Lady Cramps

I worked out with HT (hot trainer) last night. It wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be, as is true with most things it seems.

HT had me working out so he could observe my endurance, posture and core strength. He said I did good and had good habits in everything, which was news to me.
At one point I was sitting on the floor doing some ab exercises, trying to hold my core in and not fart (what?) when my abs cramped up. So I stopped and had a conversation that went as such:

Me: "Youch! I have a cramp!" (pant pant pant)
HT: "That's not good, is it a dehydration cramp or a um....er...uh...lady cramp?"
Me: (Trying to contain my laughter and not make out with HT on the spot) "It's an 'I don't have any abdominal muscles cramp'"
HT: "Oh. Ok then" (blushes)

If possible HT got a little cuter and more endearing.
He said that I have a good base of habits and endurance and he's going to give me jump start work outs to do at least 2 other times a week. Those will be adapted as my strength and flexibility increases.

Friday I'm meeting with a Dr. at the gym who will do my body metrics (or something). He'll be measuring my BMI, my active and resting metabolism and how many calories I burn at rest (which is that the same as metabolism? I don't know). I'll be meeting with him once every 6 weeks to track the progress of increasing my metabolism and decreasing my BMI (which every time I type that I think poop...you know BM. Anyone? Anyone? Oh never mind)
Dr Man will give HT the clinical side of what's going on with my body and HT will use that information to help me establish a functional and sustainable nutrition and exercise plan over the next year.
Also, I will not be posting my weight, just so you know. Some bloggers have done that but I'm a little to vain for that. Is that good or bad? I don't care.
But I'll try to give updates on weight/inch loss if possible every 6 or so weeks when I meet with Dr Man.

So here we go. I'm going to be melodramatic and awkward about it just in case you didn't know me at all and thought things were always non-dramatic and simple with me. Also, I can't believe I typed fart and poop in the same post....


Turn and Face the Strain

I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same

Inevitably before any major change I exert a great deal of energy talking myself out of changing. It's not that I dislike change, because I like it, a lot, in theory and in others.
I find change revitalizing and energizing, I enjoy being challenged and stretched, pushed and shoved out of my comfort zone. I love change, when I'm looking back on it in the review mirror, or even out the side of it when I'm already in it.

But change is like the first tentative squealing steps into an ice cold pool in the biting January air. At the beginning I will do everything up to and including throwing myself on the ground and beating my fists on the floor. I hate it.
Change, when I see it coming down the pike is stressful, I'm sure for you too. I don't know what to expect, I don't know what will happen, I wonder about what I will wear, what I will say, will anyone talk to me, how will I be ridiculed and made fun of. I worry, I fear.

I'm claiming my 30th year as a year that I get healthy. Because I'm not healthy. Not even a little. I hate the idea of having to get healthy because it means changing some deeply ingrained habits and thoughts about my physical self.
For so long I felt like a pile of poop on the inside. Ugly, unlovable, undeserving of grace and kindness. I felt, well honestly I felt like I knew that at any moment the world would come crashing down on me and those that I admired, that I loved and longed to love me would wake up and leave because I felt so disgusting.

Since I fell in love with Jesus and began following Him God has been aggressively and at times painfully pursuing all the fragmented pieces of me. He's been stitching me back together and showing me in unimaginable ways that the way I used to feel on the inside was a damn lie. He's shown me that just because something is said to and about me doesn't make it true. He's brought people into my life that speak God into my life and his truth into my heart. It has been 5 years since it began and 2 years since I started cooperating with the work God has been doing.
I still fight the urges to remember the poison that used to live inside, when I'm stressed or tired I will still believe that I am worthless and ugly inside and out for at least a little bit. But my insides are recovering, they're feeling better and more stable.

I'm ready for the outside to match the inside.
But I still fight. The weight is an old friend, something that has comforted me through food and laziness. It's given me a convenient excuse to not take risks, to not engage relationships both platonic and otherwise. The weight has been my barrier against the world, everything and everyone in it.
I'm terrified and rationalizing that it's just not that bad I can wait a little longer, it's not a big deal. It's exhausting, annoying, inconvenient and it makes me feel crabby most of the time.

Tonight, it begins in earnest. I signed up with a personal trainer, a one on one wiping the floor with me personal trainer and certified nutritionist.
I'm afraid I'll fail, that I won't lose anything, that it won't make a difference, that I'll sabotage with chocolate peanut butter Reeses Pumpkins and Big Macs. I'm afraid I'll look stupid, that I'll get hurt somehow, that I won't be prepared for what happens, that I won't have the discipline and so on and so on.

But I'm turning and facing the strain. The strain that comes in changing everything.


Dirty Girls Ministry

I stumbled across Crystal through Anne Jackson .
I generally follow the rabbit hole of the internet through all sorts of random connections and a lot of them end up fizzling out after only a few weeks. But I love what Crystal Renaud is doing. She is boldly stepping out in faith and beginning a ministry called Dirty Girls Ministries (DGM) on the topic of women addicted to pornography.
DGM is a Christian anti-pornography ministry created to help women who struggle with pornography addiction.
There are tons of resources and support out there for men that are dealing with addiction to porn but only a few for women. She is speaking from her own personal addiction and deliverence from pornography and it's been amazing to watch her journy from across the world wide interweb.
Check out the links below and support her on the journey God is calling her to. Pass the information along to women you may know that are struggling under the stifling weight of addiction to pornography; let them know they are not alone in their struggles.

The mission of Dirty Girls is to:

-Bring awareness to the porn problem among women today
-Show struggling women they are not alone
-Demonstrate hope for recovery from this addiction
-Explain that the Bible and Jesus have the answer

DGM offers recovery groups, coaching networks, resources and prayer support for women with this problem.

Visit DGM.

Read Crystal’s personal blog.

Follow DGM on Twitter.



I hurt my back yesterday, somehow or another. So to change positions or move to much causes waves of pain to shoot through my lower back and upper legs.
I was telling Kevin, our friendly masseuse that it only hurt when I changed positions, that as long as I stayed still the pain was duller, more manageable. He replied, "Well that isn't anyway to fix the problem"

My natural state is to live life like that. To change positions, to move forward or sideways or even backwards causes ripples of pain or discomfort to wash over me and I freeze, unwilling to move and cause anymore discomfort.
If something awkward would come up I would just hold my breath and hope that whatever it was would just go away. I've done it with money, with friendships, with men, with housekeeping and yard care. I've buried my head in the sand when I've heard funny noises while driving my car, which resulted in the repair being so much more costly than it really needed to. I freeze and call it procrastination or indifference, but it's all the same. It is all me holding myself in one stiff position to avoid the pain or discomfort that comes with change, any change no matter how slight.

But I can feel it starting to change. I can feel the stiffness of my emotional and relational joints loosening up stretching after a long winters nap. I'm still stiff, and I'm still inclined to just stay still, say it's not a big deal and find a nice spot on the beach where I can bury my head.
It's hard and often exhausting work re-teaching my body what food it needs, it's uncomfortable and tear inducing to be straight forward about things that before would have been dramatically discussed in private and decisions made out of speculation instead of the truth. It's terrifying to speak things out that I need and want. It's overwhelming to fight the slithering voice that tells me not to be pushy and tells me that the only response to my speaking out will be hatred and condemnation.
I, at times, will find myself gasping for air as I relearn how to breathe, fighting back tears at the relief that my words and actions are not meant with the condemnation that the lying slithering voice warns me about.
I'm still learning that I'm a worthy girl, a girl that deserves to be spoken to kindly and that deserves to be part of a community of people that I so admire. I'm still learning that I'm a girl people love and that it's ok to ask them for help, that they desire for me to ask.

It hurts still, but I'm learning that the moving is lessening the sting and eventually this stiffness will be gone, I just have to keep moving. Because to bury my head in the sand, to not move forward with the change God is calling me towards will only end up costing me more than moving forward costs.

Disturb Us, Lord - 1577
A Prayer by Francis Drake

Disturb us, Lord, when
We are too well pleased with ourselves
When our dreams have come true
Because we dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the Waters of Life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery:
Where losing sight of land
We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push us in the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.

Posts that may only be slightly related:
Learning to Breathe
Share your Darkness
Hidden Scars


That is so gay

I don't hate a lot of things. But I HATE it when people say something is so gay. HATE.IT

There have recently been a rash of PSA's going around about saying that's so gay, and I was in a room with someone the first time they saw it. Their response? That is so gay!
Here is one example:

I HATE it. Please don't do it around me, I HATE it.
Have you got the picture yet?
I would like to say that I'm not trying to get all preachy on you but I don't really care if I am. A pastor at a church that I follow through multiple staff members blogs and twitters (tweets?) posted a tweet the other day that said he was considering unfollowing someone because their avatar was so gay. I clicked on the link and it was a picture of a pair of socks. Socks. Last time I understood the definition of gay it did not include a pair of socks.
I immediately unfollowed that pastor because seriously?
I mean I understand that he was joking, I understand that a lot of the people that say "that's so gay" are joking and not thinking about what they say and what it means, how it impacts people around them. I understand that those sentiments are true of words and phrases other than "that's so gay".
But stop. Just stop.

I talked to a friend the other day about Pete Gall's book My Beautiful Idol and a particular section of the book that touched me deeply. I wrote about it here. It was about a worship leader at a church in Colorado that was struggling with being a gay man. When I got done talking to her about it she said that was one of the first times she'd heard of a gay person being in a church, let alone participating in one. Which made me really sad. She said it made her sad too that she didn't hear about it more.
Sometimes, it seems like all believers want to do is define sin. Is it important to define sin? Absolutely. But I have not been briefed at the door of any church about my gluttony, my hypocrisy, my pre-marital heterosexual activity. Yet we feel the need to define for someone that probably already feels lost, alone, and quite possibly shamed by their own family that they are sinners. That phrase also can imply that we then are not. Because WE'RE allowed, in all of our heterosexual sin to participate and find a home church. Because we only are tempted by members of the opposite sex we're allowed to be in the club.
But we better make clear to the man that loves other men and the woman that loves other women that they are less than and dirty.

So for me, when this pastor posted so flippantly about someones "gay avatar" and that avatar was socks I was so deeply offended. I gasped.
I try not to be offended to much but this deeply offended me. I know that to some of you I might be overreacting but I just don't care.
Pastors especially are rejoicing in the souls that are touched through their ministry, the volunteers whose lives are changed and how deep of an impact they are making with those that they serve. Yet so flippantly we throw out the phrase "that is so gay" as if it isn't deeply offensive to many people gay and straight.
As if somehow they are the one people group that don't deserve a place to come where they can belong before they believe or behave. As if they are the one people group that don't deserve to have an unabashed love affair with the one that created them and loves them exactly how they are, that desperately longs for his children to be reconciled to him through Jesus.

Could I be taking it to far? Probably. I'm not even trying to get into the "is being gay a sin" issue. I don't really care to get into that, that is better debated and blogged about by other people more studied than I am. All I know is that one little phrase, tweeted so randomly and thoughtlessly is online now and that little tweet is speaking for a church that is doing so much good in the world.
It's admirable to serve tangibly in large and small ways, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, start schools and hospitals overseas and to bring together a community. But everything we do, not just the things we do in public, during corporate church activities is either inviting people to Jesus or driving them away. Every word that we speak and action we take. Myself included.
I just had to get that off my chest.

Posts that may only be slightly related:
I'm so Offended
My Bow isn't Pink
I get the feeling I'm not supposed to talk about this


I blame Kim Kardashian

(I actually had to google her name to make sure I was spelling it right.)

The other day I'm at the gym doing this ab machine thingy and feeling pretty good about my progress so far. I'd been dedicated, disciplined, it had been DAYS since a fast food french fry had touched my lips. I weighed myself, and while I knew it was irrational I was a little disappointed I hadn't lost oh say a hundred or so pounds in the last week. I know I know, it takes time, persistence, blah blah blah.
But I was feeling strong and limber, pumped with all the adrenaline doubling my time on the elliptical machine had brought.

But I digress, I was on an ab machine thingy. I was feeling pretty good, I was feeling confident and strong, I was SMILING at strange boys coyly. (ugh)
Then on the jumbotron in the downstairs free weight area I notice there is a news ticker. So I start reading to distract myself from the ache that was growing in the sides of my abdomen. Then on the video an image of Kim Kardashian pops up. Apparently she has gotten a "new bikini body". Because her old one was hideous and only about a million guys wanted to date her instead of a billion.
They had a snippet of her talking about losing 15 pounds to finally make if from a size 6 to a size 2. She just felt so unhealthy and out of shape that she just had to get that 15 pounds off, and while she may still have a ways to go she's working on it.
Well whoopty freakin do Kim Kardashian.
Ok ok, I realize, that's really petty and dumb for me to say, and normally I can control it but I sat there and all of my energy and confidence was deflated. I suddenly was so aware of every roll and bulge that my shirt was doing a poor job of covering and all I wanted was to find the closest mumu and McDonalds drive thru and put an end to this ridiculous charade of trying to get healthy.
Like I said, I realize I was overreacting, but I've been thinking about it a lot since then. Especially considering I decided to finish a book this morning instead of going to Urban Iron like I swore I was going to.

I generally am a take responsibility for your own actions (and heck I even try to take responsibility for other peoples sometimes) but I am just constantly amazed at how affected I am by those types of things. I'm amazed at how easily the thought, well you'll never be a size 6 so you should probably just give up and stay a size 4bajillion. I just hate that. Even more, I hate that it is still such an influence in my life. Isn't that worry supposed to be for teens and pre teens? Shouldn't I know better by now? I'm a grown up, I'm pretty sure I am anyway. I have a mortgage apparently that makes you a grown up.
I know that it's not just me, and I know that it's not just women. But I have been just so surprised at how affected I was by Kim Kardashian finally overcoming her obesity and losing 15 pounds.
I know I know, it's Hollywood, I shouldn't judge myself by their standards, I shouldn't strive to look, talk, think, act like them. I know.

But sometimes, the crazy in my head overtakes me and I just don't know how to get it out.
So here I am, several days later and I still haven't let fast food fries grace my lips. I went grocery shopping today and didn't buy anything chocolate or to terrible for me. (Although I lingered quite a bit at the brownies....)
I'm not trying to be a size 6, I'd settle for sizes I can easily find cute clothes in without wandering into the woman's version of the big and tall section. Even though I'm trying to get healthy to get healthy and be more productive and active, sometimes, sometimes I think the deeper longing is to feel beautiful at all.

I blame Kim Kardashian, even though I know she isn't perfect. Even though I know that she has her problems, flaws and imperfect relationships.
Even though it isn't fair, I blame her. Because sometimes, it's so much easier blaming someone else then taking responsibility for the mess I've gotten myself into.

Posts that may only be slightly related:
Learning to Breathe
Some Days
Kind of Girl


Top 10 9/9/09

I got this idea from Amy Beth over at Ministry so Fabulous!

Apparently I can get a little serious on here. At least that's the word on the street. So in an effort to look on the bright side of life (in writing) I think I'll start posting Top 10 lists. Because 10 is more even than 9 and it soothes my OCD soul.
They could be about my day, any day, people, places, things...pretty much any noun. Mostly good, a few interesting things about the aforementioned nouns.
Here's my Top 10 for today.

10: Had a wonderful lunch outside with Katie and some fun people at work. Laughter and much merriment lightened my cranky pants mood

9: I closed 10 open issues at work today. Only 127 more to go....

8: My kitchen is still clean and organized. Funny how once the flow improved and it made more sense where everything went I was more inclined to put it away when I was done. Who would have thought?

7: I got gas for under $2.30, lovely

6: Had a lovely time chatting on gmail with Katy. I don't get to talk to her nearly enough.

5: I watched the new Dugger episode and I really like Michelle's new hairstyle, I think it's the bangs swept to the side that does it for me. (and no I don't care that a TV show made it on the list, it will happen often)

4: I stumbled across Ikea Heights via Young House Love's blog. There are only 4 episodes, watch it. Now. Also, check out Young House Love if you haven't already. They are awesome and I love checking out their DIY projects

3: Day 9 of not eating anyplace that has a drive thru (Chipotle is thankfully excluded from that!) Day 2 of no soda. I just keep chanting, I think I can I think I can.

2: I discovered I really like pinto beans. Who knew?! I really like them in my Chipotle chicken bol. Yum!

1: Day 9 of my 6 week workout resolution. I went to the gym with Beth from church and went 20 minutes running on the elliptical, did ab work and about a million abductors (I think?) on a machine and almost fell over in front of some sweaty dudes when I got up. I'm sore and I've never sweated so much intentionally in my life. But I'm doing ok with it so far. Although I'm finding that I'm disappointed I'm not already a size 2 but whatever. (Hearing how Kim Kardashian worked so hard to lose 15 pounds and went from size 6 to size 2 certainly doesn't help...)

So those are 10 things about today. Now I'm off to finish the 18 Kids and Counting episode. It's Jame's birthday and he's getting a bike!


But I'm still broken

A few years back Justin gave me a few books he had to read for seminary. I filed them on my shelf with a million other books that I want to read but never make time to read.
Last Sunday, in a fit of organizational OCD I rearranged my bookcase and set all of the books I've never read or finished on one shelf (organized by category). I decided that I wasn't going to buy another book or set foot in another library until I had read them all. I picked up one book at random and it was Brokenness by Nancy Leigh DeMoss

Here's the blurb from Amazon about the book:

We tend to think of brokenness as being sad and gloomy and downcast, never smiling, never laughing or as being morbidly introspective, always trying to dig up some new sin to confess. Some have the image of brokenness as a sort of false humility, where we're continually putting ourselves down. Nancy Leigh DeMoss tells us that God's idea of brokenness is not a feeling, it is not an emotion -- it is a choice we make. When we have humbled ourselves before the Lord in brokenness, then He will lift us up.

All the while I've been hearing and inclining my ear more and more to something God has been whispering to me about for quite awhile. This book killed me. It just killed me. It has been one of the steps along the way of a new facet to my relationship with God and it's been really intense; can't even really describe it intense. Random people have showed up in amazing ways and confirmed (in the exact words God had been whispering to me) what I had felt going on and the conviction I had been feeling from God. I tried my best to hide from these conversations but they sought me out in the middle of the night sometimes.

I finished the book pretty quick and began reading, Learning My Name by Pete Gall today. I had read his first book, My Beautiful Idol, which I wrote about here, before and loved it. It changed a lot of my perspective on going first in confession and hard prayer requests to make way for others that were scared to share.
Right off the bat I could tell that this book was right in line with the Brokenness book and the convicting theme of late that I've been getting from God and through all sorts of conversations, blogs, sermons and other random venues. I just can't believe (except I actually can) the way that God has orchestrated all of this.

I don't do well with intense. I joke and dodge, defer and demur to avoid the hard stuff. Especially if it's a sustained period of intensity I just shut down and shut off. I become deadened to the intensity as if my very survival depends on it.
Which, isn't that just so dramatic? I mean, I never used to think I was that dramatic but it turns out I sort of am.

There was a line in the preface where Gall speaks about how sometimes he's surprised he's still broken. He repents, confesses and goes on and sins no more but is still surprised that he's broken. It was one of those moments when I realized that I'm surprised I'm still broken too.
Broken seems to me to indicate something that needs to be fixed, something that needs to be repaired because broken in bad, it's less than. But one of the things I'm still chewing over from DeMoss' book is that; "When we have humbled ourselves before the Lord in brokenness, then He will lift us up."

I'm surprised when I finally stop pouting and stomping my feet and work to address something head on that I'm still broken. I know intellectually that I'm still broken, that I still need Jesus just as desperately when everything is AOK and going fine, but emotionally it just really surprises me sometimes that I'm still broken. Because to me broken means something bad, something dramatic and awful. But I'm trying to relearn that it isn't just that, it's a humbleness that isn't self-loathing and a submission that isn't opression.

It's amazing to me how deep this seemingly superficial conviction is going, I'm surprised every day at how God is moving in this. I've been filled with a renewed sense of awe at the way God moves and works and how deeply He loves us.

LORD, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness Psalm 115:1

May God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ give you grace and peace. Jesus gave his life for our sins, just as God our Father planned, in order to rescue us from this evil world in which we live. All glory to God forever and ever! Amen.
Galatians 1:3-5



I spend a lot of time afraid. Afraid of killers, afraid of letting people down, afraid of money, time management, conversations, social interactions, anything. I call it worry, concern, ambivilance most of the time but God has realy revealed to me that most of those other words are just nicknames for fear.

I'm afraid of looking silly, afraid of making a mistake, afraid of giving the wrong answer to questions that don't even have right answers. I'm afraid of suceeding and afraid of failing, I'm afraid of committment and I'm afraid of being alone.
I'm afraid to let you know that I'm afraid because I don't want to hear your rational explanations for why I shouldn't be afraid anymore.

My fear is familiar. It's comforting. But it's empty.
I don't want to be afraid anymore.

You came near when I called on you;you said, 'Do not fear!
Lamentations 3:57

The LORD is on my side; I will not fear.What can man do to me?
Psalm 118:6



I have such difficulty discussing what it is that I need from people. Support, words of encouragement, anything.
I hope and hope that they'll guess, that they'll just know; which rarely ever happens.
When I accidentally bump into getting my hopes and desires met I rejoice because they have gotten it right. But then we slip back into the mundane daily ins and outs of relationships.

It's not their fault. It's mine.
I'm a proud person that almost demands perfection from myself. Perfection that isn't attainable, perfection that I know isn't even true. My natural position is oh it's ok it's alright. Even when I know it's not true. Even when it's the last thing I expect from other people.

I've been feeling God moving on that. His hand heavy on my heart to address not only that but other specific things. It's so scary.
In a brazen moment of bravery I asked someone to pray with me (over several weeks time) that God not lift his hand. That he keep on me and at me because my natural evasive response was to oh it's alright it away. It has been a heavy few weeks for me filled with more tears than I knew I had left, and I'm sure it's not even close to being over.

I had a conversation last night that I did not want to have. I didn't want to tell this person about my worries and concerns. I felt silly for not being this put together girl. But I did it; and it was fine. Just like I knew it would be.
I'm still praying that God doesn't lift his hand. I would love it if you would pray for that too.
In the mean time, my margin in life is going to drop significantly. I don't know what that's going to look like but I ask for your patience.
God is calling me to something and I'm terrified to move and I'm terrified to not move. All I know is I have to move over this wall of perfectionism and hiding that I've built my life behind.
I hear the other side is worth it.


Learning to Breathe

Shoulders down, head back, chest out, breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I don't breathe. When things are stressful and make me uncomfortable I hold my breath. Because I can control it.
I alone decide when I breathe. Doesn't matter what you're doing or saying I choose when to inhale and exhale.

I hold myself just so. Shifting and diverting the uncomfortable gazes and conversations that challenge me. Breathe Breathe Breathe Breathe. I hold my breath; like a child in the midst of a temper tantrum. Fists clenched by my side, neck, arms, legs; all tensed and ready to flee if it's to much, to intense, to direct, to honest.
Clearly it is socially unacceptable to just run screeching from every uncomfortable situation. So I hold my breath. I withhold my breath.

For so long I've held myself just so. Rigid and unyielding, not breathing, unmoving. I'd bring up how T-Rex's have bad sight so if you don't move they can't see you, but Stephanie would make fun of me (which I secretly love). If I don't move, don't even breathe then you won't notice me. You won't notice the awkward girl that while so desperate for you to see her longs to just be invisible and unnoticed.

My body doesn't know any different anymore. I've held myself just so for so long that it's become the norm for my body to go into those poses. It sometimes is more natural for me to hold my breath than to inhale and exhale.
I feel protected, comforted by those poses. Because I don't want to look foolish. I don't want to breathe to heavy. I don't want the way I stand to expose the girl I see when I look at myself.

Trying to relearn how to breathe; how to hold myself naturally, in a way that strengthens my body instead of adding pressure to these weary bones is hard. It's a locomotive that's been chugging along and full speed ahead for 20 years. Stopping it is hard. Learning to breathe the way my body needs me to is hard. I've been holding my breath for more than 20 years.

I'm trying to move past the appearance. The appearance that this is easy working though this issue that God has made clear to me is a spiritual one and not just a physical one. It's not easy. It is really hard and really painful. I cried 5 times tonight, ugly snot all over my face cried in front of a roomful of women that I didn't know (and one I did). I couldn't stop.
The muscles stretched and I broke. Again and again. I broke. The hurt I carry around my waist and on my thighs was mad that I dared bother it. The anger I've rested on my hips and chin is just to much it has to go.