life lessons

It’s been a long time since I’ve picked up a Bible on a day that wasn’t Sunday. I haven’t prayed for direction, purpose, or peace in months. I was content with not sharing my fears and dreams because addressing them, naming them, seemed messy and like such work and I could not be bothered.

I ate.
Instead of nourishing myself with good, wholesome foods, I quelled anxiety and depression with sugar. I found comfort in french fries and ice cream. I ate because I was bored, because my soul was starved, because that’s just what I did.

I distracted myself.
I watched so much stinking TV. I reread books instead of learning something new. I talked to friends and read the internet because being alone with my thoughts and feelings was unacceptable.

For a long time I wasn’t bothered by it. I lived my life without any real direction or desire to better myself. I loved God but wasn’t in pursuit of an authentic relationship, not because I didn’t feel like he couldn’t handle my shit, but because I was afraid that I couldn’t. Coming face to face with everything that I had been bottling up was scary, so I hid in some cookies and watched mindless sitcoms until I could handle things.

I am not better for it.

Every step forward I’ve made has been undone by my own inability to understand that I am worth it. I did a Whole30 and felt great and then allowed a piece of news to unravel me. I felt confident in our decision to adopt until the doubt crept in and swallowed me whole. I have been too reliant on myself to fill in the blanks instead of allowing on the Author of my life to march before me and make my path straight.

{ 2 comments }

I’ve been quite sad over our lack of baby-making abilities—-the number of women with child/having a child seems unusually high, or else I’m just more aware of it—-and I’ve taken to soothing myself with sugar because that’s how I roll.

I’m glossing over the nitty gritty for self preservation’s sake. The short version: it’s been really fucking rough.

My health goals had been side-lined in favor of eating M & M’s for lunch, the consumption of which began a pretty immediate downward shame spiral from which I’m just starting to emerge. Logically I understood that a lunch of M & M’s would not make Jason’s sperm magically grow back, nor would it lift my general outlook and make me a less bitchtastic person, but in those moments I wasn’t thinking of the long-term; mostly I just wanted to numb whatever it was inside of myself that ached.

For a few weeks I kept my feelings to myself. I didn’t want Jason to feel like this was all his fault. He didn’t choose to get a cancer that would leave him probably infertile, but I try to be sensitive to the fact that he might feel guilty and I didn’t want to compound his negative feelings. (The permanence of his infertility is yet to be determined; it could correct itself in years or it could not. He’s had two semen analyses so far and they’ve both come back negatory on the sperm front.) A few nights ago we talked about it: the unfairness and the horrible feelings and the jealousy and anger and the loss. And it helped. Having an ally in these shit-filled trenches soothed my broken heart in a way that sugar never, ever did.

{ 1 comment }

life lessons

and so it begins

leveling

the short version

BIRTHDAY GOALS

i support