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I was so strange as a child. If I thought I had done anything deserving punishment, I would tell my mom and send myself to my room. Most of the time, it was my own rules I had broken. This was at 5 years-old. That’s when I began chasing perfection. And it got worse. I was reading self-help books in middle school. I wanted the perfect life. I was taking it a step at a time. I could always be better than I was yesterday. (Anyone with me?) But I was impatient. I would plead with God to make me “better”. That’s not a bad prayer, but better leads to perfect and that’s really what I was after. A few years ago, I realized that my ultimate subconscious goal was to “make myself perfect.” And when I fell short of that, I would become engulfed by guilt. I was so sick of feeling guilty for falling short. I knew in my head that ultimately God’s grace covers all of me – good and bad, but in daily life I just didn’t embrace that grace. I just wanted be free – to live as I am, love God and love others. I can gratefully type now, God has freed me and is healing me from the years of the imprisonment. It really was like being in a jail with the door wide open, but I was telling myself I wasn’t good enough to be free. That’s the first thing he has revealed. My Biggest FEAR: I am not good enough. See how the goal of getting “better” plays into this?...
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I prayed recently that I would feel God’s spirit more. As a woman, I just long to feel him as my Savior and Redeemer. I know that God’s grace and love covers the multitude of my sins, but sometimes I highly doubt that is possible. Or I just don’t feel like it is. It is real all encompassing forgiveness and mercy and and that’s amazing! I’m praying for confidence in that freedom Christ gives that allows me to run to Him no matter what I’ve done. I want to feel that freedom and make sense of it in my head. Is that wrong? I want to be clear, I in no way, condone sin or rationalize it. It’ is still wrong, but I know I have the freedom to love God with my obedience without the burden of perfection on my shoulders. So after I fail. I can move on and serve him in my imperfection. Okay, I know this is deep. But it’s real. Real issues. Real life, right? Anyway, right after I prayed, I just had my eyes closed and I started to think about Jesus as my prince, as my husband. We are the bride of Christ, right? So why have I never thought of Jesus in a romantic way. Okay, I realize this may seem super weird. It was for me, at first. I thought, “Oh no, that’s not right… is it…? But then I thought about the fact that God’s love for us is every kind of love – real love. I’m not talking about lust. But I am talking about those tingling feelings...

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I’m starting to see a pattern through writing this blog. Mondays are completely out of whack. And so are my hormones, but I knew that. Over the past few years, I’ve experienced post partum depression in a way that I didn’t know existed. Anxiety leading to the blues. At first, I didn’t even know what it was. I just thought I had anger issues, which I may very well have. But then, I realized a lot of times, my rage came out of nowhere and was accompanied by a racing heartbeat and discombobulated thoughts. Hmmm. That’s strange. I’m pretty even-keeled so it was completely uncharacteristic. It was definitely enhanced by my bad habit of bottling things up without any sort of release. Anyway, once I realized what was going on, I was able to control myself a little better. Well, no, I listened to the Holy Spirit more and gave up control more often. Me controlling myself always results in yelling and throwing or kicking things. Yes, I’ve broken plastic dishes and a trash can. There. It’s out there. Soooo… today, a mood swing crept up on me and after several frustrating attempts to get my children to listen and obey, I snapped. Ugh. I hate it. Tears were shed by every person awake in the house (the baby was sleeping…through it all…amazingly). Thankfully, within 5 minutes, everyone had kissed and hugged and apologized. I apologize to my children on a regular basis and tell them that I am imperfect, and today, for the first time, I told them being a mommy is hard. I know it is wrong...