In the lies
God and I have been waging war lately, and I'm sure He's winning, as He always does, but my heart is torn to pieces.

It's in the desert places, in the dry, seemingly endless wilderness that I dwell, wrestling with my God, with my guilt, my shame. My weaknesses are strong, and many. I read this over and over and tears flow like rain down onto the pages of the book that isn't opened near often enough.

I talk with my friend, and she says something trivial and I lose my mind and anger explodes out of every pore and I want to smash the mirror or throw something through a window. I scream words that I can not control, and they astonish me even as they come out of my mouth. I am volatile and dangerous and I fear what could happen if I am not diffused soon.

I cry tears of shame and Godly sorrow, knowing that I am evil, and ugly, and that truly I do not try hard enough. I say things I shouldn't every day, things that go against my conscience, and therefore make them wrong, whether they are or not. I do things that I know I shouldn't, but I do them anyhow. Sometimes I wonder how one can be swept up into a "big" sin, and yet still call herself a Christian. There are days that I wonder if I really am. The word hypocrite should be branded into my forehead so that all the world could see who I really am. I listen to this, and sing it repeatedly throughout the day, and then turn around and do things that could ruin my life, and seriously hurt the lives of those I love so dearly.

I struggle with physical pain, and I try not to take the medicine they gave me because when I do, I crave more. The high wears off and I start to panic because when I am taking the meds, I am numb and the pain is gone, and it is classic addiction 101 and I've been through this and I know better than to go through it again, but the enemy knows my weaknesses and preys on them daily.

There are days that I allow myself to think that I was molded into this person, and that psychologically it all makes sense. All the years of my life I was abused and neglected and no wonder I am the way I am. And there are days that I allow myself to believe that I have a mental illness and that God knows that, and that He understands the struggle and has patience with me because I truly can not control it.

And there are days like today where I feel like its all just excuses and that no mental illness, not PTSD or TRS, or even bipolar disorder can change the fact that I know right from wrong. That no matter what was done to me as a child/teenager, it doesn't change the fact that I was raised to know God, to love and obey Him. I've always loved Him, even through the abuse, with a deep zeal that no one could shatter. When I was a teen I clung to Him as tightly as I could, feeling He was the only thing I had. And then I would get high or drunk, or find some guy to comfort me in all the wrong ways and it would tear me to pieces and I hated it. And so I think eventually I detached myself from that deep emotional attachment to God because I knew I could never do enough and I was tired of hurting. It was the biggest mistake I've ever made.

And so here I am, aching because I don't know God like I should, crying because I want nothing more than to be with Him, and hurting because I am the chiefest of sinners, swimming in lies and hypocrisy, and I am here to tell you today I'm done with it. I am standing up and saying enough is enough I am screaming I am done with this and I am running headlong into my God and nothing can stop me, not even myself. I will find Him. I will open the book and I will find my self control and I will teach my children and I will not allow my past to determine my eternity.
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