Being Pathetic

Seems this blog is taking a turn for the worse. The last three entries have been about my fear of public toilets, to pity parties to my angst about hectic schedules. Now I am at an even lower state, one of being pathetic.

I haven't weighed myself in months. The last time I dared step on a scale was at the family christmas party. There happened to be a set of scales in the bathroom at my aunts house so I slid off my doc martins (which, by the way, I've heard aren't "cool" anymore) and stood on a scale that looked to be about 40 or 50 years old. The little dial jumped up and bounced a couple times then landed squarely on 185. I don't know if it's gone up or down since then, or stayed the same...but I'm really not feeling well about things. No, it is worse than not feeling well, it is full-on, 100%, four-alarm, patheticness.

I've been writing privately in my own journal because I've not been able to come to a place where I feel like I can share. I've said so many times that "I'm starting over", "today is the first day of the rest of my life", "I'm going to get it together!" blah blah blah. Nobody wants to hear empty promises. I'm not inspiring anybody to do anything other than, maybe, accept their strongholds.

During this last little season of stressed-scheduling, I could identify so many moments that I was trying to self-sooth, but doing it all the wrong ways...another glass of wine, another piece of candy, another plate of nachos, another margarita, bring on the vodka!! and on and on spiraling into a pitiful state of self destructive behavior. Sleeping in late because I drank too much the night before, starting my chores late in the day, being completely exhausted because I've chosen the wrong things to put in my body and not exercised at all. I realized this morning that I had on the same clothes that I'd been wearing for 3 days, sleeping in them and everything. Somehow, I've derailed my train. I can't say my train went off the tracks, no...I'm driving this thing and I've pulled way out and am heading strait into a brick wall at about 100 miles an hour.

My instinct is to cower in the corner and wait for somebody to come and rescue me. It isn't happening. The thing about self-destruction is that you are the only person that can stop it. So, today, I did an hour of Zumba, read my bible, made homemade bread, took a shower and changed my clothes. If only it were that easy. Go down the checklist and voila, you're healed. This is today, and the day isn't over yet. The LAST thing I want is to hear a bunch of "you can do it's" or people being overly concerned or thinking I need to check myself into rehab or just being cautious or patronizing. This is the main reason I've been keeping it all to myself.

Then I started thinking that I'm probably not the only person going through this. Most women, at one point or another, find themselves feeling pretty darn pathetic. We forget to put ourselves on the list and just let life kick the crap out of us. I want to be FREE!! I told Rodney this morning that maybe I need to go through my "Breaking Free" lesson all over again, and again and again until I get it. I could feel myself resisting the process while I was doing it. Simply going through the motions, showing up for class and dropping it. I like my vodka, I like cookies, I don't want to exercise, I don't want to get up early.... When I hear other people say these things it makes me want to scream, but the truth is, we are human and we are weak. I am weak.

This is the point when I have to come the realization that I can NOT do this alone. I've shut God out. My heart is seared over. I know I need Jesus but I'm too darn stubborn to accept that. I want to do it all myself. I don't need help, I don't need a savior...but I do. I'm so bad at praying. Sometimes I ask friends to give me something to pray about so that I feel the need to pray, then I half-heartedly and very quickly ask God to help them. Prayer, I've heard, is the first thing to do.

During the Breaking Free study, we learned about King Hezikiah's prayer. He basically went and told on his enemy to God. And God said to him, "because you have prayed", and went on to tell Hezikiah exactly how he would defeat his enemy. I'm left to wonder all the defeat I've endured simply because I've failed to pray. I wonder all the victories I've missed out on because I simply didn't get on my knees and ask for help.

This is where I'm starting today. Prayer. I'm scared to even try. I don't really even know how to do it. I can say the words but feel like God is too ashamed to even listen to me. He's heard it all before. This journey isn't about a number on the scale or how organized I am or even how much I eat or drink. Those are just symptoms of a bigger issue. I really don't even know what the issue is but I'm about to lay it all at the feet of Jesus and believe that He will reveal it to me and then hold me by the hand as I walk away whole from the wreckage I've created. I know it can happen, I've just got to take the first step. And, here I go.......