My Wrestling with G-d (or Lack Thereof)

I've realized lately that I don't struggle with G-d much anymore. I've struggled with some big issues in the past decade and it seems like suddenly they've disappeared. I struggled with self-harm. I struggled with my depression instead of just letting it come over me. I struggled with the decision to start dating my ex, a non-Christian bordering on atheism. I struggled deciding where to go to college. I struggled with the decision to have sex, and then to stop. I struggled with the decision to let go of the future I had planned for myself. First to change my major and then to end my engagement. I struggled with sexual immorality. I struggled with trying to understand if I was pure or not. I struggled deciding what to do after my au pair year. I struggled with the decision to start dating the man I now call my husband. I struggled even deciding to move to Ohio.

Where has all that struggle gone? All that passion? All that fight? On the one hand, you could say that the lack of struggling means my life is going great and nothing needs to be struggled with. That I should enjoy this time of ease and stop trying to argue about everything. But I don't think this is really meant to be a time of ease.

My life feels like it's just going with the flow and accepting things. We, as Christians, are called to so much more! We're called to represent our Saviour on this earth and we are called to be His hands and feet. We're called to be Christ-like. And I am not. I am selfish and greedy and lazy. I am sinful. I know all this but I accept it most days. I don't turn to G-d and confess because most days I'm not even aware of my sins. I know I've sinned because I'm human but I don't pay attention to my individual failings. I just move on with my life. I mean, let's be honest, we're only human right?

But here's the thing. We're supposed to take up our cross daily. Some days I'm not even sure where I put mine. That is not living the way I'm made to. My life was made for more. There are things I know I ought to be wrestling with in my soul and yet, I can't seem to dig deeper into my faith. I seem to be stuck. Is it my age? Is it my stage of life? Is this just a season where I'm plateaued? Or am I just going through the motions?

I want more. I don't want this humdrum day to day. I know I said in a previous post that I'm accepting the fact that I'm normal but maybe I just need to focus on being abnormal in a different way. I want more than status quo. I want a life that is clearly touched by G-d. I don't want this life to be about routine and expectations. I want to live the way I am meant to. And yes, that means going to church every week. But it also means letting G-d use the other six days a week too. My faith is not to be confined to an hour every Sunday or even to a half hour devotional each day. My faith is meant to be a part of me and I want to start showing it.

Since I began writing this post nearly two weeks ago now, I've created a prayer journal and began using it yesterday. I have sections for praise, for confession, for praying for my husband, for our future children, for myself. I have a section for praying for others and several for taking notes. On sermons, on the Bible, on books I'm reading or quotes I discover or even lyrics from songs. I'm praying right now that G-d would make me into the woman I ought to be. The wife I should be and the mother my children need. But that's a subject for another post.

Have you ever gone through an experience like this? Have you ever felt like you were on a plateau with Christ?

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A Makeover for the Blog

As you may have noticed, my blog has undergone a bit of a makeover recently. This blog has been my online home for the last three years, though I may not have always been around so much. And lately the set up here hasn't reflected who I am now.

"A Madwoman with a Blog" was designed when I was focused on my fandom and on my eccentricities. Identifying myself as a madwoman was both a nod to the fact that The Doctor was called a madman with a box and a nod to the fact that I don't consider myself normal.

I never wanted to be normal. I thought it was a mark of uniqueness, of being exceptional. Well I've started to realize that's not so. My life looks a lot like most others. I go to work. I come home. I don't work out as much as I should. I eat more junk than I should. I sleep. I watch TV. I tend to drift through life the way I think a lot of people do.

Well, no more. I'm committing to this thing called life. I'm trying to get myself healthier by working out and snacking smart. I'm trying to take time out to work on my hobbies. My knitting, my sewing, my reading. I don't want to just drift anymore. I want to commit. And yes, that does mean being a regular around this place. Whether my entries are just an account of what's going on in my life or they're an in-depth look into my psyche, I want to commit to writing. This is part of what He made me for and I've been a fool to ignore it for as long as I have.

So poke around, enjoy the view, let me know what you think. And commit with me. Commit to living life your way. Not just accepting the status quo.

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My Heart and All Its Problems - Physical and Emotional

My heart sucks. I was born with two holes in my heart and suffered a heart murmur until I was about ten. When I was in college, I developed heart palpitations. They're aggravated by stress and caffeine. My heart these last few weeks has been insane. Lots of palpitations, lots of just feeling funny.

This morning, I got a latte with my freebie and forgot to say "half caf". I had approximately 1/3 of my drink before it hit.

I was nauseous. My chest felt funny. My pulse rate was slow, so slow. And I still had another fifteen minute until I got to work. So I guzzled water, I trashed the rest of my delicious latte, and I decided I needed to reduce my stress for the day.

After Natalie woke up, I loaded some toys into the car, bundled her up, and we picked Mac up from preschool. Then I took both of them back to my place. Is what I'm doing here any different than what I would have done there? Not really. But being in my place, my home, it helps. I did the dishes while I made lunch and for once it was productive for my life. I do dishes every day, sometimes multiple times, but most of the time I come home and I see that mess waiting for me. And it just stresses me out again. Yes, I've spent most of naptime watching Netflix and on my laptop just like if I was "at" work. But once they wake up, I'll unload the dishwasher and I'll put a few things in and then, I'll get to feed my charges and my husband all in one swoop. And I get to eat at a decent hour.

I spent a few minutes putting on a face mask -which was an epic fail actually. I turned into a tomato. And I'm going to do my nails. I'm going to pamper myself. I'm going to do whatever it takes to center myself, to destress, to get in tune with who I am. Because I haven't been lately.


And ya know what, I used to think confidence and feeling comfortable in your own skin was a slope. I thought once you got it, you had it. And lately I feel like I've lost it. I think back to when I was in Europe and I had it. I swear I had it back then. I felt comfortable and confident and I was active. I was walking around the city, about two hours a day. Which meant I lost weight. And it showed. I had a glow that I've lost. I survived the dreariest winter in 50 years in that city. WITHOUT my anti-depressants.

My anxiety got out of hand a few times but I knew who I was. I felt comfortable, especially when I was with my friends or on my own. But lately? I feel like I suck as an adult.

At 22, in Europe, not knowing how to cook wasn't an issue. I just ate what Kathrin made. If I was hungry at other times, I ate a slice of that delicious bread with yummy cheese. I don't think I even went so far as making pasta for myself the entire time I was there. Yes, I cooked a few times for the family. I tried my hand at burgers, lasagna, tacos. But I couldn't just whip something up. I don't think I ever saw Kathrin use a recipe. She made her tomato sauce from scratch. She whipped up some form of frittata weekly without any guideline. Things just got thrown into a pan and cooked. Salad dressing was just sprinkled on. Meanwhile the one time she asked me to do it, I looked up a recipe. How else was I to know how much oil or vinegar, salt or pepper to use?

Now, I want to be able to throw dinner together just by looking in the fridge. I want to have a month where I can toss chicken in a pot and a vegetable in another and just wing it. And have it turn out delicious. But I don't know the first thing about cooking. I can follow recipes but I cannot cook without one.

Furthermore, I suck at being a girl I've decided. I don't know how to do my makeup. I don't have a skin care routine. I manage to shower and use deodorant and that's about it. I'm not well dressed or put together and though it might not matter to some people, it's starting to bug me. I even suck at keeping a home. Both decor and cleaning. I didn't even know how to properly empty my vacuum cleaner until this past weekend!

Are these things I could learn? Yes. But I feel like by 25 I should have some of this down. And instead, I feel behind. Behind where I was two years ago when I knew who I was. Behind my friends who seem to be able to cook their own dinners without problem. Behind my expectations of where I should be.

This is a pretty dreary end to this post I suppose but I don't really have a revelation yet. I just know that I feel behind. I feel like I've lost something I didn't know you could lose and I don't know how to start getting it back.

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Crunch-a, crunch-a, crunch-a

I've given up washing my hair. Or using deodorant. And as soon as I run out of cold cream and lip balm I'm giving those up too. As well as lotion.

I'm not about to just be a smelly, greasy, dried out mess though. I'm going crunchy.

It comes as no surprise to those close to me that I'm a bit eccentric in some ways. I hope to have a natural pregnancy (a few years from now!) and to give birth with a midwife, hopefully at home in a tub of water with my wonderful husband by my side. I plan to use cloth diapers and to avoid any chemicals that I can when it comes to my children. For the last six years or so, I've used a menstrual cup during my cycle (first a DivaCup, now a Lunette) and couldn't imagine going back to tampons.

So it should come as no surprise to anyone that I'm giving up on shampoo, conditioner, and deodorant. And possibly hair dye. Which is something I'm dealing with still.

To clean my hair, I'm using baking soda and then rinsing it after with apple cider vinegar to moisturize it. For deodorant, baking soda mixed with cornstarch and coconut oil has been doing just fine the last two days. And it seems like it's going to last for. ever. I swear each day I use about a pee sized amount and it will last forever.

So the big question I'm getting is why. Honestly?

It's cheap. I need to save up for some big life changes that are coming up (more on those later) and this will save money. Plus, if I can do all this naturally, why bother with the chemicals? Who wants to use chemicals when this is all natural and so much better for you? And the new deodorant is working better than the commercial stuff ever did.

Guess I'll keep you updated.

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My Story: In a Nutshell

On my left arm, from shoulder to elbow, I have a tattoo. My tattoo took three hours to complete and a good chunk of my savings at the time. In script, sandwiched between roses at both top and bottom, my arm reads, "For I know the plans I have for you, [declares the L-rd,] plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Though the design is beautiful, over the following weeks, I struggled with the decision I'd made to get this large tattoo. I think a piece of that struggle had to do with what prompted the tattoo in the first place.

When I was eighteen, I fell in love. Shoving all my logic and my reason aside, ignoring the code I'd created for qualities my future mate must have, and blind to all but my feelings, I quickly got engaged. Over the next three years, I missed sign after sign that this relationship was not meant to be and I slowly lost sight of who I truly was and what I truly valued. Though I didn't think I was altering myself to please him, who I was changed subconsciously. College is a time of great change for most people and that was very true for me. At the start of freshman year, I was completely in love with the wrong man and only marginally faithful to G-d. As my collegiate career progressed, through the influence of my friends, professors, and classes, as well as the calling of the King Himself, I changed. I started to fall out of love with my fiance and draw closer to G-d. I may have realized the second part but it is only in retrospect that I can understand the first.

Before my King pulled me to Him, I ran away. I got scared I think and I wasn't ready to sacrifice the major life changing decision I'd already made, to give my life to this man, for a far off Creator who I didn't feel very close to. I felt my life could both serve Him and hold to the decision I'd made. Worse than that, I fell down a rabbit hole. I made some very large mistakes and I gave myself to him before I gave myself to Him. In the name of love, I broke the promise I'd made when I was nine years old. I had sex before I was married.

Only four months after I initially made that decision, G-d started to convict me. He laid it on my heart that what I was doing was wrong. But after talking out my confliction with a close friend, I tried to make things right with both G-d and my fiance. The resulting conversation was the worst fight I have ever been in. The heartache I felt that night, the number of tears I cried are something I wouldn't wish on another. Somehow, we put a band aid on our relationship and lasted another nine months. It took six months for him to be all but done and another three for G-d to fully work in me.

As my first relationship fell to pieces, I clung to G-d. I clung to His promise and His truth. I knew that He had plans for me that I knew nothing of. I knew He had a future for me and that He knew who my future husband was. I got my tattoo while I was still healing from my heartbreak. I took His promises and I had them engraved on my body. I struggled to come to terms with my tattoo at first. I wondered if I'd ever look at it and not think about my heartbreak. I wondered if I'd ever get over what went wrong in my life. I wondered how that story would affect my future. Then people started asking about it. I started encountering people outside of my circle, who didn't know my story. They'd see flowers poking out of my shirt and they'd admire the beautiful artwork. Inevitably, they'd be surprised at such a large tattoo on such a little girl. And they'd ask. They'd want to hear the story. Where are those words from? What made me chose that?

The tattoo on my arm started as a way to heal, a reminder of the promises He made and why I'd chosen to end my relationship, to sacrifice that part of myself. These days, it's so much more. On a regular basis, I have customers at work ask me what it says, admire the roses. I'm able to share an abbreviated version of my story with them. I'm able to tell them that all my plans fell apart but that I trust Someone else has better for me. And today I sit here, in Ohio for the first time in my life, my head resting on the arm of the man who now means the world to me. I know G-d has better plans for me. And today, I'm able to start living them. What's past is past and my future sits beside me. No matter what lies ahead of me, I know that G-d has a future in store for me and my tattoo is one small way that He reminds me of that on a daily basis.

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