Worn

My prayers are wearing thin
Yeah I'm worn
Even before the day begins
Yeah I'm worn
I've lost my will to fight
I'm worn
So heaven come and flood my eyes
Let me see redemption wins
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn
I want to know a song can rise from the ashes of a broken life
And all that's dead inside can be reborn
Yes, all that's dead inside will be reborn
Though I'm worn
Yeah I'm worn
 

 

      Those are the lyrics to one of my favorite songs by the band Tenth Avenue North called "Worn". I found that song very randomly one night when I was desperately YouTubing trying to get through a moment when I wanted to give up and turn back to my old ways. I clicked on the title of the song unsure what to expect and the lyrics immediately had my heart. In that moment I had lost all hope and wanted nothing more than to give up, my husband was ripped away from us, and suddenly I am raising our son alone unsure when my family will be back together again. It was the beginning of, what is now a five month journey that has tested my recovery, my strength, and my faith.

       There have been many times in these last five months, like when my grandmother died that I raised up my hands and my tears screaming at God, asking for answers, wanting to know why I was suffering, what did I do for this to all keep happening? I came dangerously close to losing my hope more than once, dangerously close to giving in and letting my demons take me. I never thought it was possible to feel so worn out, worn down both physically and emotionally. I related so much to the lyric "I'm worn even before the day begins" because I would lay in bed so often with my eyes closed tight afraid to open them because the thought of just opening my eyes and facing the light left me worn down and exhausted. Even now, five months later I have those moments when I have to ask for God's strength and reach for every bit of strength I have to get up and face another day without my family together.

       I sat in a room today with three men who've never met me, who've never met Josh, and they get to decide when it is best for my family to be whole again all based on what they've read on a piece of paper. I had to sit next to my husband and allow a man to tear him down, to say things to him that implied he was a bad man, a bad father, and a bad husband. I wanted nothing more than to stand up and scream that he is the love of my life, that he is so much more than what the paper says, and sure he has made mistakes, but if they took the time to listen they would realize that he has one of the biggest hearts I know. I had to remain silent, and when it was my turn to speak for him I almost lost it. I almost shouted that they had no idea what I was going through, what my son was going through without my husband, that my family is broken, that I have felt broken without him. I had to fit five years of our love into less than five minutes to answer the question, "What can you do to support him when he comes home"? It was the toughest interview I've ever been to and it wasn't even my own, and now all I can do is pray.

     I've learned so much in the last five months without him, I had to learn that I can survive on my own, and I can do it without returning to the broken girl I was five years ago. I have had my moments, and I know I've fallen apart, but though I am so worn in every since of the word right now I am still here and I am still fighting. Part of that is because I am a mommy, being a mommy has changed my heart in so many ways because it isn't about me anymore, it isn't about Josh, it is about my lil firefly. These last five months have been hell, losing Josh, becoming a single mom, losing my grandma, having to send my Firefly to stay with God parents, and facing a major surgery that left me in the hospital for over twenty days without my husband there with me...I think about so many nights when I thought I wouldn't get through. I've cried more tears in these months than I have in my entire twenty eight years on this earth, and will prob continue crying until my family is whole again.

      When my world fell apart on November 19, when they took my husband away from us I didn't think I would make it through the night let alone five months worth of nights. I am here, I am bruised, broken, and worn yet here I stand with hope and faith that this dark time is almost over, that my family will be back together soon. There were times when I wanted to blame God, but He has shown me so much in this time, shown me that I have more strength inside of me than I thought possible. It is a struggle everyday, but I can honestly say that most days I don't think cutting or starving as an option. I have found the ability to cry real tears rather than bloody ones, and though it hurts to breakdown like that, to weep, to feel all the pain of the situation come over me and not hide behind a razor or the number on the scale is very new to me. I've learned to be alone with myself, something I could not do five years ago. I believe that this situation broke me in a lot of ways, but like the song says "let me know a song can rise from a broken life"...I believe that through my brokenness is evident there is good rising out of it, I have learned so much from the suffering these last five months have brought. I don't know when this is going to be over, I pray everyday that it will end soon, but I know that I can get through this even when my brain screams at me that I can't.

     It is really easy when the suffering comes to get lost in the bad, to allow that worn feeling to take hold ad consume you. The thing is that through the suffering you are growing, and you just may find out that you are stronger than you ever thought possible. You never really know your true strength until you are faced with a situation that seems impossible. My days are far from easy, but I sit here and think about five months ago when I was sure I could NEVER make it this long, and yet here I am...I am still going, still fighting everyday, facing one day at a time, and I believe that we all have the potential to do it. Even when you are worn and your prayers are running out you can get through it, I believe in my heart the darkness and the pain cannot last forever.



Tough Times and Recovery

     Some people think that because I preach recovery and strength that I have forgotten the darkness that my life was, but to be honest it is still here. I am in one of the darkest periods of my life right now, and it takes everything I have in me to get out of bed everyday...to keep up the fight. I can preach the good stuff, I can tell you what you need to do and how life can get better, but I've promised on this blog not to lie. The fact is that no matter how much you fight in life bad things happen and you have to decide if that bad is enough to take away everything you've worked for, everyday you didn't starve, purge, cut, swallow those pills, or whatever your vice is.
     It isn't a shock that I have had a rough time since this summer, but very few know the details. I will not share some things because I'm not ready, but in July a monster made his way into my home attempting to break up my family. For three weeks he used threats against my child to keep me captive in my own house. I had thought that I had seen evil, that I had been through hell, but realized that I hadn't seen anything until those three weeks. He took over my Facebook, my computer, my phone, and any other contact with the outside world. People ask why I didn't say anything...fear...for my son and for myself. I was obedient to avoid punishment. I learned what hell was during those three weeks, that monster broke me in more ways than I ever thought possible, and the only thing that kept me going was my son.
     It was three weeks before good friends and my now husband were able to get him away. The whole ordeal ended with me spending the next week in the hospital because the stress had caused my GP to flare to the point that I couldn't tolerate anything, they had to run tons of electrolytes, antibiotics, and kept me pretty out of it on pain meds. I was so messed up from that monster that when my husband came home he couldn't even touch me without permission, I slept curled up in a chair with him next to me on the floor when I woke up screaming. No one had a clue any of this went on, we got through it together and thought we were on the road to healing.
     The lies that man spread ended with the man I love sitting in a prison with his probation revoked away from this family. I have been a single mom since November, been more alone than I can even put to words. I have been running on the strength I get from being a mommy because he needs me more than ever at this point. I thought I could handle this as long as things didn't get worse...they got worse.
     In the beginning of Feb I lost the woman who I loved more than anything, who sat on the phone with me for hours every night to a stroke. The only person besides my mother, who I lost years ago that I know loved me despite all my screw ups and wicked things I have said or done in my youth. It broke my heart in more ways that I can possibly tell you, and then a few days later I find myself laying in a hospital bed with my son going off to stay with friends until I get better. I had to have a major surgery that still has left me in bed unable to do much despite being home now. I have found myself in the darkest part of my life, feeling completely alone despite having people around me.
      Am I strong...no, I fall on my knees every night crying, begging God to take my pain away and I fight those old urges to starve and bleed more than ever. Being in recovery hasn't some how made my life easier or stopped the suffering that can come in life. I fight tooth and nail to get through the day and even harder through the night. I have a handful of people who I know I can turn to when I can't make it on my own anymore, but it is still hard. I have to make the decision the fight to keep myself going despite the pain, knowing that it got better before and it will get better again. The tough times don't go away because you are in recovery, sometimes things are worse than you ever thought they could be. I never thought I could be here, never thought I could survive the things that have happened in the last eight months, and I'm here. I fight everyday and the nights seem impossible, but I'm here and I'm nourished as much as my sick body will allow, and despite the countless times I have held razors in my hands I haven't broken my flesh. I've learned that sometimes the suffering has to happen for some reason, and at the end of the day I have the choice to destroy myself or fight for what I have. When you look at might life it might not be much, but it is mine and it is more than I deserve, and I will fight for it no matter what it takes.
     When the tough times hit you get the choice, I'm not saying you can't fall apart because I do all the time, but you can go back to the eating disorder, the pills, the razor, the bottle, or whatever and they aren't going to help you. They don't make the pain go away, they mask it for a minute and you find yourself back in the same situation you were in before. Recovery is hard, it is hard on the first day and it is hard on the six hundredth day. I wish I could tell you that it will just go away and life will be rainbows and butterflies, but in my experience it doesn't, you have to learn to find your happiness where the Lord gives it to you, and sometimes it is in the smallest moments. At the end of the day you can fight or give in, either way it is your choice, not your circumstance.

     To those who do not know, the month of February is National Eating Disorder Awareness month. In the past I have done a lot of blogs, videos, Facebook status updates, and used any other outlet to spread awareness about eating disorders and how difficult it is to get treatment paid for and overcome the disease. I've spoken about how the number on the scale doesn't represent the severity of the illness, how a person who looks okay on the outside could be dying on the inside. I've written about how not eating, purging, binging, over exercise, and other behaviors someone with an ED uses are the symptoms of a much deeper problem. This year I've spent most of the month in the hospital recovering from a major surgery, unsure if I had it in me to even write anything at all until the most horrific type of anorexia walked into my hospital room behind her mommy. I was face to face with a child anorexic.
     I have known this little girl almost her whole life, her mom and I have been close friends for years, seeing each other through some very terrible times. For as long as I have known this child she has always been so full of life and smiles. My favorite memoires of her are when she was first toddling around in her little sun dresses, finding joy in the smallest things a sunny day can offer us. She was never really fussy, always content to go on adventures with her mother and me. In her world she didn't see the tragedy all around, she thought she was beautiful in two different shoes, mismatched clothes, and a princess tiara. She did all of this despite being sick with epilepsy, despite being hospitalized and feeling yucky all the time, and it was all with a smile and never a pity party. When I saw her the other day there was no more spark, no more pure smile, and my heart broke. The healthy seven year old I had seen only months before was now bones. How does a seven year old learn to hate her own body, learn to be afraid of gaining weight, and even learn calories?
     It was just before the schools broke for Thanksgiving break when my friend went to pick up her daughter just like every other day expecting to find her waiting with excitement to tell her mommy about her day. What she found instead was her little girl sobbing because a little boy, who had been her best friend/lunch buddy had told her he could no longer have lunch with her or be her friend because she was too fat, and that boys weren't suppose to hang out with fat girls. This little boy is another seven year old, he had to learn that fat=bad from somewhere, and he learned it from our society's obsession on weight, a war on obesity that allows schools to preach at the top of their lungs about good and bad food, to teach kids that the number on the scale is what defines health, which is totally untrue, and that being fat is the most horrible thing you can be.