The Beginning

As I look out across the ocean, the breeze blows in my direction, lifting a salty mist up from the water and cooling my skin. I look down at the wet curls which have finally grown long enough to cover the soaked material of my bathing suit which clings to my pale chest. My body is a mystery to me: forever changing, forever growing. I wrap my arms around my waist as if to control the evolvement which for so long has been my enemy, but then let go. Why should I fight this? Why should I run from these marks of womanhood that God has blessed me with? When they existed previously, I was too young to understand, but now adult life lingers around the corner. It's time to grow up, to stop playing the role of the rueful rag doll and become something genuine. As much as I hate to admit it, I am the most dependent person that I know. Depending on God is a necessity, but the worldly dependence which I have allowed to become my identity needs to stop.

I don't even know how to finish this because it hardly makes sense to me. When you live in the mirror for so long, reality is backwards and confusing. I want to carry this thought, this idea which is based on pure simplicity, and make a life out of it. I know that this isn't just me, this isn't something that I have come up with on my own. This is God, this is God speaking to me. He speaks through the ocean, the breeze, the sun which warms my back. He speaks through my body, the way my feet sink into the sand as the tide comes in.

I need to listen.

Remember More Than You'd Like to Forget

Jeremy, remember me?
You placed your hands so carelessly
on my skin, I was thirteen.
Jeremy, how could you leave?
You were the first to get to me,
to get in me, I was only thirteen,
thirteen.

There were so many lies about drugs and sex,
so many razorblades against wrists.
How could you let it come to this?
How could you leave me such a mess?

Thirteen, thirteen,
and I caused such a scene.
How could I not scream?
Three days later
and you had her on her knees.
What about me? Jeremy?

When I looked back before,
I painted life as a bore,
but you made it so much more,
pouring salt on every sore
and open wound.
You dished it out with a silver spoon
as your fingers danced under the full moon.

Oh, Jeremy,
please stay out of my memories.
Leave me now, so I can sleep.
Leave me now, so I can be
open,
so I can speak the words
that need to be spoken.

Love Me Dead

Love me cancerously
Like a salt-sore soaked in the sea.
'High-maintenance' means
You're a gluttonous queen
Narcissistic and mean.
Kill me romantically
Fill my soul with vomit
Then ask me for a piece of gum.
Bitter and dumb
You're my sugarplum.
You're awful, I love you!

CHORUS
She moves through moonbeams slowly
She knows just how to hold me
And when her edges soften
Her body is my coffin
I know she drains me slowly
She wears me down to bones in bed

Must be the sign on my head
That says, oh...
Love me dead! Love me dead!

You're a faith-healer on T.V.
You're an office park without any trees
Corporate and cold
Gushing for gold
Leave me alone.
You suck so passionately
You're a parasitic, psycho, filthy creature
finger-bangin' my heart
You call me up drunk
Does the fun ever start?
You're hideous and sexy!

REPEAT CHORUS

Must be the sign on my head
That says, oh...
Love me dead! Love me dead!

SOLO

Love me cancerously
Brrrot-dot-da-d-da-da!
How's your new boy?
Does he know about me?
You've got the mark of the beast.
You're born of a jackal! You're beautiful!

REPEAT CHORUS

Wha' 'bout that sign on my head
That says, oh...
Love me dead!




I am terrible and fall in love with terrible songs.

Red-streaked screen. Blood is all we want. Let's draw a little blood. Don't be morbid. Why not? Carving. You carve? Hearts and x's on your arm? That's sexy. Who is that J for, darling? My name is Jeremy, but you just met me. Maybe you should stop this carving, those drugs, that insane jealousy. We hardly know each other. You kissed my ear, but never my lips. You always talked about how your favorite place to be kissed was right behind the ear. With a glance at a dollar, your hands go wild. Where is my dollar, girl? Let's find it. Is it here or is it here? I'll look both places. Are you going to let me...? Are you going to let me? Look at the fireworks, Jeremy. Just watch them with me, please! Fireworks. I'll show you fireworks. Please, don't touch me there. I've never even been... Please, stop. Uhh. Why won't you speak to me? Your hands spoke to me only yesterday. I was thirteen. Thirteen. I didn't feel a thing, but I was shaking. I was scared. How can you leave me after that? I'm scared. Don't accuse me of anything. You liked it. I lie. All you care about is God. No, all I care about is blood. I reach more people this way. We share knifes and secrets in the bathroom while soldiers watch and don't say a word. I feel like I'm free. I don't feel like I need this anymore! Can I share? Your experiences are too morbid for the children's ears. Morbid, morbid, I... still... need... it. Where is she? She's not coming. So, I'm alone? Yes. How alone? The blood stains the white porcelain sinks of the church bathroom, but it will never stain me. I'll hide it and you'll never know. I'll know. Who are you? You know me. You've always known me, yet you run from me. What? Who are you? I am, I am. Come back to me. But I... need this. No, you don't. You don't need this, you don't need anything or anyone. I am and I will heal you. But look at my arm. Look at my legs. Look at my body which I have chosen to break for this! How can you heal something so disfigured? I know you, I made you. I can break you and build you up again. I'm sorry. I know that You can, I know that You will.. please help me. Please restore me. It is done, it is done.

Can it be done again?

Knife Going In

If I don't recover
Sell this house and find
Something lost outside your window
Not forever
But on the night I die
I swear
I'll sleep outside your window
I feel the knife going in
I'm feeling anxious
Not enough to kill me
I thought it'd happen fast
But I'm feeling it now and I feel anxious
Sleeping inches from me
I let it pass
Emy should I stop?
Do you think I'll make
It to the morning if it's written
Stitch it up
The kind of song I know causes mother, sister, lover worry
I feel the knife going in
I'm feeling anxious
Not enough to kill me
I thought it'd happen fast
But I'm feeling it now
And I feel anxious
Sleeping inches from me
I let it pass
--Tegan and Sara

Every time I find a song that I can somehow pick apart and call my life, I feel full. So here. I want so badly to say, "It is my life in this way," but for some reason the words won't come. Can't you tell, though? I guess this is an "I'm sorry." I'm sorry if I hurt you through hurting myself. And simultaneously it's me wondering, "Should I hurt myself today? Shouldn't this be over by now? Should I let this take me all the way through? Why is this so beautiful to me? Why is sin so beautiful to me? Why do I want to let this take me all the way through? What will it take to let this take me all the way through? Shouldn't I be there by now? Shouldn't I?" It's been a year.

God, take this.

How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?

These Words in front of my eyes should represent Life. How can I shrug off these tears that I have cried? I called, you answered. But what does it mean? If only I could see your face without being blinded. If faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains than what do I have? Knock me down and hold me like I need to be held.

Are you blind? Are you sick? Are you mad? How can you not see? How can you not see? How can someone scream so loudly and lie so consistently and remain so completely overlooked? Yeah, I know it's been a while. Yeah, I know I've had time. I just don't know how to move. She, whom(who, whatever, grammar is a silly thing to worry about sometimes) I am a part of, tells me that I know what to do, I know how to move forward. But how? Can you remind me? No. Why? Because you know. I know, I know. No, I don't know. I don't know at all. Life is cut into neat little sections. And some areas are sucking the wellness out of other areas, and as these areas suffer, they lead to other areas suffering, which will eventually lead to life as a whole suffering, and complete contamination. Oh, I am so happy sometimes, but when I take a step over the line, I come down, spinning as wildly as the weakness spun down the drain today. I didn't lie, I just didn't tell you. And I won't tell you unless you ask. So ask away. I know that you won't because you're afraid. But it's OK, it's OK. I've live like this for so long, why not let it stay? This isn't what I want, but it's all I know how to get. I learn and I love, but faith without works is dead. I don't deserve the life I live. I know, I know, I am washed white as snow, but what good is white when it remains stationary and blind? How do I move?

Timeline

Nine years old. Three sizes down.

Your dad says that you have to eat something besides celery if you're going to keep swimming.

Peanut butter sandwiches don't go too well with tears now, do they?

When I got really thin, Grandmommy would make me drink milkshakes. Here, let me buy you one.

Every single night, 550 calories. I thought it was OK. Three sizes up.

You're getting really fat, you know.

I know...

Our daughter is huge.

It's funny how you thought that I couldn't hear you.
It's funny how you will deny this later.

A foot up, another size out.
Ski trip, ski trip. You have to weigh yourself.
What!??
I'm 11, I'm growing... yeah, that's it.

Look at her. She's so huge. Look at her. Her body won't stay still. She's a giant.

Please don't touch me, please don't touch me.

Your mother weighs about xxx amount. She looks good that way.

Then how do I look if I weigh xx more?

Mom, what if I got to weighing xxx?

We would have to go on a diet. I need to go on one anyways.

I'm thirteen, I'm growing. I'm thirteen, I'm--

Amanda Tiner is an ugly -----. Look at her. Just look at her!

Yeah, I wear a size zero. I'm starting to get so fat, though! I won't eat dinner today.

But you're gorgeous. Everyone loves you! Some might be jealous, but everyone loves you, right? Right???

Weight Watchers take 1. Goal weight 125.

You weigh 125. That's uncommonly high for someone your age.

Take 2. Goal weight 115.

Oh, Amanda, you're getting tiny. You look great!

Take 3. Goal weight 110. CAUTION: YOU MUST REACH THIS WEIGHT BY THE END OF THE 8TH GRADE OR YOU FAIL AS A HUMAN BEING.

Goal reached.

Goal modified.

108. I like this number. I like the zero. The zero is my friend.

108, are you kidding? That's insane.

Isn't it?

I would say that you weigh about... 115.

115? 115? One? Fifteen?
How dare you.

Goal modified: 800/d.

Here, do you want this power bar?
I'm not hungry.

I'm. Not. Hungry.

She's losing weight again. Just look at her.

Don't look at me. I swear if you don't stop looking at me...

Let's go shopping, Amanda. What size do you wear now?

I, uh--

A 00? Those are a 00?

Um?

How much do you weigh?

110, I'm a cow, I know.

The scale fluctuates. Of course, I have to add ten pounds.

108, 107, 106, 105, 104, 103, 102, 101...

Soccer players have to eat, dear. Are you serious about this game?

Eat? I can eat? I'm allowed to eat?
I'm allowed to eat. Eat, I shall.

101, 102, 103, 104, 105................. 115.

Can you tell I've gained weight?

Yes.

What!??

Cross Country.

Runners have to eat, dear.

Oh, I know. I like eating.

Have you gained weight. Amanda? Have you--

Why would you ask someone that?

I'm fat, I'm fat, I'm fat.

Shut up, you're beautiful.

No, I'm fat, I--

I said shut up. I seriously can't take this anymore. I can't take you anymore. You're calling me a liar. You stupid little...

Whimper.

The Point of No Return (and How It Doesn't Exist)

Your words make me shiver because I can feel Him in them, but there is nothing you can do. I know that you want to, and I know that I want you to. But I've done this before. It's a sad thing to say. I don't have all of the answers, but I know how to get them. I don't know why I return to the mud after brief episodes of standing on dry ground. The future looks so beautiful, but I turn my back. The numbers take over my body, and I give in to their song of shame. I see Truth in so many people, Truth that I long for, but I am filled with guilt rather than inspiration. In my cookie cutter life, there was a clear road to this Truth. How is it even possible that I have wound up in this mud, this flood of deception when the road was so straight? Looking to the past, I danced with one demon after the other. My mouth turned foul, my anger turned hot, my wrists turned raw and red. All of the Sunday School lessons, the Wisdom, the Truth, supplied to me so freely, collapsed on my recklessness and rebellion. I have always been given so much, yet I turned away from it all. In breaking my body, defiling the Temple which God has given to me, I broke the hearts of all that surrounded me. And I feel so terrible. Everything was so straight and proper, but my purposeless wrath was like a tornado, destroying everything in its path. I have no one to blame except for myself. How can I come back after this?

"'Come now, let's settle this,' says the Lord. 'Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow. Though they are red like crimson, I will make them as white as wool.'" Isaiah 1:18

"Let not mercy and truth forsake you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart..."

But how can I when the calorie content of every food I've consumed for the past four years is plastered upon this tablet like unwelcome graffiti? I wish I could just push this out of my mind, but it haunts me like nothing else. It was a religion. It was nothing less than a religion. Ana and Mia wanted to play god. I wanted to see God, but I couldn't get beyond the flesh. So I stopped and I starved and I swayed and I sank.

"You must not make for yourself an idol of any kind or an image of anything in the heavens or on the earth or in the sea. You must not bow down to them or worship them, for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God who will not tolerate your affection for any other gods..." Exodus 20:4-5a

But I did. I did. And in doing so, I stole from God. I stole away all of the devotion, honor, and praise that should have been given to Him and focused it on my body, on my restriction. I feel so bad. How can I shrug this off?

These past four years have been a blur. I can't even recall how I jumped from one extreme to the other.. one shameful practice to the next. And it's so hard to feel forgiven, so hard to feel free from it all. I know that God's love has no limits, but I replaced Him. It's weird thinking about it. You know how when you give up your citizenship to the United States, you can't get it back? What if God were like that? What if I could never go back to Him?

"His son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son.' But his father said to the servants, '. . . We must celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.'" Luke 15:21-24



My mind is so scattered and this probably doesn't even make sense, but I learned a lot today--a whole lot. And I hope to continue learning and growing every day.

"I am leaving you with a gift--peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don't be troubled or afraid." John 14:27

(:

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So much hostility in the air. So much hostility in the air.
You get what you want and then you get greedy.
You get what you want and then you forget everything else.

I don't even know where to start. There are so many abstract ideas running through my head that it's hard to breathe. Why can't I accept that everything happens for a reason? And why can't I be still?

I'm such a bad example. She was always there for me, and now she is breaking, she is leaving. I want to tell her that it'll all be OK, but who am I? Who am I? How can I tell her that it'll be OK? What can I say? I remember that day, two and a half years ago, when I was empty. I broke my year long fast, and it hurt me so much that I cried for two hours and had to go home. But God put her there. God put her there to encourage me, to build me up, to remind me that I was human... and I can never be thankful enough. Fragments of falling played over in my head tonight. I want to share how to come back. I want her to know how I came back, how she can come back. But I keep tripping and all of the slipping in the mud makes my story as bitter as blood. And it's meaningless. It's meaningless. Oh, God, don't let her die. Oh, God, don't let her die. I've never cared so much about a person's salvation. I've never cared so much about anything, really. And it kills me that I don't know what to do. It kills me that I'm probably the one leading her astray. She's seen me running before, and she thinks it's OK.

"The leaf, you hold so carefully, is what he made for you to enjoy. Do you like it? The leaf is just a detail to the twig that caresses it. That twig is just a detail to the branch that belongs to the trunk. The tree belongs to the ground and the ground belongs to the land. The land makes up the country that is surrounded by our oceans. The oceans and lands belong to this earth. And the earth belongs to you. And you belong to our God.

Do you see it now?"

Do you? Oh, your words are so beautiful, your soul is so beautiful. Can't you see how blessed you are? You've been through so much, you've been put through so much, but don't stop seeing. Don't stop seeing. The world needs you. And God wants you. My anguish does not even begin to compare to His as He mourns over your momentary blindness, your insatiable emptiness. Oh, please see and be filled.

/////edit

Oh, praise God for answering my prayer. Ahh, I am immensely happy and a little bit in awe by His mysterious ways.

Praise be to God, who has not rejected my prayer
or withheld his love from me! Psalm 66:20