It Came Up In Me

I listen to a lot of Joyce Meyer, that's no secret to anyone listening in here.  It keeps my mind busy at work and I figure so much positive reinforcement ought to be a good thing.  I tend to feel jealous though, when Meyer talks about hearing from God. 

I don't hear from God.  I'm not super religious, I don't even go to church, I am ashamed to say.  But I talk to God all day.  Not in the traditional sense of getting on my knees.  I haven't gotten on my knees in a very long time.  I talk to God as I insert my contact lenses, as I drive to work, as I load the machines at work, and especially on the interstate.  I say please and thank you about 6,000 per day.  I never hear anything back.

Yesterday, I was listening to Meyer speaking of relationships, about how we go into a relationship saying, "You're supposed to make ME happy," when it should be the other way around.  Shawn & I do not spend a lot of time together & it puts a strain on our realationship, especially when I feel as though all I am doing is doing for him.  So I says to God, "Show me ways I can be more loving toward Shawn."

The ceiling did not open up and light did not shine down upon me.  A booming voice from the heavens did not shake my ear drums.  But I got a small thought in the back of my head.  It wasn't a man's voice, it was my own voice, my own thought.  And it occurred to me that if the Holy Spirit lives in, it could be God speaking to me.  Why not?

I received an answer.  "Forgive him for being absent minded."

And that was it.  There was nothing else; I heard no harps playing or angels singing.  Was this God speaking to me?  Well, I can tell you one thing for sure--it was not a thought I would think up on my own.

Shawn's absent mindedness is a HUGE problem for me.  I can't figure out why some people just leave stuff lying around and not put things in the place where they belong.  I don't understand how someone can be comfortable leaving 47 cans of Pepsi on their nightstand, desk, kitchen counter, and every other place in between.  I could write a book on the subject on how I don't get all this.  It always makes me feel as though he just leaves this stuff for me to do. 

It happens at work too.  People leave trash on the floor, on the break table.  I take it so personally, as though they're simply leaving their trash for me to come along and clean it up.  Why would you do that?  Why would you just leave things for another person to do?!  IT'S INFURIATING!!!!!

"Forgive him for his absent mindedness."

So what did I do?  As soon as I got home, I discovered a fork stuck to the bottom of the sink.  It had coagulated and hardened Hot Pocket remains.  Out loud I said to no one in particular, "Asshole!  There's a bowl of water right there!!"  I unstuck the fork and threw it into the dirty bowl so the fork could soak.

This morning I was complaining to myself in my own mind about how tired I felt all the time.  No matter what I ate, how I slept, how much I rested, how much I moved around, I was (am) tired.  All the time.  At the moment I listening to Meyer talk about how Moses' people wandered around the dessert for 40 years because of their lousy attitude.  That's why God kept them out there, she says, because they were always complaining, always blaming, always wanting to run back to Egypt where they thought things might be easier than out here.  (Did anyone tell them it was because of their attitude, or were they just left clueless about their behavior?)

Then another quiet thought came up in me.  "Maybe you're tired because of your attitude."

It was true.  That morning I had spent a great deal of time being agitated and frustrated with the misdeeds and mistakes of my imperfect coworkers.  I was dealing with their slowness and mistakes, and I was telling everybody about sick & tired of it I was.  Sick and tired.  Yes, exactly.

I have tried & tried & tried to change my attitude.  That's why I listen to so much blooming Joyce Meyer at work.  You say, "Well, that's the problem!  YOU are the one that's trying to do it!"  I have given it to God numerous times, more than I can count and I don't know how else to go about it.  No, I don't read the Bible because it doesn't keep my attention for very long.  I don't understand how reading random scriptures will change my attitude and give me enough energy to get off my lazy behind.

It has occurred to me in the past that I could "study" peace by looking up one scripture on peace each day.  That won't require much energy and perhaps it will manifest some changes in me.  Yes, of course I want to be zapped.  Yes of course I want a drive-through break through.  Who doesn't?

Purging

As previously noted, I've been reading Unbearable Lightness by Portia de Rossi.  de Rossi describes what she is feeling like I've never heard anyone describe.  I guess mainly because most are pretty uncomfortable talking about such things.  She describes purging as an honest woman should.  Loud, messy, runny nose and eyes, and vessels that pop around the eyes from immense pressure, displaying a tell-tale form of evidence.

I'm very glad to hear that I wasn't the only one who experienced this.  Like de Rossi, I had also heard of these other women who could vomit by force by an almost sheer will to do it.  Quietly, without turning red in the face and eyes, without water dripping from eyes and nose, these women could quietly puke and merely wipe their mouths.

As a teenager, I just found it to be a lot of work.  Forcing yourself to throw up is much different than vomiting by means of illness.  It hurts more, burns the throat and the taste that lingers is so much more than a teaspoon of shame.  It was something I had done that no one knew about.  I never even told my husband about it.  Why is it important now?  That was fifteen years ago.  It doesn't matter now.

I was so ashamed of everything I had eaten, even if was dinner--which is a required meal of the day.  I couldn't just shove a finger down my thorat, I had to stick it in there and jiggle things, again and again, gagging, fighting the urge to gag, fighting my natural instinct to stop.  It isn't natural to do this; the body knows this and fights against it.  I'd dry heave for a while until something came up.  Then the rest came up in small bits, splattering the toilet, creating an awful mess and more work.

My teeth always felt weird afterward, ever after I'd brushed my teeth.  It felt like I'd been eating candy all night after hours of trick-or-treating.  As a teenager, I wanted to do it more, but I couldn't bring myself to do it any longer.  It was painful, hard to hide in a small, old house with barely more than wooden paneling seperating the rooms.  It was no coincidence that I always showered immediately after dinner.

After much snacking or a large dinner, I'd resolved to doing better the next day, or working harder.  It was only one of 5,000 promises I'd make to myself and break.

As an adult, it was easy not to purge because somewhere between adolescence and adulthood, I'd learned what constant vomiting will do to your esophogaus and teeth.  I value those parts of my body.  It would do me no good to have my esophogous ripped apart by stomach acid, nor to have my teeth rot out of my head.

So today, as a full fledged (apparently) adult, I promise myself to eat less tomorrow, to work harder, to not sit on my ass in front of the television. 

Make that five-thousand and one.




(speel check knot working todday & i'm very lazzy--sory for esophogous.  Snuffle-esophogous)

Spending Time

My weight has been fluctuating a few pounds for 2 or 3 weeks, up & down, up & down.  I might lose three pounds in a single day, only to have them creep back up within a couple of days.  I don't know why.  I feel is that my body has it in for me.  On one "up" day I gave it up, fed myself an evil cupcake.  On one "down" day I rewarded myself for losing a couple of pounds.  Yesterday, I ate very healthy & very light, not even making it to 1500 calories.  I slept almost exactly 8 hours.  I ate enough, but I didn't over eat.  I slept deeply without waking up.  Today, I feel like utter crap.  Why do I go through this? 

If I feel like this, I may as well go back to eating pizza and not sleeping.  117 is unacceptable.  I won't accept it.  I keep a written tally of calories and spend them like money.  They're so precious, I have to be careful how I spend them.  Just like money.  Unlike money, I have a whole new paycheck every day.  However, it's certainly easy to squander the check on unhealthy purchases, so to speak.

I recently began reading Portia de Rossi's book.  I felt it would help me with my self image.  Ellen Degeneres suggested it for teenage girls or anyone with self esteem issues.  I'm not sure it's helping me yet.  It may be doing more damage than good because now I am understanding how she can get through the day without eating, what drives her from the inside.

Maybe I just need to get a few more chapters in.  This struggle with food is horrendous.  Every day is a battle.  I had an easier time quitting smoking.  At least I can usually get away from that.  Hamburgers and pizza are forever being blown in my face like some greasy, crunchy, tasty smoke. 

I understand perfectly how Portia got the way she was.  I go through periods where I become literally obsessed with my eyebrows because it's the only thing about my face that I can change.  I always thought Portia was one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen and most wonder how such a person could think of herself as purely ugly and hate herself so much.  I totally understand.