herlucidlife

Walking past the mirror, feeling self conscious at the gym with my coveralls on. Nothing peaking through, finding a wardrobe that fits my purest self. I’m leaning into modesty. Having always covered up, I’m finally beginning to cover up in ways that bring me joy. Baggy jeans, oversized sweatshirts, loose fitting shorts and tshirts, no dresses or skirts. I’ve gone into an era that brings comfort. 

Yet the way my body looks under the clothes still brings me down. Comparing myself to women on the screen, to women at the gym, to the woman I used to be. Where is the contentment in the present? Where is the joy for where my body is today? That joy has been more than difficult to cultivate. Clicks away from jumping on the GLP-1 band wagon, the price tag stopped me. 

Eating a balanced whole diet that includes both healthy whole foods and rich whole foods. Eating disciplined while indulging, I’m eating for the human I am today. Not counting calories or depriving myself of my favorite foods. I eat with joy, no food left on my plate. Yet it does not help my waistband. Thinking I should look a certain way. Battling cravings and emotional eating. I prayed for God to remove any demonic presence that was stopping me from losing weight. 

After the vaginal discharge subsided, it hit me that perhaps that presence holding me back is me. Perhaps there’s nothing in my energy field or demons that are holding me back. Perhaps it’s my lack of discipline. I choose to believe it is my lack of radical acceptance for my body. I’ve been skinny, I’ve been muscular skinny, I’ve been thick and I’ve been in between yet in every phase there was always something I didn’t like. There was always something I was criticizing, I’ve never not looked at my body and found something I didn’t like. 

It’s so hard wired that my body needs to change or that something is wrong with me. The only one telling me that is me. Friends and family tell me I’m beautiful and that I look good, strangers say the same. Yet I can’t help but look at the things outside myself and think, “looking like that would make me be better.” I know it’s a lie. Lies were stuck in my head hard this week. Struggling to push through the emotions. 

Talking to God, I need to abide in Him. I’ve learned how to lament over the years. To cry out to God in the midst of giving praise. God Himself has practiced lament, a holy place to be. At the feet of Jesus covered by His glory, the tears streamed. Seen, heard and loved by the Most High. He understands. I’m so hard on myself and I want to be perfect, the illusion that was never real for normal human beings. Even “perfect” has bad breath in the morning. So I keep looking up, keep moving forward.