It was that Thursday night that I prayed (feeling selfish for this) that God would show me how much He loved me. I asked him, not realizing that he had already done it multiple times in multiple ways. A few weeks ago (now about a month and a half ago) I left Main Event feeling quite pathetic. I felt like a failure. I felt that way though because I had failed at fixing the issues in my life, whether those issues were mine to deal with or not. I had failed at making things right in relationships. All in all, after a long talk with my BFF Rae, I felt like I failed at life so badly that I had to have a professional help me fix it. (Rae by no means made me feel like a failure. If anything, the girl builds me up more than I ever thought anybody could….. Not to boost my ego but to make me realize how beautiful God is and that I’m a daughter of the King!!!).
I really do have to have a professional help me but not to help me FIX me. I have one now mentoring me on my walk with Christ. God gave me a person to help me sort through my issues of the past, somebody who knows how to point me to Him, to tell me how much He loves me. I took a giant leap forward in deciding to seek help. It’s been a fight with the sisters who love me to get me to go seek the advice of an elder. After Rae and I talked through life, I felt good about the decision I had made. I felt like I was back on the right path; the path on my journey towards Christ.
Nothing could stop me now. I had accountability in four of my best friends who I knew wouldn’t let me back down and out this time. Nothing could go wrong now because I had done something right for once. Nothing could go wrong… until I landed in the ER that Tuesday because my blood sugar was 125 points above comatose level. Nothing could go wrong until everything went wrong the rest of that week. I felt good and right for like, oh, 24 hours and from there I went downhill. I was back to feeling punished again.
I started back on the negatives without focusing on the positives. I was in the ER… BUT I made it there alive and conscious and walking by myself and had a friend who was willing to miss class to take me there, another who came a few hours later with flowers for me that cheered me up, and roommates who came and picked me up and taxied me back and forth to Wal-Mart at various points throughout the night after being released from the hospital. More positives there than negatives.
I was frustrated when I found out the doctor prescribed me medication that contained sulfa in it even though I told them three or four times I was allergic to sulfa (Dana can vouch for that). BUT… I have a roommate who freaked out and didn’t want me to go into anaphylactic shock, got up ON TIME Wednesday morning to make sure I was alive (on time usually doesn’t happen). I have a mother (and that roommate) who made me call the doctor to schedule a follow-up and who gets upset when I don’t ask questions. Soooooo….. I asked questions, got off the sulfa drugs and what do I get? I now have to stick myself with a needle anywhere from one to four times a day because my body doesn’t produce insulin the way it should and I have a pancreas that hates me. Hey, it is how God made me so don’t hate, right? BUT I’ve lost 40 pounds in the past 10 months because of it, have to be healthier, and will live longer courtesy of insulin. I have the ability to stay alive thanks to the needles that I’m scared of. More positives than negatives there. And yet, all I could do was focus on how much it costs me to live. I could only focus on how crappy I felt and wondered why I felt like God was punishing me.
I met with a friend that following Saturday night after taking pictures of the amazingly beautiful colors of fall. We talked about how I felt like God was punishing me for something and how I felt like I lacked a passion in my heart for Him. “I know in my head I love Him but I don’t feel it in my heart. He’s not comfortable there.” I have a friend who is willing to take time out of her crazy college kid schedule and meet with me once a week to work through a book called “He Loves Me” by Wayne Jacobson, talking about exactly what I’m going through.
I was frustrated about meeting with a counselor. When that Tuesday came, I can honestly say that I strongly disliked my best friends for “making” me go. I went and sat there, waiting for my “turn”. As awkward as it was already, the guy working the receptionist’s desk was a previous small group leader of mine from Main Event the first year I attended the conference. I sat there nervously waiting, slightly embarrassed at the thought that he may be thinking I am going crazy and that’s why I’m meeting with Deb. I go and sit in the office, unsure of where to start, wondering if she just expects me to start talking of if she is going to ask questions. But God provided. I started spilling my past: relationships that were verbally and emotionally abusive, addictions I tried to fill my life and the huge hole in my soul with. I spilled my fear of being alone the rest of my life, how I was worried that someday I would not be needed by anybody or scared that I would never be “special” to anybody. “I’ve tried to fix myself even though I know that I can’t and that only God can,” I tell her.
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and now you get to wait in suspense until I find a time where I am awake and alert enough to finish this :)
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