"I Want That"

I was trying to avoid thinking by playing Carioca Rummy when I looked up at this plant. If you look closely you can see two tendrils reaching towards the ceiling. New growth.

When we moved into a different house the summer after Y2K, this plant came with it. Back then it grew on a trellis that went from floor to ceiling. I didn't know it needed quite a bit of water or adequate sunlight so the poor thing suffered under my care.

When we moved to this place I cut the plant off the trellis and salvaged what I could. I just about chucked the plant out in the midst of the moving is such a hassle exhaustion but decided to give it a reprieve. With a southeastern exposure and more water the plant is thriving and has new tendrils of growth to prove it.

These days I am resisting growth. In a determined no fucking way am I giving in kind of way.

Instead I'm taking sidetrips. Obsessing about dearest one's health problems is one way to avoid my issues. Staying up until 1 AM so I fall asleep the instant my head hits the pillow is another. Writing only one page in my journal as opposed to three works too. I can manage to stay superficial for one page whereas three runs the risk of opening up my wounds.

And I'd be fine if not for snippets I read here and there on your blogs that rebound in my head like one of those paddles with a bouncy ball attached on a string. I would love to cut the string that keeps your words afloat, but that darn Holy Spirit has the scissors. One sentence, one measly sentence can hound me like a mosquito in the night.

It was quite a while ago that I read these words in a postonRick's blog:

"What is the secret place inside you that God has put his finger on and has said to you, “I want that.”?"

That sentence has been haunting me. I don't keep many secrets these days. And if you've read my blog you know about my nearly lost sobriety and my struggles with sexual addiction. Not too long ago I wrote about the phrase "eating disorder" getting past my internal censor while I was praying. In that particular post I wrote:

"So now I pray for the courage to face what feels like my last escape hatch."

Screw that. I'm keeping my escape hatch for now. Rather than praying, I am doing my dead level best to pretend that I have no issues with food. The thought of having that prayer answered not only makes my innards cringe it makes me want to eat,too.

With breakthroughs in other areas of my life I feel like my issues have skootched themselves over into a pile and are playing themselves out in this area wherein I refuse to let go and let God. I feel like I've been backed into a corner hanging onto my Linus like blanket for all its worth. Too bad it doesn't give lasting comfort.

I whine to myself that if only a person didn't have to eat I would have some forward movement in this area of my life as well. What I really don't want to face up to is that I am not willing to give this over. Not willing to admit how unmanageable it makes my life. Admitting that would mean taking responsibility for my actions. I can hardly handle the thought of struggling with this one for one day at a time for the rest of my life.

When I went to get the link for Rick's Driving In The Dark post, I read a new post of his. In it he says:

We can never save (be made whole) ourselves regardless of how right we want to be. Eventually we will hit bottom and it usually happens when we least expect it. Our salvation doesn't come from running from God, it comes from returning to God... resting in God-- this is where we are made whole. When we are willing to face the truth of ourselves."

This is my second go round at writing this post. The first one got eaten up in an effort to edit it. This much later I'm having a hard time not judging myself for being a friggin drama queen who needs to stop her bellyaching and get with the program. How can you tell I've gone two weeks without a meeting?