"I struggle to fly now."
sia- bird set free
The air is electric with fear, making it hard to leave the cage. The chill of exposure to the outside ruffles the feathers. Concentrate on breathing, calming the adrenaline.
All the possible scenarios playing on a loop through my brain.
Heart is racing. Eyes are watery.
Fear of failing.
Fear of succeeding.
Fear of all the little voices of regret that follow me around....the things that lurk around the next corner.
Walking on high alert for fear of the unknown.
. Trying to stay a step ahead of my own gasoline fire that nips at my high heels.
Excitement and terror are sitting on my wings.
"All smiles, I know what it takes to fool this town
I'll do it 'til the sun goes down and all through the night time...
...I put my armor on, show you how strong how I am
I put my armor on, I'll show you that I am"
All the power pieces come down from their perch in the closet. I look to these soft and weak things to armor me up. Ready me for work again.
Blowing off the dust from my breastplate of blouse and pencil skirt My "Edgar" suit; the costume of another, sharper girl. One who is impenetrable; whose heart is safe. It's called a power suit for a reason, right?
Doesn't it impart super-strength; make me Wonder Woman?
Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness,*
Placing those black leather heels on as weapons to crush sticks and stones.
Ready for expected battle.
and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace.*
Perhaps this cage is where I ought to stay with fear as my protector. Hiding behind motherhood and domesticity. I can pretend to be smart and wise and clever from back here.
No one ever need be the wiser.
In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one*
Those arrows gonna fly right past if I can act the part. Be tougher than tough.
Fiercer than Sasha.
Ready to take it all on my own strength.
Hair is coiffed, Mac is charged.
Good to go.
Out of the way. I've got this.
Ignore my shaky arms and nervous eyebrow twitches.
and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication.*
help me not to rely on these flimsy things
give me peace and wisdom and strength to face these fears
'cuz it's terrifying and i like to pretend I'm not scared
help me work as unto you
and walk in your grace
with diligence and integrity as my go-to pieces
Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.*
Hey, Hurley, have we traded places today? The cursed numbers are back and threatening. They keep tick tick ticking up. That should be encouraging, right? We're going in the right direction, up, up, up as we build back a hollowed shell. Strength upon strength. But, my mind says, "stop! that's quite enough now. are you kidding, me?! What are you doing?"
The panic has been manageable so far, but today....today, my throat is tightening. I almost cried this morning when my trainer said, post-workout, I still needed more fuel. Red alert. All the panic buttons are sounding. But he's right. My body was shaking from depletion, which I could barely believe possible.
I'm eating #allthefood. And #alltheproteinshakes. And #alltheenjoycupcakes.
At least, it feels that way to a gal whose thinking has always been counter to this.
For the record, I didn't cry. C'mon, I'm tougher than that. Well, I pretend to be anyway.
The mental/spiritual exercise is more exhausting than the rigorous training I'm putting my body through.
My calves cry, "eat more." My energy level says, "even more, girl." My trainer says, "now, some more." Habits are so hard to shed as I try to see the nutritional information as a positive; a force for good. Does it have enough of what I need?...instead of desperately calculating the day's calories-numbers as the enemy.
Too much, too much, always too much.
Now, struggling to put in enough, to keep up with demand. My mind is having a hard time keeping up. But, that's a big part of taking up this physical challenge. A push to break destructive habits. Laying the anxiety down at Christ's feet; asking Him, "Take this please. Run with me though this." The putting on of nourishment to the putting off of restriction, spiritually and physically. The numbers are not my master. Not my curse.
God, keep my focus on your grace and kill their hold on me.
Help me run this race well....
oh, and that marathon, too.