My Story Not Yet Complete

I am 14 years old. I have become friends with the monster. He tells me my body is a bit pudgy in certain areas. He tells me that they will pay attention to me if they can see me losing weight and counting calories. He is telling me all the things wrong with me that drove away my friends. This monster is ever present in my mind as the scale looms. He is holding my hand on the way to class. He is whispering lies in my ear as I speak with peers. He is telling me over and over again that I am unworthy of love. He likes to isolate me, you see. Hey, hey, but it’s okay. He is a jealous friend. He desires me all for himself. One on one relationships are better for us anyway right?

When I am 15 1/2 I think that the monster has been put to rest. I am going on dates and kissing boys. Yet I remember a not so far away time of kisses shared with the same sex and I am confused. My faithful friend comes back and tells me to fake it with boys. The result is a kiss in a tree with a friend/enemy watching from the ground, cheering on my humiliation; the result is an emptiness and a lack of knowledge of what love truly is and can be.

I am 17 and the dancing queen-except I am the unwanted burden of a daughter; the trophy daughter that did not recieve the trophy. I am kicked out and pulled back in. I am at last the one thing that no one wanted. The monster comes back to tell me it is all my fault. The monster is back to whisper that I am unloveable, I am a dark cloud, I am a failure, I am a stray dog that they took in for charity yet realized they don’t like dogs much later. I am the extra fat that they could use to trim off.

I am 18 and alone in a new city with no one who knows my name. It’s me against the world. I have no friends for I am in a place where the familiar is no longer a thing on my radar; I have become a constant adventurer. I have a hard time trusting that the phrases that people say are just words; I have a hard time believing that people do not have a hidden agenda. I am consistently asking God why no one loves me. I am hearing the whispers of the monster that I am better off alone. I am feeling the spiraling not-so-soft pull of feelings of inadequacy and dreams of failures at events that have yet to occur. I am a displaced individual adrift the comments and feelings that others may or may not mean with malice.

I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am the warrior princess. I am Leslie Knope. I am Rapunzal. I am Sleeping Beauty. I am my own Prince. The monster is now a dragon that has grown so huge I cannot take it on by myself anymore. I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am learning that asking for help is a good sign. I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am a student of healing now. I am growing from who I once was. My old friend has finally been slayed.

“The enemy is dead-and we have killed him.”

Cheers to a lifetime of depression. Cheers to a life left to live in freedom.

I am the burning bush. I may be rough around the edges and scratch and burn if you come too close to the core. But inside of me God is speaking. Don’t be afraid. Don’t run away. Don’t give up on me just yet.


Dark Tunnel

When did I realize I truly believe?
How did I know I could finally see?
Wasn’t a feeling coursing through veins,
Was not a guilt trip or feeling of shame,
No. No it was through my love for people,
Never through the admiration of a steeple,
But rather talks, theology, and hope,
There is no one else I depend on at the end of my rope.
In need of You, never the opposite way,
I’ve learned it is much much more than what we say,
I’ve fallen in love with You and trained my mind,
I don’t want this filthy flesh, but want Your love to shine.

Beauty (free writing)

God is beauty. We are the beast.

What do we see when we look at a person? Maybe, that is the correct question instead of the peculiar feeling that we must see God to believe in Him. When we look at someone else, do we see an outfit? Or clothes? Or nails, or a purse or something materialistic? If I were to see someone on the street in need, I might go to them, might. But at the same time, I may just judge them. Beauty lies in a kind heart: to act justly, love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. I feel as if I’ve been focusing on beauty that could never compare to God’s beauty planned for me, but which I felt would be an adequate substitute. I am the angry conspriacy theorist, however I am also the materialistic one. I focus on what others will think instead of what God will think. I seem to fail, and fail, and fail. I do not end up trusting in Him, but try to go my own way. I pray that when I fall this time, I will depend on God to pull me back up.

Rewrite Me.

I don’t know how to love. I’m not quite sure why my heart is repulsive Why I’m repulsive. Why I find myself utterly ugly, utterly dumb. I just want a new heart. Oh Lord, restore me. Scratch that, rewrite me. Transform my heart. Teach me to love like I’ve never hurt, teach me to be in love with you and your creation. Teach me to forgive, to cease judgement, to fall headlong over the cliff of faith. I pray and I pray for the transformation of my soul.