Saturday, August 17, 2013


Guys. I'm at college. This is my second day at college. I'm sprawled on my very own twin extra long bed in my very own poster decorated dorm room (dang Tumnus poster keeps falling down though) with my very own roommate.
I'm going to University of Southern Mississippi to major in dance. Ta da! I figure since I have a bunch of awesome stuff stuck to my wall and stuffed animals piled on my bed I'm a successful college student. Plus I've already rearranged my My Little Pony mystery figurine collection twice.
Not gonna lie, the whole experience thus far has been a bit tough. I don't do well with new people and new situations and new experiences, so the whole make-new-friends, learn-new-things, figure-out-how-to-get-into-your-room, find-the-right-building thing isn't going so well. But if I give myself enough of a pep talk I'm usually okay. I just wish classes would start so I'd know what all I'm dealing with and I wouldn't have to stress about impossible teachers and difficult walks and sitting all alone in the cafeteria for meals (yikes).
But other than all that, things are going well. My room is awesome (private bath -- yes), my roommate's pretty cool, and I walked around a lot today getting my bearings. Tomorrow GEWW starts: Golden Eagle Welcome Week! Yaaaay! I know it goes against basic college code, but I don't think I'm going to anything that's not required. Sorry.
I'm already homesick for The Captain, and I'm sure more things will follow. But I will say this: the internet and service here are way better than they were at my house.

Monday, August 5, 2013

The Widow's Offering

Well hello there, guys! Sure has been a while, huh? Sorry, I've been a bit busy. Had quite an adventure getting home from Ireland, then I got the chicken pox, then I was out of town again, I had some personal drama, and all throughout that I've been trying to get ready for college. But I'm back with something I read today that I've just got to say.
Remember when I talked about Who I Am? I wrote a kind of poem all about it, about how I am God's and this body is his creation, and that I have no right to do anything to it. That was about two months ago, and for a long time that was one of the only things keeping me from hurting myself. The knowledge that I am God's burned in my head whenever I was tempted, and I was doing okay. It was still rough, but I felt like I was getting better.
I fell off the wagon. What kills me is that sometimes there isn't even anything terrible in my life. I just can't stand living with myself. I look in that mirror and loathe what I see. I have a friend who goes through similar troubles, and when she was going through a really bad time, I remember her saying, "Why does it matter? I'm not hurting anyone." At the time I couldn't understand how she could believe that.
But what really scares me is when I find myself thinking just like her. We both treat each other that way: we can't understand how the other can believe such terrible things about herself, but nothing can sway us from our beliefs about ourselves.
For the past month or so I've not been doing great. Sometimes it seemed like I was just going downhill at a slow, steady, painful creep. The Captain made me promise a long time ago to call him when I felt like that, and sometimes I do. I just don't tell him how I really feel. Sometimes I don't call at all. Sometimes when he asks, I say I'm fine. Usually he can tell when I'm lying. But the other day I told him the little scabs on my wrist was just a scratch and he believed me, and it's been eating away inside me.
I'm sorry. I don't want to lie to him and I don't want to lie to other people.
Today I read Luke 21:1-4. "As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. 'I tell you the truth,' he said, 'this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.'"
That's what I want to do. I am a poor and broken girl, but I want God to have everything! I begged him today to take it all! Don't ever trust me with myself; my body or my soul. I start out with God in mind and then I get so distracted by what I think of myself that I end up taking everything back and hoarding it inside and pelting it with hate and sadness. But I don't want to! I'm tired of being selfish and of lying and of apologizing to God and to those around me who care about me.
Maybe a part of me still hopes that God will take me away from this place, because I am just so tired and weary of struggling through it all. But I also hope and yearn to be better. It's hard, but I admit that a part of me wants to just be left alone in my misery. It wants to stay sick. But I want to be better.
I don't ever want to forget that I belong to God.