Broken but Beautiful

          * A brief note: The following article is a reflection of struggles, mostly past that I dealt with. I just really feel led by the Holy Spirit to share these things today. Family, friends, don't be alarmed, I am in a good place spiritually, mentally and emotionally now in my life, so read this and rejoice in how the Lord has delivered me, and continues to grow me and guard me.

                 This morning I woke up and decided I needed a lot of alone time today, so I stayed in my jammies and did laundry in between episodes of Chrisley Knows Best and trying out a random diy project. The truth is, I woke up this morning with just a glint of my past struggles breathing down my neck: the struggle to feel like I am enough. That is a common struggle for every person in our society- male and female- but for years to me, it was a sickness, a disease, and this morning I woke up with that same boa constrictor peaking around the corner. I've never publicly shared this before, but as I reflected on my story this morning, and how the Lord continuously grows and rescues me, I felt convicted to put this into writing. So bear with me and know that this is a battle of pride and allowing myself to be vulnerable with you guys. In James 5 it tells us to share one another's burdens and struggles ( specifically sin, but I think it applies to the happenstance struggles too).

              Ever since I can remember, I have always dealt with body image issues triggered by a huge dollop of anxiety I refused to acknowledge. As a little girl it seemed probably understandable, an only child facing peers outside of her family for the first real time in her life: it seemed logical that I was perceived as just being unsure of myself and ultra aware socially. I remember though, crying at myself in the mirror before school because I thought my curly hair made me resemble a monster, and it didn't help that I was always the tall girl, bigger than everyone else. I was just so different, and I was literally petrified of not being like the pretty girl in class. As I grew into my teens the problem became more prominent. My hair was huge, my curves were ample, and I would secretly wake up extra early for class every morning so I could analyze every aspect of myself that was different and do my best to cover it up. I still managed to arrive late most days because concealing myself was a top priority. I covered up my issues with my seemingly confident, bubbly personality, and goofy shenanigans, and as high-school progressed, I started using bulimic methods to "control" my weight. What started off as a seemingly normal case of social insecurity had finally shown itself for what it really was: Body dysmorphia. Body Dysmorphia is the obsession over a minor or even imagined flaw to the point of anxiety and debilitation. I literally saw myself as a caricature of what I really was.
 
    Throughout proms, pageants, plays, and anything else public and image oriented you can imagine, I suffered panic attacks because of my perception of my physicality. The thought of falling short of the mark petrified me, and any teasing or common bullying left me hollow and depressed to the extreme. Also, like many traditional evangelical households, those kind of problems just weren't discussed: We didn't talk about those kind of issues. You prayed, had faith and it would go away. But it didn't go away and I felt totally alone.

   Psalms 139: 13-14 13 For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. 14 I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.…

    Throughout my struggle, I somehow seemed to find this scripture everywhere-devotionals, church, facebook- it's just the go-to thing to say or write to a person dealing with such identity struggles. I remember thinking, "God, I am so glad You think You did an amazing job with me, but why? Why did You make me this way? Why did You decide  to form me into this thing that haunts me every day?"

   Then came college. I still hadn't resolved my self-perceived image with myself or with the Lord. I didn't even talk to him about it, because the most I was told concerning my anxieties growing up was that I needed to quit complaining and fishing for compliments because vanity was a sin. Was I just vain? Were these feelings sin? Before going to school my freshmen year, I just kind of got rid of my whole image; I dyed my blonde hair dark, left the makeup and fashion alone, and kind of hid. Hid my extroversion from the world, my light. God never left me though, he dragged my butt to a college in Blue Mountain, Mississippi for a reason! Boy, was He ever about to shake and move in my life. My freshmen year of college, God began to show me that I was worth it, that people found me worth it. I collided into the life of this crazy, disastrous, wonderful fabulous graduate named Stacy who literally poured life into me. We were talking life one day in her humble, sweet little apartment, and I don't even know where the conversation came from or where it was going even, but she uttered these words to me, "Emilie, you are beautiful. Every ounce of you. I see the beauty of the King in you, and it grieves His heart that you don't see yourself as valuable. Why in heck are you hiding your beauty, and why in heck are you not blonde right now??!!" My view of myself was discouraging confidence in others, and grieving the Lover of my soul. He created something and called it 'good', but I saw it as trash.

      Let me clarify, it is not sin or wrong to be plagued with a mental illness. That is not your fault, you did not choose that; I didn't choose that. However, it becomes a sin in the life of a believer, when your mental health is hindering your spiritual walk, and you refuse to see it, claim it, and seek help for it. The mental illness isn't your choice, but your reaction to it is. I wallowed in my sickness for a while before ever seeking his face for healing.

    Through this transformation into my sophomore year, God was still hammering into my shell to crack me open and pour out my vulnerability. I met a wonderful soul that year, and that's when things really started to transform. In life, there are few people that bull doze your walls and dramatically change you: I had the privilege of meeting such a person. Names are not needed, this person will know who they are; they will probably be the first person to read this blog, and the last person that will think this is about them. Because of your beautiful soul, I was able to see my own vulnerability and struggles through your struggles. Helping you and being helped by you helped me to realize that I deserved to see better in myself. You saw better in me, thank you. You probably...no definitely, quite literally, saved my life on quite a few occasions, I don't think I ever told you that. You encouraged me to embrace the wild abandon that God created in me.

      Onward into my FIRST senior year (fifth year senior, y'all), my vulnerability came to a head, and everything would come crashing down and fall together at the same time. I always knew I was anxious- you know, jittery, twitchy, ADHD like- I always had been. Suddenly though, the thud, thud, thud of my heart sounded like the base line to a Ke$ha song, and not in a pleasant way. I was doing well to get maybe three hours of sleep at night, and the pounding rush of adrenaline that scathed it's way through my veins suddenly making every negativity, mishap, mistake real or imagined come flooding into my consciousness and debilitate me. When I say debilitate, I mean it. Like literally your body feels heavy and bruised because of your lack of rest so you cannot even move. During the day, sometimes I'd jump at a random sound like a sprinkler pfft pfft pfting it's spray across the lawn. Hypersensitive, hyperaware, and hyper-weary. Panic attacks are like waves crashing over a drowning person, your down and as soon as you rise here comes another heavy rush slapping you back down into the depths. I had a problem. It had been the problem all along.

     With the help of said above amazing person, I received help and was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, or GAD. Through much struggle and fidgeting with what medication was best for me, and lifestyle changes I needed to make, I finally found equilibrium. I stand before you today off of all medication and in control of my anxiety. Praise be to a gracious God who makes a habit out of picking up his sinking disciples.

   I want you to know, that I look back now and see that God was with me all along. I know His goodness and strength in a way I never could have before. He literally kept me from drowning. I wasn't sucked under, I didn't sink. In the moment, I thought that God had forgotten me, that he was punishing me, but praise His glorious name, He didn't. The verse that uplifted me during my struggle was Psalm 30:5:

   Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.


     My night of weeping was long and intense, but I write this to you today to tell you that the shout of joy is worth the tears, the pain, the nights of overwhelming loneliness. The shout of joy is God's deliverance; sunshine bursting through the storm; a soul once imprisoned that is set free. Because of the darkness I know light. I thirst after it. I chase it. I don't know your story, or your pain, but I want you to know joy is coming. Throw up your hands to the lover of your soul. Joy is coming. You may be going through a time of brokenness. Joy is coming. You may hate the figure in the mirror. Joy comes in the morning.

     I now love my big hair and my crazy laugh and all of those things that caused me disgust and fear. I still struggle to embrace my body, but I am on a journey of health and finding myself beautiful.The Creator of all things good finds you ravishing. He desires you. You are necessary. The things that cause you to hate yourself are the same things that cause someone else to love you. If you need me, no matter who you are, I'm here. Contact me and I will weep with you and try my best to lead you to the comfort of Jesus's arms. I'm here because He reached down and saved me from the waves. I hope my story encourages you and gives you hope.

All my Love.