When I Am Not Enough.

                                                                                                                                         *Photo by the amazing Erica Bartel

One of the surest ways to cut off your source of strength is to discredit yourself before you even start. 

My life I have known what it is to be shut down, told I’m not good enough, that I should stop.  

I strive to do well.  

And inadequacy haunts my every move.  It’s not that I’m afraid to fall, I’m waiting to plummet.  Movement and failure are inevitably entwined in my life.

I long considered myself a perfectionist.  As that was pointed out to me on a daily basis.  If my house were too clean, it was because I was obsessive.  If I worked hard it was because I was trying to prove something.  

It is only recently that I have fully understood the weight of these words and harsh criticisms.  It’s not because I am trying to be perfect, or even live a life of excellence.  I have become an absolute underachiever.  I am afraid to do anything.  I live in terror of not being good enough and because that’s not something I can change.  I live as less.

As our family has moved recently and we are needing to become a two income family, I have had to find ways to work while still maintaining my role as a full time mama.  This has involved cleaning homes, taking care of extra children, and recently applying for jobs in the restaurant industry.  

Last night as I bent under the weight of my husband’s very mild criticism of my writing, I shook in grief.  Why wasn’t I able to do anything well?  I am striving to work hard, to let go of the voices in my head.  And one repeated itself over and over.  “Who are you Cherylyn, what are you good at?”

As I erupted in broken grief.  I realized that all of my life, I have been less.  I have been wrong at every turn.  And now as my options are work in a servant role or put my children in daycare, I find that this has been my broken self image.  This has been the role I’ve claimed.  

It’s not my identity, who I am.  Serving is a beautiful grace.  Loving my family and giving outside of what I long to do, is a heartfelt sacrifice.  It is not wrong, ugly, or less.  It is only what I make of it.  

I woke this morning, still weary from my emotional meltdown.  Eyes swollen from endless wells of sorrow.

And I lay my head on the chest of papa God.  Who am I, Jesus?

And words like oil run over my head and seep into my bones.  You are beloved, you are destined, called.  Do not be ashamed or afraid.  Move forward and rest in my presence, come into my excellence.  Let me train your hands, strengthen your arms.  You are my daughter.  Do not look at today or tomorrow, keep your eyes on mine and I will take you forward in peace.

Our identity is constantly attacked.  Who we are is shaped and defined by the careless words of those around.  Arrows can get through even the strongest armor.

When you find yourself repeating a phrase, a heartless word, strip it down.  Find the source, what it connected too.  Then repent for allowing yourself to believe lies.  Forgive those who cast words like stones, unaware of how they break against you.  Then ask Jesus what he says.  

Let truth be your guide.  Walk in what you know, not what you feel.  

You are worthy, you are good enough.  You are exactly who you are supposed to be.  The painful lies and shame that have come against you are not who you are.  They do not define you.  Papa God has your identity, your role, your existence written in his hand.  When you forget he whispers it over you.  Just listen to His words and walk faithfully in his presence.  Break off the chains and broken illusions.  

This has been incredibly raw for me.  I hope it encourages you.  Strengthens you.  And pushes you to the excellence that is in you.  You are so much more than what has shaped or defined you.

Grace in the journey, peace in the storm, and hope in the morning.

Choosing to Not Give Up.

Does it ever amaze you at how easy it is to feel less than?  How quickly worthlessness can wrap itself around your neck, until you are gasping for air, and your vision begins to fade to black?

My emotions and well being are so closely tied to food.  I have to carefully protect myself from the foods my body craves.  This weekend I enjoyed a little too freely and it has taken me until today to get back on track.  This can feel so discouraging.  I found myself wanting to massively limit all food.  To cleanse, to reset.  It seems the easy response.  However, having struggled with eating disorders in the past and wanting to protect myself, from any in the future.  I need to remember the importance of being okay with myself.  I thought I would share a few techniques for getting back to a healthy lifestyle if you find yourself wandering off course.

-Drink water.

-Eat fresh.

-Start your day with breakfast.  Some do better with eggs, I like to stick with fresh fruit.

-Don't skip any meals.  If you feel as if you have eaten too much, maybe cut back on snacks, but eat your three main meals.

-Watch your self talk.  You are not a failure simply because you indulged in garlic fries at the concert.  Okay and a milkshake with fries after.  (hmmmmm.)   Next time simply plan better.

-Don't jump on a diet simply because you made some bad choices.  May I just say I was researching diets last night and thinking about it still this morning.  As nice as it would be to do a quick cleanse, the results are never healthy or sustainable.

-Do NOT fast.  It's the quickest way to binge.  You can and need to eat at least three meals a day.  It's healthy.  It's good.  It's loving.  Take care of yourself you are worth it.

A healthy lifestyle takes practice and determination.  Each time you feel like you lost it, remember you are that much closer to achieving your goals.

Sticking with a healthy lifestyle isn't the easiest thing.  It is definitely one of the hardest things for me.  But, giving up isn't an option.  I may not be as good at it as most, but I have a history to overcome.  Each meal, each choice, takes me closer to my goals.

I'm not giving up and I hope you don't either.


Easy Tossed Salad -recipe

2 cups fresh spinach
1 cup chopped carrots
3/4 cup chopped sugar snap peas
2 vine ripened tomatoes chopped
a handful of kalmata olives
handful of green olives
two tablespoons of fresh chopped basil

Dressing
1/2 cup olive oil
3/4 balsamic vinegar
salt and pepper to taste
blend in blender

Drizzle about 1/4 cup of dressing over salad and toss.  Enjoy.

An imperfect life.

I am a wannabe perfectionist.  I like the idea of doing everything perfectly.  I like order.  I like things to be exactly correct all of the time.

I find that I am often obsessing about how to pull myself more completely together.  How I should be better.  How I should actually stick to those lists I love to make.

In reality, I am shamefully imperfect.  I try.  And try.  And try.  And fail.

Then I feel discouraged and sad.

I really ought to be better.  But, I'm not.

I should admit here that I find the post "Messy house, but we have love, laughter, life" - thoroughly annoying.  I know that's' not exactly how it goes, but you get the drift.   I like a clean house with love, laughter, life.

I have two children.  I am a stay at home mom.  This is very feasible.  Yet, I've found that very often I am pushing my children away so I can clean.  I'm working so tirelessly at something that really doesn't matter that much.

I know it's not perfect, but I've let my house go.  My husband is amazing, he simply smiles and tells me it looks like a lot of life has been lived in our home.  And it has.

We live.  Sometimes it's perfectly clean, but usually there is a line of toys from one room to another.  There is a stack of books that need to be mended and there is always laundry.

I am not perfect.

I'm not even a perfect mom.  Sometimes I get frustrated.  I have found it's easier to react than teach.  I try very hard to teach.  Sometimes I react.

When I go out, I look like a mom.  There are moments I look like a woman, but mostly it's just this mom look that hangs like a shroud.

I probably would have been mortified when I was 14 or even 21 to know that this is what I would grow in to.

I should probably be mortified to admit to you that I like me.

I like my imperfection and my messy house.  I like my kids with watermelon dripping down their chins and running to give me hugs when they're dripping wet and I'm not.

I want to be perfect.  I'm not.

I guess I'm embracing my imperfections.  Enjoying the moments of my life that grab and shake and rattle me, until I can't breathe, then collapse in the aftermath.

This is not a giving up.  Rather it's the freedom to fully enjoy this masterpiece of a life.

I don't like failures.  I would rather be imperfect than worry about failing.

My perfect little ship has sailed.  It was never really mine to begin with, just the illusion others used to whisper in my ear.  But, they are long gone and now it's the dawning of a life lived with handprints on the window.

Cause really.   Who got time for that?!