For when your praying knees get week – 1

Oh Mondays. So full of rushing around to get back into the swing of things (especially after a holiday weekend!), sleep deprivation, and caffeine. We’re much more likely to be on edge and we look at the week ahead and bemoan how long it is until Friday. 

For this Monday I had a completely different blog post planned. I wanted to talk about starting each week fresh and making the most out of life, but I feel there is something much more important – or prevalent – that needs to be said. It’s something that I deal with a lot and I feel it’s a huge reason for people leaving or never coming to the Christian faith – hypocrites. 

The people who profess such godliness and faith, but who’s actions speak more about promoting themselves than Christ. It’s all about how they can change people. About how important they are. They want people to come to them, not because they feel God speaking and moving through them, but because they love how important it makes them feel. 

Of course, there are the ones who may cuss, become drunk, have premarital sex, etc. But those may lead people to believe that those sins are okay – because we are forgiven. And we are! But we must make an effort each and every day to turn from sin. All sin. 

It’s hard to read or listen to a person preach when you know that their heart isn’t in the right place. It’s hard to believe that anything they say may have any truth. 

But it can. And that’s what makes it all the much harder. Can God work though a selfish, self serving person? I believe he can. God can work though anybody. God is the great I Am. He can do anything. And that’s part of what’s so frustrating. Who wants to listen to a man or woman preach and take it in what they have to say when their life contradicts their words? 

It’s hard enough for someone who knows Christ to do, but imagine how hard it would be for someone who isn’t saved? Someone who knows nothing of Christ? 

I truly believe that a huge part of why so many people embrace atheism is because of hypocritical christians. Instead of pulling people to Christ, we’re pushing them away! We’re showing them everything but love, we judge then because of their sin and never acknowledge our own, and we put ourself up in a pedestal. 

I personally know a man struggling with his faith. He believes there is a God, but for whatever reason, he hates Him. All these “christians” on tv and in the news only push him farther away. I see God chasing him plain as day, but because of whatever happened in his past and because of people in the world today, he keeps running. 

How many people in your life are doing the same thing? Are you? 

I’m not perfect. I’m far from it. I’m nothing special or extraordinary. But I love Christ with my whole heart. I’ve been blessed with salvation and given so much peace in my life. 

And I want everyone to have and feel the same. I want us all to come together in Christ. I want us to move. I want to see people moved to tears from the power of God. From his love and grace. We all need to take a good look at ourselves and see if we are representing Christ the way we should be. 

Remember – the way we live may be the only bible someone ever reads. 

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Eating Disorders, Anxiety, and Depression. My story of overcoming mental illness and gaining true happiness. 

This is my life journey. I haven’t sugarcoated my story. As the title states, this deals with mental illness. Please read with caution. 

Weight has been something I’ve struggled with my entire life. 

I can remember being in the fourth grade and comparing weight with my friends and realizing that I weight at least ten more pounds than they did. 

I remember my mom calling the plus sized clothing I wore in the kids section “half” sizes so I wouldn’t feel bad. I remember being made fun of because I “was too fat” to wear l.e.i. And mudd (the cool brands of 2000). I remember not trying out for cheerleading because I thought I was too big. 

I remember being in high school and being disgusted with myself because my arms would rub against my stomach when I sat down in my desk. I remember being called fat behind my back by people in my band class. 

These moments all formulated in my head to convince myself that I wasn’t worth love or acceptance until I lost weight. 

The summer before my senior year in high school I lost some weight. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough for it to unconsciously click in my head how to lose weight. See, I had gotten super busy over the summer and as a result I didn’t snack early as much. I lost weight and I knew it was because I hadn’t been eating normal. 

The way to lose weight was to not eat. At least, in my head it was. 

It didn’t trigger right away, but in February of 2007 my nanny passed away from a heart attack. My life was thrown into chaos over night and I found myself feeling completely out of control. I couldn’t control when someone died. I couldn’t control my emotions. I could control my life. 

But I could control what I put in my mouth. 

From that moment on I ate just enough to get by. I would go to the gym to work off what I had eaten because I wanted to consume as few calories as possible. 

I remember having to hang on to my desk when I got up because I felt so faint from lack of food. I remember keeping otc migraine pills in my car because I always had a headache at the end of the school day. 

Oh, but I was losing weight. People noticed. I noticed. Who cared if I felt like death? I was losing weight. 


Winter 2006 or early 2007 above and spring 2007 below 

The hardest part, looking back, was that I felt so huge to begin with that no matter how little I ate, I still felt like I was failing. I wasn’t losing weight fast enough and it ripped me apart. 

I’d love to say that I woke up one morning and opened my eyes to what I was doing to myself, but I didn’t. I settled into a toxic relationship with food for the next five or so years. I’d feel better and eat, only to be followed by weeks of eating every little. Sometimes I’d be so filled with anxiety that I would binge and eat whatever I could, followed by extreme guilt. I never felt like I could talk about it because the perception of someone with an eating disorder is skeletal and sickly. I still could have been considered “fat” for lack of a better word. 

My first year of work led me to passing out at work twice and my mom used to sit and watch me eat breakfast. Honestly, I don’t know if she actually knew, or what, but I remember being practically forced to eat toast. 


April 2008

I had several bad relationships because I never felt like I deserved better, or could even get better. I’ve had ex’s that I told some things to call me fat behind my back after we broke up. I’ve been told that there are people starving and I’m so selfish that I’m upset because I did eat. 


2009

I never felt good enough, thin enough, pretty enough. I struggled with anxiety, depression, and excessive OCD. I’ve coped with alcohol and self harm. I stayed with a man who lied to me bacause I thought he was the best I would ever have. 


2011


2012


Jamaica 2013

  

2014


2015

Then I woke the eff up. 
I began to live my life and gained the best friend I could ever imagine. Concerts, music, shopping, and fun became my life. Little by little I began to start loving myself. 

I still had feelings of not being good enough, until August 2014. 

My. Life. Changed. 

I know not everyone is religious, but I tell you, the day I left my last ex I felt God. I felt him with me, guiding me. I felt him show me how special I am to Him. I’ve been moved to sobbing tears because of His presence. 
Since 2014 I’ve been on a path of self discovery. I’ve been broken down and lifted up. I’ve learned to see that I am good enough. 

Because isn’t that the root of my problems? I never thought I was goood enough. 

I can’t say I don’t struggle with anxiety or sometimes have a bad self image. I’m human and you are too. Sometimes life with be a daily struggle. Sometimes you may feel you’ll never be good enough. 

You are good enough. 

Mental illness, to be honest, is a lifetime struggle. What helps me may not help you and vice versa. We need to take charge of our lives and find what helps us. It is possible to be happy. It is possible to look in the mirror and see someone you love. It is possible to wake up and be so thankful that you’re alive. 

I’m rooting for you. I’m rooting for us all. 

I don’t know if this made sense, or if it will help anyone, but I feel called to share my story. My past may help someone change their future, and if that’s the case then it’s all worth it. ❤️


October 2016

My Anxiety Post

My plan for today’s blog post was a fall plus size look book. I had picked out the clothes, put some makeup on, straightened my hair, and even took the pictures. 

I had wanted to take them outside, but it’s almost 90 degrees and I would have melted if I tried to go outside in fall clothing. 

Anyways, I took the pictures and had sat down to slightly crop and edit them – until I saw myself. 

Normally I’m a very positive person. I love myself and who I have become and I’m happy with the way I look 99.9% of the time. I also love all the clothes that I had put on and normally I think I look great in them. 

But today is a different story. 

As I looked over the pictures I found myself getting upset and discouraged. 

Why would anyone want to look at pictures of me looking fat in fall clothes?

The pictures look too grainy to post on a blog that you want to be as professional as possible. 

Your cheeks are too red. 

Why in the world did you pick that lipstick?

Those are all the thoughts that ran through my mind. Loud enough for me to say no to a look book post. 

Instead, I want to talk about how even the happiest, most positive person has their bad days. 

I don’t care who you are, every single person has bad days. 

No one is exempt. 

And I’ll admit it – I deal with anxiety. 

Sometimes I don’t even want to go places because of it and apparently  that flows over to the internet as well.  

It’s not limited to plus size women, either. 

Feeling unhappy with your body can happen to anyone – plus size, petite, thin, tall, black, white, Asian, Hispanic. 

Some people deal what those feelings all the time, while others only deal with them every now and again. Thankfully, I’m the latter. 

But today’s one of those days. 

Instead of not posting anything and staying quiet, I’m choosing to make this post – because I know I’m not the only one who struggles. I’m not alone and I don’t want anyone to ever think that they are alone. 

We all go through it. 

We all have our struggles – anxiety, depression, OCD, eating disorders, bipolar disorder, etc etc. 

And you know what? The greatest thing that hold us back from talking about it is the thought that we’re alone. 

We convince ourselves (or the media does) that everyone is happy and perfect and we, alone, are the broken ones. 

But we’re not broken. 

I’m not broken and neither are you. 

I personally take comfort in my Lord and knowing that He loves me though the anxiety and body image issues – that He has deemed me worthy of dying for – gives me the ability to step outside of myself and see things the way I should be seeing them. 

So even though today is a bad day, I still know I am worthy. I know I am loved. 

And you are too. 

So here’s me saying anxiety, you won the battle, but I’ve already won the war. 


You’re Waiting For Marriage? But You’re Not A Virgin!

Life is full of twists and turns. 

You start down one path, only to be redirected to another one. You think you have everything you want, only to realize something major is lacking. 

For 25 years of my life I stumbled through this world living one day at a time.

 I did what I wanted. 

I stayed out all hours of the day. I went to concerts (rock, of course!). I drank – sometimes heavily. I dated guys who were all wrong. I gave myself to men who didn’t deserve it. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I never really slept around. I had boyfriends and I had men who I thought I was crazy for. But that’s way besides the point, right?

I didn’t want them to leave, and having sex was the normal progression. Right? 

But I always felt like something was missing. A piece of my soul that was longing to be filled, but no matter how much I tried it always stayed empty. 

And, oh, how I tried! 

In the summer of 2014 I moved in why my boyfriend of a little over a year – for four days. 

Because I found out that he was smoking pot on the fourth day. 

It wasn’t even the fact of him smoking pot; it was the lies. 

So. Many. Lies. 

My world came crashing down and I didn’t know what to do. 

I went home to my mom, losing it the moment she asked me what was wrong. 

I sat on the couch crying and feeling completely hollow. 

My life was in shambles. 

I kept bouncing my bank account. My job sucked. I had recently had a panic attack – something I hadn’t had in years. My migraines were happening all of the time. My boyfriend has lied to me – and not just once. And I felt like all of my friends were leaving me behind. 

I didn’t know what to do. 

So I did the only thing I could think of.   

I prayed

I begged His forgiveness. I begged for Him to come into my life and change it. I told Him that I give up on trying to do everything my own way. 

I gave Him everything. 

I knew at that moment I could either follow Him, or keep ruining my life. 

So I chose to follow Him and I haven’t regretted that decision since. 

The part of my soul missing? It was God. 

I’m whole. I’m finally whole. 

Of course, with my salvation came changes. 

I started a new job and I’m getting ready to start my journey into Medical Coding. 

My migraines disappeared. 

I have money and haven’t bounced my account in almost two years. 

My clothing became much more modest. 

I am abstinent.  

Oh, and I’m some sort of mutant because I gave up having sex before marriage. 

Why is it we want to celebrate that we, as women, have the choice to sleep with whomever we want but not the right to choose not to have sex?

Why is there such a double standard? 

It’s empowering to have control over our sex lives, right? 

But not if that means not having one before marriage. 

What utter bull crap!

I’m more empowered now, not  having sex, than when I was. 

It’s my choice. 

It’s my right. 

It’s my faith. It’s my relationship with my Lord and Savior. 

It’s my body. 

I won’t look down on you for having premarital sex, so please don’t look down on me because I don’t. 

It works both ways. 

So yes, I can wait for marriage even though I’m not a virgin. 

Yes, that can scare men away,  but I don’t want a man who will be put off by my faith. It actually weeds out the ones that are wrong for me. 

I am unapologetically me. 

And I couldn’t be happier. 

You Wear Too Much Makeup. 

“You wear too much makeup.”

“You have too much makeup.”

“You spent that much on makeup!”

“But why have all that makeup when you don’t wear it?”

I, for one, have been asked all of these questions, by men and women. (And probably more that I just can’t remember.) 

Now, I’ll admit, I own a lot of high end makeup. It’s what I like and I’m not and won’t be sorry for that. To some people, it’s ridiculous. To others, it’s awesome.  

But guess what? I don’t buy and wear makeup for other people. I buy and wear it for myself. 

I see my face as a blank canvas – one that I can highlight and contour, blend, and color how I want. 

Some people wear makeup to hide pimples and hyper pigmentation. Some wear it to make their face look smaller. Some wear it to boost their confidence. 

Whatever the reason someone wears it, man or woman, others need to stop and think before they comment. 

Why is it assumed that automatically if a woman wears makeup they’re wanting to impress a man? 

You think a man is gonna care that my eyeshadow is Tom Ford? Uh, no.  

Why can’t I just like makeup and want to wear it? Why is it so hard to believe that I do something for myself, and not someone else? 

Then you have the other end of the spectrum – not wearing makeup. 

Why is it assumed that when a woman doesn’t wear makeup that she doesn’t care enough? I have heard that so many times. Or, that she’s more independent than women who do wear makeup? 

If you wear makeup, great! If you don’t wear makeup, great! 

Instead of tearing each other down for our choices, why can’t we build each other up? As women, we have enough against us without other women tearing us down. Wearing makeup doesn’t make you any less of a feminist, just as not wearing makeup doesn’t makeup you a better feminist. 

What makes you less of a feminist is tearing down another woman for the choices she, herself, makes. That includes how much makeup she wears and how she dresses. 

Just like women tearing down Kim K because of her nude Instagram posts. Now, I personally may not support the idea of showing my body off to everyone, but why would I tear someone down for her personal choices? She, as an independent woman, made that choice.  Just like tearing down a women in dresses  and long skirts or a hijab and assumingthat they’re oppressed by a man? Why can’t those choices of modesty be their own? 

I personally dress pretty modest. I don’t expose cleavage or wear things that show off my butt or thighs. But guess what? That is my personal choice and that’s between God and I. 

No man is telling me to dress that way, but I’m sure my dad fully supports it. Then again, what dad wouldn’t? Baha-freaking-ha. 

Sorry, I had to take a laughter break. Wiping the tears from my eyes now. 

We, as women, need to empower each other. 

If we don’t, then who will?