Happy St. Patrick's Day

March 17th now has a new meaning to me. 

Yes...it's an Irish holiday celebrated in many different ways: getting pinched, wearing green, finding the leprechaun at school, eating dyed-green foods, cooking corned beef and cabbage, going out for drinks...specifically drinking Guinness, and an excuse to drink way too much. I may or may not partake in some of these traditions each year but from now on I will recognize and celebrate my yearly anniversary of making the bold move and starting treating for my eating disorder at The Emily Program. March 17, 2014 I began intensive outpatient programming. There is no better way to describe myself that day than to say I was one hot mess! I cried my way through the entire 4 hours of programming, denying that I had an eating disorder, arguing others that I was not sick enough to be there. I refused to talk in groups, put up a fight the entire hour of dinner...NOT wanting to eat the small half sandwich they were requiring me to eat. It was my first night so they ease you into the freaking gargantuan meals they eventually make you eat there. I wanted to run and escape. In fact, I tried. Surprising? No, not really. When I don't want to do something my stubborn side strongly steps in and takes over. I had to be escorted to dinner by my therapist (also the site director) so I wouldn't run. Since that day I have experienced everything...literally everything: ups, downs, RELATIONSHIPS, tears, laughter, smiles, memories, joy, CONNECTION, grief, trauma, DANCING, loss, lessons learned, insight, heartache, FOOD!!, disappointment, setting boundaries, SINGING, and friendships.

I walked into The Emily Program on March 17, 2014 wearing a big need on my sleeve. I needed my hope to be held for me, I needed to be loved on, cared for, and challenged. And I got just that plus more. I have been given a second chance at life, a lifetime of hugs and smiles (and laughter), and a hope I can carry for myself. I am forever thankful for The Emily Program and celebrate this day and the dramatic changes that have occurred over the past 365 days.  

I've come a long way...

The road is STILL long but I've struggled through

some of the worst days I'll ever have to struggle through!

 

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Church and Such

So I officially hadn't been to church since December 14th, 2014. I took a job December 17th that was a Tuesday-Sunday work week. With a bunch of prayer and conversation I took the job. It seemed perfect. I was excited. I couldn't wait to start! I had just graduated on the 12th and found a job in less than a week? Unheard of. However, I was bummed I had to temporarily skip out on church. I made Life Group on Sunday evenings a priority, for that was going to temporarily be my time of fellowship and worship. It hadn't truly begun to effect me and my emotional/spiritual temperament until about a week ago. I was longing for a time of worship and praise - something I hadn't been able to be a part of in over two months. It is amazing how much you miss something when you are removed from it. It has surely made me appreciate the church body and attending regularly.

I had been getting into a "church" rut right before I took the job. Sunday's I usually had my worst attitude of the week. I associated the day with not working out (aka no endorphins), a day full of homework and studying, and school or internship (which I dreaded) the next day. This was a bad combination of feelings for the Lord's day. Now that my life as sort of settled down, I've graduated, have a set schedule, and am kind of on an exercise restriction (IVF), I miss Sunday's. The peacefulness of the day. I now work 6:30am-2:30pm on Sundays and when I get off it feels like a Friday, rather than a Sunday. Last Sunday I begged Craig if we could skip out on Life Group and attend a local evening service on the South Hill. Right when I stepped foot in the sanctuary my heart swelled up with peace. I had missed being in the presence of God in His house. Worship spoke straight to my heart and my mind was calm. I don't remember much from the sermon but I remember the solitude I felt there. It felt like nothing else in life mattered. I was in God's hands - I AM in God's hands. The evening was like a sweet melody.

I was temporarily able to escape the rest of the world around me, which is continually spinning. The waves of grief come and go and right now it has come in full force. Everyday is a day I long for Mom and cherish the memories we have together. I long for her to still be called Grandma one day and think of her every time I go into the reproductive clinic for labs or ultrasounds. Church last Sunday allowed me to escape that. It reminded me of God's power, His plan, and HIS perfection.

Time will tell us where God is leading us. Until then I must only wait and praise Him...

"Consider it pure joy my brothers when you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith requires perseverance. Perseverance must finish it's work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom he should ask God who gives generously to all, without finding fault, and it will be given to Him. But when he asks he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does." James 1:1-8