"Please Love Me"

"Please love me." 

Sometimes I think that by screaming those words out, something will change. That the mere fact of saying those words will relieve the aching in my chest and dissipate the pain I feel in my soul. That there will be no more sleepless nights where the nightmares are real and every breath echoes the words, "I am alone."

I crave the reassurance that says, "You are okay. You are loved. You are enough."

My greatest fear is not that I am inadequate, but that I am abandoned because I need too much. I need too much comfort. I need too much reassurance. I need too much love.

I need too much just to stay afloat.

My life is not an easy one to be a part of these days, with all the chaos of rediscovering what my life even is and who I want to be. My days revoke every consistency, it seems. Today might have been good, but tomorrow? Tomorrow might be miserable. My mind is unbound chaos and focus is ever-absent.

So every night, my mind wanders to how I can fix the broken pieces of me and put my emotional puzzle back together so I can be someone worth staying for. So that someone will love me. So that someone will want me.

Just tell me I am okay. Tell me you love me. Tell me you won't leave.

Because I can't take another sleepless night, wondering if any of those things are true. I can't take another night yearning for someone to reassure me. I can't take another night of this alone-ness.

I can't take another night with "This is only a feeling, not fact. It will pass." echoing in my mind because this feeling is constant enough to be fact. It is with me when I wake in the morning, when I sit in class hours later, when I spend time with a friend, when I lie down again at night. It haunts me, regardless of my actions or how many people are around. This loneliness has settled deep in my soul.

In my pain, I cry out to my Father and beg for comfort, yet in the morning, I do not see new mercies. I fear I am walking through this valley all alone.

Come to me, and please... tell me you'll stay.

Tell me you'll stay regardless of the late nights when I need you to stay up reminding me that I am loved and not abandoned. Tell me you'll stay even on my bad days when I push you away and tell you I don't need you. Tell me you'll stay even when you don't understand any of this.

Tell me you'll walk with me, no matter what the road looks like. And then tell me again and again and again until I am able to tell myself - if I am ever able to tell myself.

Remind me of what is true. Remind me who my Father is. Remind me of the promises He has for me. 

Let me cling to you, just for now, until I can do these things for myself.

But please, please love me.

First Day of School

I survived my official first day back Gettysburg in almost a year. I managed to make it through each of my three classes today without much trouble, but now I am extremely exhausted and ready to sleep for a while (especially since my anxiety kept me up much of last night, which is just how you want to start a new semester at college...) 

Awkward first day of school picture.

Today didn't suck. Parts of it did, but as a whole, today was okay. 

I felt a great amount of shame walking into and sitting through my stats class and Introduction to Brain & Behavior, mostly because I should have completed both of these courses last fall. It is really hard for me to come to terms with having to retake them, even though I know those medical withdrawals last fall were for my health and will be best for me in the long run. Most of the time I can't see the forest for the trees, especially when it comes to my future and my recovery. 

(I know most would think retaking these courses would give me an advantage because the majority of the material--at least for the first two months--will be review. This is not the case! I was active in my eating disorder last fall, which means my brain was not processing information to long term memory as effectively as usual, thus resulting in my not remembering much of what I learned last year. I am in for a frustrating semester with these two courses... So please, stop telling me they should be easy for me.)

On Monday and Wednesday afternoons, I'm taking this course called "Writing through Conflict," taught by Hugh Martin, a contemporary author (read more about him here). It'll be an interesting course, for sure, albeit a ton of work. I think the hardest part of the course for me will be handling the stress of its workload, as well as the memories the professor's presence brings to my mind--he reminds me of someone I'd much rather forget. 

Academically, I think this semester will be okay. It'll be an intellectual challenge, but I think the hardest part will be acting against this perpetual exhaustion I've been feeling to get myself to class, get myself out of my apartment, get myself to do my work.

The most difficult part of this semester, by far, is going to be dealing with the loneliness/aloneness I've felt since arrival. Don't get me wrong--I have friends here. At least, I think I still do. Little by little, I've been realizing the friends I still have here, although it's going to take time before I feel loved and cared for and supported here again. It's going to take time to build my relationships back up. I know that, logically. 

I can't help but feel I don't have someone I can turn to here when I'm having a bad day. I feel like I'm fighting the war all on my own, which is a hard thing to do when it seems each battle is never-ending. I feel I can't articulate my needs to people here. I feel I can't share my emotions here. I feel I'm walking on such eggshells here. I thought that was because of knowing if things get bad again, I going home and not coming back, but I'm realizing it's not. 

In a conversation with someone today, I was told, "Congratulations on beating eating disorders!" I was a bit taken aback by this statement at first, until I thought about it some more. 

I think there is this expectation of people--my friends, professors, acquaintances--that once I'm back, I'm better. That ten months at home is enough to "fix me" or "make me feel better." I don't think it's anything uncommon, but most people believe mental illnesses like depression, anxiety, and eating disorders can be cured, when in reality, I don't think they can. 

My Brain & Behavior professor gave an example from the media in class today when talking about depression and I think it applies well here. He said someone (I forget the name) rich and famous was being interviewed on the radio and was asked how he could be depressed when he was so well-off. This person responded with a question, inquiring how someone similarly well-to-do could have asthma or cancer or any other more socially acceptable illness. 

My professor was trying to illustrate the idea of mental illness being a result of an inconsistency in the body, but I think his analogy was slightly incomplete. Mental illness is more accurately depicted as a chronic condition--asthma or allergies, for example. It's not something you can treat once and then it will go away. (Wouldn't it be nice if it worked that way?!) 

Eating disorders, like depression and like anxiety, are something you learn to live in spite of (Most people say you learn to live with these conditions, but they suck the life from you, so I think it is more accurate to say live in spite of these conditions). I am learning to live in spite of my disorders. I am earning my education in spite of my disorders. I am back at Gettysburg and got through my first day of classes in spite of my disorders. 

Let that be enough.

Sunday Sermons: Recalculating

Lately I've had a love/hate relationship with church. It seems every Sunday, I sit through the sermon and I leave feeling like I was smacked in the face with some important life truth. This Sunday was no exception, however, I also left questioning my plans to return to college in the fall. Pastor Jeff is doing an excellent job of challenging me in my faith. 

Today's sermon was based on Numbers 22:21-35: 

22 But God was very angry when he went, and the angel of the Lord stood in the road to oppose him. Balaam was riding on his donkey, and his two servants were with him. 23 When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord standing in the road with a drawn sword in his hand, it turned off the road into a field. Balaam beat it to get it back on the road.

24 Then the angel of the Lord stood in a narrow path through the vineyards, with walls on both sides. 25 When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it pressed close to the wall, crushing Balaam’s foot against it. So he beat the donkey again.

26 Then the angel of the Lord moved on ahead and stood in a narrow place where there was no room to turn, either to the right or to the left. 27 When the donkey saw the angel of the Lord, it lay down under Balaam, and he was angry and beat it with his staff. 28 Then the Lord opened the donkey’s mouth, and it said to Balaam, “What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?”

29 Balaam answered the donkey, “You have made a fool of me! If only I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now.”

30 The donkey said to Balaam, “Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?”

“No,” he said.

31 Then the Lord opened Balaam’s eyes, and he saw the angel of the Lord standing in the road with his sword drawn. So he bowed low and fell facedown.

32 The angel of the Lord asked him, “Why have you beaten your donkey these three times? I have come here to oppose you because your path is a reckless one before me. 33 The donkey saw me and turned away from me these three times. If it had not turned away, I would certainly have killed you by now, but I would have spared it.”

34 Balaam said to the angel of the Lord, “I have sinned. I did not realize you were standing in the road to oppose me. Now if you are displeased, I will go back.”

35 The angel of the Lord said to Balaam, “Go with the men, but speak only what I tell you.” So Balaam went with Balak’s officials. 

Pastor Jeff began his sermon by talking about the conspiracy Mapquest, GoogleMaps, YahooMaps, and all other directional websites have to get him lost. (Personally, I just think it's a user error...) Then he spoke about how now, he has a GPS, but sometimes, he still gets lost and when he does, it passive-aggressively complains about the fact it has to recalculate. 

His question was: Is the exasperated recalculating voice our own when we have to shift direction in order to find where we need to go?

We all have goals for our lives--dreams we want to achieve educationally, professionally, personally--and even though we know the directions, we sometimes miss a step or turn or a new situation may arise, be it a health problem, a family problem, or just a door being shut. And in these moments, we find we need to recalculate and this may come with anger, frustration, sadness, annoyance and other emotions. 

In Numbers, Balaam has a special relationship with God. He's going to meed the king of Moab, but God is not super thrilled by that idea, so He sends an angel with a sword to stand in Balaam's path and for some reason only allows Balaam's donkey to see it. The donkey, seeing the danger, diverts the course in order to save Balaam from percieved danger three times, and Balaam, frustrated because he has to recalculate, hits his donkey each time for not staying on course. 

After the third time, the donkey says to Balaam, "WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING HITTING ME?! IT HURTS!" And the donkey and Balaam then argue, until God allows Balaam to see the angel, who explains why the donkey kept averting the course. 

Balaam, now realizing he maybe should not be going to see the kind of Moab, wisely decides he should go home rather than risk his life, but the angel encourages him to go on to meet with Balak, but only if he does what God says. 

Pastor Jeff then began to talk about the journey of faith and how it involves discernment. There are moments when life recalculates us, and in those moments, we need to ask, is God leading us or are we deciding where we go? We need to discern the difference between our voice and God's. We need to be actively figuring our which is which, following the one and leaving the other.

Especially when life seems to recalculate us. We need to turn to God and ask, "Now what?"

This process of discernment means paying attention to the divine messengers God places in our paths--our friends, teachers, mentors, maybe even our donkeys. Who is God asking us to pay attention to? What are the voices saying? Is God asking us to recalculate our plans for our lives or to go ahead with His blessing?

God is always speaking to us in the moments when life recalculates us, not passive aggressively, with exasperation, anger, frustration, or annoyance, but with a voice of love, challenge, and grace.

Ten months ago, my life recalculated me. It sent me home from my dream college to deal with my health and mental illnesses. It took me down a road I never thought I would be on at this point in my life. I still find myself exasperated and saddened I missed out on a semester and a half of college.  

In 22 days, I am planning on moving back to Gettysburg for what should be my junior year of school. And for the past four months or so, I have been having doubts about returning. Others in my life have also been having similar doubts, to which I've put on a brave front, but the truth is... I'm filled with so much anxiety and fear about returning that I'm not sure it's the right decision. If it was the right decision, I'd feel 100% confident in it, wouldn't I? 

And this morning, I was challenged to ask myself another question: Is God leading me or am I the one deciding where I go? 

I honestly don't know. If I look at the could-be messengers God has placed in my path, I am hearing mixed opinions. I'm listening to the voices but I don't know what they're saying to me. 

How do I know who God is speaking through? How do I know if God is telling me to go ahead with the journey I'm on or if He is asking me to recalculate my plans? What if I don't have enough faith to discern any of this? What if I misunderstand God's voice and make the wrong decision? 

I don't know. 

On Being a Recovery Blogger In Recovery

I am a recovery blogger.

I write about my recovery from my eating disorder and my other co-occurring conditions.

On my Facebook page, I share links about mental illnesses and recovery. I share body positive articles; I share articles about anxiety and depression recovery, about body image, about mental health in general.

I am an eating disorder and mental health activist.

I am an Assistant Editor and Writer for Libero Network, and I blog on occasion for The Project Heal.

I am a psychology major hoping to one day specialize in the treatment of eating disorders.

But I am also in recovery.

This means that sometimes, I am full of hypocrisy. Sometimes, the words I write, the articles I share, the advice I spew out of my mouth is full of truths I don't believe. Sometimes it's riddled with ED's deception goals to fake people into thinking everything is peachy. Sometimes it's all just bullshit.

Sometimes I have months like these past few and cannot for the life of me spin my experiences in a positive manner. Months where I take two trips to the emergency room and receive stitches for self-harm. Months where I accidentally drink too much in front of my entire extended family. Months where I am not even close to full meal plan compliance and my doctor threatens to not let me go back to school. Months where I struggle just as much to keep food down as I do to get food in my body.

I think I sometimes get so wrapped up in my role as advocate that I try to manage perceptions of me so I will seem more credible and trustworthy because I've been through the war. Who wants to wants to read a recovery blog by someone who's struggling? What kind of credibility do I have offering advice on healing when I'm not healed? How do I promote acceptance and recovery when I don't always want it for myself?

So instead of admitting I don't know all the answers, instead of admitting weakness, instead of sharing my struggles, I hide. I avoid coming to my blog and sharing my journey. I avoid writing posts and articles for other organizations. I avoid commenting on any articles I share on Facebook.

Here's the thing--the very nature of recovery means some days will be miserable and others will be amazing. It means some days are wired for struggle while others are pure bliss. It means there will be bad days and good days.

Sometimes my wanting to control my image perception as an advocate gets in the way of my recovery. It's hard to focus on recovery when you become obsessed with gaining blog followers and becoming a successful writer. It is harder to recover when you are consumed by your image, your credibility, your fears.

I originally began this blog for me, as a way to connect with others, process my journey, and chronicle my life. It was a way to achieve healing and peace within my own mind. I just wanted to write.

I think it's time I get back to that.

Taking the Semester Off

I'm getting to the time where everyone is asking me why I am not back at school. It's not winter break any longer, although it certainly is winter here. And I'm getting asked questions that I usually have no idea how to answer. Things like, "Are you going to school somewhere else?" or "What are you going to do now that you're home?" or "Why aren't you at school?" And I usually respond with the generic, I'm just taking the semester off to figure out some life stuff and I'm going back to school in the fall. It's a perfectly reasonable explanation, I think, especially after the advice that one of my professors gave me: 

"It is difficult to answer people's questions. They never mean any harm by them, yet its very awkward when you don't want to talk about it. You'll have to come up with a short, very generic answer. It is important to remember that people take time off from college for a variety of reasons... A semester off is nothing. I know other students who took off for medical leave, but some just want a break for a while to figure out their path. That is really mature (and wise) to do. So often young adults just jump on the path they think is 'correct' by their parents, friend, or society without looking at all of the options. You get the luxury of looking at your options!"

So I personally think my answer is really good. But then, some people ask me the dreaded question of all questions... 

WHY?

And it's not that I want to lie to people--I am not a liar (if I was a liar, I would probably still be at school right now)--but I don't exactly know how to read people and judge how they'll react to me telling them the truth. For example, some of the elderly people at church, what would they think? EDs weren't really a thing back then, besides, everyone knows that they all gossip and talk to each other and I don't want anything I say to get misinterpreted and rumors to be spread and whatnot. And a lot of times, people will ask and it won't be an ideal time to share that information because they'll be other people around who I don't want to overhear what I'm saying or there won't be enough time for me to explain the entire situation because you can't just throw it out there that, hey, I've had an eating disorder for almost 7 years and that's why I'm taking time off of school. It doesn't really work like that. 

Also, like my mom told me the other day--it really is none of their business. She was referring to a situation where someone who our family barely knows was asking about why I was taking time off of school. My business is my business and no one else's. 

I do, however, pride myself on being open about my ED because I want to change the conversation we have in society about EDs and the stigma that surrounds them. I am totally okay with speaking freely about my struggles and my illness, but there is a time and a place for it. I know that, and I try to do what I am most comfortable with in the moment. If that means talking about it, then by all means, I will talk about it. But if that means shrugging off the question with a generic answer, then that is exactly what I will do and if people aren't okay with that, well, that's just too freaking bad because it is none of their damn business in the first place. 

I am not selfish for putting my recovery before my education,
my family, my future, and everything else.
Putting everything else on hold to recover is not selfish.
You are not selfish for taking time out to heal.

But there are ways in which I am willing to share what's really going on--through an email, through a text, through a one-on-one conversation where there are no interruptions. Because as easy as it is for me to say I'm taking the semester off, it's a really challenging feat for me, one that I struggle every day to accept, to embrace, and to not judge. 

Most people don't get that I just might not be 100% okay with what I'm doing right now when they ask these questions. And again, they don't mean any harm by them, I'm sure. But every time that I have to look at someone and say that to them, another piece of my heart breaks. 

I sent an email to a high school teacher of mine the other day, sharing a really cool video that I thought she would find useful in her classes. She emailed me back and asked me how school and life were going for me, and I was very open with her about everything. She responded saying: 

"I hope that you can rest in the fact that it is all right to be at home right now.  My youngest also had to take time out from college to get her bearings back, and during that time I know that 'being out' was really hard for her, even though it was the right thing to do.  Life is bigger than our plans, sometimes."

I want people to think a little bit more before they ask questions and pry into people's lives, especially if they do not know them very well. I want them to think about the timing and the location of their questions, especially with something like this. Anyone who knows me well knows that I love school, especially Gettysburg, and that I hate quitting something or not finishing something, so anyone who knows me would know that me being home right now is 1) not a normal behavior for me and 2) not something that I would opt to do on my own free will. I also think people need to be aware of the degree to which it is acceptable to pry into the life of another person in a particular situation. I'm completely okay with telling everyone, in any situation, that I am taking the semester off of school. It's the questions that follow that are not always timed the best, and I'm not always comfortable saying that I don't want to talk about it in that moment. 

And again, I know that people don't mean any harm or hurt to come of their questions, and that usually they are just curious or trying to make conversation, which is fine. I just wish that people would be more careful about when and where they choose to ask things and that they would recognize that this taking a semester off thing isn't as easy as it looks for me, that it pains me to be sitting at home and not in my dorm room or in class and that I'm not just taking a break from school--I'm trying to rewire my brain. And that, my friends, is not easy or simple. 

Christmas Eve.

I keep thinking back to last year, after the candlelight service at church, I was sitting downstairs watching some Christmas special with my family, writing a post reflecting on all of the growth that had taken place in my life that year.  I wrote about being recovered, feeling valued and beautiful and loved and worthy.  I wrote about being more than my past, about never being alone, about hope and healing.  I wrote about my complete faith in an all-powerful, healing, restoring God.

Christmas 2012 I was in a very different place than I was Christmas 2011.

And Christmas 2013 is no different. 

Tonight, I sit alone in my room, thinking.

Thinking about how my life has changed in the past year and has put me in a position that I never once thought that I would be in.  I dropped out of my first semester of my second year at college because I had a major relapse with my eating disorder, depression, and anxiety.  I took medical withdrawals from all but one course, in which I’m taking an incomplete and hope to finish up soon.  I’m taking the entire spring semester off from school.  I’m spending at least four hours a day in different kinds of therapy groups, with different psychologists and psychiatrists and doctors and nutritionists, trying to learn how to completely accept and manage life with an eating disorder, with depression, and with anxiety, trying to learn how to manage my life with this illness.

I never once thought that my life would go back to this, not even all those days I spent in treatment in high school, when I was so excited to go to college so that I could fully engage in my disorder and no one would notice.  I never once thought that things could get this bad again. I never once thought I would be in very intensive treatment again.

I never once thought that my life would do a complete 180 on me. But it has and that’s something that I’m just going to have to accept because even though I think that I've convinced myself that I've accepted this situation, I reach a moment where I get really pissed off about having been given these genes with this temperament and these personality traits and having been dealt this environment.  And then I’m back at square one, trying to accept it all just one more time.

But it’s never just one more time.

Looking back on my post from last Christmas, I can’t help but be a bit judgmental about where I am now and thinking that I’m in a worse place now than I was then.

This Christmas Eve, I’m not thankful. I’m not filled with joy and hope and strength.  I’m not feeling encouraged or blessed.  This Christmas Eve, I am filled with anger and bitterness and resentment.  I’m filled with depression and loneliness and insecurity. I’m filled with anxiety and distress and worry.  I’m filled with shame and guilt and regret.  

I’m filled with questions like “Why me?” and “Will this ever be over?” and “Will I ever feel and live a ‘normal’ life?” I’m questioning what my next steps are, where I stand with my relationships with everyone in my life, and how my faith fits into this.  I’m filled with questions about what my life will look like next Christmas and the one after that.

And something that I've learned in the past five weeks of treatment is that all of this is okay. Having questions and doubts and emotions—it’s all okay. Even during Christmas, when the expectation is joy and peace and contentment. My emotions are real and I am allowed to feel them, even now. Even at Christmas.

I guess what I’m trying to get at is that things change. People change. Lives change. And things don’t always go how you expect them to go. You don’t always end up where you want to in life. Sometimes the unexpected is exactly what happens and sometimes you take a giant leap backwards.

All of that is okay.

It’s life. And life doesn't stop for anyone.

Not even at Christmas. 

An Attitude of Gratitude in the Chaos

I promised myself that I would blog about my first day of day treatment (from here on out, known as DTP).  I promised myself that I would blog about Thanksgiving and how to survive it and have a super compilation of all of the articles I read about how to survive it if you have an eating disorder and how to support a loved one through Thanksgiving. And I did neither of those things. 

My first day of DTP was a whirlwind, from which I went straight into a car for the five hour journey to Michigan, where Thanksgiving happened, then we made the five hour trek back home, and I completed my second day of DTP. So none of the blogging got done because well, DTP is exhausting and I was tired, and I also didn't have the interwebs in the car.  

"By this point, I had long since accepted that I had a problem that could be called anorexia, although I didn't think I was thin enough to 'qualify' for the diagnosis. I was also quite happy to recover from my eating disorder, just as long as I didn't have to eat and gain weight."

--Carrie Arnold, Decoding Anorexia

I started reading Decoding Anorexia by Carrie Arnold last week sometime, and I have still to make it past the introductory chapter because I'm not sure right now is the time for me to read this book.  The quote above has stuck with me ever since I read it the first time because that's exactly where my mind is right now.  I have a foot in both camps--one is in the do-whatever-it-takes-to-recover camp, while the other remains in the I-like-the-idea-but-don't-want-to-eat/not lose-weight camp.

I keep having this discussion with people--from school, from treatment, from my team.  And every single one of them finds it normal that I feel this way and normal that I feel conflicted at this stage.  I mean, I currently have two competing ideologies in my head.  

And I still don't completely understand how sick I am.  I can look at the DSM and see how I fit the diagnosis of anorexia (Criterion B in the DSM: Intense fear of gaining weight. Check.), and I can be told again and again by doctors and therapists and friends and family that I am sick, and I think that I'm just finally becoming on board with that.  I still have my moments though.  

But recovery vs. continuing with my eating disorder?  I don't know.  I can still barely wrap my head around having an ED.  

In DTP, the group leaders have both told me that this is perfectly normal and that acceptance and commitment to recovery will take time for me to develop, but that it will happen and that will be a big part of my recovery.

My doctor today told me that it is going to take time for my mind to get there.  She said that as long as I continue to show up and do the hard work, it will get easier to want to recover.  And she also said that it's completely okay to have one foot in the recovery camp and one foot in the not recovery camp, even if I'm only 51% in the first and 49% in the latter, as long as I'm letting that 51% win.  And sometimes, my balance shifts and it becomes more like 50.00000001% in the recovery camp.

For days I have been feeling like the most insane person on the planet with all of these dissonant thoughts running around in my head.  But today, I feel better because of DTP and because of the supportive staff that work there and I am so thankful for that.

So today, the day after what I'm renaming "Thankfulness Day" because it really is supposed to be about giving thanks, I'm going to turn my mind to the blessings that I have right now, in the chaos, in the uncertainty, in the hard times. And right now, in this moment...

I'm thankful to exist and to be alive;

I'm thankful for warm blankets and naps that bring rest and for knitting, and Criminal Minds to distract after a long few days;

I'm thankful for writing, for blogging, for journaling and for the outlet it gives me right now;

I'm thankful for family and friends who are supportive of my recovery journey;

I'm thankful for a house and loving parents to come home to;

I'm thankful for Gettysburg friends who have been sending love and encouragement, for administrators who have gone above and beyond the call of duty to help me with all the logistics (and to encourage me when I need it), for professors who are becoming more like family away from home and who continue to encourage and support from afar;

I'm thankful for my home community and for older and wiser friends, who I am now becoming close to because of my struggles;

I'm thankful for babies to snuggle and children to watch, for the reminder that life is precious and for the joy their presence brings to me;

I'm thankful for everyone I know who is struggling or has struggled with an ED--for my friends, for those I met and am meeting in treatment, for those I've met by being vulnerable about my own life, for those I've met at school and the NEDA Conference, for those who I blog-creep on--because every single one of these people make me feel less alone and give me a reason to fight my own ED;

I'm thankful for CCED and their staff who are supportive of my recovery and validating of my fears, who understand how overwhelming it is to "just eat" or to "just follow your meal plan," who care about every individual in DTP, who come to work every day with a smile and know exactly what to say to make me laugh, who give me a place of safety where I can be vulnerable and where people just get how I'm feeling;

And I'm thankful for the 50% of me in the recovery camp that gets me to actually go to treatment, because like my therapist continues to tell me, the best thing I am doing for myself right now is simply showing up.

Your Approval Isn't Needed

I think that this may have possibly been one of the longest weeks of my life. Staff training. 

I hate staff training. It's so uncomfortable. I feel like I don't fit in anywhere and I don't belong in this big group. 

But then I remember that I am, in fact, an introvert. And therefore, being around this many people at one time is very overwhelming for me. 

Then I also remember that I am someone who tends to define herself by the approval of others. If people like me, I'm valuable and good enough. If they don't, then why do I exist?

But think about this. I am at a camp. A camp for a church that affirms everyone because they are created in the image of God and are God's beloved children. 

So who am I trying to impress? 

What is it about us as humans that we always feel that it is necessary to be accepted?  Yes, it is human nature to want to be with people and be loved and given attention, but I am loved unconditionally by my Heavenly Father and therefore, the approval of others is completely irrelevant. 

But I'm never going to stop feeling like I need to be accepted or included to be seen as good enough. It's in my nature. I just need to continually remind myself that I am a beloved daughter of the Most High and nothing can change that. 

Not my appearance. 

Not my grades. 

Not the approval of others. 

Resting in that is difficult, especially when I don't feel that it's true. But truth isn't always the same as what I feel is true. 

So yes, this week was rough, but it's over. I don't need approval to be good enough. And next week, I'll have campers and be surrounded by fewer adults and feel less pressure to fit in and be accepted because they already accept me and because it is there that I feel accepted and loved without trying to be either. 

And eventually, I will be surrounded with only people who build me up, accept me, and love me.

It will be okay.