"Try fighting with your head for a change ... it's a good one, even if it does resist learning.' Atticus Finch
Friends tell me....when I get something in my head....I grab on....and never let go. I always thought....it's because I'm just focused. But now....I think.....it's more that I learned to be a fighter...I learned to fight to get what I want....pushing back...never giving up.....holding on....
Having a goal....kicks in the fight....and in some strange way...energizes me. I feel pumped...geared up....and that thing that drives me becomes the only thing I think about.
In the past....I used all my energy to fight against what I didn't want.....fighting to survive whatever stuff was going on. That fighter mentality still kicks in...and is still very much a part of me.
I don't think it's a bad thing like I used. I try to use it now to fight differently.....to fight to win...not just for myself....but for others too....
At one time.....I fought dirty....using my body in any way I could to achieve what I needed. Now.....I've found my voice and I'm learning to use my words....focusing that fight in me to battle for positive changes and make a difference in my world and maybe in the lives of others.
I never thought what I had to say was important...but since publishing my book....and having had so many people read it and tell me my words inspired and gave hope and showed nothing is impossible to overcome.....I know now I have a write (right) to be heard...and a right to my voice.
"Deny your weakness and you will never realize God's strength in you." Joni Eareckson TadaFor years all my efforts went into forcing myself to be strong. The cutting, the drugs, the throwing up - all of it were my attempts at pushing myself to be strong, to not fall, to not give up. No matter what happened or what anyone did to me - I struggled with myself to stand firm. I refused to cry, refused to admit I was scared or even that I needed help. Instead I lashed out. I felt like I was in a war - fighting so hard I nearly killed myself. Even after God amazingly freed me from the drugs - I continued to hurt myself - refusing to eat, forcing myself to throw up, biting my arms, punching and cutting myself......I told God I trusted Him but I didn't trust Him. I didn't trust Him to not allow me to get hurt again.
As a kid I was threatened to never show fear or sadness. But how do you really do that unless you lose a part of who you are? I went away. Far away. In my head. In my own world. A world where no one could reach me. A world where I couldn't reach me. I got lost. The way back has been long. Hard. There were days I didn't want to come back. I struggled with not wanting to be seen. Being seen meant getting hurt. I didn't want to get hurt again.
I've been afraid of feelings. I never knew how or what to do with them. So I punished myself for having them. Sadness, fear - even joy.
Yesterday I went running in the woods near our old place. As I ran through the secluded hills and trails, I felt like I had come home. In the quiet, the calm, the peacefulness - God's whisper in my spirit reminded me - He was with me. Everything will be ok. I'm learning to let go. I'm learning to lean on His strength.
"Faith is like radar that sees through the fog - the reality of things at a distance that the human eye cannot see." Corrie Ten Boom."
Since we moved, I've been a mess - really tired and totally frustrated. A few things went wrong and I buckled. I don't like me when I'm like this. It feels too much like the old me - wild - on edge - out of control. I hate the clutter. I hate the boxes. I need order. I need space with things put away. My head knows it will happen in time but I also can't find things. Like the card the publisher gave me at the writing conference. He told me to call him. He told me he wanted to help me. I can't find his card. I want to give up.
As I drove to work I prayed. I put the music on full blast. Music that sang of God's love and care. I started to calm down. I hadn't prayed since we moved. Too much confusion. Too much chaos.
"God, where did I put that card?" The thought jumped in my head, 'the green pencil case.' The green pencil case? Ok then, where did I put that pencil case? Silence. All day, I thought of that pencil case. All day I wondered where I had put it. Came home. Told my daughter and said it could be in one of a gazillion boxes. She opened up one and pulled out a green pencil case. "This it?" she asked. We opened it and there was the publisher's card.
The missing piece for me - Prayer. Trust. Faith that God knows. He's with me. Even in the chaos. Even in the mess.
Closing my eyes I see myself fighting to survive. Fighting to get away from people who are hurting me - climbing a six foot fence in the middle of winter, with no shoes desperate to escape - cowering under the blows of my father's hands - cringing from the stick my mother beat me with - fighting myself - throwing up, cutting and biting my arms, shooting dope - getting high to numb out - forcing myself to be strong, to not buckle - to stay alive.
I feel God's love. His care. The gentleness of His touch. Stop fighting I tell myself. You don't need to fight anymore. For today, it's ok again. For today, I can trust. And breathe. And know He is with me. I can let go and still be safe.
