Another Confession

My last post was titled "Confession" so this one had to be "Another Confession"...because I am not the most creative person on the planet.  This confession, though, is going to be WAY different than the last.

It's personal and shallow and ugly.

I've been struggling a lot lately. A lot.  Maybe it's hormones or possibly sleep deprivation, but I tend to cry at the drop of a hat.

The most common catalyst?

Getting dressed...or looking in the mirror. Both.

I posted something about it on facebook a couple weeks ago, and apparently, I'm not alone.  I had so many friends make comments after that telling me they felt the same thing. "We're with you, sister" was the general consensus.

Women have issues.  Seriously.

You know what though?  Somehow, knowing other people feel that way too, knowing they are standing in their rooms half naked and struggling to find clothes that fit...doesn't help.  It doesn't help to know that I just had a baby eight weeks ago.

I just seem to sink lower and lower into self pity.

I would love to tell you that the knowledge that it is self pity helps drag me out of the muck...but sadly, no.

I've struggled with weight my entire life so you would think I'd be used to this somehow...that I would have gained some sort of inner strength and acceptance and moved on.

Nope.  Still stuck.  And it's getting worse.

I used to at least look in the mirror and say, "Well, maybe they'll be distracted by my face.  I have a pretty decent face."  Not anymore.  Lately, I look in the mirror and just feel old and tired.

I've lost my sparkle.  Blech.

Still...loads and loads of self pity.  And it hurts...a lot.  People, I'm talking about sobbing...crying out.

But not to God.  He has more important things to do than worry about me feeling badly about my looks.  Even the Bible says:

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. 

1 Peter 3:3-4

Well guess what?  I am totally concerned with my outward appearance and it hurts so much to hate my reflection that it literally pains me.  It gives me physical pain in the pit of my stomach.  I can't stand for my husband to look at me with his adoring stare because all I feel when he looks at me is the same feeling I get when I look at myself.  Pain.

And my spirit definitely isn't gentle and quiet.  It's crying, sobbing, and snot filled.

So I haven't gone to God with it...because he has better things to do, right?

But then I remembered a little drawing the pastor did with Emily when he was talking to her about Christianity and her baptism.  He drew arrows toward heaven that could never reach; those symbolize people's efforts to get to heaven by being good enough, smart enough, kind enough, and "Christian" enough, but all those efforts fall short. 

But then he drew an arrow that went from heaven all the way to a little stick figure Emily on Earth.  He told her that Christianity says that instead of us clamoring our way to God, He came down to us.  He died on the cross so that we could be united with Him; all we have to do is accept it.

It was a great illustration.

It didn't occur to me until yesterday...crying in the minivan...again...listening to the song "Cry Out to Jesus" by Third Day, that the illustration shows more than just what I explained above.

The arrow came down to the little Emily figure right where she was.  It didn't come down a mile away and make her walk to it.  Jesus didn't come down and say "I'm dying for your sins..you just need to be this good before you can accept it."

He meets us just where we are...even as long-standing Christians.

Jesus meets us where we are whether that's in a church pew, an office, a back alley, a ditch, or in front of a closet of clothes that don't fit.

Psalm 34:17 says, "The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles."

All their troubles.  He hears us when we cry out.

So that's what I did.

I went home, got on my knees, and cried out.

And it helped.  For that little bit I felt better.  I was able to get on with my day without bawling, and that was a great gift.

I went to yoga and spent the day in sweats with no makeup on...and still somehow managed to genuinely smile when Josiah looked at me.

I wish I had some other answers.  I know women everywhere are trying to come to terms with the mirror, but I'm not there yet.  I'm on a journey.  When I get to my destination I promise I'll share all the slides from my trip and the lessons learned along the way.

But for now, I'll just cry out.