The day I realized my theology was whack...

I was able to sorta-kinda keep it together with one kid that didn't like to sleep through the night... there was coffee and exercise and smiling and make up and cute-ish clothing. I delivered on promises I had made and remembered birthdays. I baked for friends, made dinner for new moms... I had it all together. 

But this urgency when it came to serving people... anxiety... they had to like me. I had to be in right standing with everyone. I had to look put-together so that I felt like my opinions were validated.

Enter baby 2.

And, baby, I can't do it anymore. 

I forget birthdays. Baking? That, I've realized, is too big of a temptation for this tired mama (I just eat and eat and eat... then with the self-loathing and the overexercising...) 

Serving people? I want to... I need to. They won't like me if I don't have anything to offer, right? There are expectations of me I must meet.

Urgent! Anxious!

The Lord has blessed me with two kids that just don't sleep well. My two-year-old gets up 2-3 times a night and my 8-month-old wakes up about every 2-3 hours. The day I realized this was a blessing was when I hit my breaking point and said to my husband, "I think I need counseling. I can't do this anymore."

It's been hard... realizing how pervasive the lies are. My mom wrote me a text offering to come hang out with me when one of the kids was sick and my first thought was, "she thinks I can't handle it."

Cray-cray. Right? 

So, I am trudging along. Still hanging in here... trying to create new default ways of thinking. I desperately want a renewed mind. I desperately want to believe that I am accepted, approved, even just "okay," solely because I have Jesus in me... I don't want to be this broken person who feels the need to jump through hoops for everyone in every relationship to feel worthy.

I am worthy. No matter how many times I say the wrong thing. No matter how many times I totally blow teachable opportunities with my kids. No matter what I weigh. No matter how long my home stays undecorated. No matter how long I go without cleaning the kitchen floor. No matter how uncreative I am or the fact that I haven't gotten my master's degree. No matter what size jeans I wear or how many months it takes for me to lose the pregnancy pooch. I am worthy.

Preaching the Gospel to myself every moment of every day and praying that someday I'll really believe it. 


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