The Box Assignment

I wanted to bring this box..

It’s measurements are 16x14x7. Empty, solid and already decorated.

On the outside there are large, watercolor- painted flowers; mostly in pink and purple. I love flowers!

The petals are shades of blue and green. A deep teal color floods the background.

There’s a flap with a magnetic closure that snaps the box shut. The flap is covered in gold foiled polka dots. Gold is my favorite accent!

A perfect representation; powerful in size, simple, yet bold. Home-goods was spot on!

My mom gave me the box, unbeknownst to her what my intentions were.

Now, what to fill it with? The inside of this box is already lined with a paper that is light pink with a brush pattern.

Ok. Let’s dig through this pile of life. I’ve got some bubble wrap, a few post-it notes, a bible, maybe a mirror?

Yikes.. there goes that bottle of tears, I can throw in half of a heart, shards of glass, unkind words, reminisce of a sandwich, a couple of diplomas, some likes on IG, empty relationships, busted hopes, deferred dreams, memories.. yeah… those memories.

The ones with the white house, yard space, barking dog, barbeques and family ties.

That took up a lot of space. I don’t know if there is room for anything else.

But these should fit too. I have photographs of smiles, scented candles, passport stamps from adventures, birthday cards, hugs and kisses, heavy duty tape, non-scale victories, a voice with passion, Starbucks gift cards, doodles from Olivia, a desire to empower, group text messages, a shot glass, a journal of wishes, nail polish, family-dynamics, more bubble wrap, yes.. more bubble wrap and the other half of a heart.

I wanted to bring this box..

It’s a 16x14x7. Empty, solid and an already decorated box. A perfect representation; powerful in size, simple, yet bold.

It was just too heavy to carry.

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Skinned knees and shit

It doesn’t matter how good it sounds. How logical it seems. “In the long run it makes sense”. Walking away is and has never been easy.

Have you ever ran and tripped ( maybe as a kid) and skinned your knee? It’s red and bleeding and the skin has clearly been scrapped off. It hurts to walk. The tears are from shock. The pain hasn’t even really set in yet. You’re just reliving the trauma. How did that happen?! Oh yeah. I remember now. :: Cringe :: stupid! stupid! Stupid!

I’m never doing that again.

Now it’s time for the soap and water or peroxide (my mom is in nursing). You have to clean it or you’re loosing your leg! It’s not alcohol thank God! but we all know it’s gonna sting one way or another.

The pouring of the peroxide feels cool and painless… then it begins… the sting and simultaneous foaming. ( Fuuuck! That stings! ) ok but it’s working right?!

Ok I did my part. I handled it… like Olivia Pope.

Anddddd… the healing process begins. The ointment, the bandaids, the soreness, the limping, the discoloration, the accidental bang ( fuck that hurt! ) the itching, the scabbing.

Ok. The pain went away. The skin is growing back– you can see the pigment… Finally. Healing.

Pretty much back to normal.. but the scar remains. Reminding you to.. idk… slow the hell down, stop texting and walking, 3 shots of tequila is enough, the railing is there for a reason, DON’T DO THAT AGAIN!

( more than likely, we do it again.. smh )

We’ve all been there. We all know that we will heal.. but the process is rough. I’m just saying.

-Candace

Matthew 11:28 ESV

Some context.. I have been upset on and off about the weight I’ve put on. I purchased a few new it run this week because the blazer I wanted to wear was too tight. Last night I posted a general msg on Facebook about wanting God to turn my struggle into strength. This morning I attempted to put on a coat and it also was too tight.

———-

My friend came across this scripture in her devotional and texted it to me while I slept.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest”

Below is my response:

Thank you for sending this. It makes sense. I just feel like aren’t I supposed to be doing my part so God can bless it? Waiting isn’t effective.

You know how I feel about my weight. I’m having such a hard time. Going to the group yesterday was cool and when I hear people ( especially WLS patients ) talk about people they know that “blew up” or “gained twice as much”‘or “are bigger than when they started” my heart sinks. I am torn up. Not only for them but It’s the most horrible feeling to recognize myself on track with these stories.

I feel like I’m stuck. Between my past ( where I’ve come from — the good and bad ) and my future ( where I could end up ) . Technically I would be in the present right? My present makes me feel like a failure of my past … at least when it comes to my weight gain. I’m so angry and sad. I try to smile through it because I want to accept myself, but I’m not happy like this. I’m disappointed and ashamed. I dont know where to place the blame. I’m scared and embarrassed. And those feelings perpetuate and give strength to my despair.

I don’t know how to fight it or if I even should. Every time I put something on that no longer fits– it’s a punch to the gut. My huge growing gut! Audrey asked .. “doesn’t that motivate you ? ” I wish it did. — I wish I had identified a “why?” Back then, that wasn’t so easily broken. That I could bottle up and drop a dab on my tongue whenever I was loosing motivation.

I literally am terrified to commit. Contemplating all that i would have to sacrifice and all the “willpower” and all the failures and set backs that I would need to endure. Questioning WHY I HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS???? I read this post yesterday from this guy who was acknowledging his transformation. He started out at 380 had surgery went down to 230 and regained up to 550! He is now at 185 and gives God all the Glory and says it was a spiritual journey.

God did this. He created all of this. I’m thankful and pissed. I realized the other day by the water.. that I didn’t know God when I had the surgery. He was not acknowledged. From my perspective ..He had nothing to do with it. I did t even know what a blessing was. In retrospect.. I took it all for granted. It was such a fleshy experience. So…! This is where I am. I want to OVERCOME this craziness!

——–

I guess I’m posting this for awareness and possibly / hopefully testimonial purposes.

Thoughts while I’m waiting .. 

God’s definition of your husband is that man who helps you become the best version of yourself and wants you to help him do the same. -The Wait, Devon Franklin and Meagan Good

Me:  How comforting. Who doesnt want such a partner? I do. 

Me: God provides love, purpose, connection and joy. He has surely blessed my husband with these attributes.

Me: What about when you want it to be something to so bad, that you may even start to force it into the mold?

Me: How can you tell when it’s real?

Me: Quoting.. “Even so ought husbands also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his own wife loveth himself:” Ephesians 5:28

Me: Does that now make it real? 

Me: What about when you feel so alone, that this vow now seems stupid.

Me:  I can feel myself getting angry waiting on a text or a call from someone who said I was their main focus? Contemplating going back through a door that I left cracked just incase of lonely nights, that the wind just swung wide open and is whispering my name.  

Me: There was this man on the train the other day.. Probably in his mid to late 60s. He was being extra and was mumbling ( angrily ) about being single for the past 5 years lol. I thought to myself .. I absolutely get it sir!

Me: In all honesty, I do believe that my best friend is out there. That God is preparing me to meet him. I will know it’s real when I can talk to him about my prayers, laugh with him, cry with him, flirt with him, learn with him and love with him. 

Me: He will propose marriage to me. 

Me: Always hoping that the next guy, is the last guy. 

Lifting my head..to say I’m sorry. 

I feel pretty disconnected. Like someone cut the telephone wire or the bill wasn’t paid. I’m steady talking into the muted phone as if what I’m doing is really making any sense. 

I did something I shouldn’t have done and feel so ashamed. I shy away because I don’t  want to face up to the wrath of disobedience. My head hangs low, my eyes closed tight. 

I thought I was making progress only to fall three steps back. Now I’m scared to leave myself vulnerable for that kind of disappointment. 

The punishment is shame. 

Today at service Pastor said: 

Don’t think because you have sinned your relationship can’t be saved. Regardless of what you’ve done , in spite of yourself.. God Loves you. Confess your sins, say you’re sorry — you will be forgiven. 

 A prayer from the heart that is honest and most vulnerable. There is no judgement but a hope of dialogue. 

It’s time to confess and welcome the warmth of forgiveness. To mend what has been broken. To step into the light away from the shadow. To receive a hug only The Father can give. For my tears to be wiped away leaving only streaks of faith. 

Confessing takes bravery. Forgiveness renews strength.