On Butterflies

Butterflies.
They are beautiful. Delicate, dancing, lighter than air, artistic, and also useful as pollenators. They can be seen flitting from flower to flower in the springtime, often too numerous to count, yet each an indivual, delicate and petite.
Why am I talking about butterflies? Because God is talking to me about butterflies. I like butterflies, I do. They are all of the above, and much more - and yes, so very beautiful. To paint or draw them is actually quite difficult - because there is simply too much detail to capture quickly. In the same way it would be arderous to paint or draw every fine hair on a  dog's back, is the painting of a butterfly. I know from experience, so I don't draw that many of them. A simple butterfly still takes time to draw - the shape differs greatly from creature to creature, not to mention the colouration, the patterning, the pose.
God has been talking to me about butterflies. Particularly about how I am like a butterfly. That part, I must admit, I don't like so much. I like butterflies. I really do. They are simply stunning. But to be compared to a fragile, petite, flitting little creature is a little disconcerting - especially when I want nothing more than to be a bold, brave, strong lion right now. God, why a butterfly? Why such a delicate creature?
For the last few years, I have been getting many prophecies about a great variety of things - my destiny, the plan that God has for me, and I know it is all going to be pretty amazing. That's all very good and well. But that's just it - it's always there for tomorrow. And always that seems discouraging, because, well, we live in the now, don't we?

And its that now where I am getting more and more of this butterfly business. That this time, this now, is God transforming me from an ugly little caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly. My transformation into adulthood too, I suppose. But God, a butterfly? Eh, so, what do I like about them? (Still, couldn't I be a winged lion? =D =D No such thing, is there..)
Yes, well, butterflies. They are beautiful. They are absolutely unique, and intelligently designed, and no two are exactly the same. The way they are made up is detailed, defined, and so much thought was put into their creation. The legs are slender, the antennae elegant, the eyes compact and small - yet they see so much. The body is also well proportioned, and then they are completed with a beautiful set of wings - with which do they not only fly, but act as a protection device in some cases, as well as a display of nature and creativity. The patterns are exsqusite, and the colour palette is extensive.

Important to me, now, is that butterfly transformation. I believe it is very relevant to me, and to my now.
Butterflies begin as eggs. They are laid on a leaf, or tree, an left by their parent to hatch.
These eggs do hatch, of course, and the resulting caterpillars are fat, ugly, and spend their time eating and hiding from predators. (It is funny the resemblance I see here - my thoughts have altered from that time, and now it is time to move on from there.)
They remain caterpillars for quite some time, I suppose. Doing nothing. Slimy gross creatures.
And then they become pupae, or for want of a better word, a grub in a coocoon.
As we all know, these then leave the coocoon in a transformed state and exit as butterflies - much altered from that grubby little creature which entered.

Metamorphosis - a process of transformation. Of growth. Of alteration. Of change.

I believe this is my metamorphosis. Only I am yet to escape the coocoon - or maybe perhaps I am still in that struggling stage, the stage of near completion.
Either way, it is an interesting thought. I only hope I get there soon - this struggle is often more than I can take. Ah, God. The when is up to you.

Portraiture, the artist's perspective

 

Like I said in my previous post - I can choose to see only what is wrong with it, or I can see what is actually right. Given this is my first ever portrait, and first ever self-portrait, I think it's pretty reasonable.

It's all about how we see things - perspective.

It's about how we see ourselves.

 

The Truth about me - and Discovering Self-Worth

The more I look at life in the past few weeks, the more revelations I am getting about my own views, what they were, are, what they should not have been and what they are becoming.

Everything has changed so much, and I am now altering my opinions, views and perspectives. And it has been God, all along. Gently prodding, showing me things with new eyes. It has been so far (it's not over yet!) incredible, although difficult, and I would like to continue sharing these things as God reveals them to me. Reluctantly, kicking and screaming, or quietly led - it really doesn't matter how, the truth of the matter is, if our perspectives need to change they need to change. We simply need to be willing (or at least partially!) for God to do what He wants to do with that. Another challenge. Oh how I enjoy these!
So, perspectives. Time for change. Time to look at things in a new way.  Here comes a deep one - hold your breath, and let's begin. It's very important. Please read carefully, thoughtfully, don't take offence, try to understand where I'm coming from, and just listen. You'll see things with new eyes too.


One of these perspectives I particularly want to address can be related to my recent illness, and all of the emotional struggles I have been having/discovering are problems, and these include my eating habits, my previous views on food, as well as the interesting eating disorder I had but didn't even know was there, ruling my life! And there is a lot more to it than that, and it is very, very important.

What I see now is that so much of what I thought and believed about things had to do with my perspective. My perspective - of me. Bear with me.
Yes, I am going to look at me. But this changes everything about everything.

Ask yourself this question - How do I see myself? (Why is this relevant? Because you are a person, and even though our lives revolve around God and other people, you are still you. Haha, you are the only you. There isn't another, you can't be anyone else. Goodness, it's mindboggling. Anyway, you are a person.)
So did you ask that question? And let me ask something else? Just how honest were you? Haha, nice try. Now, hold that question in your mind for a while - don't push it away, but do keep reading.
So it was my turn to ask that question. All of this mess finally came to the surface in a way I couldn't handle anymore, couldn't push down, couldn't stop crying. God, help. O God.
And it was time. Time to look at the real issues. So God asked that question of me. I asked me.

How do I see myself?

Honestly. To really ask.  Ask that question of myself. To truthfully answer -  I didn't really know.
Who I was, yes, well, I was me, Anna - and I that person was made complete in Jesus Christ. (My very identity was and is wrapped up in who I am as a Christian and how that makes me who I am. As a Christian, what I believe and think was based entirely around my relationship with Jesus. We were pretty close - my very being is in Him and everything He is.) But myself? Oh, I was unsure. I was me, yes. Haha. I was a person. But other than that, a little lost.


I also didn't really believe in myself. How do I explain that? Well, let's see. Not only does this eating issue disorder have more history than I will care to admit, it actually stems from my own views of me. I lacked confidence. Yes, I knew who I was, and people would often comment on the sense of 'peace' that eminated from my eyes (although that is sometimes a mystery to me, given what turmoil I have endured for the past few years) but inside, I was confused and, well, just plain lost. And I lacked confidence in myself. I did not believe in the fact that I really was a beautiful, incredible, and unique creation of God - they say that about everyone, don't they? What really made me unique? Or different? Why was I different? And oh, the constant battle of destiny, one that has plagued me for so many years. Basically a definition of the person of who I was would be to say that I was looking for my place in life whilst trying to live it, and be who I was. Whoever that was.
And the thing is, I sort of knew who I was. Sort of did, sort of didn't. But now. Oh, I see what I was lacking.

So, previously, I have a complexion with my oddly shaped nose, for goodness sake, and a disgusting skin condition on my face, terrible skin and a ridiculously curvy figure - anything physical was out of the question when it came to self-worth. Even when it came to who I was - my personality was a grey area. The way I saw myself was me as being a happy, enthusiastic, encouraging person who was only interested in everyone else, and loving them to my best ability, and that in itself is fine - in balance. But I was so busy doing that I had no time for simply being - and knowing me.
I am learning, now, about loving me. Oh, I tolerated me. Looking in the mirror, eh, yeah, okay today. I can pull something off. But always dissatisfaction with that fringe. It sits wrong. Those jeans are not quite skinny enough. Haha, or more, the figure inside those jeans. Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway.
Yes. It Does matter.
It does. It matters so much. But I couldn't see that. In my spiralling world of keeping things together, pretending things were perfectly fine, I was destroying myself.
I wanted to be a woman - not a child, not a teenager, not just some girl. But I was missing something. But what?
Shame is not really something I have struggled with, apart from the bingeing, but it was there, in a small amount. Why, I don't know, and where it came from, I don't know. It was more dissappointment with myself. Which, really, presents a question - why are you dissappionted - what are your expectations?
I didn't know. What were my expectations of myself? Did I have any? Or was I just so busy moving on with my life and just being I didn't know I had placed any on myself?
We all have expectations - however reasonable (or not), regardless of whether we know they are there.
So what were my expectations? I didn't know. I was lost. I wanted to be a woman, but I struggled with my age, size, shape, weight (oh weight - it is more the figure than anything), height, looks, and what I thought I should look like. As I am sure we all do at some point in life, I wished to look different - brown hair, a little taller, certainly less curvature, less fat, more of a curvy nose, longer eyelashes.... but why? Because I did not like the way I was made.  I suppose that makes me seem ungrateful for the way God has made me - as though I didn't want the unique gift that Ha had made me - but I just wanted to be like everyone else, beautiful, in the same way they all are. All uniquely the same. Haha. So why did I want to be different? Because I did not love or accept who I was.

Accept, well, maybe tolerate, as though I had no other option - well, I don't, I can't exactly go get a nose job haha, though the thought crossed my mind... and trying to 'feel beautiful' with what I saw as a nose as ugly as mine just really wasn't a problem - alright if you're a monkey and you never have to see yourself. But I want to be a beautiful woman!
but You Are.
Yes God, you keep telling me. And it's all lovely, and so Christian, all this self-worth stuff.  And so unrealistic! Screw all this god's little princess nonsense, I am not that kind of beautiful, nor will be, so I will stop trying, and just be the best me I can be - inwardly, anyway, and focus on everyone else. They say beauty is on the inside, so that is how I will find my value.

How wrong you were.
Oh, how wrong, self. You truly didn't see. Who you are is who you see. It is who you believe in. It is why. 
I had such ridiculous views! I was really, really lost in them. And now I see. Like someone who has been awakened from a deep sleep. Wow. Just wow.
It is about how you see yourself.
It really is. I cannot emphasise enough. I have seen, simply by looking around at so many people recently, particularly women as I attempt to understand the process of entering womanhood, the huge power self-worth has over us - the way we see ourselves.
It is such an important aspect that affects everything. The way we carry ourselves, the value we place on ourselves, the way we see others - it all has to do with the way we see us. With How I see ME.  
What I think of me matters. It actually does. And what YOU think of you matters.
So why does it matter? Well, I would say that is obvious, but it isn't really. It matters because it defines the very person we become. It defines eternity. It defines our lives, our futures, our destiny.

It is also what determines how we react to what others think, say and feel about us.

I am reminded now, of a silly but very relevant quote from my favourite cartoon characters. The quote itself is out of the new Tintin movie- and is the scene where Captain Haddock pins Tintin down for quitting after the bad guy gets away with the map to the hidden treasure. What he says, roughly quoted:

"People can say of you, 'loser, stupid, you idiot, you worthless piece of lubber.  
But Never say of yourself, "I am a failure." Because what you think about you is the message you send out, that's what they will pick up on."

And it is so true. We hear it so often we drone it out, and forget the importance of the statement. It is truth. If I call myself a failure, or don't even call myself it, but carry that around on my shoulders, people pick up on that. They do. I will use the example of, say, when you see a person walk into a room, and he slumps his shoulders, and does not look up. One can immediately tell that person is burdened, weighed down, dissapointed - and ashamed. On the other hand, you also notice the difference between this man and an arrogant bikey who walks in with an air of haughtiness and looking for trouble. Yes, he is about to knock someone's block off, but he at least has the confidence to do it. That is, basically, what I am attempting to explain. He knows he can punch someone's lights out, and so he walks into a room with the attitude that he will. Because he knows he can. And that is where we must look at self-worth.
What do we know?
And what do we know about ourselves?

What do I know - or not know - about me?
I didn't know who I was. I didn't know what my value was in. Yes, in being a good person, perhaps. In being loving, caring, kind, compassionate, supportive, friendly, wise, understanding... and all of those are great qualities. But all of those are about serving others, and meeting other's needs, and attending to the wants and desires of other people. That in itself is wonderful - but if that is taking away from, or distracting, or preventing me valuing and looking inwards at myself, then again it becomes a problem. Another cover, another mask, another way of pretending everything is fine.
Now, let's see. A few things that I am discovering.

It is okay to look at me. Wow.

To look inwards, to look closely, and to look long and hard. Now to look, and evaluate. to be dissappoionted, that is the first thing. But why? Again with the expectations.
What else did I see? Sadness. Grief. Anger. Hate. Biterness. Sorrow. Shame. The feeling of unworthiness. Ugliness. Fat. Unattractive. Frightened.  Tiredness. All of that. Did you see any of that? Probably not. I am very, very good at hiding what is really going on, at putting on a mask - which most of you are familar with as being who I am - a mask which has the ability to not only disguise, but also to tell a very different story.
Now that I admitted to myself what I was, and was not, I suppose it was time to look at why, when I really got down to it, I was so dissappointed with what I discovered. And that, I learnt, (or am still learning) is about expectations.
I had no expectations of myself.
Good or bad. Nothing. I didn't look at me. Me, who was that? Me in Christ, yes, that's right. That's my entirety. Yes, it is, but there is more to it than that. So there, in bold, is the reason for all that. No expectations of anything. Why? Id on't understand, or know, why I had no expectations. Nothing. It is a curiosity to me. But now, looking at it, I can see just how well the enemy had me trapped not only in a sense of how I thought about myself physically, but also emotionally and mentally. I only saw myself as a person to help other people, not as the person that I am who needs helping. (Or not helping in the terms of neediness, but the fact that I am a person too, just as much person as that person I am helping.)
I am a person.
I have needs! I have wants, desires, and feelings. And I was not letting myself even be a person! I was not looking closely enough at me, and not even caring about how I felt about myself, let alone looking after myself properly. I am not talking just physically here, I am talking mentally, emotionally, and also spirituallly.
Because of the way I saw myself without realising I did (i.e. I felt dissappointed with myself) I was not able to meet my own needs. Sure, I respected myself and all that hooha. But I didn't really.

Now we get to one of the real issues.
 Self-worth. It defines who we are, how we see ourselves, and how others see us. So, I obviously didn't see myself as very valuable, because I was constantly questioning (or at least, now that I have looked at how I saw myself I was) my own value subconsciously. I see that now. I see so much now, of what has been hidden for so long, and what has been needing to change. I did not value myself, nor did I value my own uniqueness. Instead I tried to hide behind my mask and pretend I did care. Ah, the caring. Not caring has a lot to do with how we see ourselves. If we don't care about how we see ourselves, we are basically saying that our opinions mean nothing - that there is no point listening to what we have to say. And that's the thing. We all want to be heard - so telling ourselves it doesn't matter is the biggest lie ever. Ahah, again, another lie of the enemy. Sneaky little bugger.
The truth is, it does matter. Our opinion does matter, what we think does have an effect on something, and caring should be a priority. I should care. And its that caring that makes the difference.
I need to care about what I think about me.
I need to value me.
Very important. Not only do I need to create good expectations of myself, but I need to be able to live up to them. And that is a good thing! It is exactly what God intended, and to deprive myself of that is absolutely ridiculous - and again, the enemy wins at that point.
I need to care.
I cannot think well of myself if I don't care. You cannot think well of YOU if you don't care. Why do I need to think well of me? Why is that even relevant? What is wrong with pretending?
Because, at some point, if you don't care, it will destroy you. Or suffocate you. Or surface. Like it is doing now, for me. You cannot not care without consequence.   It is like neglecting cleaning out your swimming pool - eventually, it will become unusable and everyone will see it. (Or it will become disgusting and will turn people away.)


Body Image is one of these cares.

On a physical level, I felt so unworthy of being beautiful that I thought if I did pay attention to how I looked that would be vanity and pride - and that this is a disgusting personality trait I would be better off to avoid. Truth is, pride comes in many shapes and forms and being too proud to be vain is also a form of pride - it is just well hidden.

You need to care. You, a person, also need to look inwards at you, and stop running from the fear that you might/ and will find something horrible, and see what you are, and then look again.
And then look again. It is that next look, that new look, I will discuss in a moment.
First I want to piece togetger the body image as well, because it plays a huge part in all this.

My own body image was shot. When I looked at my figure previously I saw: short, unattractive, curvy, hippy, chunky, broad shoulders, a bent, unusual, ugly nose, terrible skin, bad complexion, pale blonde eyelashes that look ridiculous with mascara, the list is endless. And thats the thing.
I only saw what was wrong with me.
There - the enemy had me trapped in a spiral I would not admit was happening - one of negativity - and I was feeding that. How? Oh yes, I dressed well, looked appropriate... But it was more the way I avoided mirrors. Or cringed when I saw a side-shot photo of my nose. Again the dissatissfaction.
Now, because of the way I saw myself, the eating disorder was born. It was simply a manifestation of something that went far deeper.
This eating disorder, the bingeing, was not only about the control but it was about my weight. I will be specific about the weight itself because that is something I put far to much of a focus on.

So why did the weight matter? Well, it did. It does. I am going to elaborate in detail, so prepare yourself haha.
60 kilos. That was my weight, from the time I turned 15 - 16, and underwent  a physical change in shape - I grew hips, and padded to them, much to my annoyance. (I'm pretty sure it's normal... )
Prior to growing and changing shape, weight hadn't really been an issue for me as I could seem to manage a few kilos if I put them on - simply by compensating with a little more running or exercise. I also didnt really like food.
Around the same time I began my new job working the first veterinary clinic I volunteered at - this being my first job I was fairly nervous about doing things right - another time period which has been very influential in my life, however not always in a good way. One thing I particularly struggled with was confidence, and this was made worse at work where, whilst I struggled to grasp concepts about what I was learning, I also struggled with difficult staff and employers.
I also struggled with my shape and appearance, especially with my face and its skin condition (sores) being particularly noticable.
So I already carried shame, despair, dissatisfaction, dissapointment, fear of failure.
It was all there, hidden beneath the surface.
Now, back to the weight.
So they say weight itself is not the issue, that it is about being healthy and finding a weightt that is healhty for you and for your body. But the weight is an issue. We focus on it too much. On that one kilo, or half, or two. On that number. 60.5 kg - oh no, I am fat, I cannot ever lose weight, it never changes. Exercise more, stimulate appetite. Eat more. 59.5kg. Yes! I am finally getting somewhere. I am powetful, I can do this. Increase exercise. One day. A.other. Third day, forget, lose motivation. Despair. 61.5kg. Oh no! I have gotten fatter! I must try harder. Again, repeat cycle. This would happen for weeks. At the same time, I was also eating irrattionally and as a way of resolving stress. White chocolate. Meat pies. And then things I didnt even like, or really want, or need. Simply because they were there. Or on special. Or looked nice, so I cooked them. But never really needed. Oh, I can say no. Of course I can. I just don't need to.
Anf it was all hiding behind the fear that I would never be able to control (him again!) my size or weight, and there was the fear of being fat and unhappy and unattractive. In many ways that fear still lurks. But God will kill him yet. Now, where was I?
Oh yes, the weight. Looking at it now, there is no way 60kgs was overweight for my shape. Not excessively so. I had fat reserves, yes, probably 5kg too many, give or take, but for my size and shape, it really wasn't physically a problem.  I was eating too much and food that was not really what my body needed but size wise, there is no rational reason for that fear. Ah but there never is a rational reason with fear. Fear is erratic.

I made such an issue over the weight. It was an idol. And the truth of the matter is, I wasn't healthy. I was not eating the foods that would benefit my body, and as a result my body was also hanging onto any fat reserves it had - hence the neverending cycle. 
As well as the weeks that I would obsess about it, I also have periodss where I would get so discouraged and give up that I wouldnt think about it, and end up eating better, and not even overeating for weeks at a time - and staying at the same weight. Not losing it, but not gaining it either. And at those times the exercise also was healthy and balanced.
And then it would spiral again, triggered bu something emotional, my own struggles at the time, or seeing a photo of myself and feeling ashamed of those tighter-than-they-should be jeans.... I thought, if they were skinnier, I would then be attractive, and then I would finally be happy...
What a hideous LIE.
It really is. A lie of the enemy, swallowed hook line and sinker.
'If you're skinnier you'll be happy.'
The lie that satisfaction can found apart from God.
And apart from God's perspective - of you.

So there is the weight, the dissapointment with self, the shame and guilt and fear.

The figure, the shape. Then there was getting sick. And losing weight.
At first.
At first I put on a few kilos. 61.5kg I got to. I was devestated - terrified, in fact - that finally, I would get fat, it would overtake me, and I would not be able to control my size. I was almost a size 11, a thought so devestating to me, yet it seemed I couldn't do anything about it. Ahah - I reasoned! I could even go to the gym and make it behave there. I didnt want to become the commando but if that meant I would be fitter,and not get fat, it would be a last ditch attempt. So, now let me tell you that this is all fairly recent. Surprised? Hold onto your horsies - this renewing God is doing really is hot off the press.
So, all this was going down right about the same time as everything else (did I mention I have also been fighting depression for the last six months? Eh thats another topic)
And basically all fell apart right about Christmas time. Convenient, as we were all shuffling living over in Tamworth awaiting Abi and her popping outedness.

Ah so, the weight. At first, as I said, I put it on, and was shocked. So I got aggressive, picked on my arm flab, and started to work out on it - homemade weights and outside walks. Building myscle was surprisingly easy - I actually retained the muscle, for while - and I did notice that it looked better. Oh well, at least that sort of made me feel better about wearing a sleeveless top. Sort of.
And right in the middle of all that, I started getting sick with vomiting (well no, it had been in-off for about a month) and not tolerating food. Of course, the thought niggling in my mind was that maybe I was doing it to myself; maybe I was crazy, just a little, despite being unvoluntary vomiting. The weight started coming off, and to be honest, I was thrilled. Still eating normally, to some degree, and I was losing weight. Easy! 5kgs. Yes, I noticed the difference. Everyone did. I looked and felt better about myself for it. Again that nagging thought - maybe you are doing it. But what overrode that thought was the fact that I knew I was sick. Deep down, I knew. Something was wrong, and people were not taking me seriously. It was only when I kept losing weight that they did. 10 kilos. Yeah, people are gunna notice that. 15 kilos. Even I was beginning to get scared. When I was hospitalised the first time, I had lost 15 kilos over a 6 week period. If thats not rapid weigjt loss I don't know what is! Around the same time, the vomiting worsened, food tolerance issues became unbearable, and eating a real problem. I also just ate whatever because I knew it wouldn't stay down anyway. (Well, to some extent - some foods hurt too much) The vomiting was not self inflicted, I assure you, and it hasn't ever been (again, why would I voluntarily do that, its gross, and painful, and exercise is easier), but it meant that I was getting malnourished. Severely. I was starving. My body, wasting away. All my reserves getting used up. And eventually, it shuts down. That is the stage I was at when I first went into hospital. It had affected my electrolytes abd potassium - essential for normal body function.

My weight, upon entering hospital, was 46.5kg. Even I was scared. I could see all my ribs, my backbone, my hips, etc.
A lot of that was because I had no body fluid left either. Once I got on a drip, I put on abour 5 kilos overnight - something that occurred on both hospital trips.
The second, well really third hospital visit, I went home, and dropped again - to 44kg. Upon returning to fluids, I went back to being 50kg almost overnight. Its amazing what fluid can do.
Now, coming home, I have dropped weight again, but managed to stay a consistant 43.0kg for about two weeks - give or take a few hundred grams. The last few days, it has gone up and down all over the house - and I feel as though I am actually still losing body mass. I give up with weight at gastroparesis - they do not agree. So, well, I have lost a LOT of weight. Too graphic? I apologise. I must say, I did not know I even had this much to lose. It is amazing what the body can tolerate.
 I had put far too much importance on that number, on the weight itself. I am beginning to realise now just how much of it is actually about being healthy, not size and not a number on the scales.

And now, my feelings on my fat reserves have altered immensly. Why? Lets just say you don't appreciate what you have until you lose it. Firstly, I will never think the same about my figure again. I miss my hips, or at least partially! I miss having something up top, haha. Secondly, I get cold easily! I certainly miss being able to regulate my body temperature. It's also uncomfortable feeling your tailbone when you sleep and not being able to get your hips in the right position.

So why am I being so open about it? Because I believe it is important.

And now back to self-worth. It is time to elaborate. I already looked at what I didn't like. What I hated about me. About what I saw, both physically and otherwise, when I looked at me. I didn't like it. And now, and in the midst of being sick, I have seen so much. I have seen how wrong I was, and how blind I had been. Watching people, and seeing what I hadn't observed before, and discovering my old perspective come crasing down.

And then one day, I found this quote on a picture, and I stopped, and read it again.

You cannot look after what you do not love.

And it hit me. Just like that. Wow. Just wow. That is so true. I hated myself. I find everything wrong.
And why? Because I do not value me. I do not value me. Wow. Something to get my head round.
I need to value me if I want to love.

So how, and how could I gave that same satisfaction, and reassurance, and confidence in myself?
By choosing to make a few conscious decisions.

I need to LOVE me. Not merely accept, and certainly not worship or idolise, but I need to love, in the truest sense, my very oprson. Love is understanding, appreciation, acceptance, respect, compasion, trust, security.

I need to admire me. To hold me in high esteem.
I need to think well of myself.
I need to care what I think.
I need to find what I like about myself, and enjoy that.
I need to appreciate me.
I neef to want to spend time with me.
I need to like myself.
I need to love what I am, how I am, where I am.
I need to love what I have, not just tolerate it.
I need to fall in love with MY figure, stop wishing I had yours, and love the way that I am physically.
I need to feel good in what I wear - not vanity, but self worth
I need to be happy, satisfied with my uniqueness

I need to be happy with, to love, to appreciate, understand and enjoy the person God made me. Me. Not you. Or her. Me.
God delights in me, the bible makes that very clear. Now I need to delight in me too.

As a painter/artist, I must see it this way - as the creater of an artwork, I see all that was put into it. I know its many flaws. What you see is very different. I can choose to see only what is wrong, or I can delight in how well this piece of art turned out;  in what I DO like about it.

Instead of looking in that mirror and cringing, I need to look in the mirror and think - oh, that top is flattering with your face, and your hair looks lovely up. This is not me primping myself up, lying, or being vain - but rather, I am relearning how to look at myself and put positive, Godly affirmation into my life by allowing me to be comfortable in who I am!
Recently I have been learning just how important this is.

My expectations need to be good ones. I need not be afraid of looking at myself, not afraid of being vain, not afraid of things I cannot change. (Oh where is that courage lion?)

My expectations need to be:
I expect to be valued, treated well by people, respected, trusted, relied upon, understood, loved, admired and known by people - because I love me and who I am, I am confident that I am cherished and known and loved by the God of the universe, and I am WORTHY of the sacrifice of his son's life on that cross. Because he said so, I am worthy and have been washed clean by the blood of Jesus, and there is no questioning that.

I am loved. I am valued. I am beautiful.

And so now, now back to how I see things now, today. About my figure. I am going to learn to love it! One thing I discovered is that regardless of weight distribution, shape stays the same! I will never be a tall, skinny greyhound, so I may as well not live in denial and pretend it will happen - yes I have lost weight but the hips themselves haven't moved, so I had better stop hoping that will change - and accept, delightedly, the way I was made. I have hips! Okay, that is womanly. I should be thankful for my womanly figure - it is a thing of beauty.
About my weight. It's not about a number. Its about eating the right food that nourishes your body while also being allowed to enjoy the textures, tastes, and flavours. And white chocolate is awesome!
About my values and expectations. They are changing.
About my view of me - I am learning to love who I was made. And its exciting.


 - an old part of me has died, been destroyed. God has given me a new perspective. I am sharing that perspective.
And it will take time to build. But it is beginning.

And so. There ends one topic, and begins another.

But I feel that the above, all of it, is just SO important, and not just to me. This is a huge part of YOU. Stop right there. Stop running. I'm looking right at you. Look into my eyes. You. This is for you. All of what I have been through, yes it is my struggle. But I want to ask you, hobestly. Is it yours, too? Do you know who you are? And do you love you? I know iy looks like I am easily saying this. Well, I am not. It is with great pain that I do. But I want you to look past fear. And ask yourself - the same thing I asked me, when prodded by God.

Do you know who you are?

Another challenge I leave with you. Walk this journey with me? You are not alone. Do not fear.

Part of Me Has to Die, in Order to Be Made New

Part of me has to die today. Part of my old life, if not perhaps all. Some part of me has to die. All I knew has to be destroyed - before God can rebuild. It has to be taken away before I can have new. Old for new. 

These are yesterday's thoughts. God was doing something then, and still is.
I got desperate enough, to finally relent my control, and ask for healing. I was so afraid of being healed, and of going back to what I was in. I feared the eating disorder would return. I feared my depression would return. I feared I would feel nothing. I feared I would kill myself. I feared I would spend the rest of my life with all of the emotional scars of the past, and prefferred to be sick healed of these than to be well and carry my burdens, or worse yet, slip back into that pit. fear, fear fear.

 But finally, I let go. And it hurt. And I was absolutely bloody terrified. And the thought of not being healed and killing myself from the madness of this all also plagued me. All day, in fact.
But I am seeing so many things now.

I have to be desperate enough.
God is doing something so much bigger than what I can see. It is already affecting me, but also my family hugely, and I know further. It is a ripple effect. It is like a stone, thrown into the water. After that first splash, comes one ripple. Then another, until it reaches the surfave of the dam. It is also like a root. Pull up one, and another will likely follow. Well, this has unearthed a very big tree.

God is remaking me. Everything I am, or rather was, has been destroyed, questioned, torn apart or repaced - and I am being given new perspectives. I have just had to get to the point of allowing God to do what he wants to do with it all, in me, and letting go.
Oh and letting go.
Oh and I fear.
But God is for me.

Open, Weeping Sores

 Weeping.

And not healing. Sores and wounds of the past. Sometimes they almost go away, but they are still there. Always there. And when they do heal, always remain the scars.
Bitter reminders.

Of what do I speak? Of a few things, actually. One of these being a physical thing - I have, for as long as I can remember, always had sensitive skin. Getting rashes as allergic reactions to food, weather, touching
Things - is all fairly normal for me. I couldn't wear wool, it drove my skin crazy, was allergic to bottlebrush flowers, some dog and cat hair... The list goes on. Now add to this sensitive skin a condition, so to speak, of little sores. Before you jump to diagnosing it - no, it is not ecezema. I call it that to get people off my case. It is not acne, or pimples, or the amount of chocolate I eat. It is skin which does not heal, and often swells up in a pimple-like manner - at which point becimes infected, red, flaky, and itchy, and I am left with a mess -the  worst part being the fact that it is on my face. I have always had it, and have tried many experiments to test for triggers - none of which have really proved to be successful. Applications of creams, ointments, washes, scrubs, and medications I have tried to a greater or lesser extent also - and all of these have been unsuccessful, if not more irriatating. So, Ihaven't tried anything with it for a while, and it was actually apparently starting to settle down. As well as this, I am curious to see if it has hormonal roots however, as I do notice some hormonal tendancies.

Now, the reason I am discussing this is because of relevancy - that and the fact that it has returned with a vengance over the past two weeks. Living with skin like my face is a very difficult thing to do - emotionally, and just mentally, it is a battle when you constantly question your appearance. Knowing your face looks as bad as it does, and knowing make up does not really alter things, and all this knowing you cannot currently change - well, at some point this does affect one's self eesteem, whether you want it to or not.
But physically, it drives me crazy when it is at its worst. I often awake at night and find that I have scratched a lot of my sores because they have been so itchy (hot weather does not help) and often moist. Of course it is dirty and bleeding and my fingernails often bloodied. It is very irritating sometimes. And one can't make an itch go away. One cannot 'just stop scratching' when it is so itchy, and has been, for so long. Yes scratching becomes a habit, but when that's the only thing you know...
Now, relevancy. Ah yes, my current problem is that it has returned. Only seemingly this time, as a result of the medication. These sores are blistering and weeping and actually coming up from the under the surface of the skin. There are no pimples to squeeze - simply sores and itchiness and pain. Its quite aggravating and obviously makes something like a town trip, in public, rather miserable. I seem to manage okay with the makeup - cover-up more like, however smooth skin certainly is not an option. Never really has been.

Ah yes - so where was I...

Indeed. Relevancy. Right now, everything is relevant. I have weeping sores that are coming up from the inside. Perhaps I can view this as an analogy - I have a disgusting mess inside that is finally coming out. No more, it cannot be pushed down. No more forcing those feelings away, no more just getting over it. I am not one to swallow tears, but these also cannnot be stopped. No more. History, it has a way of surfacing at inconvenient times. The past can no longer be ignored; it must finally be dealt with. Of which do I speak? Of no particular incident. I merely reffer to the huge collection of wounds that seem to be surfacing now. Oh and they hurt. They hurt. And irritate. But perhaps in the hurting comes healing. Perhaps there is an end, and not only do these wounds heal and form scabs, but maybe there is the hope that the scabs fall away - and not remain as so many other ugly scars have. Perhaps these scars will become lighter with time, and will not need 'covering' with a foundation or coloured creams.

I do hope. I hope, despite all this. Despite the fact that I am covered in scars, and always have been. I do hope. Some day, God will heal this affliction of mine - and renew this surface and underneath. Whether physically or spiritually, I choose to believe the healing will come.
And that the grossness of now will be but a breath in comparison.

This must be my purification. 

I must be a very dirty vessel. But then think - I will be very clean by the end....

Craft Projects For Maintaining My Sanity...

I have decided to detour, momentarily, from the intensity of my blog's previous day's topics, and post some photos of some crafts I have been doing over the past two weeks - just about the only thing that has kept me sane and actually doing something with my hands. (Oh, these hands)
Being unable to physically do much leads to a frustrated human being with a rampant mind - and craft seems to be one if the only ways to harness that.
Here are some projects.
I guess, in a way, these little things do bring purpose to a day - when one actually has the time, energy and inclination.

Hand-painted Acryllic Canvas, for my best friend xD

Salt -Dough Pendants - Hand-Painted

 

Wedding and Greeting Cards

 

 

 

 

 

Crochet Dog Leads/Collars

Banner Designs

 

Worn, Weary, and Fighting With God - Yes, I am Humanly Flawed

Oh, I woke up in a fine mood this morning. After having slept inthis strange routine of 4 hours sleep a night, my body was finally adjusting... and now, after having had a sleep from 9:00pm - 4:00am, the body is entirely wrecked and thrown out. This is partially because I have had to alter the amount of medication I am taking - on dcotor's orders of course - and it is yet again screwing with me.

This morning's thoughts were fine indeed.

Everything is meaningless. A chasing after the wind. What pessimistic thoughts.
My soul is troubled. A restless night. Thoughts I cannot place or understand seem to have tormented my dreams. I do not know which is better - to have no sleep or to have more and be so disturbed this way.
Why does it feel so strange?
Thoughts, fears, emotions, - and nothing. The cold grip of nothingness stares. But why?
I know the plans and purposes God has for my life are far greater than my own. I know they are there - and choose to believe and hope in them. So why this sense of unease, as though a question remained in the air, as though even these things are doubted?
God give me a revelation - my soul is in turmoil for no apparent reason.
It is uneasy - and I cannot place why. Or perhaps, yes maybe.
The search for the meaning of life.

Why have you troubled my thoughts all night? I do not even understand why this indeed is troubling me at all.
I know that God alone gives me purpose, a hope in Christ for eternal life and a future. So, why does my mind question the now? Perhaps that is it - it is easy to see an accept and believe that which is in the future, yet have no immediate direction or purpose for the now. Perhaps that is my struggle. Peraps finding meaning in toay seems so pointess and neverendingly the same. All so meaningless. Everyday, the same constant strugglr. Why?

So why, God, is this so hard? I admit I cannot control these feelings at which presently are seeming to overwhelm me entirely. I cannot make them stop and they seem to defy my very being. And then I get so angry, God. I cannot pretend I do not get angry - this is becoming a new thing to me - but I do wish I was not. I am so tired of this, my soul is troubled and I want to give up. There, I have said what I am feeling - angry, troubled and comfused. WILL THIS EVER END, GOD?
Forgive the emphasis. I'm tired. I'm worn. My heart is heavy. Words of a song I have come to know well.
Yet there has to be an end.

What can I do but cling desperately to the hope that there is a destiny and purpose somewhere more than tomorrow? What about today?
And I pray that I find meaning in today - instead of this endless turmoil. Oh God, my heart is faint and I am discouraged. Help me to continue this walking step by step without needung to see the bigger picture.
I cry. It never seems to end.

""Worn"
(Tenth Avenue North)

I’m Tired I’m worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I’ve made mistakes
I’ve let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world

And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

I know I need to lift my eyes up
But I'm too weak
Life just won’t let up
And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left


My prayers are wearing thin
Yeah, I’m worn
Even before the day begins
Yeah, I’m worn
I’ve lost my will to fight
I’m worn
So, heaven come and flood my eyes 

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause all that’s dead inside will be reborn
 
Though I’m worn
Yeah I’m worn"


Story of my life. It just never seems to end.
Why God, why?
What is the meaning of all this?
Why do I question everything?
And why do you keep hope alive?
Why?

What is life, what is meaning?


- The book of Job. Maybe a little melodramatic, but given my mood this morning, it seemed fitting..

"²⁰ “Why is light given to those in misery,
    and life to the bitter of soul,
²¹ to those who long for death that does not come,
    who search for it more than for hidden treasure,
²² who are filled with gladness
    and rejoice when they reach the grave?
²³ Why is life given to a man
    whose way is hidden,
    whom God has hedged in?
²⁴ For sighing has become my daily food;
    my groans pour out like water.
²⁵ What I feared has come upon me;
    what I dreaded has happened to me.
²⁶ I have no peace, no quietness;
    I have no rest, but only turmoil."

-Job 3:20-26 

Why is light given to misery?

-

Call it an interlude. I spent the day in this strange frame of mind. Well, I suppose it is not strange. But I struggle so much. And it seems the better I get, the worse I feel for  a period of time.
So angry - I have been fighting with myself all day. I will admit, I am angry at God. Yet at the same time, I wish I was not. I knowhe can handle my ranting however so I do rant. Oh, I rant. I question Him, and in the same breath question my questioning him. I accuse him, and at the same instant declare that He is lord over the situation and that I know He has all intentions worked together for my good.
What frustrates me most is the ridiculous way I argue with myself and with God.
I feel like Job - in oh so many ways. Right now, my skin has broken out in the most terrible rash and I feel just as Job did - covered with weeping sores and afflictions.
Yet he would not curse God. He did not sin in all he did. He said even, God has the power to give and take away. I do not curse God. I am proud, yes, and angry, and I do question what he is doing  - but I pray that I may accept whatever that may be in the knowledge it is for my good.
And I still fight. Oh, this is so much  harder than I thought. Why am I so strong-headed, so stubborn, so difficult to change?! It frustrates me so how I can argue with God and declare him lord with the same breath. Oh me, oh self, oh oh. Why so human? God, am human, and flawed. And I hate that fact. But only you can change who I am. May I be able to allow you to.

If only I could get past this emotional roller-coaster!  I feel, feel, I am so tired of feeling! Yet God gave us feelings! Ach, there has to be an end to it all, some balance, some peace. Call me crazy, if you wish - I am simply discovering just how human, and flawed, I am. Oh it brings me to my knees. Ach, God, you have such a way of doing things. How you do it! Here I am again, on my knees. Again. And that's not such a bad thing.

Wow, reading that scares me a little. Please do not consider me an emotional nutcase! My life is a mess right now - that's no excuse - but maybe some of this venting/explaining/attempting to will bring sanity in the long run...

Ah, so, the trials of today. That aside, I actually achieved something - the washing up, and I even was ableto cook andeat my lunch like a normal person without having an emotional breakdown! Mashed potato gets a little old, but I am finding ways of altering its core ingredients to make it taste amazing! It makes all the difference. Plus cheese. Cheese is yummeh. It also helps to eat mashed potato on a plate with gravy - feels 'normal' instead of in a bowl. It does matter.

..... Tomorrow. Dread and hope all at once. Eh, let's just focus on sleep.

I will end with this verse.

"Why are you downcast, oh my soul? Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him - my saviour and my God"
- Psalm 42:5

~Anna

Food is Not Even the Issue. It is About Control.

Written at 12:00-2:00 am this morning (Wed, 20 March 2013) after a day of complete and utter exhaustion of yesterday - even my emotional state was totally wrecked, and non-functional, hah. So very tired, is this poor body. Recovery will be long, eh?? Let the musings begin.

Food is not even the issue. It is about control.
I will lie here and pray.
And I will accept this. Not because I do not think God cannot change circumstances.
But I cannot be in denial forever. Today, right now, I cannot eat normal food. It is something I will have to accept. I must find a way in which I can still enjoy the food I can eat - and stop lamenting all of my losses. I am certainly not of the opinion that this will be easy - I am also sure that grief, until dealt, with is a cyclic thing - so I know all my old fears and dreads will resurface. But perhaps I can find consolation in thinking that someday, regardless of what the future holds, I will be not only able to see food in a healthy light, but also have had my perspectives altered on what is actually important in life my proirities and opinions - I can see God is aready doing that now.

I say food is not really the issue, but it is and it isn't. In a physical manner, food only sustains our bodies for the short period we live on this earth - then we die and it is of no more importance than the same dust we were both formed of - physically speaking. I could go into lists of the importance of food on a deeper level - and to some degree I will.
Firstly though, please do not think that I will, from now on hold views that all food is evil and that the enjoyment of it is sin. I could not, and it is a crazy thought. Obviously I do and will continue to struggle with the object for this moment in time - and will be subject to emotional triggers and reactions because of that. But I do not wish for you to not enjoy your food, an dI will certainly not despise you for taking pleasure in it. I daresay I will only despise myself and the food.
So, food. It is not bad. Not only does it provide us with nourishment, but it provides us with the experience of taste, and pleasure! And that is good, and pleasing, and God has given us taste buds and flavours, and the ability to cook and grow food - an endless list of blessings.
Now, there has to be a way for me to accept (for this time, for today, without worrying about tomorrow, yet not in denial of reality) my own circumstances of what I cannot change - and be satisfied, no, find pleasure in that. This will be a challenge, I know, but I must make the most of what I do have, and let go of what I cannot alter.
Perhaps my list of good tasting food is considerably small. Food I can tolerate right now, that is. And it will take time, and experimentation, and pain and failure, and anger, and dissappointment with that food - but there will be and end to it. Even if that end is not me being able to eat 'normal' food as I want - but being able to enjoy that which I can, with a new mindset.

So, I mentioned food is not really the issue. When you look at it (okay, when I look at it) physically, as I stated, it only sustains us. Now I shall look at it deeper. These may or may not be your views, that is ok. Right now I am merely explaining some of my own findings - about personal discoveries. Maybe they are the same or different for others. Maybe not.
Okay. Food. Emotionally, what does it represent? Control. In many ways, perhaps this is my very battle with God. Perhaps food is merely a surface issue, a strand of a root. So why control? And why is it represented, for me, by food? To be honest, I am not really sure. Perhaps in my love affair with food, I was comforted with the knowledge that it was there. Always available, to be enjoyed.
But the eating of it - and I notice, the cyclic eating/bingeing of it I did - all triggered around those days and times when things were or were not going well. Stress related, perhaps. Haha. So this control - or apparent lack of it when I ate all the white chocolate - has something to do with my own ability to cope, or not, with difficult circumstances. In our anguish, we always turn to something. Good little chistian me, that something I tured to was always God, no? Double haha. It would be ridiculous to pretend that I turned to God each and everytime I struggled - and I know I am only human and the rest of you fail here too, haha. In my case it was food. I only see that now. Food, for me, represented escape, temporary relief from that stressful tafe assignment, and despite the following repercussions of guilt and shame, it was seemingly worth the momentary freedom felt enjoying something that was probably 'bad' - which made the enjoyment better, the guilt worse.
So when I ate, I was in control. I was in command of something. No I wasn't! Not being able to stop eating all that chocolate is not control - it is a false sense of it. Temporary, followed by guilt and disgust. And then bashing one's self up with one's poor christian discipline - well indeed.

So, this bingeing/eating discovery of mine is relatively new to me ( I do not have anorexia, chillax) I believe it has had a stronger hold on me than I would admit - and I am also discovering what a huge issue  food, eating, weight gain/loss, body image and self-value is in many ways for so many of us - but the issue is aways so well disguised - and there is such a desperate need for freedom here in so many areas of peoples lives. But that topic is not for today. Do expect to see more discussion on the matter, however - it needs adressing eventually.

Control. Food. And me.
I controlled food, so I thought, when I ate. Perhaps it controlled me. Okay, yes it did.
Now that I have lost it, food has upset me to emotional levels In a way I never thought possible. Ah, but why?
Because it is about my fight for control of something. Be that stress, circumstances, something - and anything.
So what can I do now? Well. God is showing me. I can hold onto it. Or I can let go. And not simply let of the food - this is merely a representation of something deeper.
Now that I see my desperate need to control something, I must be able to let go of that need, of that searching (not simply transfer to something else), admit that I cannot control circumstances in life (for my entire life, and should stop trying to), and relinquish my hold on anything. Then perhaps I might be willing to admit to God that I cannot control anything, and ask that he might give me the grace to allow me to be willing to give him that control. Notice I say willing - that is the hardest part of it all - not just seeing the need but wanting to change that - and being able to. Eh, is hard.

But being willing to give all of that control - in its entirity - to God.
This thought is absolutely terrifying on many levels, yet I know that it is essential.
Now, because of this, a minor thing like food, I see my own need to relinquish something that is not mine - nor should be mine. Control.

You know, I post this post here second to a post I wrote yesterday morning on dog training and the control of dogs. I find it interesting, and ironic, the opposite ways these two topics seemingly work out. In Kaelen's case, I am discussing the importance of having that control over him as a dog, as it affects his ability to work and function, and trust, and my own ability to get done what I need to do with a dog that obeys.

And here I am also explaining the way God is having me hand over my own control of a situation and life I cannot handle.
As I said, I find this paraellel very ironic - perhaps the way in which I must trust and hand ovrer control is not dissimilar to the way in which dear Kaelen will learn to trust and be controlled by his master. It is a cery interesting thought.

Well, I am by no means completed in my thoughts, nor am likely to be. There are so many swimming around in my mind, but again, taking each day as it comes is the biggest battle of all. One day, one step,one fear at a time. All so overwhelming and changing, and unpredictable and scary.

But I do challenge you - it is easy to watch as I go through such an obvious relinquishing of my own control of things and circumstances I can do little about - but now I must be bold enougn to push a little deeper, and perhaps, dare I put this question in your mind today... If you are reading my struggle and watching me suffer (haha) then you are subject to my opinion too =D
So, dare I ask, for you, if it is not food, what is it? Sobering thought.

And now food. And eating. Erch.

~Anna

Training a Working Dog - Methods and Intents

Training a Working Dog - the desired methods and intents.

Let's take a look at training our working dog. In particular, I want to make a focus of my own perspective of training for Quiet, Confident Control of stock. I have found a book, which I will refer to often, by which many of my goals have been inspired - and the focus is simply the above. (This book, Training and Working Dogs for Quiet Confident Control of Stock - by a certain Scott Lithgow, is particularly written for owners of cattle livestock and the training/working of cattle dogs - however the approach is very different to the usual  rough methods used to work cattle, and because of this many of the principles apply very well to my own observations of sheep control using dogs.)

Quiet, Confident Control of stock. Let's look at control.

Firstly, control is essential for any owner that expects their dog to work well. A dog will not work to its full ability, nor will its natural potential be expressed if there is no control in the way it is handled. Control must be established by the master/handler, is absolutely essential, and must not be questioned by dog or owner. If there is doubt or the slightest lack of control between owner and dog, there will naturally be recurring problems.
So what is control which is balanced?
Looking at it, control is the ability for the master to extend his feelings (or his arm, in our case expressed as a dog) as a creature and place expectations on his dog to follow through with those feelings. Sounds confusing, perhaps - but control in this sense is about the bottom line understanding between owner and dog and the expectation of the owner on the dog - and the dog's understanding of that. The dog must know what is expected of him as his master's dog. Control is an expression of that understanding.

This does not have to be a negative thing - this control and the gaining of it is actually about trust. A dog which trusts its master respects and is respected. In return, this develops a mutual desire in the dog to not only be used by its master but to do tasks willingly and as a way of seeking and giving pleasure. At this point our relationship becomes two-wayed - healthily so. The desire to please is born, and the cycle of good behaviour rewarded with a positive experience for the dog begins.
At this point, our dog trusts, and is willing to be controlled in any manner the owner sees fit - because the dog confidently believes and understands the relationship between itself and master.

As I mentioned, this control can only be established by trust. Uncntrollable, defiant dogs are caused by bad treatment - it is very simple. Disrespect a dog in your attitude and he will despise you. Allow your authority to be challenged and he will always get around you mentally. Spoil a dog and he will disrespect and disregard you for life - even if he does obey sometimes.

Show the dog trust, respect, and do not waver - and you will have not only a willing worker but may discover something far better - an eager to please, willing dog whose desire is to be with you and do all things for you. It is entirely about this mindset.
That is, partially, a view of  the control. Now lets look at the quiet.
Quiet is simply an extension of that control. Quiet simply means the owner has the power and ability to ask something fron his dog, and be answered, unquestioned, in return. By quiet, I do not mean non-barking. I mean the method of being able to work in an environment that is free from, stressful noisy, and tense situations. Yes they will happen. But these situations are made worse by the owner's control - or lack of it.

So, lets attend to some fundmentals of our control. As I have stressed before many times, the only way to have a good dog is by establishing a relationship. It is essential to any dog, anywhere, and certainly essential to the sanity of owner as well!

Dogs are social creatures. In their wild state, living as packs, canine wolves are seldom alone and spend the majority of their time simly in companionship with one another - as well as particpating in a variety of activities. Dogs thrive on being together. They need companionship. A dog without a companion is a very misplaced dog, likely to have many problems in various forms throughout its life - behaviiourally and otherwise.

Now let's look at how we go aout building our relationship. This is pretty foundational - for any dog owner of any breed or personality type, or purpose. In the case of my own working dog, I deliberately shose Kaelen as a puppy because I wanted to affect as much of his life and beginning life experiences I could - before he formed too many bonds and habits. This is all part of the puppy-rearing process, which I will address in future.

Here are some factors worth considering pertaining to our relationship building and ways to go about doing this.

Relationship Building - Key Points to Remember

Time. Time is important in any relationship. Time establishes trust. I cannot emphasise enough just how important it is to spend time with your dog - even if it is in small doses, do it regularly. You only get out what you put in - and cannot expect too much from something that does not get adequate attention.

Trust.  This is the ability to allow another to be in control. Trust must be earnt, and once broken, is difficult to repair. Building trust in dogs is as simple as the dog being able to receive well meant pat on the head - without the need or history of fear. Build trust by slowly conditioning your dog to you, and to experiences. This will take time, as mentioned above.

Reassurance. Dogs need to know that if you are supposed to be in control, you can handle things and they can relax with you as boss. Inthe wild, insubordiante wolves submit to other, stronger wolves in a natural way - obviously this depends on personality, but only those wolves in the presence of a confident leader relax properly. You need to be this confident leader - and this is up to you and how confident you are in yourself.

Respect. This is huge. A dog will not respect you if you do not respect him. He needs to know you say what you mean, but you need to know that he does too. A respect from you for your dog, his personal space and what he can tolerate is also essential. 

Love. This is so important. You can respect a dog, and he you, and live as good mates. But oh, a dog that loves! I have had the priviledge of owning the most loyal dog on the planet - this dog has taught me so much about true dog owner relationships, and the joy that can be brought by them. I hand reared this dog from 2 weeks of age, which was probably fundamental in her behaviour reinforcemt, but we only bonded when she was over the age of 6 months old. This dog, my Ditzy, puts a whole new perspective on dogs for me. She absolutely worships the ground I walk on. It is this adoration and endless devotion I believe some dogs are actually meamt to have for people - it is tuned into them. A soul mate desire, the need to love and be loved, and in return, please. Loving your dog in return also helps. It goes a lot deeper than respect. Admiration, call it.

Understanding. Like respect, this is a mutual agreement  - a pact, of sorts, between dog and owner. This can only be acheived through the above motions. This understanding goes deeper than respect and could be described as the way some dogs 'read their owner's minds' - or are able to pick up on what will be asked of them before it is required. This only happens because both dog and owner are in tune with one another - and this is simply a natural expression of that in tuneness.

These are simple fundamentals that must be seriously considered before any goals or expectations are placed on a dog, its working ability, the desired outcome, or intents and purposes behind owning a dog. These funadamentals are, essentially important to any dog owner relationship that is desired to work and cannot be missed! They really are what makes a dog, and should be addressed appropriately. It is something to keep in mind when thinking of any dog and its relationship with its owner.

In dog posts here, keep your eyes open for some Kaelen updates (training sessions!) as well as Goals and DesiredAbilities in Your Working Dog - then eventually we will look at The Fundamentals of Puppy Rearing.

The The Struggle of Today - Maybe it Differs, Maybe it Doesn't.

Why is it so hard? Today just doesn't seem to end.

Today and tomorrow and all the after tomorrows. I am trying not to dwell on tomorrow, not to worry about what I cannot change. Trying and failing.

I wish this wasn't happening to me. I want to wish it all away - to pretend it is nothing - I reason it is nothing - but it does not change anything. I want denial so badly, yet everytime I wish it away the reality comes pouring in.
I don't want to be feeling this way over something so simple. Is it simple? I do not know. Perhaps it is over-complicated.
I hate this right now, and am angry at feeling. Oh feelings. Why you?
I am so frustrated, confused, angry, burdened and tired. Why?!!!

Forgive me, dear reader, for such pessimistic thoughts. I feel like dear old king David wrote while he was despairing in the desert - unable to see the light and unendingly frustrated with the fact that he could not change his circumstances. Fighting - for his very life - and fearing.

I am so tired. Oh so tired. Tired of this emotional roller-coaster, of struggling so hard yet going nowhere. All I do is cry - and try to remind myself that there are eternal things I should be seeing that it is not what you put in your mouth that matters. It upsets me so much that I cannot handle this food issue and am drowning in the mess of it all.

I am grieving food. I hate that it is an issue. I do know that someday it will resolve, and I will be able to view food with a healthy perspective - whether that is a new way of eating from now on, I do not know. But today, I struggle.

The stages of grief.

Denial. - Oh yes, you are there. I want to pretend none of this matters.
Bargaining. - and avoiding.
Anger. - So Angry. At self, food, circustamces, the reality and unfairnessof it all.
Guilt. - For the way this issue cycles around and around, and of not being able to handle it.
Depression. - The fear of tomorrow looms.
Resolution. - Yes, this will come. Unfortunately it takes time, and often each stage may be relived.

So why am I grieving food?
I don't know. I just know I am. 
Regardless of whether I choose to or not, I am struggling to accept something that is way beyond my control.
It is SO hard. Obviously food was a big, BIG stronghold in my life before now - certainly a bigger idol than I thought. You jnow, we don't realise just how much we depend on something until it is gone. I suppose it is like someone having their arm amputated. You do not appreciate it fully until you are made to do without it.
I do not know why this is so difficult for me at the moment. Not being able to eat makes me cry all the time - to look at food is devestating, and to think about it or smell it worse still.
Actually, I have the feeling that this issue with food is only the very surface of some horrible, ugly monster. In fact, I am sure of it. That's pretty scary - If the food itself is this much of a problem, what is this demon going to look like?

What frustrates me most is the fact that I cannot physically stuff it down anymore. I just cannot - which leaves me looking like an emotional wreck. This inability to handle my mess is really, really, really hard because I cannot stop it. Christian or not, I have issues, and the reality (oh stupid reality) of now is that I cannot deal with it. I'm a mess. Blah. And its ugly.

God is obviously doing something in relation to how I deal with problems and issues in general.

If I am not supposed to 'cope', where does that leave me? Oh so voulnerable. And maybe thats a good thing. Maybe this is God's way of stripping back the onion skins layer by layer. I cannot cover it back up again. Erch.It stings. It hurts!

Which leaves me in a messy situation. How do I cope? Can I cope? Does all this mean that I will be stripped bare to the point of exposing everything to God? Everything? 
Actually, it does. It seems it has already begun to come to that.
And how do I allow God to do this painful heart surgery without fighting or fearing it?

I am so confused, frustrated, I want so many answers. I want to fix this now and have my old comforts back. Security, control. I want that. It's all about cotrol. About who is in charge. Oh, I desperately want that control.
But God doesn't. He has something far better in mind. And I, like a naughty child, hang onto the only thing I know, be it good or bad - with screams, fighting, and anger.

Yet God is slowly, gently prying open my clenched, hard, white fingers. What on earth could He have in mind, I wonder? And will I be able to let go? It is all so horrifyingly real.
This is real. I have to let go. I have to give him everything. Well, I don't HAVE to. I can keep my old broken toys.
But maybe, just maybe, my father knows me well enough to know what is good for me. Maybe I should trust, instead of fight.

Maybe I must.

There. Oh my, the core issue. It is simple, and plain for outside eyes, as well as my own.

I have to let go.

Simple, you say. Maybe you don't. it doesn't really matter.
But there it is.

And it is so scary.

Here we are again though - do it afraid. Courage. Stand. And let go.

So there it is. Today's struggle. It sucks so much, feeling this way, and not being able to change it. It hurts so badly. It never goes away, or at least does not seem to. I cry so often, and hate myself for it.
It seems so endless and hopeless and dark.

But God. Oh But God.

This morning, during my early bird session, and by torchlight, I made/painted myself this "Courage Lion". God has been speaking to me, over and over and over again about this inthe past few days - courage is doing it afraid. Doing it anyway.

Doing what? Standing. And Letting go.
Not knowing what tomorrow may bring but stepping into it anyway. Believing that God WILL work all things together for my good.
Accepting what I cannot change, but also not being destroyed by the unknown.

And crying.

Here is my courage lion.

He is a necklace pendant I made, to wear as a symbol to remind this faint heart of the power of courage.

In addition he is joined by this very applicable verse:

"Be of good courage and He will strengthen your heart as you hope in the Lord."   - Psalm 31:24

Barely Surviving, I am Not Coping. Everything is Falling Apart.

It's time to write. Get ready, because here it comes. Bear with me, please be empathetic, forgive me for complaining, and absolutely leave feedback.

I am not even really sure where to begin, only that begin I must, and that, well, there is never really a better time than the present! So, at the time of writing, now, it is 3:00 am which, to some, is just bordering on night owliness and, yep, well, most people would not be doing this anyway, but they would certainly be asleep! Well, I am not, and since beginning taking certain prescribed steriods which are supposed to be aiding my current stomach function (indeed they actually are -  the vomiting is more controllable and less severe and physically these are more effective than the last lot of drugs) I have not been sleeping! My new regular sleeping pattern is to go to bed at 9-10pm, wake up at 12:00am (where I need to go to the bathroom - for whatever reason, I also seem to need to go every two hours at the moment, not sure if this is simply positioning of the stomach contents, side effects of the medication, or both, but it is unbelieveably frustrating and I feel like a leaky old dog, haha), sleep till 2 - and then from 2:00am I am as awide awake as any dear owl you did see, and cannot for the life of me attempt sleep - so I don't try. From 2 onwards is my new 'time' for spending time with God, having a daily breakdown/piece together God session, journalling, drawing, thinking, writing emails (if anyone wants a long message written at 2am, I would love to comply) and writing up thoughts which will likely end up on here.

Now, this has basically been part of my day for at least the last week, and if you could call that sort of thing routine, I suppose one could say it has actually stabilised out. Well, yeah. No.
So all of this morning experience, and spending time with God I have been getting has been fundamental to each day, and the mountainous task of getting through each one.
It is so hard. No, I am not dying a terminal illness, but the amount of effort that is required to live, as I mentioned before, is almost not worth living it. And boy, I am struggling.
And then there was yesterday. I don't know what happened. I don't know that I ever will understand what happens when it does. It all fell apart. It really did. And I am not sharing this because I want to say that my day was worse than yours, or that I should be pitied. I don't even truly know why I am sharing this - I suppose part of it is me going,

"Hey, anyone out there? I'm struggling with this particular thing and knowing that someone supports me is all I ask - does anyone feel like telling me? All I need is for you to smile genuinely and tell me that yes, it will be ok. Not because you are an optimist, nor because I want or need a sympathetic pat on the head, but because you believe it, and know that evetually, despite everything, I can too."

Wow, there it is. I am being voulnerable, scared enough to ask for support. Independant, self-reliant me, I never thought I'd see the day. Well well. 

My yesterday. It fell apart more than normal. Everything came crashing down on me. I had been barely managing each previous day on a general level - just setting up my mind to choose to have a life-giving day, instead of a miserable, overwhelmingly depressed one - and even and that was hard. Just physically, I am too tired to get out of bed before 9:00am. Once I do, it is the long slow process of getting showered and up and moving (physically even washing my hair is a huge effort, and let's not even mention what happened when I couldn't shake up the shaving cream bottle because of how exerting that is - and the repercussions for my legs!), and then, so to speak, the battle begins. I have to eat. At the moment, eating is a really, really, really big problem, on many levels. I cannot really change that right now. Physically, I vomit everytime (not maybe, always) I eat anything more than a spoonful. This means sitting down to have a meal involves a few things - time, space, lots of water, and a nearby toilet. Oh and did I mention food? Eh.
So, once I have downed and returned breakfast (usually very thick milo, because I cannot drink large amounts of milk, and ice cream frombreakfast is not good, nor is spup or mashed potato haha), I spend the next half hour drinking tea or water, eating a lot of jelly beans/sugar as I am badly needing a sugar hit by this time, and throwing up the remainder of my stomach contents. By this time my stomach aches and aches, and I get bad cramps - so any kind of moving activity is out. Basically then I will go and sit and do craft of draw, etc. I quite enjoy these times - they are something different to do and take my mind off the annoying belly ache.
One thing I can tolerate throughout the day is my jelly beans. Sometimes, they come up. Mostly a few at a time stay. I love these guys. I know they are pure sugar but they have been so wonderful to me. I am in love with jelly beans right now, haha, as they are about the only thing I can chew that dissolves. One thing I miss is being able to eat hard, crunchy foods like chips, and being able to chew food.
Then I spend the rest of my day avoiding food. I try not to think about it, and eventually attemp to force another meal down, but it is such an effort to eat knowing you are about to throw it all up and that depending whats in it, it will hurt coming back up - and then afterwards in the form of a weak, aching back and gut from the effort if spewing. Unfortunately, I cannot just not eat, because I am going to starve. As in,even a day of not eating has a very detrimental effect and I go backwards healthwise - and hospital looms an inch closer.

This all sounds terribly depressing, doesn't it? So thats just one aspect of my day - dreading eating and being hungry, throwing up and aching, knowing that I am not nearly getting enough to eat and fearing ending up just as sick back in hospital with no strength and being put back onto the drip. Add to that foods that do not agree and make acid, as well as the endless mashed potato, soup, ice cream, cream and the flavours one can add that are tolerated - and you have a fine mess. Add to that fine mess being sick and tired of eating mush, of food not tasting like anything, of soup not being nice warm, of watching other people eat their food happily and enjoy it... And I have a cry at mealtimes.

Wow, what a winge session! Forgive me, I have not even started on why yesterday was so bad! But! Let me rant for a bit longer and I promise I will get to the good. For there is good, however small.

Yesterday. (I have to pee, newsflash, just to lighten the topic for half a second! Getting up too quickly makes me dizzy, never run to the loo at night before sitting up first - or you and/or the cupboard will inevetably suffer.)

I cried all day. On and off, whimpery little sobs as well as 3 or 4 full on bawling sessions. What a mess. It was, pretty much, just everything I'd been fighting with just came all out at once - like a horrible ugly pimple. No more I can handle this, no more stuff it down, no more deal with it later. I felt like Raelee having a temper tantrum and the way how she gets so upset she loses it and cries uncontrollably. I felt hopelessly out of control. But I am learning that is apparently exactly where God wants me. Argh.

So, what surfaced? Part of me wants to hide it all away, 

But part of me feels compelled to write this anyway. One thing I do ask, though. Please have empathy. Please try to understand why right now I feel how I do, that wish I didn't, but cannot change that. Please be there for me. I'm a little scared at sharing so much. Please do not pity me. I do not want pity, a pat on the head or to be told 'it'll be ok'. If you say that, I will bite you. Haha. Get real.

So, what came up? These are just some things.
My life. My plans. My dreams, my hope, my futre desires, intents and everything I ever want to do. Everything has changed. I cannot, and will not, ever be the same again. I am trying to see this as a blessing, as a good thing. That's not so easy. I am not talking about my illness here at the moment, simply that God has revealed that so much of what I had known or thought about everuthing may not be right.

Back to my life. On the very surface of things, all my plans for this coming year have changed by circumstances I have no controll over. (Being sick for so long might have had soemthing to do with it.)

My tafe has gone out the window. I had intended to complete my cert IV before july, and be hopefully on the way to getting my 'foot in the door' where I am working now and being able to hold down a job that I love and enjoy. *I had planned that. Now, well. My tafe teacher and work have been extremely wonderful and allowed me to continue both working through my tafe assigmnents at my own pace, but also working for the remainder of the year and slowly getting my skills signed off.
In terms of my course, I am still able to do it by the end of the year and it will work out okay - I will get to finish it - but it certainly was not how I had it planned.
Knowing that my teacher and work are not worried about when and how I get it done should take the stress of things away, but, as per usual, I am expecting so much from my own working ability and am frustrated at the untouched assignments - my brain just isnt working, either. So, tafe, or at least, my agenda for it,  out the window.

Now Kaelen. This may not be a big deal to some, but to me it is. I have not been able to train him the way I wanted to. I have such plans for him, being my first real experience inthe world of dog training (it has always been a goal of mine to train a dog to do something) and I have so many ideals, theories, and goals - none of which are unreasonable and we will get there - but the how is changing. It has been an incredible blessing, however, in the way how the last few months of his important puppy impression stage (which I was so worried about doing right, because this stage makes or ruins a good dog) in terms of people here. Because I have been away I was not able to bond with him as I wanted to, as result he has become a dog for dad, myself and ria the farmer - which in the long run will be hugely ideal because he will need to obey and work for them mores than me.  I am also reminded that I prayed for this pup, felt God give him to me in the knowledge that he was 'the right one', and dedicated him to God upon his arrival - so, inevetably, whatevere comes our way next, it will work out, even better than I had planned.

I am really only scratching the surface here of top issues, the others are so scary.

My art. I had plans, oh I had plans. I was going to get my online comissions business up and running this year, website, paypal, professionally and all - and have a sense of accomplishment of making my own money because I cannot find a paid job (and certainly will not be able to get one for a while now) and be doing something with my time. I had planned so much into how I would do this, and a lot more. Now, like everything else at the moment, my art is up in the air too.
Because I have been sick for so long my body is weak, and these days my hands can only handle so much before they cramp, become unresponsive and anything I am drawing becomes a wobbly mess. This is SO upsetting to me because then I attain an unreasonable fear of the thought of perhaps not being able to draw properly again. Not being able to express my inner artist would be an end to me, I am sure of it. This scares me so much. So, my art and creativity, and not being able to do what I want to because I physically cannot is an issue.

Now for some scarier issues.

The big one. This is one that makes me cry all the time.

Food.

Bear with me, I know you are sick of hearing about it. So am I. But I cannot escape it.
I have loved food all my life. When I turned 16 I began a love affair (haha) with the tastes, textures, sights, sounds, and smells of food. Baking was a passion of mine, until I got busy with other things. I loved the art of creating and enjoying food.
I also had a binge eating disorder, which was so subtle I did not even know it was there. In fact, it is in only being sick now that I have discovered it was/is a problem at all. (just note that this is not the reason I am sick, haha)
It is something I will have to adress at some point in the future - but again, another one of those dark horrible issues brought to light by something else. They are often so deeply buried it takes something major to be able to expose them.

Back to food. I really do love it. This is why the idea of doctors thinking I was deliberayely anorexic was so hilariously rdiculous to me. Did they realise that I had tried before, on occassion, to starve myself after bingeing but that I loved food SO much I could never ever not eat for half a day? Overexercise was more my problem. It still makes me laugh. Vomiting is not something I have chosen to do for the last 7 months - and it is absolutely beyond me why anyone would choose to inflict that on themselves willingly.

I still love food. But now I also hate it. I hate it so much, as times. I have a love hate relationship with my food, what a laugh!
I hate seeing food in woolies and thinking, "I cant eat that, or that, that hurts, that looks nice, I wonder if that would be wirth the pain for the taste...." And then those horrible little thoughts the enemy fills our minds with - like seeing something (food, in my case) and thinking, "Will I EVER be able to eat that again?" Thoughts like that are usually my undoing. It is easy from an outsider's perspective to say 'stop thinking about food' or 'get over it' or 'just eat'. Things that upset me more are comments like 'why eat ir at all, you're only going to throw it up and waste food anyway'. Eh that stinks.

Wow, this is really hard, but I am actually feeling a huge release right now, talking about this. Praise God - I can think about food and I havent teared up yet.

Now my favourite food. Meat pies. I love them. Hot, cold, frozen. They are absolute rubbish nutritionally but sonderfully textured - the pastry, flavour, mmmm the meat. With cheese and bacon, even better.
I cannot eat meat pies. The pastry, for one. It is wheat, and fat, and dry, and digests slowly. The meat for two - it is made up of fat and grsitle and acid ingredients, and becomes very upset with my stomach. The agony caused by a meat pie bellyache is unbearable. Oh and did I mention it is solid food? Yeah no can do. I so badly want to eat one, but cannot. I have a few options as to how to deal with it.
I could buy one from the bakery, deny the fact that a cannot digest or tolerate the stuff, gorge myself, eat one anyway and regret it for the next 3 days. I daresat it would be not worth the effort. Sad.
Or I could move on, and find a new favourite food. That's a scary thought,that means change.
I could lay down my 'idol' and stop worshipping it, and find and appreciate a new flavour in a new food in a new way in this new season. I could.
Or I could become bitter and angry and loathe meat pies for etenity and be unhappy. Hmm. Tough choice.

Back to food. You know, I feel better already. Wow.


If you want to stay my friend, haha, this next part is really important! You need to read this =D

It is really hard, at the moment, for me to watch people eat. We do not realise it, but so much of what we do socially revolves around food. It is not only an idol in many ways, but I am beginning to see how much value we put on food can be very unbalanced.
Socially, we link spending time with people around food. Coffe catchup, family reuinions, family mealtimes (which is healthy, but this is the time for when the family reunites so to speak, after the events of the day), holidays, events, birthday parties, morning teas, celebratory meals, even a sunday church bbq - the list goes on and on. I am not bashing these at all, merely pointing out how much social time spend with people is connected to food and the enjoyment/eating of it. There are many other ways we can be doing this - time spent with people does not have to be a food centred event, why are we putting so much of what we base spending time with people around food? I think perhaps on a general level, people and the world have got our views wrong on what we get our value out of and why.
I am not sure on that one - but it is something to think on. Why is food so socially important and if it was replaced with something else, would we be better off relationally for it? What is it that gives us value from people and relationships?

Now, where was I.
Oh yes, eating, with people. To be honest, it is a very hard thing at the moment, for a few reasons.

1. They can eat what they want.
It is difficult not to tear up as Ria chomps ravenously into a steak (and I don't even like steak!) as I watch her enjoy - and chew - her meal, knowing it will be happily remaining in her stomach, and that she will not think of it again. She will be full, satisfied. I am tryimg not to resent people eating around me.

2. It smells and looks so good, and they will enjoy it. Again, it is idfficult not to get angry at them because they can eat something and I cannot. It also really annoys me if they do not enjoy eating it or see it as something simply to survive.

3. They watch me struggle to want to eat, and give pitying looks without meaning to.

4. They asks if it tastes nice. Of course not, even if it did, even if I wanted it to stay there, it's all coming srraight back up with a bitter taste and fuzzy teeth.

5. I have to leave to throw up. It is fine until halfway through a meal, and the first lot comes back. Then whilever I am eating, fine again. As soon as I have finished, it has to come up. If I dont get to a toilet it WILL be everywhere. The thought of having to hold it down is horrible.

6. They ask if any of it stayed down. Never. Ask. That. It is so insensitive. Duh, I just threw up and feel horrible.

7. They say things like, 'pray it down'. Dude, seriously. The pain and nausea of food staying there is a million times worse than the releif and pain of vomiting. At least vomiting is relief.

8. I want to be left alone to eat. I don't want to look like a sooky baby because I cry when my soup is cold, tasteless mushed liquid while you are eating freshly baked muffins with an amazing aroma.

9. I don't want to talk about food. Especially not mine. Anything else is fine. When I am eating, I am barely coping with the idea of making myself eat.

10. I am hungry all the time. This makes me grumpy. And irrational. Not hungry stomach growly (although that happens at 3:00 every morning) but just hungry. My body is starving, there is no body fat left, energy levels and sugar levels are always low, and I get dizzy easily. I am weak a lot of the time.


11. It just isn't fair. This one's a whinge. I'm sick of it all. Haha.

I want to spend time with my family, and people, and I miss that. But if I run out at the dinner table or do not eat when you do, those are the reasons why.

Looking at all that, I do want to cry and have another meltdown, but. But, I actually also feel hugely releived to have said that. It all looks to me like I just threw a major tantrum on paper there, it reads like such a big complaining session and right now I could easily feel like slapping myself about the face and telling myself just to get over it, like I do and have done with everything else. But part of me knows that I cant handle it anymore, and regardless of what I or others think I have to throw that tanty, cry about it, and see what ways there are of moving on. I am sorry for doing so much complaining, but right now I have to! Waah.

So God has been showing me all this rubbish that is there and I just cant handle it anymore. I cry so much, am angry, hate myself, get frustrated and try too hard to hope, and then it all comes crumbling down.
God keeps talking to me about giving it all to him, and letting go of control, and of surrenderring. It is not easy and I m struggling so very hard with it all.

I am fighting with being able to let go of the control I have because of the fear that if I do, I WILL HAVE NOTHING LEFT. Thats so scary to me right now.

Yet God is also showing me that no matter what,

He makes all things work together for my good.

I want so hard to believe that. I do. Giving up means losing everything, it means being voulnerable, being open, exposed, scared, lost, and available. Im not sure I am willing to do that. But I know that what God has in mind is so much more wonderful than anything I have planned for me and my life - again though, it is hard to believe that what God has planned is not only good, and better, but that it will actually happen, and it is not just a dream or fantasy, or hanging out of reach like a donkey's carrot on a string.

Courage is doing it afraid.

I am afraid. But I want to give it to God, despite wanting to hang onto it. I want to believe. For real. God help me do it afraid; to do it anyway. Give me courage like a lion, whose heart is not faint in times of trouble. Give me faith like an eagle who soars without questioning his ability to fly. Give me hope that does not dissapoint.

There. I have said enough for now, even though I have pages and pages of journal notes I could add - and some other major issues I have not even touched on.

Thank you for reading. Keep me in your thoughts today, I am in desperate need of prayer and His strength. I would really appreciate this; you cannot know how much.

Today, I choose, to see past this despair and the food, and the pain, and the struggle, and the problems. I choose to look for things in my day that DO mean something - like clothes that fit and will wear and feel happy in, and spending time with people, my family, and of the ways I can bless them - even if I do not have the strength to even wash up. Of the little things, the grass, the flowers, the devoted blue heeler dog who loves and worships me and gives me stress therapy every day, of how I can paint inspiring gifts for people - even if it does not earn me money or make value of who I am. Of the fact that the sun is shining, that I am indeed alive, despite it all, that I do not have to cry about being like this forever, that today, today I will get through this, and tomorrow is tomorrow.

And that I will be able to eventually give these things to God and trust him with my body, emotions, soul, and spirit without limiting him to any kind of timefame or expectations.

God give me strength. Give me that courage like a lion, a lion who does not fear but stands unafraid. He stands. Courage to do it afraid.  Give me faith like an eagle, who soars without questioning his ability to do so. Help me to believe even when I do not feel like it. Help me to trust when I see no end. Help me to give to you what I feel I cannot. You know my heart, O God, you know I am willing, but you also know I fight to hang onto that control. Help me to let go of everything. Of everything.