Spazz

Once upon a time, approximately 10 years ago, I was literally insane. Alright, it's unfair to say literally, but I was way off my rocker. I was a teenage hormonal girl, dealing with a lot of stress, and it's pretty safe to say that I was a raging b****. I would be nice to my small circle of friends at school but when it came to anyone else, or even my family, I was 50 shades of psychotic. The typical terms got thrown out "depressed, nervous, bipolar," you name it, they thought I was it. The truth? My hormones were legitimately off balance and I had a lot of junk I was dealing with. 

There is one memory that sticks out really boldly to me now, it's something I've thought about a few times in the past month or so. I was 13 or 14, and I had just had a total meltdown. I had screamed, cried, thrown things at my parents and basically turned into the Tasmanian devil. I finally just crumbled and sat at the island in my kitchen just sobbing. I'm sure I looked insane to my family. I remember my parents coming around me and my mom asking me what was wrong. I remember telling her that I didn't know and that I just hated feeling this way. I was crying and couldn't calm down and my mom just prayed with me and told me how much she loved me and how everything would be okay. 

I can mark that moment as the turning point in my relationship with my mom. It's not like it was all sunshine and rainbows from that point forward, but I did respect my mom differently. My mom and I bonded more and more, and by the time my parents split up when I was 17 my mom was my best friend, ally and defender. We got matching tattoos on our feet the summer before my senior year of high school. She was the one person in the world that I could talk to about anything and she would never judge me. She would express disappointment or hold me accountable but it would never change the way she loved me.

This week was the McLean County 4-H Fair. I have missed one fair my entire life, and that was the year I lived in Michigan. My mom went to the fair 15 weeks pregnant with me and performed her superintendent duties all week long. The following summer she took me to the fair. I have never known a summer without the fair. The year after my mom died I went to the fair for 45 minutes, and that's all I could take. My mom wasn't buried, but if she was, the fair would be like visiting her gravestone. It was too much. Last year I went for 3 days and saw my little cousins' projects and really just focused on loving them and not missing my mom. This year? I couldn't even bear the thought of going. I almost did on Wednesday but I made reasons up in my head for not going. I just couldn't do it. 

I didn't realize how much this was hurting me. I didn't realize how hard this week would be for me or the effect it would have on my demeanor. Along with that, yesterday was the 4th, or exactly a month since my last nervous breakdown. Well, apparently, it was time for another one. Last night I came unglued. Awesome. 

I haven't drank in over 2 months. Drinking isn't really an issue for me, or at least it hadn't been until a few months ago. Last night I decided to drink...and then my brain fell out and I acted stupid and I had to make a lot of apologies to people today. I had to apologize for really dumb stuff, including yelling at my friend Chris over whether or not the song Sweet Emotion is in Armageddon or just on the soundtrack. I had to apologize for throwing my phone at my friends. Just stupid, stupid, decisions. 

It's amazing though, how even when you're drunk and psychoanalyzing yourself how much you can really be aware of your feelings. I didn't journal this week, which meant I was less aware of my thoughts. I knew I missed my mom this week. I knew that my 30 day recovery mark would be a possible trigger. I shouldn't have watched a particular episode of Grey's Anatomy that triggered me. I shouldn't have drank as much as I did. All of this? I realized last night...still drunk...crying on the couch as my friend Beverly tried to calm me down. 

I thank God that Beverly was with me and knows every detail that's going on and knew exactly how to take care of me. It's also funny that last night, I had a Christian rap lyric running through my brain after we got back from the bar. I don't even know why either, I hadn't listened to that song since yesterday morning. For whatever reason though, I just kept repeating in my head "I"m a F-A-N-A-T-I-C, I rep Christ til I D-I-E. I'm not extreme, I'm redeemed with faith to serve a God who's extremely great." Maybe it was God's way of reminding me that even if you fall really far away, He's still there to catch you and love you. I think I needed to realize that in the midst of my bad decisions I was still redeemed with faith and that my God is huge and wonderful. 

Going forward...I'm going to keep falling on my face and crying out to Jesus. I'm not going to say it will never happen again, but I pray it won't. I want to seek God and love Jesus. 

On Friday, Beverly and I went to the Lecrae concert. Everything was working against us and it was weird because I just kept thinking "Satan doesn't want us at this concert, he really doesn't". I told Latia that I felt like God was going to move in a huge way and that's why Satan didn't want us there. At the concert, Lecrae sang an old 116 Clique song, that I hadn't heard in YEARS. That's the lyric that kept rolling through my head last night. After the concert I told Beverly, this is going to sound weird, but I like when I feel Satan coming after me. I had to clarify that I didn't like Satan, but that when Satan is coming after you then you know you're close to the Spirit and Satan is fighting for your soul. My dad has told me all kinds of things in life that are important but there is one specific thing that I firmly believe is the greatest thing he has taught me. My dad told me when I was a teen that the closer you get to God, the stronger you get in your walk, the more you fall in love with God, the harder that Satan will fight to get you. I know this is true. I know that Satan is FIGHTING for my soul and man does he want me to fail. I've been pouring the word into me lately. I've only listened to Christian music for the past month, my heart has been pouring out God, I've been witnessing to people, I've been praising God daily...and SATAN IS MAD. I'm not perfect, I'm just trying to walk in the light and Satan is trying to really mess that up.  You know what, though? I'm glad, because I'm on the right path then. 

I think when I told Latia that God was going to move, I expected God to move for someone else. I expected God to move for Beverly, or strangers, I didn't expect him to move for me. I find it no accident that a Lecrae lyric was comforting me last night. A lyric I heard Friday night. The night I said God would move. Want to know something? When you ask God to move...HE DOES IT. God's still moving in me and even though I fell down, it's okay. 

Even if I fall, I'll rise again, for you are my God

Even if I fall, you lift me up