Last night I got really excited and overwhelmed.
I was about to tell one of my friends who was having a day of remembrance that dates are always hard. Then I realized...September 19th had come and gone without me even noticing.
I suddenly got really exciting thinking that the time had finally come, I had been free of cutting longer than I had been trapped by it, but as I sit down to write this, I realize that it's only been four years since my last relapse. I mean, four years, THAT'S GREAT, but I'm not out of the woods yet. I feel like I HAVE. TO. get to five years. I have to show Satan that my life is not his to toy with, that the Lord's hope is more powerful, and runs deeper than any mind games that snake can conjure. Even as I sat to write this and realized that I had made a mistake, that it's only been four, not five years, I felt him. I felt his gloom, his imprint of disappointment that he leaves on me.
While going through the PPD that came around after Norah, I heard his seductive voice in my ear everyday. He loves it when I melt into that weak weeping woman who was in love with pain, but with support, I did not find comfort of any sort in his prickly grasp. I can hear him telling me to be wary of this next year, to fear what destruction he is capable of causing me driving me to relapse, but I recognize his familiar sneaky tone.
My heart gets tangled in knots thinking about the days where I swore I wouldn't be here, that I'd never see my wedding day, a big swollen belly, or my babies smiles. Today I am thankful for the healing that Jesus has provided for me from the life threatening self imposed sickness of depression and self mutilation. And here's to one more year. Eat shit Satan. My wrists will spill no more blood, the strength I have found in the Lord has reinforced them to hold my babies as they sleep, to hold my husband's hand in never ending support and reach out to my brothers and sisters who need His strength too.
Day One: Thankful for the growth of my business and the supernatural provision that God has given me through it.
Day Two: Thankful for fall foods, cinnamon candles, and cold fronts, creating a balanced, inviting home.
Day Three: Thankful for a husband that loves me and his girls in such a way that it makes me want to be a better wife to him and mother to our babies.
Day Four: Today I am thankful for Norah.
Day Five: I am thankful for co-sleepingDay 6: today I am thankful for laughter. My baby girl's giggles, spit takes caused by Eamon, texts that make me "lol", watchin my mama laugh on skype, all of it
Day seven: I am thankful for the desire to have an organized home
Day Eight:Today I am thankful for my best friends from high school living in DFW. Haven't been to a movie together with them in years, and tonight I get to!
Day Nine: I am grateful for Mama's Girls
Day Ten: I am grateful for house hunting with my family and getting to look for the perfect place to settle down :]
Day Eleven: I'm thankful for my Papa and my father in law. I'm grateful that they were able to come back home from Vietnam and somber that my Papa was the only one from his small town to do so.
Day Eleven: Today I am also grateful for friendship. The new friendship of a mama with a sweet and familiar heart, and the old friendships who will always remind me that it's Leo's birthday. Love you friends :]
Day Twelve: I am thankful for repeat clients. For their patience to watch me grow and their recomendations that keep my calendar full. Thank you, Jesus for this awesome opportunity!
Day Thirteen: i'm thankful for family. Blood, chosen, God given, all of it. Love my Rockport family and so glad i get to see my Thailand family today!
Day Fourteen: I'm thankful for the Lord creating a passion in Eamon for his business. I'm so honored when other knife makers and enthusiasts from around the country seek him out to do their finish sharpening :]
Day Fifteen: since we are *hopefully* finally moving into a house, we're going through all of the furniture we should keep and get rid of. Today I'm thankful that we haven't had to buy any furniture, bedding or appliances the first 3 years of our marriage.
Day Sixteen: I am grateful for God's healing.
We're going to look at a house that sounds absolutely perfect for us Thursday afternoon, if you'd like to pray for us, pray that the home is in line with God's vision of where he wants us and that we will know exactly what to do when we walk through those doors :]
Happy Thursday All!
Mae
Showing posts with label testimony. Show all posts
Showing posts with label testimony. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Testimony
I've written and re-written this a hundred times. It's still not "perfect" but it is my story. Thanks Chelsea for making me get it out there ;]
“So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord…but bear your share of hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God” (2 Timothy 1:8)
A while back someone told me "If everyone knew the things I knew about you, I don't think they'd feel comfortable around you." [To clarify, it was out of hurt, I doubt they really meant it] In the moment, I was furious. They were totally right. If they knew about My Chemical Romance fanatic, razor blade hiding, lying, lost me...They probably would never speak to me.
The truth is, I was not always one to cook three meals a day, call my friends just to see if I could pray for them, or resolve my anger issues by actually talking about them. I am the way I am now because of Jesus Christ. Let me tell you a little bit about it.
I was always kinda the weird kid in school, didn't have a lot of friends, the ones I did have used me to be the butt of their jokes, and be mad at just because. It sucked. In middle school I saw an episode of 7th Heaven [I was so cool] where one of Mary's "troubled friends" was staying with her overly reproductive family. Homegirl was "crazy" and they had to keep an eye on her so she wouldn't "cut." That was the first time I had ever heard such a thing. This idiot cut herself because she was sad. I thought she was a moron and a half at the time, but not long after seeing that, I got myself into a situation that I didn't know how to handle and the first thing I thought of was Mary's friend who hid in her bathroom, took apart a razor blade, and cut her wrists. I was in seventh grade.
By the time I was a sophomore in high school the little nicks had turned into cuts that not only needed to be covered by watches and bracelets, but hoodies and jackets. [In South Texas, a teenager wearing a hoody 24/7 when it's 95+ degrees 95% of the year, should raise some sort of red flags] My depression was deep and selfish, consuming every part of me. I became used to it, honestly, it's where I liked to be. It was comfortable there. It didn't take work to be depressed.
Then, after watching it from afar, my now husband sent me an email that wrecked me. While your mom tells you everyday how pretty you are, how much she loves you, how special you are, it never really takes hold in a teenager [dumb kids] I felt like I was cared for, like someone saw something in me that I hadn't seen in myself for a long time. We started dating shortly after, but I still wallowed in my depression like a pig in his own crap. It was going to take a lot more than a cute boy to make me better. One night, I had absolutely no desire to live [stress at school, fighting with parents, bitchy friends, it seemed way too much to handle] I took a steak knife I kept nearby [gag] and carved up my arm like a Thanksgiving turkey. It was horrible.
"Guard my life and rescue me; do not let me be put to shame, for I take refuge in you." (Psalm 25:20)
It was then, for the first time in years, that I prayed. I begged God to save me from this pain, this pain that 20+ cuts couldn't compare to. I told Him I hated this life, and that I didn't really want to die, I just wanted that life to be OVER. Not only is there a promise of renewed life after death my friends, but there is a promise of new life NOW! I woke up the next morning, cleaned myself up and decided I had to stop living life for myself. I needed purpose, I needed to be healed. The cutting went from 3-4 times a day, to once a day, to a few times a week, to once a week, to once every few weeks, to once every few months, very, VERY gradually. I often used it as my last resort, which over time needed to be visited less and less. By my senior year 2-3 month stretches were normal and I decided [well, Jesus decided] it was time for me to be baptized, made new. I was saved and I was happy. Genuinely happy. I was starting my life as an adult, but at the same time just born into the infancy of Christ.
A few months later the stress of college, a cuh-rappy roommate [do not ever pick your roommate based on A.) she was the first person you met at college B.) she tells you she likes Eisley] and the stress of this new identity that I was responsible for drove me to cut. It was September 19, 2007. That was the LAST time I cut. I went to the bathroom and cried and prayed and for the first time instead of hearing the devil laugh in my face saying "You weak, stupid, little girl. Just how much DO you love Jesus? You're so disobedient, so unworthy" I felt the Lord wrap me up and say "I STILL love you. You are still my child, it's ok!"
That's when He started to work on my heart, my mind, and my spirit. Now that the physical had been healed, it was time He started really making me His. Through working with a teenager at the CPS shelter who dealt with the exact same issues, to teaching me what Marriage truly means, to softening my heart into motherhood, the Lord has made me His for eternity. And I am so grateful for that.
One year after my last slip up I went and got this tattoo. Any time you see a dove in stained glass windows, or with saints in beautiful paintings, it means the presence of the Holy Spirit is with them. I thought it suited me, and this location perfectly
Have a great Tuesday, everyone!
Mae
“So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord…but bear your share of hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God” (2 Timothy 1:8)
A while back someone told me "If everyone knew the things I knew about you, I don't think they'd feel comfortable around you." [To clarify, it was out of hurt, I doubt they really meant it] In the moment, I was furious. They were totally right. If they knew about My Chemical Romance fanatic, razor blade hiding, lying, lost me...They probably would never speak to me.
The summer after I graduated RFHS with the lead singer Gerard Way, of MCR
The truth is, I was not always one to cook three meals a day, call my friends just to see if I could pray for them, or resolve my anger issues by actually talking about them. I am the way I am now because of Jesus Christ. Let me tell you a little bit about it.
I was always kinda the weird kid in school, didn't have a lot of friends, the ones I did have used me to be the butt of their jokes, and be mad at just because. It sucked. In middle school I saw an episode of 7th Heaven [I was so cool] where one of Mary's "troubled friends" was staying with her overly reproductive family. Homegirl was "crazy" and they had to keep an eye on her so she wouldn't "cut." That was the first time I had ever heard such a thing. This idiot cut herself because she was sad. I thought she was a moron and a half at the time, but not long after seeing that, I got myself into a situation that I didn't know how to handle and the first thing I thought of was Mary's friend who hid in her bathroom, took apart a razor blade, and cut her wrists. I was in seventh grade.
By the time I was a sophomore in high school the little nicks had turned into cuts that not only needed to be covered by watches and bracelets, but hoodies and jackets. [In South Texas, a teenager wearing a hoody 24/7 when it's 95+ degrees 95% of the year, should raise some sort of red flags] My depression was deep and selfish, consuming every part of me. I became used to it, honestly, it's where I liked to be. It was comfortable there. It didn't take work to be depressed.
Then, after watching it from afar, my now husband sent me an email that wrecked me. While your mom tells you everyday how pretty you are, how much she loves you, how special you are, it never really takes hold in a teenager [dumb kids] I felt like I was cared for, like someone saw something in me that I hadn't seen in myself for a long time. We started dating shortly after, but I still wallowed in my depression like a pig in his own crap. It was going to take a lot more than a cute boy to make me better. One night, I had absolutely no desire to live [stress at school, fighting with parents, bitchy friends, it seemed way too much to handle] I took a steak knife I kept nearby [gag] and carved up my arm like a Thanksgiving turkey. It was horrible.
"Guard my life and rescue me; do not let me be put to shame, for I take refuge in you." (Psalm 25:20)
It was then, for the first time in years, that I prayed. I begged God to save me from this pain, this pain that 20+ cuts couldn't compare to. I told Him I hated this life, and that I didn't really want to die, I just wanted that life to be OVER. Not only is there a promise of renewed life after death my friends, but there is a promise of new life NOW! I woke up the next morning, cleaned myself up and decided I had to stop living life for myself. I needed purpose, I needed to be healed. The cutting went from 3-4 times a day, to once a day, to a few times a week, to once a week, to once every few weeks, to once every few months, very, VERY gradually. I often used it as my last resort, which over time needed to be visited less and less. By my senior year 2-3 month stretches were normal and I decided [well, Jesus decided] it was time for me to be baptized, made new. I was saved and I was happy. Genuinely happy. I was starting my life as an adult, but at the same time just born into the infancy of Christ.
A few months later the stress of college, a cuh-rappy roommate [do not ever pick your roommate based on A.) she was the first person you met at college B.) she tells you she likes Eisley] and the stress of this new identity that I was responsible for drove me to cut. It was September 19, 2007. That was the LAST time I cut. I went to the bathroom and cried and prayed and for the first time instead of hearing the devil laugh in my face saying "You weak, stupid, little girl. Just how much DO you love Jesus? You're so disobedient, so unworthy" I felt the Lord wrap me up and say "I STILL love you. You are still my child, it's ok!"
That's when He started to work on my heart, my mind, and my spirit. Now that the physical had been healed, it was time He started really making me His. Through working with a teenager at the CPS shelter who dealt with the exact same issues, to teaching me what Marriage truly means, to softening my heart into motherhood, the Lord has made me His for eternity. And I am so grateful for that.
One year after my last slip up I went and got this tattoo. Any time you see a dove in stained glass windows, or with saints in beautiful paintings, it means the presence of the Holy Spirit is with them. I thought it suited me, and this location perfectly
When was the last time you shared your testimony? Shared about how hard it was, shared how easy it was? Gave Glory to God for the wonderful work He's done? I encourage you to just take the time and write it out, tell someone you've never told before, thank God if you haven't done it in a while! If you've shared your testimony on your blog, link it here! I'd love to read about it.
Mae
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