History

Blog Post
I have spent my life bound within the prison of this body. Trapped tightly by each layer of my skin. My internal reality cloaked in darkness, despair, and disdain. I felt fire in my toes, highlighting the truths I clung to: you’re unwanted, you can’t do it, you’re ugly, you’re too fat. Everyday I experienced the burns from my lies. The pain I felt was all I had known and all I expected to ever know.

I was born & raised in Cincinnati, Ohio. I was a blessed little girl. I had parents that really believed in my dreams. They allowed me to chase after them, regardless of how odd they seemed. At 8 years old I was convinced I wanted to be a missionary. I dreamt of living in dung huts and being covered in babies that needed love. I chased after that dream for quite a while; it took me all over the world. I went to Mexico multiple times, South Africa, Tanzania, and Brazil. Missions, serving people, and loving on those that seemed to need it most was the only thing that I really knew I was good at. It was the only thing that made me feel slightly important.

Of course, I had moments that told me something beyond my common reality. I sometimes had fleeting thoughts of being a nice person, of being a kind woman. But, those thoughts never stayed very present. I was more satisfied by the pain inside. Instead, I could rely on my consistency to buckle under the pressure of my inner demons. Those demons hung around, day by day, moment by moment. I was never alone.

As a little girl I held onto my baby weight. I was always a little rounder in the face and stomach than a lot of the petite people in my life. At a very young age I became aware of my body and understood the societal truth that my weight mattersI have control over my weight. There are stories and memories of me lost under the pressure to be skinny. I don’t know when or how I decided that I was too fat and that I didn’t matter but I believed these things to the core of my being.

I was branded by the weight I owned. My own body had betrayed me. It believed the lies, too. Marks of stretching across my stomach, chest, and thighs. I couldn’t escape these chains.

Church was my sanctuary. Hearing of a loving God, one that believed in me and sacrificed for me, it showed me that there had to be something within me worthy. I couldn’t deny the powerful things I had seen from Him.

Battle scarred and doubtful, I discovered hope.

Those two things shaped me into the woman I am today: love & self-hate. I knew love existed and I knew that it was a ferocious force that deserved to be pursued. I knew that love existed because of my moms relentless acceptance of me. I knew love existed because of the sacrifice I had seen from sweet Jesus. I, also, knew that my personal life was laced with self-inflicted internal pain. This pain did not come from parents that did not love me, or a violator taking advantage of me, it was something I simply picked up along the way. At some point in high school I decided to forego the traditional paths after high school and instead, my life’s mission would be to pursue all of the love this world had to offer until I experienced it within my inner prison. With adventure in my heart (and a mission to replace this self-hate) I moved across the country to Northern California. I attended a school that centered around the truth of a loving God and I began to face my beloved demons.

I seemed to have found a key. A skeleton key that might possibly unlock me from my misery. With cold, deprived hands I fumbled at the locks that had become my chosen royal garments.

For the next three years I spent my time captivated by the possibility of love. I explored the ins and outs, the ups and downs. I experienced heart break and I experienced self-love for the first time.

With the bravery of the stars, I began to look at my body without those judgmental eyes. I saw the thankful things that existed too. I began to cultivate the garden of happy, of thankful, and beauty. What if all I had known had been a perfectly crafted lie? What if I didn’t deserve darkness, but was actually made for the light?

Now, I work at the school that saved me & showed me the truth about myself and the truth that I, too, deserve love. Regardless of what I have done, what I will do, or how much I weigh… I deserve to be loved. My mission is to deliver those keys to the world, to others like me. I am determined to show the world that our bodies and selves deserve love. I haven’t completely overcome it all, sometimes I still find myself stuck in my cage, but I now know that I deserve to live in freedomlove.

Have you ever struggled with self-hate? What is your greatest self battle? Comment below & lets get the conversation started about the struggles of being a human.

XO,

M

4 thoughts on “History

  1. Love This. Thank you for sharing – Thanks for being a light – There’s so much power in this – in your vulnerability.
    I too struggle with the demon of self-hate – mine might not be about my weight (If I’m honest, I think mine is just my very existence)… but you sharing your story – it helps remind me the importance of choosing me… and not just choosing, but LOVING ME. That makes ALL the difference. Cheers to the journey & thanks for sharing yours!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for your love and support! We are all on this journey of growth…learning to deal with the cards in our hands. Be gracious & remember…as baby Zac Efron said, “we are all in this together”
      xo,
      M

      Liked by 1 person

  2. MARANDAAAA! I LOVE YOU! I’m so honored I got to experience the first 2 years of your journey in self love and watched it grow like a beautiful garden inside you. It is contagious!

    Anywho, my greatest self battle would have to be my tendency to underestimate and put down myself. Whether it be at my job, at my health, in my relationships, if im not completely satisfied with my work or with the results, I let shame and depression have too much control.

    What I have noticed (because of the multiple times I’ve been on this shame gloomy-go-round) is that my getting up or rebound from the shame spiral is shorter and shorter each time. It’s all because of the voice of Jesus inside me, my ability to listen and hear his truth in spite of very persuasive lies.

    Like

    1. Oh my beloved Hal 😍
      Thank you for your support & honesty.
      Shame is such a nasty cycle. I love hearing that your time spent down that spiral is shorter and shorter. It isn’t easy, but there is always hope! It is possible to live without walking into that darkness. I believe in you & am rooting for you!

      Like

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