Thirty First One Days

Thirty one years ago I found a door.

The journey there was long and winding. Often it was backwards and unconventional, but at long last I found a solution to a deep problem that eluded all solutions. 

Growing up in Evangelicalism everything was about surrender. 

Surrender my will to God and He will solve all of my problems. 

Surrender my wicked heart and God will purify it.

If I wasn’t being freed from something it was because I wasn’t letting it go.

I would fast, pray and empty myself regularly of all sin.

I begged for forgiveness.

I obeyed all the commandments I read in scriptures to the best of my abilities. I obeyed and honored what my parents told me because it was a commandment with a promise. I applied every sermon, praise song and prophecy I heard as they wove a path to freedom.

A Highest Power with ultimate cosmic greatness who would be greater than every ailment.

Yet, I still struggled and failed.

In all of that Holy Roller noise I heard a still small voice, which led me to a door.

Through that door I found a series of steps that were simple. They felt like breathing. They felt like a gentle roadmap that I simply had to follow. This mystery seemed unattainable. Freedom couldn’t cost so little. Fighting, struggle, sacrifice and strain were the core ingredients of Surrender. It is declared as such with every war and I was fighting for the right to live. 

To be good enough.

To serve enough.

To contribute enough.

But… not to cost anyone too much.

On January 6, 1991 I chose to walk the path set before me. It was rough at first as I navigated that quiet road. Giving up my dramatic highs and self-sacrificing lows. Making friends with how I felt alongside learning how to nurture the corporeal body I lived in. 

My fleshly body was a crafted work of art, sculpted by God. It was gifted to me. I was to be a steward of in this life. It was mine to nourish, care for and listen to. I was to meet its needs. In caring for it, my body would provide a way for me to move through this life.

That lovely Still Quiet Voice began to push away the Holy Roller one. A relationship with an Unconditionally Loving Higher Power began to form within me. It nurtured my mind as I found my way through challenging situations, a few mental breakdowns and a divorce.

Today it is my Thirty-First year of nurturing my body and life. Anorexia still is a consistent companion, but because of that door and those steps I have the tools to gently live one day at a time. It never mattered if the highest high was the curtain opened on a brightly lit stage or the lowest low found me at the complete loss of everything precious to me. 

I have a way to find the next right thing.

A guidepost to understanding that I am loved unconditionally.

I have intrinsic worth.

My experience is a gift to be shared.

I am abundantly grateful for the life I am able to piece together each moment of every day.