One Great Liar

My heart breaks open as I continue on this journey. I recently discovered that I may sicker than I thought I was. I discovered that I am a very convincing liar and am able to portray to others exactly what I want them to see. My friend told me that the word "perfectionist" and the thought of me go together. Which was odd to me as I thought about how I've allowed myself to become the weight that I am and how messy my apartment is. I knew how much of a failure I was and how could she not know that too? I knew my thoughts and I knew my actions and I knew that I was farther from perfect than the worse person you could imagine. I knew I wasn't perfect and I definitely was not a "perfectionist."

Then I got to thinking....most people see a smile, know I love God, see my work ethic, see how I take pride in projection being perfect on Sunday mornings and see a giver. I realized as I walked out of my counselor's office this week without confessing to falling into major temptation that there are lots of things she doesn't know about me. I realized this past week or so that I am a great liar and people look at me and think that I have it all together and on the right path...and I have lied to them because I am not those things.

The wounds on my arms, the pounds on my body, the tears I cry and the dark thoughts in my head...those things I keep hidden even from the people I know think they love me and have earned my trust over the years.

As I continue to be honest with myself, I discovered that I don't feel worthy of being loved...still after all this time and graduating Mercy and everything...I still believe that I'm not perfect enough. I hide my imperfections in my weight and my insurance has asked me to work on that in order to keep my benefits - so now my only protection is being taken away from me and I can't handle the pressure. When I focus on that stuff, I get sick..I start purging, negative self-talk becomes rampant and I give in to self-harm.

All I want to be is the person I'm supposed to be at this point in my life. I'm not supposed to be depressed. I'm not supposed to be self-harming. I'm not supposed to feel unloveable. I'm not supposed to be this fat again. I am not supposed to feel distant from God. And I'm not supposed to be sick. I'm supposed to be living in freedom and yet the more honest I get with myself, the more I realize just how trapped I truly am.

My sister very well may be moving out to where the rest of our family is. She's the last thing I have to family and I know that if she moves our relationship with die. I also know, that as the days tick by and nothing comes from making that police report, I just want to take it all back - from the very beginning. I just want to have my mother back and I can't have her back because she belongs to my abuser. And I wonder to myself if on some level if I still feel as though I belong to him....that's really messed up.

I don't want to be this sick person anymore. And yet, I don't know if I'm ready to truly and 100 percent be honest with myself and where I am at currently. Honesty sucks and yet I know its the only way I'll get back to being completely free. But who do I trust with my most dark places? How do I move forward out of the dark? How do I face my fears and live life completely different? How do I move on? How do I do it safely without harming myself in any way?

I don't know what to do about being a liar. And I don't know what to do about these fears of mine.

Mother's Day Reflections

Mother's Day. Probably the day I dread the most out of the 365 each year. All holidays remind me of very seperated I am from my family, but this day reminds me most of how much my Mother has hurt me.

It is challenging to be in this place - a season of pain and joy. This grey area between hating my Mother for choosing my abuser and loving her so much it takes all I have to not call her. This piece of human nature that says Mothers love their children more than anything else on earth ~ its a lie that screams in my face every day (especially on Mother's Day).

My Mother once made promises to her brand new baby. She was with me as I struggled to survive in the NICU at Stanford and she was with me when I broke my wrist in Kindergarten. She was there when I started cheerleading and she was there on my 10th birthday. Then something changed and she was no longer present with me. She lived in the house I was abused in. She married the man that destroyed my soul. She pushed me aside when I started cutting. She begged me to lie to her about her husband. She told me I ruined her life and hung up the phone. She abandoned me when I needed her most.

I miss my Mother of my young childhood. I miss knowing that she loved me. I miss thinking that she'd believe me. I miss the Mom I had before. If only she would love me more than the person who tore me apart.

Even in the pain, I am thankful for the "moms and sisters" I have gained through Christ. For they keep teaching me what it means to love and be loved. Though I know I sometimes push them away, God has given me such wonderful women to learn from and trust in. Its not the same of course, for my Mother has wounded my ability to be a daughter, but I'll take it and hope one day I able to break the curse that was bestowed upon me.

This day is hard for my soul to bear.