This Isn’t Me

Ask anyone who knows me what kind of person they think I am.  Chances are, they’ll use adjectives such as nice, kind, friendly, thoughtful, sensitive, perhaps quiet, shy or interoverted.  Maybe good listener will make the charts – I’ve always thought so myself. *grin*

What about ANGRY?  MAD?  IRRITABLE?  EMOTIONAL?  (pause)  Yeah, okay, maybe that last one.

I don’t know when it all started, but most of my growing-up years could be marked as depressed… depressive?  I never got diagnosed, although when I stopped eating in junior high it came up at the doctor’s office and my mom said she wanted me to “beat it the natural way.”  I’ve looked at those checklists for identifying depression symptoms many times but never quite figured out how I fit, if I fit, or what it all meant.  It was hard enough just trying to fit in during high school!  I don’t know if it’s because I was young and uninformed, relying on my parents with whom it seemed almost taboo, grew up with a father who was always telling me to ”change [my] attitude” and ”just be happy.” 

Trying to make sense of my past seems futile.  I grew up in a loving, Christian family… but definitely wasn’t living up to the perfect standard that seemed to be encouraged and expected of me.  I have always hated the idea of blaming someone else for my problems, but I also know these things do have an impact on who we are and what we become.  In any case, who I was could have been due to any number of outward influences and inward reactions. 

We all have these dreams and aspirations, goals that we think – once we reach them - we will be happy and everything will be perfect.  Being thin was always at the top of my list, always my number one New Year’s resolution.  I did not have a good relationship with food; gave it up for a couple months.  I felt in control because I was making the rules, and I was thrilled at the numbers I saw on the scale every morning.  But the thrill didn’t last for long; I was out-of-control, hungry, and dying inside. 

When I would make a mistake, when I looked in the mirror and came face to face with the reflection of who I had become as a person, I was sickened.  I would get so upset with myself; cutting seemed to be the only way to release the anger, the bitterness, the sadness, the emotions.  I don’t know what I was crying for most at the time – it wasn’t for my outward appearance, I know that.  I just wanted to be free from the turmoil.  I felt so alone.

Funny how some things never change.  I still struggle with some of the same things, though I’ve grown and matured (at least, I’d like to think so), have learned healthier ways of dealing with things.  Over the past few years I’ve wondered on and off if I suffer from a chemical imbalance, and even went to an endocrinologist when I was apparently not ovulating and unable to get pregnant.  I strongly believe that being put on birth control at an early age to stop a two-month period (translate: hemorrhage) may have had some sort of impact on the entire cycle in my body, which is one of the reasons why I will never take hormonal birth control again unless my life depends on it.

Everyone’s different, I understand that.  We have different tendencies, tolerance levels, personalities, and I suppose we get used to operating a certain way.  Reminds me of my grandmother, my dad’s mom – she was in the hospital a number of times before she passed away a few years ago, and her vital signs were so weak she shouldn’t have survived that long.  Her body had simply gotten used to operating at that level – it was normal for her.  Sometimes I wonder if that’s how I’m operating; perhaps I’m a walking zombie, and this has become my norm.

Sometime last year, I had this intense feeling of dread, knowing I was going to hit the wall emotionally – it felt like there was a pattern to the craziness.  I told Phil it seemed like I had two “normal” weeks out of the month, followed by two during which I had no control whatsoever and was overcome by this horrible person.  I would yell, scream, have mommy tantrums – I was impatient, intolerant, unhappy, and then I would sob for how horrible I was acting.  I didn’t want to take care of the kids (though I would do so anyway, begrudgingly), didn’t want to be around anyone, everything seemed like a nuissance, and I just wanted to nap the day away.  Eventually, those emotional days would pass, and I felt more calm, happier.  Who was that other person?!  Maybe I had imagined it.  Then it would happen all over again.         

I’m no stranger to apologizing, admitting I’ve messed up… but recognizing that I may have a more profound problem has been a sobering realization.    And admitting it to other people isn’t easy.  Phil has been supportive, but opinionated in his stance on diagnosis/treatment.  Talking things over with Nikki shed some light on some areas I’ve struggled with, and Becky’s openness with her struggle with depression has been encouraging.  Not many people know what I’m going through. 

I thought I saw some light at the end of the tunnel when I came across the symptoms for Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD), and even printed out a symptom tracking sheet, but was further confused when my mood swings seemed more random than I initially thought.  The thought of tracking more than one month seemed impossible – even analyzing my moods and feelings (emotionally and physically) at the end of the day for the few weeks that I did was a draining process. 

One of the documentaries I’ve watched since changing my eating habits is Food Matters.  I thought it was going to be more like Food, Inc., a commentary on the food industry, but it was more geared towards modern medicine, and using food to be healthy as opposed to prescription drugs (think: “you are what you eat”).  I was particularly interested in the use of vitamins for the natural treatment of depression (niacin, vitamin c, and B vitamins, to name a few).  Since then I’ve come across some other resources for treating depression naturally. 

Even going the natural route, the possibilities for vitamins and supplements – nevermind diet itself - are endless.  I already eat a pretty healthy diet, albeit there could always be improvement.  Which things and in what amounts should I try?  And if that doesn’t work, do I try something else, or rework the amounts?  The options seem overwhelming.  Becky wrote a great post recently about getting help for depression, and though I feel confused about what’s even going on with me, I’m going to start by talking to my midwife at my next appointment.

There’s a part of me that feels like I just have a bad attitude; I need to pray it away, just get happy and make myself feel better.  Focus on something else; change my perspective.  But then I’m in the midst of the storm, feeling like I’ve been overtaken by a completely different person, and I know this isn’t me.

Thankful & Unafraid

Sometimes I’m afraid to be happy, truly thankful, when something good happens.  I’m painfully aware that I haven’t been joyful through the storm and I’m ashamed of the contrast.

I have often feared that God toys with me, uses me as His plaything, or if nothing else uses me as an example of what happens to disobedient children.  I cringe as I say this, knowing how silly it sounds; I know it’s not true, but there are times when I feel it.

When it felt like my marriage was falling apart shortly after Phil and I got married, when we couldn’t get pregnant year after year, dealing with a constant thorn in my side and pleading with God to remove the painful splinters I could feel all over.  There are endless reasons to feel that God doesn’t hear, doesn’t listen, doesn’t care.  He never promised that we would be free from hardship, and while He can see the Big Picture and knows what’s best for us, it’s easy to try and take control of the reigns and tell Him what He needs to do for me.

There are things I’m constantly struggling with, trying to improve upon.  I feel guilty for not taking the time every morning to spend time in the Bible, pray and talk to God.  My mommy check-list takes priority.  When things happen that make me question whether or not God’s really in control, I falter in my praise, my heart and hands are heavy and I don’t lift them in worship at church.  I know all about being refined by fire, but I balk at the process, not wanting to face one more thing that needs improvement.  I fail to keep it all in perspective.  As David Burchett puts it in his article on refinement, “There is no joy in the trial but there is joy in the knowledge of how God uses such events in our lives.”

When God “comes through” for us, I feel like, finally!  But then comes the fear, feeling that He will take His blessing away because I’ve handled the tough times so poorly.  I lost my one-day-a-week job at the end of December, and although Phil had been encouraging me to quit for a long time, I felt a little lost for not having made the decision when I was ready.  And really, I don’t know if I ever would have been ready to give up the security of providing financially for the family, even in the smallest measure.

Phil had been struggling with a bitter work situation, waiting patiently for God to open another door for him, give him a way out.  For a while now he has been trying to get on a paid fire department, taking courses, getting his EMT license, keeping his files up-to-date so he could apply when there was an opening.  Each time we got our hopes up, thinking this is it!  But each time the answer was no.  The last time the door was slammed shut in our faces, I took it hard.  My heart hurt deeply for my husband, knowing what a wonderful person he is and how hard he was trying to take care of his family.  I would get teary-eyed as Phil would pray at the dinner table, thanking God for his blessings and continued provision; he has always had big faith despite our situation, while I waver in the winds of doubt.  Even though my heart wasn’t always in it, I would insist God has something better, God has something better around the next corner – we just don’t know what or when it is. 

Much of life is spent waiting.  Waiting in line, waiting for dinner to cook, waiting for naptime and a much-needed break, waiting for a phone call or e-mail, waiting for an anticipated movie, waiting for love, waiting for more.  We were waiting on God, like we’ve done so many times.  He has proved time and time again that His timing is perfect (my children are perfect examples), and this was no exception.

Yesterday, Phil had his background check and physical for a fire department job he had applied for at the end of last year.  He had been “formally recommended” for the job last week, but was told it didn’t mean an offer for employment.  He found out the chief of the department had been trying to contact him to get his size for a new uniform even before all the paperwork was done, and I thought, doesn’t the chief have better things to do?  HE GOT THE JOB!!!

Phil has an official start date at the end of March.  He has been enjoying the downtime between jobs to focus on his own business as self-employed contractor and drum up side jobs, and this will afford him some time to tie up loose ends with current contracts.  He was also able to stay home and watch the kids a couple days while I was sick a couple weeks ago, something that wouldn’t have been a possibility were he working for someone else.  He’ll be on a paid fire department, we’ll have healthcare and dental! (we’ve never had dental), and he will have more time off to devote to his side jobs and spending time with the family.

We celebrated last night by going out to eat at a local pizza dive, and Phil was almost giddy.  He said he was most happy about being able to take care of his family in the long run.  Today, the kiddos are at Meme and Pepe’s for the day, and I’m in the unusual position of being by myself.  I made breakfast late, and I haven’t had to utter a single word since Daddy left with the kiddos left this morning.  Peace!  I wondered what to do today with all this free time, and decided to start with a couple devotional books.  I dusted them off the shelves, and read a few pages as I ate breakfast.

Phil gave me Hearing from God Each Morning last year, knowing how much I struggle with devotionals.  Gram gave me Fear Not Promise Book, and there were some verses about fear.  I like Phillipians 4:6-7:

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

When fear rules our lives we worry and yearn for safety in things.  Max Lucado expounds:

“The fear-filled cannot love deeply.  Love is risky. 

They cannot give to the poor.  Benevolence has no guarantee of return.

The fear-filled cannot dream wildly.  What if their dreams sputter and fall from the sky?

The worship of safety emasculates greatness.  No wonder Jesus wages such a war against fear.”

God is good.  His timing is perfect, and we are taken care of.  Today I am thankful and unafraid.

self-esteem

Our experiences shape us as individuals; I truly think we are a sum of our experiences. They may not “define” us, as we aren’t necessarily doomed or fated to fall in the steps of those before us or the examples that were set for us, but they have a huge say in who we are. I don’t think we should use them as an excuse or justification, but perhaps the mere knowledge of their affect on our lives can help us understand. To understand and accept that we act or react in a certain way, and that might differ from someone else because they have had a totally different past.

So saying, it’s only natural that our self-esteem will have a direct correlation with our childhood, our manner of upbringing, friends and family members, school, etc. I’ve always hated that psychologists seem to bring their patients back to childhood, in order to blame problems on the parents or some other person or place in time, rather than having the person take responsibility for his/her issues… but so much of our personality, our mindset, becomes ingrained during those formative years.

I can’t say for certain that the somewhat perfectionist attitude of my parents turned me into an anal, obsessive-compulsive individual who struggled with an eating disorder and who will never see herself as anywhere near “perfect” but always striving for something better. They always used to tell me “You’re the best, you can do anything,” blah blah blah. I suppose that was a great motivation, the fact that they acknowledged our worth and put so much faith in us… but I was so scared to disappoint. They never said I wasn’t good enough… but I always thought and still always think I’m NOT good enough. I’m very hard on myself; we’re on own worst critics, so They say, and I definitely own that saying.

Much of my low self-esteem stems from physical appearance. Yeah, that might be shallow, but I can’t help it. Factor in that I’ve never been popular with the boys and can’t seem to keep my own husband happy, and that just adds to the inner conflict. Nevermind that I don’t even make it close to the lower end of the scale on comparison with standards in society. Whether we like it or not, the media plays a huge part in how women view themselves. Just think of all the catalogues, magazines, movies, etc. Much of my turmoil comes from the fact that I can’t change certain aspects – it boils down to being born with a set of genes that no amount of diet and exercise will change. If I want to be happy, I have to just *accept* that this is the way I am… and that’s hard. That means that I’m not “the best” and I can’t “do anything I want;” I don’t have complete control over everything.

The other issue of low self-esteem stems from lack of personality. Hm… this sounds familiar. Much of this relates to your earlier topic, “Mirror, Mirror on the Web.” Perhaps I should just copy/paste? I won’t repeat myself. Let’s just leave it at a perceived inferior personality and lack of spiritual depth and maturity.

I have often felt that depression is relational, not necessarily chemical. There have been times when I’ve been so unhappy, I’ve seriously wanted to kill myself. I’ve even struggled with self-mutilation, but nowadays can talk myself out of it (if only not wanting to have to hide it from other people). I guess the real problem occurs when you’re so unhappy that you just can’t function and do everyday things, you can’t talk yourself out of it anymore. In any case… the things that have made me feel better were facing those things head on, trying to do something about it, instead of obsessing about the “what ifs.”

When I’m eating better and exercising and my clothes aren’t so tight, I feel healthy and productive. Surrounding myself with positive people and inspirational influences make a *huge* difference – friends, family, going to church. Even though we need to base our self-worth in God and what He says about us in His Word, it helps when we are surrounded by people who boost our spirits and make us feel loved. I’ve found that, when I’m in a loving, nurturing relationship, the other things (even my physical appearance!) suddenly aren’t so important. I feel safe, secure. These times have been few and far between, and I think of them as phases, but wonder if I shouldn’t feel that way all the time. It’s just not necessarily feasible in the human sense.

The older I get, the more things I discover at which I’m lacking. But you also gain knowledge, experience, and I’d like to think these things somehow balance themselves out. I believe that many of my “faults” are psychological in nature; it’s a big step acknowledging that, but training your mind to think differently is another story. I will never be perfect, and that’s fine, but I never seem to be content with where I’m at, who I am. I’m trying to look on the bright side. My “inner critic” will always be there, but I’m trying to drown it out with positive thinking.

I don’t know that those fears – the fear of growing up, the fear of success, the fear of excelling, (those two sound the same) and the fear of knowing – necessarily relate to self-esteem. Although I have to admit I relate to some of them. I don’t know that I fear growing up so much as I wish I didn’t have to. I often yearn for the carefree days of my youth when my parents took care of everything, when I was too naive to care what others thought. I enjoy doing something well, but hate when it’s automatically expected, or when I’m replaced by what I can do/provide instead of who I am as a person. It may seem inconsequential, and when I’ve pointed it out people don’t see the big deal… but since I like to bake goodies, people expect me to show up with a various selection of gourmet desserts or to have a bottomless cookie jar whenever they visit, nevermind the fact that I’m a busy individual and don’t have the time and money to slave over the oven every day. If they don’t see treats for a while, they think something is wrong with me. If I do turn out something, that immediately becomes the topic, nevermind how I’m doing or “it was nice to see you,” it’s “the pie was so good, can’t wait ’til next time when you bring the cake!” or whatever. And the fear of knowing for me mostly relates to things I know in my life need to be worked on – things about my attitude that need to be changed. I KNOW I need to be more accepting of my circumstances, I KNOW I need to be more loving despite my perceived hardships. I used to be afraid of knowing that my husband might not really love me… but now it comes down to acceptance. It doesn’t matter what someone else does to me, I’m responsible for my own actions; even though I may feel justified, I really have no right to treat someone else with less than with the love and grace God shows me. See – putting the knowledge into practice is hard, because it goes against our humanity.

inspired by fears departing

self-reflection

I have never been content with myself, on so many levels. The thing which often gets me most upset – when it’s really the one thing that I have no say over, to a certain extent, due to genes – is my physical appearance. I’ve struggled with low self-esteem largely due to a skewed opinion on how I look (and how I respond to eating certain, favorite, foods!). Sometimes I think I’m over-reacting and just need to get over myself and my idea of what I should look like, but other times it really bothers me and uses up so much of my time and energy obsessing. In order to affect much change in this area, I need to spend much of my time exercising, strategizing my meals (without spending too much money), find flattering clothes that fit (again, without spending too much money). It’s a continuous struggle for me, and if I didn’t have to deal with it so much space in my head, in my life, would be freed up. But there’s always something, isn’t there?

The second thing which bothers me to no end is my lack of personality. (pause) Well, maybe that’s a poor choice of words. I guess I just don’t like my personality in general. I’m rather quiet and shy, not the best in social situations. I think I’ve grown a lot in this area thanks to experiences in my life, so many people think I’m friendly (which I do think I am) and outgoing… when really I tend to get stressed and anxious about things involving people. Especially If I don’t know anyone – what will I talk about? I have a sense of humor, but I don’t always have some witty banter to throw around like some people. I don’t have an interesting “career,” so can’t really go anywhere with “what I do for a living” (and I don’t have the time and money to further my education right now). My marriage isn’t the best, with no [immediate] prospects for a family, so there’s not much to share in that respect… I pretty much have to make sure I keep the conversation focused on the other individual, and if it gets to me, I’m ashamed at my lack of substance. I feel the need to apologize for myself – oh, I just clean houses, nothing special; oh, I just went to high school, I didn’t go to college. *nods* Yup, I’m a loser. I think these things, and believe them.

Thirdly, but not necessarily last, is my spiritual depth and maturity. I grew up in a Christian home, so was brought up with certain beliefs. Sometimes growing up in that type of environment serves to strengthen your resolve, your faith – but I feel it may have hindered mine. I went to church (was sent to a Christian elementary school, homeschooled and later a Christian high school) and adhered to a specific mindset because my parents did, it’s what they taught me – I didn’t necessarily believe it for myself. There comes a point when you have to figure out what you believe for youself, and I feel I will *always* be at that point, forever searching, trying to figure out who I am and “what I want to be when I grow up.” There are things I do believe, but I’m not necessarily sure *why*. I couldn’t defend my beliefs or convince someone else they should join me, and that’s scary. I want to be passionate in my faith.

How do you change yourself without changing the things that make you special, unique? For instance, I hate the fact that I’m shy… but I also think it’s good to know when to be quiet, listen to other people. As they say, “it takes all kinds,” and it’s so true. Even though my limitations and perceived faults get me down, I have to remind myself that at least I’m not a cookie-cutter individual, and there are certain things about me that make me ME, that make me special. We are all blessed with different things, different talents.

One of the major ways people unfairly perceive me, is that because I’m shy/quiet, I’m either snobby or in a bad mood. People still throw it in my face, that I’m never in a good mood, just because I don’t always have something to say, or because there’s not a perpetual smile on my face. That just makes it worse, because there’s really nothing I can do about it and it just perpetuates the frustration. So I worry about not only the social situations, but now what people are thinking and perceiving!

I do have a tendency to get depressed about things, and oftentimes people will minimize my feelings. For example – about a certain someone paying too much attention to members of the opposite sex. In these instances, I’m expected to get over it, keep my ideas to myself. My mother especially gives me unrealistic and oftentimes unwarranted advice, expecting me to be perfect. Growing up, if I was ever unhappy about something, my father always used to say, “Just change your thinking! Be happy!” I agree many things are mostly psychological, but your feelings can’t stop and turn on a dime that easily. You can’t just DECIDE that you will now be happy. You can distract, divert, but not just change. Now, when I’m upset about something, I hear his words ringing in my head and I wish I could just cheer up…. but it’s not that easy.

On a slightly different note… people will try to tell me all the good things about me when I go through this list of things that I don’t like about myself. They’ll tell me – but you can cook and clean! Lots of people can’t do that! You have so many talents, you can carry a tune and decorate wedding cakes and make jewelry, yadda yadda yadda. I understand where they’re coming from, but I feel I only know how to do many things to a certain degree, I’m not proficient at any one thing. Yeah, I can carry a tune… but I don’t have a nice voice. Yeah, I can make wedding cakes… but I always need to get help from my mother regarding all the steps and my technique is severely limited. Some people try to tell my that I look good; my father used to say, “but you have such pretty hair!” I cut it all off. I understand that you need to look at the positive, look on the bright side – but oftentimes people just get carried away and don’t really help at all. Sometimes they say good things and I’m not in the right frame of mind to accept what they have to say, but much of the time I just don’t accept it – period – because I’m too fed up with my limitations.

I know I’m hard on myself at times; I don’t know that I’m a perfectionist, per say, though there have been some that call me “anal,” “obsessive-compulsive.” But there are times when I not hard enough! I would love to prove myself wrong, as it were, to grow and change and hopefully become a better person. Most of the time I just want to be rid of the OBSESSING over these things; even if the THINGS THEMSELVES didn’t go away, that would be fine.

inspired by fears departing

making your mark

i wandered on over to fears departing to comment on his most recent topic, and didn’t realize i would have quite so much to say. (pause) well, upon reading the question(s) he posed, i did anticipate. here is my response below:

I’ve never dreamt of changing the world. Even though I know great things can come from individuals, I’ve never thought of myself as one of those great achievers. Yeah, I know you don’t have to be a genius or anything to affect change, but I don’t think I have enough of what it takes – confidence, self-worth, intelligence, etc. Even though I’m sure I don’t excel at it, I enjoy making a difference in my own little world – helping someone out here, being a good friend there, doing the best I can do at my job and in my home or whatever I’m doing. I myself know that the littlest things can mean the most. It’s like when you’re having a bad day, and a smile or kind gesture totally turns it around for you.

I am extremely discontent with my life, and for that I feel worse, because I know I’m truly blessed in many ways. The other day, I was driving home from yet another day of work, and it occurred to me (yet again, as it often does), that much of life is geered towards getting a job and making money. We go to school at a young age, not only for a rounded education, but to hopefully get a good job one day. After school/college/whatever we’re on a quest for the perfect job, and it seems forever after we’re looking for a raise, promotion, whatever. I know there are exceptions, but mainly we HAVE to make money to SURVIVE in this world. I wish I could just do what I wanted and not have to worry about these mundane things, but it’s part of living. You need to contribute to society, and if you’re not doing something to contribute, you’re mooching. And no one wants a moocher.

Now, there are those that mix in plenty of what they enjoy, or they just happen to enjoy their jobs, and that’s great. Even if I loved my work, there would still be those days where I would be doing it because I had to, where I would be sick of the routine. If you were a millionaire, would you work for the sake of working? I wouldn’t… I would pursue some endeavors I enjoy, because then I wouldn’t be pressured to bring in “x” amount of dollars to pay off all the bills. Like exorbitant healthcare – that’s the business to be in, I’m telling you.

If life is about having a job and making money – which I think the world itself is about – then I know I’m failing miserably. I didn’t go to college and don’t have a degree, I don’t make a lot of money and I supplement my PT job by cleaning all the time. And such domestic chores are SO TIRESOME. I’m sick of cleaning up other people’s messes. Now, I know money isn’t the be all and the end all… it really isn’t that important. But to be comfortable in this life, you have to have it. And you have to keep making it. I find it hard to balance making enough money, and still have the time and energy and happiness to pursue some of those things that make it worthwhile.

I find it hard to be passionate about any one thing, because I feel so limited in many ways. In my time, energy, resources, finances, etc. I know there are some people that can quit their jobs and sell their homes and find fulfillment following their dreams – but I think not having the security would scare the shit outta me. I think I’m afraid to take some of those risks… however exciting and successful they may prove to be.

It is extremely hard for me to avoid feeling sorry for myself, because even when I’m actively engaged in something, my mind is running a mile a minute. Sometimes I’m so exhausted, just from the mental battles going on. Other times I am successful, usually by way of diversion. Lately, I’ve been exercising a lot, which kills two birds with one stone… because I also want to change my physial appearance. It makes me feel productive, and helps me lose weight. In more recent years, surrounding myself and spending time with family and friends who care about me have made a big difference. But also putting things in perspective, that can be huge. In the long run, what the hell does it matter? Sometimes, just sitting outside watching the sunset, sitting out on the beach and watching the waves roll in… I think of how puny my “problems” really are, in the grand scheme of things, compared to what’s going on in the rest of the world, etc. And at those times, I also imagine that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. Carpe diem, if you will.

I struggle a great deal with my spiritual life. But lately, I’ve been going to an evening service at a church nearby. It’s put together and led totally be 20-somethings, and it’s a great time of worship and reflection. They put the lights down low, light candles, play music, use powerpoint to project inspirational quotes/verses/images. I look forward to this service all week, and it’s a great way to end my weekend, kick off another work week. Just sitting there for that hour, reflecting on the short message, on the words of the songs… I have to constantly remind myself of some of the greater, more important (in my estimation) things in life. It can be hard mustering up self-worth on our own, believing that there’s anyone out there that could love/accept us or whatever… I don’t think I will ever fully grasp and appreciate the presence of God in my life, but I know He’s there, and I do take comfort in the knowledge. And just like the sunset or beach scene… there are times, reading Bible verses or singing praise songs, when the things of life are put aside, however briefly. I’m humbled, sometimes fearless. I wish I could bottle that feeling and drink it whenever I pleased. I suppose that’s part of being a “mature” Christian.

I need love and acceptance. I mean, I know I can survive without it, but unhappily so. I don’t necessarily need acknowledgement, a pat on the back for what I do – I don’t mind being behind-the-scenes – but I want to mean something. To take care of and to be taken care of. Someone before me said they didn’t necessarily need to be loved, but they needed to love someone – I need both. Or I strongly DESIRE both. Sometimes, I’ll be watching a cheesy romantic movie… part of me will be shaking my head, but another part of me wants those same elements for myself. At the times when I’ve felt most loved, nothing else really mattered – it didn’t matter if I wasn’t perfect, wasn’t beautiful or accomplished. I was accepted for who and what I am. Or so I thought.