking on how I relate to others, and how the questions I ask them might be taken.

Oh, and there is one other thing that I ran across (inevitably)...

Don't try to fix me.

I'm already doing my damned best, and I don't need anyone to imply that I'm not, or that if I did something different that I wouldn't have to be this way...

Because when you try to fix someone and assume they're not already on top of it, you're implying that it's their fault. They wouldn't have to be this way if they didn't want to, because you're offering them the cure! If they don't get better, it's their fault.

I hate, hate, hate that!

It's not my fault, and there's nothing wrong with me, alright?

*sigh* Moving on...

I created an entry for the Spread the Spoonz Awareness Campaign, and this is it:

This is the mantra that I repeat to myself almost every day, especially on days when I just don't "have it", or days when I'm feeling really insecure and inadequate about my performance (or lack thereof) and my inability to do or be everything that I want.

It was a good, fun exercise, especially since I was fighting that darn depression. It was quite therapeutic, and I'm glad that I saved it for that particular day.

C was also a good support. I came home from church and he just held me, listened to me, and let me vent... affirmed me :) He made me laugh, which was great. He also indulged me in my favorite anti-depressant/painkiller. (That's an innuendo, for those of you who didn't catch that.)

I'm glad I'm marrying him. (Five weeks from today! Whoohoo!) He has passed some of the most difficult tests of a true partner, and proven his loyalty, love, and compatibility. What a catch! I only hope that I can be as much of a faithful partner and loving support to him as he is to me. That's what I strive for, every day.

I don't know what to believe.

I'm researching articles on whether food allergies can be cured or not, and it's literally almost an "every other" response- Yes, No, Yes, No.

Actually, many of the places state that food allergies are caused by "leaky gut", which is where the intestines are damaged and allow food particles to get into the bloodstream, causing an immune response. So, the theory goes, if you can fix your leaky gut, you can fix your food allergies.

Really?

Really?

Can it be that simple?

Is that why I developed food allergies?

I dunno, but I found a good (legit) article on how chronic stress induces intestinal hypersensitivity. Seriously, this quote just grabs my attention: "...Yang and colleagues demonstrate that, in a genetically susceptible host, stress contributes to the development of food allergies by increasing transepithelial permeability in a corticotropin-releasing hormone (CRH)-dependent fashion.⁵ Their report offers convincing data to support their earlier groundbreaking observations that stress may alter epithelial function."

Hah! I knew it! And where do corticotropin-releasing hormones come from? Why, the hypothalamus, in response to stress. It's a peptide hormone and a neurotransmitter (affects the body/tissues and the brain). That makes sense, since the hypothalamus is the "crossover" between the brain and body. (By the way, my theory about my damaged hypothalamus has since been de-bunked. It's just way more likely that my problems are due to chronic sympathetic nervous system dominance, which led to adrenal insufficiency and hypothyroidism and intestinal hypersensitivity/food allergies and possibly depression.)

My teacher "Doc" (who actually is an M.D., btw) and I were talking about that last week. In class (we're covering the endocrine system right now), he brought out that the way to heal adrenal insufficiency is rest, lots of rest. And in our private conversation, he emphasized that I need to get out of sympathetic dominance and into parasympathetic dominance, because the parasympathetic system is the restorative one. Sympathetic is "fight or flight", keyed up, ready for action, pumping out those stress hormones... and that's where I've lived. Yeah, my whole life. No, I'm not exaggerating.

I've been thinking about making a timeline of my life one of these days. I just kind of want to see it all lain out in front of me. For objectivity's sake.

Anyway, back to the article...

Here's hoping!

Oh, yes, did I also mention that I'm engaged now? I mean like, officially officially. As in, he got down on his knees and all that :)

I believe a backstory is called for, yes?

This morning as I was getting ready for school, I went to go put my ring on. Much to my shock, surprise, and dismay... the little white box wasn't where it usually was. Figuring C must have moved it somewhere, I made a mental note to ask him about it later and grabbed my celtic medallion instead.

I was doing work/homework when C got home tonight, but I put it aside and followed him into the bedroom for some quality time/conversation, as I usually do. Amidst playful banter and stories about my professor, I asked him what he had done with my ring. Of course, he pretended to not know what ring I was talking about, or what I was talking about at all! Naturally, I plied him with questions as to why in the world would he hide my ring?!

So, here's the set of the scene-- he's gotten up from the bed where we were nestled cozily and swung himself into his big computer chair, and I'm sprawled across the covers facing him. He won't tell me where it is ("I guess you'll just have to find it!"), but he does crack a few jokes about thinking about being super devious and switching out the ring in the box for a different, older ring (one that doesn't even fit anymore!), about hiding it partially to see how nuts I would go looking for it. He didn't make it hard to find, though. As he swiveled around in his chair, it was plain to see that the little white box was sitting on top of the low bookshelf behind him, blending in with the white wall behind and the white alarm clock next to it.

"I found it!" (In my defense, it was dark in the room this morning. And I had to hit the door or I would be late. No time for a hunt.)

He picked up the little white box, opened the lid, and spent a few moments in quiet contemplation. Then he looked up at me, a funny expression on his face. I couldn't stop the excitement from rising within me as he slid to his knees, stating that he wanted to make it official. He pulled the ring from the box, took my hand, and as he slid the ring on my finger (after I showed him the right hand to put it on lol) said, "I do want to marry you. I love you." He was gazing into my eyes with this super melty, super lovingly intense look.

I replied, "I want to marry you too. I love you."

It's all kind of a blur, really. That's as specific as I can make it, and I'm not even sure I got the right phrases in the right places or the precise sequence of events. It doesn't really matter, I think. I just want to remember the sweetness of the moment, the silly grin on his face and how he was practically giggling at the fact that we're engaged! I was totally silly, too, grinning like a fool and kicking my heels.

Me: Wait, so... you really just proposed to me?
C: I assume so. I'm pretty sure that's what that was.
Me: Squeeeeee! *huge grin*
C: *goofy grin*

C: Now you can show off to all your friends.
Me: ... You know me too well.

C: I'm glad you're back.
Me: Me too.

So why'd he hide my ring? Because he wanted to give it back to me before I "stole" it again! Hah!

He was planning on taking me out to our special lake, "stealing" his dad's boat, and having the guys disguised in the boat with signs. As they went past, he would point the boat out to me, and the guys would be holding signs that said, "MARRY HIM!!!" However, I was out of town this last weekend, and he just couldn't wait, so he did it tonight.

You know what? I'm not disappointed. Not at all. It was so... us. So him. So sweet and simple and just a genuine outpouring of love.

He said that he was waiting until I stopped expecting it. As we all know, that only happened like, a week ago! Hence the "delay".

*Sigh*

I have found the one whom my soul loves. And I guess he liked it 'cause he put a ring on it.

Squeeeeee!

I think I'm hungry, but... sooooo sick...

I haven't been this bad in I cannot remember how long. Literally. Not even after eating things I'm not supposed to.

I don't understand why I have these problems.

BUT!

On the bright side, I had "the talk" with E. Turns out that, in the intervening week between my decision to confront her and the actual confrontation, God's been putting some pieces into place in her own life that has actually changed the situation somewhat.

For starters, she's back to the "old E", the one I know and love as a strong fighter who doesn't let go of her dreams. She's not falling apart anymore. She did a really good job setting personal boundaries this last weekend, and I guess she was just finally in a place to receive what God wanted to give her for her personal life. So she's good. So that means that a hiatus is unnecessary, especially for the following reasons...

She's going to take over the teen group. It's her love, anyway, and S is awesome at and excited about leading the women's groups, not to mention that she's been training to do it for over a year now. If I feel ready to come back to facilitating at some point in the future, I'll be her backup, covering for her in case she gets sick or something. And I know that E will be so much better for those teen girls than I could ever be. She doesn't take any crap, something I struggle with. I'm great at making friends, but building and maintaining discipline? Not my strong area. E knows how to balance the love and the discipline, not to mention she's got the "mama" thing down. I think that's something these girls could really benefit from-- a warm, strong mother figure.

I'll get my training in crisis intervention, but it doesn't look like I'll go back to leading the teen groups. It's interesting, as you go through different experiences, how you become aware of your strengths and your weaknesses. I will remain E's administrative assistant-- filing, writing articles, putting together newsletters, going to meetings and giving presentations... all things that I genuinely enjoy. That's my element. And, when I'm healed some, I want to continue to give back to the ladies and women and boys of the HJ somehow... but for now, I'm going to focus on getting well. I'll still be working for E every week, but I won't be involved in group work. I'll probably pop by and see the girls every couple weeks or so, but... I'm backing way off. And it's good.

Actually, E mentioned a couple of times how she was thinking of taking the group "away" from me in the near future (not cause I wasn't doing well enough or anything, but just because of, well, this kind of situation that she could see brewing) and taking it over herself.

I'm honestly relieved at the outcome, and I feel like the timing was just right. I believe God was leading and orchestrating how the events fell just so, and I'm relieved to not be responsible for that group anymore. It had become a grudging burden, and that's no way to heal anyone or anything.

Now... on to the physical healing! If only I can figure that out...

I am at once humbled and overwhelmed.

My parents have come through for me... again. Without my asking. Just... giving, because they love me.

I broke down to C last night, after he pulled the blankets off of my head and revealed that I was crying. The man just won't leave me alone when I'm going into crisis! (Which is a good thing, one of the reasons he's so good for me... he can deal with the waves that come up in my ocean.) I had been crying and praying under the covers, and then I was crying and explaining to C.

I felt trapped. So very trapped, financially. This last physical breakdown has/had me very discouraged, because it's not like I'm not honestly trying to be a normal, productive citizen, you know? But the kind of schedule demanded by the combined expectations and requirements of school and work together are just too much for my system to take, much to my utter dismay and chagrin. (And horror. And detestation. And... shall I continue?)

I have no savings. I have no income. I am living off of my credit card. Creditors are calling me because I have counseling and medical bills past due that I can't pay, and I need counseling and medical attention that I cannot afford. I had to drop a class because I can't handle full-time school, and financial aid didn't entirely cover my tuition costs. I still owe SOULS a few hundred dollars (that one can actually wait, it's not urgent, thank goodness).

And on top of that, I'm planning the wedding, looking at things and realizing, "I can't afford this. I can't afford even the most basic of these things. Why bother even planning if I can't do anything about it?!"

And then there's the HJ. That letter to E that I wrote. I'm going to re-write it. It's too snarky, to rant-y. I still feel like a "confrontation" is necessary, but not like that. In a different way. A loving way. (I'm SO glad I have this blog to blow out all my hot air before I do the real deal!)

There's the fact that I think I might take a hiatus from HJ. The fact that E will feel like I'm betraying her, the comment her husband M made when I was planning on going away to school about how that was "selfish", and how that will easily be applied to this situation... especially when she's already stressed to the max with me there to help her.

God, it makes me sick just thinking about how things have become with the HJ. Stress. Obligation. Not just me, her too. We really, really need to step back, regroup, build sure and firm, then continue.

I was talking to Mom about it, and likened it to a game of Jenga. You know the one... You start out with the tower of blocks all stacked together firm and snug. As time goes on, though, and the tower grows higher and higher, gaps start to appear. The foundation gets shaky. The higher you try to pile the blocks, the more delicate your infrastructure, until BAM! Everything falls down, and you lose.

That's how the HJ feels to me right now. We've done so much work, built this tower so high... and that's not a bad thing! The game is moving forward. But if we don't want our stack of blocks to collapse, we need to take some time to breathe, fill in the holes, and then get back to stacking blocks.

R is putting money in my bank account, enough to pay off the credit card and my bills, enough for a few more counseling sessions, and $200 extra for food. Apparently, he hates the idea that I'm trying to survive off of $20 here and $40 there. And he absolutely despises the idea of my living off of a credit card. (As do I!)

And I applied for 3 part time jobs that I think I can do without making myself sick.

I was searching the internet yesterday and last night to see if I qualify for disability, emergency financial aid, anything. Nope. Nothing. It's like I need to have cancer to get help... because you have to be practically dying before they'll take you seriously with an "invisible illness". (Or three, in my case...)

I don't even know where my health is at anymore, because I haven't seen a doctor about it in so long. I just get my maintenance dosage of meds from the doc up in Montana and call it good, because I can't afford to do anything else at this point. I'd like to get better, I sure would... I just don't have the money for it. Kinda funny how that turns out... like a catch-22. In order to get better, I need money. But in order to make money, I need to get better. Hah! I love life, sometimes :)

Seriously, though... this gift from my parents is a God-send. I was so stressed. I felt like my back was up against a wall. I literally did not know what I was going to do. I may joke about selling my body on the streets, but I will never, ever literally even consider that. I can't go down to the plasma center and make some money by donating blood and plasma because of my illnesses. I can't do school and most jobs at the same time... and even in the job market, I'm limited because I can't work around food at all.

So I am blessed. I was thinking and praying last night about how everything is supposed to have a reason for happening... or good comes out of it somehow... and I kinda committed to myself as I was hunting desperately for help with my health/work issues that when I am steady and stable and on my feet again (again? more like for the first time!), that I will somehow find a way to help people that are in a situation like I am. People who can't really work but who tough it out enough to not be considered disabled. People who need counseling but can't afford it. People with insurance that can't afford the co-pays, so they may as well not have insurance at all. People who fall between the cracks. People like me.

...People who crawl into a dark corner and curl up in despair because they don't have parents like I do, and there is literally nowhere to turn.

I know the bitter, chalky taste of exhausted hopelessness all too well. I want to help at least one less person not have to feel the panic and despair that I felt last night... that I've felt these last few weeks.

P.S.-- I'm back on solid food again! I had a rattatouille-esque dish for lunch, and it has caused only minor discomfort so far. What joy :)

One thing I love about the HJ women is that, whenever we're together, I feel like... this is it.

I have worth, purpose, meaning... I can do something, I can make a positive mark on the world...

I can be that person that I want so badly to be.

Because when I'm with them... I feel like I already am that person.

Like I have something worthwhile to share.

Like I am worthwhile, because they are, and we're all in this together.

Maybe that's why they call it a "support" group?

P.S.-- They think I'm the best cook ever.

Roommate S and I went job-hunting today.

I've had this strange change of heart lately, and I'm not sure whether it's because I've been praying or not, but...

I feel more prepared to take this step, less overwhelmed. Like, up to the challenge, or something.

If there's one thing that I thank D for, it's for helping me to view challenges as a good thing, as something to be embraced. He didn't do that intentionally, I don't think, but in his reservations and hesitations I found a challenge, an opportunity to prove myself to be something better than that which was thought of me. You think I can't tramp through the forests and eat fish? Well, watch this! You think I can't hike? Watch me!


And I feel like that now. The difference is that it's a challenge to myself. I've been paralyzed by my fear for so long, telling myself that I can't do it, that I'm doomed to failure (and proving myself right), yet now I'm feeling somehow stronger. Like I want to try, at least try.

I do have concerns, hesitations... but not the paralyzing fear.

For one, I'm concerned that I won't be able to physically handle it. I know how sensitive my body is to stress, and though I don't typically like to admit it, I am physically compromised by my thyroid and adrenal problems. I simply cannot run full throttle for as long as others can, except by sheer effort of the will, and it takes more out of me than it does for others. This is a handicap, to be true, and it's something I need to be aware of... but I don't want to make it my excuse, you know?

The affirmation I drew out of the Magic Box this Weds said this: "Sometimes it's the things you can't do that bring out the brilliance in what you can!"

Think about it. Who are the people we admire most? Those who persevere against incredible odds. I can be a legend, in my own right ;)

I'm also concerned that I won't get to see C hardly at all once I start work and school and all that. The only reason I get to see him now is because I stay up late, but once I'm working, that'll have to stop. We'll end up like ships in the night, I'm afraid...

And, worst of all, I'm afraid that I'll be amazing and this'll work great, and then I'll be left to silently curse myself for waiting so long to move forward... and then I'll have to be a grownup. Where's the fun in that? I mean, providing for yourself is so overrated... (If only my sarcasm could be transmitted electronically.)

This is it, guys. I'm afraid of a prosperous, fulfilling life. I've been eking out an existence for so long, I'm scared of doing anything else. As ambitious as my heart is, the fear of failure is always greater and more compelling. I'm afraid to be happy, to be satisfied and content with where I am and where life, and God, have brought me.

I want to be the one that did something hard, something difficult, something challenging... not so that I can show it to others and be like, "See? I did it. You should be able to, too. What's wrong with you that you can't? If you really wanted to, you could." No, I want to do something challenging so that I can say to myself, "See? You really can do so much more than you believe. You're amazing. You're capable. And you don't have to be afraid."

And on the other hand...

Why can't I be compassionate with myself??

Seriously?

Why can't my default be to just be kind to myself?

Like, okay, awesome. I set boundaries! And I'm trying to overcome this, instead of complacently wallowing in my panic.

One step at a time, yeah?

This is just a part of recovery.

I don't have to be perfect today, or tomorrow, or even the day after, as a matter of fact.

You know what?

I won't be perfect. I just won't.

But I'm moving forward, desirous of change. It'll come. Maybe not instantaneously, but it'll come.

I just have to keep doing my best. That's all anyone can ask, and if they ask more, then too bad, because I can only give what I have to give and no more.

I have limitations. I would do well to acknowledge them, work with them, and strive. Strive like hell. But acknowledge my limitations and not hate myself for them.

Thank you, Jesus, for speaking to my heart and giving me hope.

Sometimes all I can do is cry out, Lord, what?!

And still you speak.

Was it You who spoke the earth to be?
And wrapped it all in mystery
For the taking
For the taking
Is it me who turned away my soul?
From evidence so beautiful
That You gave me
That You gave me
When I’ve fallen in the shadows of the sun
Only You remain the hope of what’s to come

Cause on a night like tonight
You bring me to life
And remind me there’s another side of day
Where I will see all that You are
More than a sky full of stars
And the worries of this world will fall away
On the other side of day

Is it time that gets the best of us?
Reminding all the rest of us
That it’s fading
Yeah, it’s fading
Oh, but You still hold the hands of time
And pave the way to paradise
Can You take me?
Can You take me?
Cause the world is just a shadow of the sun
Only You remain the hope of what’s to come

Cause on a night like tonight
You bring me to life
And remind me there’s another side of day
Where I will see all that You are
More than a sky full of stars
And the worries of this world will fall away
On the other side of day

Where all who are alone
Finally make it home
To a world of wonder
Where love is not a lie
And all who seek will find
Their search is finally over

Cause on a night like tonight
You bring me to life
And remind me there’s another side of day
Where I will see all that You are
More than a sky full of stars
And the worries of this world will fall away
On the other side of day

Last night I shared my deepest, darkest secret ever with C.

I was... afraid... very, very ashamed...

I mean, I've kept this secret for somewhere around 15 years.

Never told a soul.

Ever.

But, one of the girls said something last week that brought it up for me, and I was doing research, and I started freaking out (I think they call those "triggers"?), and so I texted C at work saying that I needed to talk through some heavy stuff when he got home, if he was willing, and that I was definitely going to cry, and to not let me get out of it. (Because I know myself... I would change my mind and say "it's nothing" later on. And I did. But he held me to it.)

So I told him. And I cried. And C... stayed. Talked to me. Refuted the lies that the spiteful, angry part of my mind has perpetuated. The necklace that he gave me- "eternal strength" - now has another layer of meaning. It now means that I deserve happiness, to be loved and cherished, and that I never, ever deserved to be abused. It means that being strong takes time, but that I'm already stronger than I was. It means that he'll always be walking beside me to bear me up when I have no strength, to remind me of my intrinsic worth and value. It means that I'm a good person, really and truly. It means that I've helped people by sharing my story, and that I will help more people.

It means that I'm not the scum of the earth. I am lovable.

It means there's hope.

The shame has in no way fully abated, but it is lessened to a degree. The next step, I think... would be posting about it here. I'm not ready for that yet, but the time will come.

I still feel dirty, somehow... but I know that's not true. (Do you know what it's like to feel dirty, like a whore... at nine? At ten? A child... is not supposed to go through that.) I am clean. What happened to me is not my fault, nor is it my responsibility to bear. He made the choice, and he is the vile one-- not me!

On a not-much-different note, I found a veritable gold mine at this site, Pandora's Project. I will be utilizing many of these articles for my girls in the coming weeks.

...That was fast. :) I know I asked for something outside of the Bible, but I'll take what I can get. (Still open, though.)

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." ~Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)

That's right. The depression abates, and life moves forward, as I knew it would.

On the bright side, I got my state and federal taxes done because I didn't feel like leaving the house. And my FAFSA filled out.

And then I did leave the house and I got a job interview and I bought bread mix and made bread and got sick again. (I can't seem to knock this thing... or maybe it's just stress?)

So, yeah. Life moves on. God still works. He's not dependent upon my moods, thank goodness.

A couple of nice, long walks in the desert helped to cure me, as I knew they would.

There is a range of mountains not too far distant that I intend to spend at least one weekend in come this summer. I think I'll hike over, camp out, and hike back. It should only take me a couple of hours to reach them.

I'm so proud of my mom and how she's moving forward in her healing journey, and so proud of R as he supports her. God is really healing my family... it's an answer to prayer. Even if it's painful.

Well, I chose to delay my trip by a day, on the advice of my doctor. However, I got the car packed and ready to go, minus my guitar and my kitty. Those came along with me on the day of departure.

It was only supposed to be a 16 hour drive to LV, but inclement weather dragged it out to a 20 hour drive, with a 4 hour nap. I rolled into town exactly 24 hours after I had left Idaho! How funny.

The trip from LV to Y went well, without any incidents but my kitten deciding that she enjoyed the space below the gas and brake pedals more than any other place in the universe, and trying to obtain lodging in her favored location... while I was driving!! (She was out of the cat carrier pretty much the whole drive with no problems. She just sat perched on my mountain of belongings like she owned the place. It was a sight to see!)

I had only intended to spend the night with my friends in LV. Instead, I spent the whole weekend!
My friends from SOULS insisted that I MUST meet their house mom, because she and I are just alike. I thought, "Yeah, yeah, sure... one of these situations..."

Funnily enough, they were right! She is, of course, a bit different, as we are different people, but we're remarkably similar. I could probably pass for her daughter, definitely a niece or some other close relative. We even have a similar facial structure and body build. She's taller than I am, though.

The absolute best part is how chill she is, especially when it came to my food allergies. She loves to cook, so it was just another challenge to her. This ranks among one of the first times I've visited someone and not felt like an imposition or a drag. The only other ppl I feel that way with are the C's, because their daughter S was GF, too. Anyway, I ate good. And I learned several new recipes, which I love. Oh, and I made copies of our Daughters of Summer Hill cd's and my solo Sound of Music cd for everyone in the house. To pay me back, K took me shopping at Goodwill and the dollar store to stock me up for my trip. What a blessing that was! (Today I ate the green beans for lunch, but they weren't ripe, so they haven't set well. Bummer. I love green beans.)

I accompanied my bible worker friends to the evangelistic series that was going on at the time, both meetings a day. I was so blessed! I love hearing truth out of the Bible, especially the way this speaker presents it. He's so balanced. The only thing I disagreed with was when he was talking about the "Mosaic law" and the statutes and feast days and all that. I mentioned it to S later, only to find out that her dad is a feast keeper, and he studied it with a mutual friend of ours, who is now a feast keeper as well! I guess it's nice to know about others of similar persuasions and convictions... Fellowship, you know. And, quite frankly, it's not safe to talk about with everyone. From what I understand, there's quite a bit of animosity about the subject, and you can get yourself kicked out of church by bringing it up. So, knowing who's "safe" is helpful. (So sad that it should be so in Christian churches. I mean, even if you disagree, do you really have to be hateful about it? So not Christ-like. "Kinda reminds me of the Jewelry Nazi," says Mom. LOL)

My canvasser/Bible worker friends, predictably, canvassed me on canvassing again. No, not canvassing, but leading canvassing teams this summer. I told them, "I don't do that anymore. It's not an option." They said, "Pray about it." I said, "No way am I gonna pray about it! It's not even an option!" They said, "Pray about it."

I did. Haven't heard any word from the Lord yet, though. I did have a nightmare about canvassing that night. LOL

L had a good talk with me. I actually came out and explained to him why I don't Bible work anymore, and why I don't plan to. (I never thought I'd tell him about that! I mean, he's the big guns. It would be impudent, right? Plus there goes my cover of "good SOULS graduate".) He basically told me that he hated canvassing too, but he did it because it was the work of God, and it was what God asked him to do. And he hasn't done it this whole time, either-- it was what God used to take him to the next steps. And God really used him in a powerful way. I mean, if he hadn't done it, SOULS wouldn't be here, and then I wouldn't have gone, and would I still be with C? The ripple effect is astounding.

He told me, though, something very profound-- "Christians are to change people's lives. That's just what we do." And we know that the avenue is between us and God. That is to say, that the specific means for that is dependent on the call God gives us, if that makes sense. Like, Ben Carson for example. God led him to be a neurosurgeon, and that's how he changes lives. L was led to be a canvasser, and to start a school, and other things, and that's how he changes lives.

I can't be afraid of the hard things God asks me to do. I've been thinking, and I realized that I've kinda swung outward farther than I should. Like, the abuse taught me, and the world around me corrobrated, "What you want doesn't matter." And that's how I thought God was. "What you want doesn't matter. You do what I say, because I say it, and that's the end of the story."

So I've been going to a lot of effort to prove to myself and those around me that what I want does matter, and I can do what I want! I do things because I want to, and that's the end of the story. I don't do things that I don't want to do anymore. People need to RESPECT my free choice, alright?!

Now, however, I hear God saying to me, "What you want does matter, and you have the choice to go that way. However, it may not be the best thing for you in the grand scheme of things. Do you trust me to do what I ask, even if you don't want to at the time? I love you. I'm not out to wound you or take away your freedom."

And... I'm getting the message that I'm to keep my car and not go after the truck and trailer right now. That is hard for me to take, because I had this whole idea of freedom and independence and security built up in my mind... and now I have to give that up?

Yet, I sense God saying to me, "I have blessed you so richly. Why do you want to throw that aside? This is what you need! Trust me. It's okay to want the truck, but trust me to give you what you need. I know the plans I have for you, and what fits into those plans best. Will you trust me more than you trust your anxious thoughts, or your dreams for the future?"

Oh my.

But, yes. I want to trust God more than anything else. I want the grand scheme, far flung, eternally solid happiness more than I want the immediate fulfillment of my dreams and desires.

Because, really... how long do we have here, anyway? Even if I got to keep my truck and trailer till I die... 70 years isn't that long. I think I can endure a little "discomfort" for those few years, especially when you compare 70 of that to a million of the other.

Eternity is waiting.

Trust is ensuing.

I like to walk while I talk to God. It does so much more for me than kneeling by my bed.

On the trip here, I read a book... a really good book. It stirred in my heart a longing for something more-- to really know and experience the love of God, and to let that love flow through and spill over into every day... to really love the people around me. Every single person.

I can't do that, I'll confess it right now. No. I don't know what it is to truly love, just as I struggle with what it is to truly trust.

But God's been working with me on that.

As I look back on this past season of my life, I see a predominant theme: Trust.

God has been asking me, "Will you trust me?"

The more we work through, the quicker my answer comes back, "Yes."

It's hard, though. It's hard to trust something that you can't tangibly see, that doesn't always make sense, and that is, quite frankly, under the greatest of attacks. The whole world tells me not to believe in God, to forget about this "religion thing" and move on with my life. Try to recoup the years that I missed while I've been "deprived", and have some fun before I die.

But here's the thing... I've been looking at the actions and underlying messages that are coming through, and all I see is emptiness. Hollow, meaningless banter and canned laughter that does little to disguise the purposelessness of it all.

I want to live with fervor, passion, and meaning. Every day. And I think it's possible. But the key is love.

And here's the thing... I've been looking at the churches around me, at the actions and underlying messages that are coming through, and all I see is emptiness. Hollow, meaningless platitudes and thinly veiled attempts at control and manipulation. That, that is purposeless beyond purposelessness, when the people who are supposed to have found the answer and the antidote have only found a prettier avenue to walk down to Sheol.

I have seen, though, that this last season God has been working with me on trust. And, just as clearly, I see that the next step is love.

God, teach me to love, please. In a real, practical way, show me what love is. I cannot give what I do not have, and I cannot share what I do not understand. God... teach me about love. Please. I want to learn.


In worship with mom and the kids tonight, I read this little gem from the first chapter of The Messiah. It's a seed for the harvest that will come later, and I want to record it to remember.

"The law of selfless love was broken in heaven itself. Sin began as selfishness. Lucifer, the brightest and mightiest angel, wanted more. He wanted to be the most important being in heaven. He tried to gain control of the other angels by breaking their loyalty to God. He wanted the angels looking at him.

He began implying that God was demanding worship and loyalty. He painted God as a self-centered dictator who tolerated no questions and no doubts. (This SO aptly describes the picture of God I've had for so long, it's unreal!) With these suggestions, Satan deceived the angels. With the same ideas, he would deceive humans. He led them to doubt God's word and to question his goodness. He tricked them into seeing a God of justice and awesome majesty as cruel and unforgiving. By misrepresenting God's character, Satan pulled humans into his rebellion. The long dark night of earth's history began.

The only way to lighten the shadows was to show that Satan's description of God was wrong. This couldn't be done by force. Force has no place in God's plans. He wants only a response of love, and love does not happen on demand. Love cannot be forced or ordered of anyone. Love is returned only when love is offered.

To know God is to love him. So the way to lead humans back to God was to show humans what God was really like. This could be done by only one Being in the universe. Only Jesus, who knew the limitless love of his Father, could make that love clear to all others.

The plan to save humans was not an afterthought. It was in place before Adam and Eve sinned. The plan was a natural result of the law of selfless love. God's throne and the operation of the universe was founded on this principle. From eternity, God and Jesus knew of Lucifer's fall and that his lies would lead humans to rebel also.

God didn't create sin. He did not want it to exist. But he knew that it would happen and made a plan to deal with that most critical emergency. His plan revealed the great love he had for this world and for humanity. He promised to give his one and only Son, 'that whoever believes in him may not be lost, but have eternal life.' (John 3:16)

Satan in his selfishness wanted to be more important, more honored. He wanted to become a god. Jesus, in his selfless love, did not care about glory or honor. He became a human being."

(All emphasis mine.)

Have you ever been rather certain of something, and yet you do not want to advertise the certain-ness for fear that you are not, in fact, totally certain, and that you will end up looking like a fool?

Yup, I'm in that quandary. I'm praying and praying that God will guide me, show me whether this certainty stems from him or from my own misguided ideas, and, well, I know I'll be making up my mind soon one way or another. I know myself- I'm not one for protracted examination of... anything. I make decisions fast. (Relatively.) My dad, now, he'll research something into the ground before he makes a decision. I'm better about researching my decisions now than I ever was before. But I'm still a rather rapid decision maker. I'll agonize over my choices intensely, but when I come to a decision, I want to get on with things. NOW! lol

Anyway, that's just a private storm brewing in the recesses of my mind. I'll probably have made my mental choice one way or another (for now) by this time next week.

Ahhh... don't you wish you knew what I was alluding to? :)

J's right. I'm impulsive. I swing from one thing to another quickly. Is that a bad thing?

I just feel something in the air... change. It's coming. Something is going to change, in a big way, and soon. I don't know what it is, but I feel it coming. God's preparing me for... something.

In a way, I'm trepidatious, like, "Does this mean that I'm not going to be able to do my support group after all? After setting everything up? Or does it mean that I'm only going to be able to do it for a few months? Isn't that technically failure?"

Because here I've thought that the very fact that God's opening doors for this group is proof that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, doing what I'm supposed to do... and I am. For now. But that may change soon. I think. Maybe. Heh. (That's just my life!)

I don't want to go anywhere until winter's over. I don't like traveling in winter.

Do I think I'll be leaving S's? Maybe. I love this family, and dearly. Desperately. Obsessively. Compulsively. (Ok, ok, just kidding.) But it's very difficult for me to balance "support" with "salvation" right now... and honestly, I'm tired of being dependent. My dad pays for my medical bills (now that's salvation!), my cell phone (I'm on a family plan ^_^), my car insurance, and until this year, my car tags. The S's provide me with food. I pay for my gas, car maintenance, clothes, other basic necessities of life, gifts, and my Bible college bill. Not bad, I guess (especially with no income!), but I am itching to be totally independent. Not that I wouldn't mind a roommate or something- I don't like staying places totally by myself. But I want to be an adult, for crying out loud! I want to strike out on my own and make an impact on the world.

On the flip side... leaving home is scary, and this place is warm, snug, and secure. Why should I leave the womb? (Funnily enough, I actually refused to leave the literal womb.) I long for change and adventure, yet I am loathe to leave the security of the known and predictable. What a trap to be caught in. Which impulse do I obey?

Interestingly, the Holy Spirit now resides within me. I don't know where he was before, or if he was in me/around me and I just didn't know it, but last night I asked God to send the Holy Spirit into my heart and give me what I need (because I'm not always accurate on what I think I need), and then I found Luke 11:13, which says, "If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?"

Huh. Well, then, I guess that means that God send the Spirit when I asked him to. That means... that now I don't have to be confused about whether or not he dwells within me as 1 Corinthians 3:16 claims he does... because God said he'd do it, so he did. Cool!


I know that the Bible says that when we are followers of God, when we have faith in Jesus' name for our salvation, that the Holy Spirit will come and dwell in us. It always confused me, though, because I thought, That certainly can't be true! Look at all the junk inside me! There's no WAY God would want to hang out in there... But I guess he does. And I think it's only by hanging out among the junk that he can clear it out. He had to come down and live with us people in order to save us... I think it's the same principle, as near as I can tell. Then again, I'm no authority.

Buuuuuuut... now that the Holy Spirit is for sure for sure living inside me, I know that he'll for sure for sure guide me. God's guidance is not some "somewhere out there" thing that I have to try to decipher. God will guide me, personally, now. How? Not sure, precisely, about all the specifics... Definitely through the Bible, though. I mean, if someone were to come to me for advice, and I'd already written a book, I'd probably give them the book to read if it would answer their questions. It'd be tons easier.

But I know that God guides people in other ways than just Biblical exposition. I was reading Acts today, and the disciples were so amazingly attuned to God's voice! Yes, he sent angels and gave them visions, but those were the exception, not the rule. Most of the time, they went places to preach until, well, until they were done. Then they moved on. It's like they just knew. God told them, I think. They didn't stress about having time quotas to spend in each place, or how many converts they were supposed to get... It was powerful stuff, what they were doing. What's really cool is that they were just going and God would give them an opportunity to speak, and they would (and the Holy Spirit would fall on them and give them the words and the power), and people's consciences would be pricked. Usually, that meant people would profess faith in Jesus, but sometimes that meant the apostles would be stoned or thrown in prison or beaten, etc. And that was alright, because it was God's plan, not theirs, and they knew that whatever was befalling them, God had it under control and it would all work out okay.

WOW.

If I could live my life like that, well... there's no telling what could happen. Talk about adventure ;)

I could live with that kind of transmogrification. Imagine, frightened little me, living a life of bold faith.

Oh, I want it. I want it real bad.

But am I willing to bear the cross that comes before the crown?

Eh... that's one item of junk that the HS is gonna have to clear out... all that trepidation I've got plastered on the walls.

I think I may have just forgiven my abuser(s).

"May have? Shouldn't you know if you've forgiven someone?"

Yeah, but, you see... I'm not sure how forgiveness actually works in a scenario like mine... I don't know what it looks like, exactly. But I think it just happened.

I had a rough night last night. For some reason unbeknownst to me, I had bad dreams last night about being abused/molested. It was awful and humiliating, and the worst part about my dreams is that they are so vivid, I feel like it's actually happening. So that's how I spent my night, or at least part of it.

I woke up out of that dream to go to work this morning, and I was fighting flashbacks. Memories were resurfacing, and I was thinking, Not here! Not now!!

I had managed to forget. Sure, it happened. Of course it did. But I had pushed it to the far reaches of my mind where I didn't have to recall it anymore, where I didn't have to feel anything about it... I could discuss the fact that I was molested, but it was an apathetic discourse. Numb. No feeling.

Today, the memories resurfaced (at least, some of them), and now they were accompanied by the feelings of fear, helplessness, and humiliation fresh from my my awful dream.

Finally, work was over, and I went home and just sobbed before God.


I don't even know how to begin processing this!! I feel so humiliated, so worthless and filthy and used... Like, this is all I'm good for- to be humiliated so someone else can get their kicks.


Somehow, God spoke to my heart as I was sobbing... he showed me the Cross.

"You're not worthless. See what value I have placed upon you? What happened to you is not an indicator of your worth and value, it's an indicator of the depravity of the other person. That's what happens to hearts when they are turned away from Me. You have value, my child, and worth. You are loved."

And when I realized that G and C's hearts were turned away from God... I realized that I could forgive them. What they did was wrong. They humiliated me, they hurt me, and it was wrong. But it's not my place to hold it against them anymore. Yes, it was wrong, but now they are accountable to God, not to me.

I even said it out loud. (Well, kinda whispered, but whatever. It was audible.)

"I forgive you, G."

I put him in prison. I still think it was the right thing to do. Even if I forgive him, he still needs to be accountable for the wrong, illegal things that he did. He needs to experience the consequences of his actions.

"I forgive you, C."

The humiliation and shame I experienced at his hands was a direct result of the warpage I received at the hands of G. If I were healthy, I would not have stood for those things.

His heart, too, is turned away from God... and I see what an ugly bent the soul takes when you walk that path. He's accountable to God now. I don't hold it against him.

Is this forgiveness? Whatever it is... I feel like it's a step forward.