Previous experience and a blog that I had to kill before its time have taught me that blogging late at night when I'm emotional and tired isn't a good idea.

But what the heck...I'm gonna be stupid for a bit.

Twenty-four days ago I posted on the goodness of God.  Yesterday I was yelling at Him about how I feel unloved and don't feel I can trust Him.  The change came because Monday I decided to get surgery.  Surgery has been my dying option - I will try every road, every method imaginable in order to avoid going under.  But 13 years of pain and it only worsens.  I have little glimpses of getting better, like Lewis talks about his wife having several "miraculous" remissions.  I've had those too.  In fact, my entire year in Kentucky when I was 22 was characterized by zero symptoms.  And last month was brilliant - half the pain of usual (which is saying a lot when your pain is at a 9 out of 10), making me think that maybe my dietary changes were making a difference after all.  But this month was unbearable; I almost asked Mom to take me to the E.R.  The only reason I didn't was that I finally stopped throwing up...and I believe the only reason I finally stopped throwing up was because I sent out a mass text to everyone I know who takes prayer seriously and asked them to pray for me.

Then I praised God for keeping me out of the E.R.
Then I yelled at Him the next day for not making me better.

Have I written this here before? My income has been consistently below the poverty line for the last 5 years because of missed days at work from the endometriosis.  Have I written this here before?  I don't have insurance because of the endometriosis.  I know I haven't written this here before: those two stated realities mean that I'll have to take out a personal loan to in order to get surgery.

And the surgery is only effective 40% of the time.  So I'll be taking out, say, a $20,000 personal loan so that I can stop missing days of work in order to get a surgery that might not work.  In essence, I may be screwing myself.

I've never wrestled with God's love for me before, and it seems childish that I should start now, over an illness.  But I'm worn down, my friends.  Endometriosis pain is more severe than the pain of a woman in labor.  And I have four days of it. Every.month. And I've had 13 years of it. And I've tried every non-surgical remedy in existence, and I've considered getting knocked up like that one doctor told me I should.  Yeah,

"Hey baby,
I brought you into this world just to make my body feel better,
but I didn't really want you
and I didn't like your daddy very much either."

Yeah.
No.

I know other people suffer worse than I do.  I know I have it pretty good, considering I have a dad who's self-employed and is letting me live in his house rent-free and work for him while I try to sort out my shit. I know I am blessed to live in the U.S. with running water and flushing toilets...imagine the women who live in the bush and have endo...poor things.  I have a soft bed and a heating pad and filtered water and a cell phone with which to text my mom downstairs when I run out of said water and need more but am in too much pain to walk.  Really...in the land of disease and suffering, I don't have it so very bad.

But I'm tired.  And I don't understand.  And I feel like I have no future. And I feel like even my present is being stolen away from me.  And I wonder why God hasn't healed me or allowed one of these other methods to work.  There's so much I want to do, so much life to live, and my dreams aren't selfish. I know other people who have been miraculously healed from the worst of diagnoses.  Yet here am I, constantly moving in the direction of worse.  And I question God about it. And I know the right answers.

But
to know
is not always
to feel.

So...surgery.

You know that thing that you never wanted to do and you tried desperately to avoid?

Well, sometimes it's your only option.

(And a joke only my sisters will understand: Now That I'm a Woman.)

Kylar D.

Life cannot be controlled, only responded to. 

(From here.)

Every April 20th I am seventeen again.

The Avatar has been reincarnated.

And she rocks.
(Got the pic off this great site for geeking out.)

Dreams have no shadows.

My sister and I were talking tonight about letting go of dreams and submitting to what God has instead.  As I'm sure you've all experienced, there's a lot of bad theology on this subject and it's easy to beat yourself up for not being submitted enough, for still holding on to what you want for your life rather than what God wants, yada yada. Conversely, I've heard too many sermons about pursuing dreams that have been preached in a very American, me-centric tone.  Like, God created you with this passion and this dream, so of course it's what you're supposed to do and of course He will bless it. As if.

Personally and realistically, I never can "let go" of my dreams because some of them are as much a part of me as breathing.  I breathe without thinking about it.  Similarly, without even thinking about it I imagine myself being a foster parent, or serving lattes and directing employees at my coffee shop, or finally publishing a novel.  These thoughts enter my head without me evaluating them or conjuring them up; they're just there, growing, always, as much a part of me as the fingernails that have to be trimmed every week and the hair that has to be washed.  If I don't trim my nails or wash my hair I start getting kind of gross; equally, if I don't rein in the thoughts of my future they start making me discontent with my present. 

Because of this I think "letting go" is a bad analogy in the discourse on life goals.  Submitting to what God has for you isn't about letting go of your dreams, it's about not letting them rule you.  It's accepting that your dreams might not happen; not to let go of the dreams themselves, rather letting go of the bitterness that threatens to steal your joy if they don't come to pass.  It's controlling the dream, not letting it control you.  It's making the dream submit to reality, like a car that just wants to move forward still submits to the pressure of the break pedal. Dreams have no shadows.  They are shiny and perfect and even the conflict within them is completely controlled and created by the dreamer. Reality is sweat and blood and tears and pain and wrinkles and varicose veins and stretch marks and coffins and Los Angeles traffic.  Dreams are important and they move us forward so we musn't let go of them, but if we do not control them they'll drive us straight off a cliff. 

Changes

I removed this username from my abolition blog.  It was a scary moment in my life, completely separating the personal me from the professional. But it was for a good reason: I have a brand new MacBook Pro with Final Cut Pro X (woot!), whose sole purpose is to work on that blog.  Thus I decided to sever my personal bloggy life from my important bloggy life.  My faithful old MacBook, which I purchased before they even came out with Leopard, will be dedicated to personal stuff: emails, blogging, Pinterest (Pinterest!), and mindless hours of Wikipedia surfing.  But the new Mac...ah!  How much more I'll get done if when I sign in to blog I'm not also seeing updates from the 80+ mom-blogs I follow!  This, my friends, is monumental.  And if you follow the other blog, exciting things are in the works!!  Can't wait.

God is good!

Of His goodness there is no end.
Of His blessings there is no end.
God is so very very good.