I’ve really been working on understanding and embracing my untidiness lately. No, I don’t necessarily mean physical clutter, grime, and general housekeeping issues. I mean… all of it. My untidy, messy life.
It’s hard, you know? I want so much to just be better. To be fine. To be healed. But I am…
- chronically ill/exhausted
- a (recover-ing/ed) addict… but
- fat (haven’t kicked that food addiction business)
- cursed/blessed with a mental disorder
- a parent to a (wicked awesome) special needs child
- prone to hiding when I’m overwhelmed
- (blessed to be) married to my polar opposite, which causes some… communication differences, shall we say
I want to be that person who can be counted upon. I want to pick a diet and stick to it. I want to throw on my walking shoes and get outside. I want my house to be clean 100% of the time, with all my laundry put away.
I want to keep up, and in my mind I struggle with punishing myself for not being able to, among other things I struggle with. The crappy thing is, I still have to do regular people stuff as someone who’s not a “regular people.” There are no free passes. I guess you can stick me in the spoonies club.
Then throw in days like I had last Monday, where the dog got into the canned cat food and 💩💩💩 all over my builder-beige carpet. (Of course, the carpet). And then I stepped in dog poop outside and tracked it up my carpeted stairs. (I was tempted to just burn the house down and start over, but I didn’t. Very. Tempted.)
I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. Like, I really, really don’t. But sometimes I wish people knew how it felt inside my body so they’d know why I’m so flaky, hard to get ahold of. Why I “change my mind”
sometimes. So many times.
What sucks is that I’m in control of some of it, but I’m also really not.
Addiction to food is my first love; I have struggled with food since I was very young. Addiction to substances was so much easier, such instant reward to the brain. It was also a lot easier to hide; I lost weight when I transferred my love of food to love of substance. I’ve been clean now for almost two years. I’m grateful. Really. But, when I went off substance, I went back to food. Pretty quickly. Not overnight, but pretty quick. Add in the complication that I also have immunodeficiency issues with food, and…
Addiction (its own kind of sickness) fuels the drive to eat “food” (by which I mean, the wrong food); the craving is often really for substance but by Grace… >> the food that triggers me makes me sicker/more fatigued/more depressed/fatter >> weight gain and mental trauma resulting from food makes me lower energy, which makes me long for something to “fix” me, giving me cravings >> I know I should change my habits but this brings us back to addiction. It is a self-defeating cycle. Addiction >> health breakdown >> exhaustion >> need for fix >> addiction… Ugh.
How often I am tempted to go back to substance… just because it will maybe take my focus off of food and I will begin to lose weight again. Even though substance totally destroys my life all together. It kills my drive to succeed at anything, my relationships, makes me completely selfish and awful. Not overnight, no… just over time, my life is just that… substance. That is it.
I’m struggling right now and I’m tired of pretending I’m not. It beats me up inside to look at the positive words I found to share in the summertime, and yes, most days I am able to see the light, even now. I try to remind myself that every day I get through is a day I survived. Sometimes even thrived. But it is so hard when I myself, and others, expect things I’m not able to live up to and I have to disappoint. It is hard to verbalize how much of your energy is taken up just fighting yourself in your own mind. How sometimes a victory is eating three cookies instead of 11.
My mantra and saving grace these days is 2 Corinthians 4:16, “Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” Trying to cling to that.
Clinging to Jesus, and nothing else. That’s where I’m at.