My Strong Friends,
Here I am, almost 1 o'clock in the morning and all of my thoughts are wanting to seep out of my fingertips onto the screen and into your hearts. Where do I begin? I begin with this......
You are STILL not alone. I am here for you. Holding your hand. Letting my strength permeate into your hand, so you realize you've made it a day and you can do another one. God knows you. He wants you to make it. He wants you to smile. He wants you to fulfill your mission in life. He knows you can do it. I know you can do it, too.
I pick up my story where I left off. When Early Twenties Strong Girl cried in my pillow for the first time. It actually became quite routine-almost as if I couldn't go to sleep at night without the wetness. It was my new comfort. As each tear left my eye and fell to the pillow, part of my soul went with it. I became Strong-ish. The first year that we were married wasn't too shabby. We went to school, lived in a tiny little apartment. I worked as a server and put my new husband through school. We spent $40 a week on groceries...which I thought was a TON! Hahaha....I have teenagers now. I think the teens go through $40 a day! We were still trying to figure out sex. He wanted it morning, noon and night and everything in between and I wanted it, well, I wasn't even sure I had it figured out yet. But I remember that this was a happy time. We were making things work. Making it work so much that we decided we would like to add a baby to the mix. We ARE supposed to multiply and replenish the earth, right? So we tried for a few months. In the meantime, we moved to a university where my husband could continue his studies. And then presto! Pregnant! So THAT'S how that works! And boy did it work. The throw ups started. Feeling sick ALL of the time. I remember I had made a delicious roast beef dinner. I scarfed it down way too fast. About 2 minutes later I ran to the bathroom and threw it right back up. And I'll be honest. It tasted just as good coming back up as it did going down. There. I said it. Dry heave all you want.
But for the record, that's how good my roast beef dinner is.
The whole time that I was pregnant, the sex just didn't sound appealing. I didn't want it. Honestly, I felt so miserable that how could I possibly stand 5 minutes of intimacy? Maybe 4 if I was lucky. That was my mistake. I should have dealt with it. Sacrifice, so to speak, for my husband. Please him and then spend the rest of the night lurching over the toilet. I should have, friends. But I didn't. I refused over and over again, which told him that I didn't love him, or that I was not interested in him. He couldn't understand. It made him feel rejected, not loved. I didn't realize that. I figured that he could see that the toilet was my new best friend, not him. And remember, Early Twenties Strong-ish Girl was feeling just that. "Ish." Then I started gaining weight and feeling unattractive. It was a downward spiral in the sex department....with me feeling sick, overweight, not sexy and the last thing I wanted to do was THAT.
That's when I stumbled across it. It broke my heart. Those images will never leave my mind. Because I didn't look like those images. I confronted. I cried. I sobbed. I was to deliver my new baby in just about 6 weeks and devastation overtook my life. It wasn't the act that devastated me. It was the reasoning:
"Because you won't give me what I need and desire, I had no other choice."
It was my fault. My swollen ankles, basketball of a stomach, and chubby face. My fault. At that moment, I just turned into Early Twenties Ish Girl. The mean, ugly, twisted face told me that I was the problem of his problem. And I believed it. I wasn't sexy. I wasn't attractive. And I wouldn't give him what he desired most. A huge part of me died that day, while I was still carrying the new life that was about to begin. I began to talk negatively to myself. If I just would have given him what he needed. My fault. My fault. My fault. The tears on my pillow increased. Tears of sorrow, regret, anger, ugliness. That's what I was now. Ugly. Early Twenties Ugly Girl.
I did have my baby. What a learning experience! A highlight and joy to my life, with the greatest sleep depravation that ever existed. Trying to figure out how the milk coming out of my boobs worked. And what to do when the baby cried. And how to clip his fingernails without them bleeding. And seeing his first smile. And singing children's songs to him. All while dealing with the deep down decreasing happiness. Because there were more images. More blame. Less desire because of my post baby fat. Downward spiral in the sex department.
So why do I share such a private detail of my life? Because I know that I'm not the only one. I'm not the only one that has felt ugly when such a problem arises. I'm not the only one that suffers from the embarrassment of not giving her husband enough sex, so he has no other choice. I'm not alone here, friends. I know it. I know you understand. I do have a regret, though. I wish I would have gotten over myself. Early Twenties Strong Girl would have rocked those swollen ankles, shoved them into high heels with power tools if necessary, and put some blush on those chubby cheeks. My problem is that I let my disappointments in myself and my husband get the best of me. I didn't help resolve the problem. I let it ruin my self worth.
So here we are, Day 2 of our journey together. Strength. It's how we do. It's how we're GONNA do.
Friends, let's get over ourselves. Let's rock those high heels, chubby ankles or not. Men, do what you want with the high heels. I won't judge. Either way, we need to get over ourselves....remember your strength. You have it. Do some soul searching to find it. Let God help you. Get on your knees and pray to muster up the strength you need for your journey ahead. God is waiting for you. He's your #1 advocate for YOU. I'm your #2. Once you find that pea-sized amount of strength, grasp onto it. You're going to need it.
You are amazing, my new friends. God knows your hurt, your heart, your anguish. You can do this. Use that pea-size strength as a reminder of your worth. Your value. Your importance. Because you are.
Strengthly yours,
aMOMynous
PS: I wasn't planning to talk about this tonight. Someone out there needed to read this and God used my fingers as instruments. Until tomorrow.....
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