Sunday, April 12, 2015

That 1st Step



 
I have never walked on water.  But from what I have read..it seems extremely difficult.  However the challenges we face are sometimes just as hard.  It feels almost impossible to gain footing and then once we do the storm around us seems altogether overwhelming.  Here is a Story of a mother whose trial felt just as impossible.
"It is true.  The first step is always the hardest.  You have to know that before I took that first step to getting better I didn't really want it.  I wasn't sure that I had the strength to be me without the addiction.   I was 15 years old when it all started.  I was a member of the dance team at our local High School and I saw all of the other girls on my team.  Man were they gorgeous!!! I would watch them slip into their outfits and think .."wow, I wonder what it would be like to have that kind of confidence.  Knowing everyone thought that I was beautiful."  But then I would look in the mirror and see ; Yep just me. I hated what I saw. I hated who I was.  Big hips and thighs, flat chested. Oh how the sight was unbearable.  Just plain old me.  I saw fat everywhere.  In my face, on my arms, legs, butt, thighs.  It was sickening.  Looking back now I know I wasn't fat but I couldn't help it then.  I would go home after school cook , clean, go to work or dance, and then come back home.  My home life was rough too.  I thought many times about how that contributed to my lack of self esteem.  I had brothers and sisters and thinking back none of them had much self esteem either.  But at the time all I could hear was how one of my sisters was the "pretty" one.  She was always pushed toward the boys, pushed toward any guy that my parents thought she should woo.   I had secretly wished to be called pretty.  At least once.  But to no avail.  I was made fun of and criticized for what I looked like.  For the size of my body or my weird hair or how I wasn't just like my sister.  I didn't have a lot of friends at school but I really didn't have enemies either.  It was more the fact that I was invisible to most and tolerated by the ones that did see me.  So during that Sophomore year I decided that I was going to change my appearance. My family was very controlling.  I wasn't allowed to go out with friends, no exercising, I wasn't even allowed to study for school until the dinner was done and cleaned up along with laundry completed. (this task was like trying to clear out a forest in 1 hour.  Impossible) There were many nights that I would wake up to my mom screaming at me about not getting it done while still sitting on the huge pile of laundry with my books in my lap trying to study.  I was a mess and so with that control I took control, or what I thought was control, of how I'd become "beautiful."  I began starving myself for days.  I'd skip lunch to work out at a local park so that know one would know.  I would "miss" the bus so that I could jog home.  But this only lasted for a little while because my family began to notice me not eating.  It became a real physical fight so I had to change the plan.  I Would eat, but no one said I had to keep it down.  Over about  10 years I had this "disorder," although to me it was a means to a an end.  I had married in the mean time and began a family.  I had successfully kept this from my husband and from my kids.  I would hear them outside the bathroom door calling for me and that is when I began to feel guilty.  What was I teaching them?  What was I teaching them about their bodies and their self esteem?  I had never really reached the goal that I had aspired too and so in my mind I still wanted to.  But my love for my girls was strong enough to wake some sense in me.  This was my Edge.  This moment here is where I could see that I needed to make a change and jump to a better place and become better for my girls but I still wanted to hang on to my disorder that had now become such an addiction that it seemed almost impossible to end.  I sat staring at the water in the toilet for a very long time, and then I did something that I hadn't planned on doing.  I began to talk out loud.  Out loud to God asking him to help me stop this mess I had gotten myself into. Help me to see myself in a better light. How could I teach my girls to love themselves IF I didn't love me.  It was the first time in 10 years that I got up without finishing what I had started.  I felt incomplete, hollow, like part of me was left behind.  But I also felt empowered.  Something that I had never ever felt before. Every day for about 2 years after that day was extremely difficult.  I would go to the bathroom and sit on the edge of the tub constantly trying to talk myself out of a bad decision.  Listening intently to my children play out side the door.  I would pray inwardly that the lord would give me strength to stand and walk out.  Some days I had the strength and others I would fail.  But what I did learn was to never give up.  I had to take that first step and it was by far the hardest. When I go back through my journals and read excerpts from that time I realize now how out of control I was.  There are so many hate messages I wrote to myself.  I couldn't believe how much pain I had caused myself by trying to be the "pretty" one.   I have promised that I will never do this again.  I need to be strong for my beautiful girls and for my strong and stalwart boys.  I love them too much to allow this kind of thing to hurt them.  It has been another 10 years since that first step and I have only the occasional whisper of the addiction left.  Sometimes it calls from a distance but I have learned how to quickly dissolve it.  No one ever escapes the temptations that Satan so readily displays in front of us.  It crashes down in waves all around us.  It sounds as loud as a thundering train in our ears trying to get us to succumb to his way so he can tear us down and make us feel as there is no hope.  But there is hope. There was a man that was looking for hope just like me, and just like me he had moments of weakness,  "And Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.  And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me.  And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" (Matt:14: 28-31)  This was my edge.  I learned that God listens and he will help if we will call out to him.  Even when we are afraid and we have no hope his hope is sufficient." (Anonymous)
 “ And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.” Helaman 5:12
Thank you oh thank you so very much for your story.  You are an incredible woman.  You have overcome odds that are insurmountable and come out on top.   I know it has to be hard to share this story, but there are many men and women out there that are fighting this same battle, and because of your example they may find the strength to stand and walk away from that temptation.   Your story is an incredible story of strength and character. I love you and again thank you for such an incredible feat. Thank you oh thank you again.
Remember to  please email me your story of strength and courage.  I will stay in contact with you and feature you (anonymously if you wish) in the next blog.  This is a way to inspire change for good in someone that may need just a little bit more to help them while they are at that edge of their miracle. Send me your story to edgeofthemiracle@gmail.com
With your help we can help many many others.

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