There is something wrong with me.
Have I said this before?
Yes, of course I have said this before.
It is as if every morning I wake up and say to myself, "There is something wrong with me."
Why do I do this to myself??
What were the triggers today?
1) I was terrified to get out of bed, because I was convinced that today could have been the day that God would slam a door in my face.
2) Someone asked me a question that I have asked myself multiple times. I didn't want to answer. But my lack of answer confimed his--and my--suspicions.
3) I have been struggling with food again. Dealing with an unquentionable emotional hunger.
These triggers make me feel like there is something wrong with me.
Why am I struggling?
Why am I failing?
Because the next statement which follows is, "I am getting fat."
Then, "I am a failure."
"I am hopeless."
"I am going to be miserable forever."
Yes, the negative thoughts compound that quickly.
(Talk about an interest rate to be envied! Oh, wait . . . wrong area of my life.)
Why have I taught my brain to think this way?
*Insert some psycho-hyped quote by Albert Ellis here.*
The answers to why and how are not as important as figuring out a way to stop.
Do I dare stop saying that there is something wrong with me?
Do I dare accept who I am? Who God made me to be?
God made me to have dreams . . . dreams that have the potential to be crushed.
God made me with specific likes and dislikes, and then He uses those in order to determine the types of people that I will most naturally connect with.
God made me with desires (and needs)--emotional desires, intellectual desires, physical desires, spiritual desires. When these desires and needs are not met, I experience a hunger. I am finally feeling my hunger--which is a good thing. I have just mistaught myself the method for identifying and satisfying the source of the hunger.
So is there really something wrong with me?
Can I really trash a creation of God like that?
"For You formed my inward parts;
You wove me in my mother’s womb.
I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;"
No, I can't.
Say it, Jaime.
Say it. . .
There is not something wrong with me.
I am created by God.
I am created to be me.
I am beautiful.