I haven’t been online for a while. Without the internet, I kept myself entertained by taking selfies! Enjoy!
I haven’t been online for a while. Without the internet, I kept myself entertained by taking selfies! Enjoy!
My friends, now I’ve shared with you the darkest parts of myself. It’s time to let my light shine through. We’ve talked about my past. I’m glad it’s my past. I can’t imagine my life differently but I’m sure glad it’s over.
God gifted me with my one life. I was born to my only parents. Every human being is unique. In my life, I’ve had choices. I know my history is not exactly the same as yours. But I also know I’m not alone in having felt suffering, pain and sadness. I know I’m not alone in having found happiness.
Love is all that matters. What is good is written on my heart. I have a heart of gold. Life is a miracle. Every moment can be a good and beautiful gift. Thanks Jesus!
I started smoking tobacco in Europe mostly when I had it in spliffs with hash or weed. I probably tried a cigarette a few times before when I was really drunk, but I was actually really against smoking cigarettes back then. I thought it was gross. But also sometimes I thought it was sexy.
When I got back home to Alaska, I tried to learn to smoke tobacco for my own pleasure. At first I only smoked tobacco mixed with weed. But that would give me these horrible spinning headaches where I would feel sick to my stomach and need to lie on the ground feeling mostly bad and also too high to function. Finally someone explained to me about not mixing weed and tobacco because of the head spin. So that was great. But I still wanted to smoke cigarettes. I was committed to the idea that life was misery. Smoking a cigarette was my signal to the world that I was a suicide girl. I wanted to add that at age 19, I could finally buy cigarettes legally which is a totally different transaction than buying illegal drugs. So I forced myself to learn to smoke cigarettes one painful puff at a time. Well, then I was a smoker.
Then I moved to Seattle. I had been there before. I had an image of it as super cool, full of goth and scene and artistic people. Full of young people smoking cigarettes full of apparent apathy. I thought I wanted to fit in there. I wanted to leave my small town and flock to the city. And I did fit in there. I smoked cigarettes in the same places other smokers once made such romantic impressions on me.
When Heath and I met, we were both pack a day smokers. So we would smoke cigarettes together. It was so romantic. He would light my cigarette for me, leaning in close. Then we would stand outside talking or just looking at each other.
Then in early 2009 we both caught a bad strain of the flu. We were both so sick. We tried to smoke but it was impossible. Trying to take the briefest puff led to huge pain in my lungs. So we had to quit until the flu was over. When we recovered a few weeks later, it still hurt to smoke. And we never picked the habit back up.
When this happened we were in the middle of playing Metal Gear Solid 4. In this game, the main character is an old smoker. He is rendered constantly coughing because of his cigarette addiction. He often looks sick and close to death. This game had a big effect on me. It made really happy to quit cigarettes. Back then, I thought of getting the flu and quitting cigarettes as a random happy coincidence, but now I see the hand of God helping me.
After stopping smoking cigarettes, I experienced a huge surge in health. I could actually walk a block without getting out of breath. I was finally able to get back into enjoying exercise. Four years later, I’m so grateful to God that I don’t smoke cigarettes. God made it easy for me.
Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. This is not advice on how to quit cigarettes.
When I was a teenager, I drank a lot. I don’t really remember how much I drank. But I know I frequently got drunk and I frequently got drunk to the point of blacking out. I don’t know if I even need to explain more than this because this seems common. By the time I turned 21, I drank about half a fifth of alcohol or a bottle of wine + daily and probably more on weekends. And by the time I turned 21, I was so miserable and exhausted with my life even though I acted like I was having fun. I hated everything about it. Except for 1 female lover who was a bright light in my dark life. But I began to put myself in dangerous situations while drunk in order to suicide I guess. I could finally buy alcohol for myself instead of needing an older friend. And I could go to bars. But what I found in bars bored me. I met people there who I judged to be uncool. The friends I already had were cooler. But they weren’t cool enough. I had expected turning 21 to be some big deal, but for me it was a let down. So I began to seek more darkness. I longed for pain, destruction, and drama to make me feel alive – close to death to feel alive – and the risk of really dying of finally answering the question, “what happens when you die?”
But because I was drunk everything had an element of random. I met Heath and I flirted with him. Then he took me home. I had a great time with him of course that night. I wanted to stay with him. He wanted me to stay with him. He turned out to be nice. <3. We are still together 5 years later!
I stopped drinking so much after getting together with Heath right away. I wanted to be sober to get to know him better and to treasure and remember each nice moment. We smoked weed together too. And I didn't stop drinking completely. I even got drunk with my new lover and his friends, sometimes more than I should, but never again until I puked or blacked out. It was a huge relief to find I could be happy. Loving Heath and being loved by him made me happy.
When I got pregnant with Lovely Girl, I stopped having any alcohol. I still haven't had any since she was born. Getting drunk can be fun but it impairs my judgment. Caring for Lovely Girl is my full time responsibility. It's a blessing! I don't mind giving up wine etc. Besides, if I want to go out and unwind, I would do it by smoking a bowl. I prefer the meditative effect of marijuana to the inebriating effect of alcohol.
Disclaimer: This is not medical advice or advice of any kind about how to quit binge drinking.
I tried drugs between ages 17-19. I’m not innocent. I wanted them. I wanted to get messed up. I thought life was a disaster and I wanted to have fun. I wanted new experiences to see if anything could make me feel good. I thought if I died there would be no more pain. I really was actively pursuing death in those days. I hated my body. It was not good enough. I hated what I saw as a future life: growing old and fat, working in a boring, meaningless job, watching mindless television and surfing the web to evade sleep and avoid a new morning. So, I said yes to drugs. I wanted to at least live before I died.
I lived a lifestyle of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. That was the allure. There was the glamour. It was a feeling of finally fitting into a family of misfit friends. It was the feeling of getting high, of losing control or feeling pleasure or undergoing a personality transformation that at first felt for the better. It was both controlling my body and destroying it. So that’s what I was after. Leading up to my 19th birthday, the drugs I took in order were: vicodin, percocet, adderal, crystal meth, klonopin, crack.
So I considered myself a weekend warrior: work/study/university classes during the week and party weekends. It was all fun or at least exciting or interesting. I had a huge ego. I oscillated between thinking I was better than everyone else and thinking I was worthless. OK, so there was the life of the party and there was escapism. But then there was increasingly paranoia, violence, deteriorating health, and the lingering shadow of death.
All this time when I was doing drugs I had this huge disdain for weed. And I had never even tried it. I thought it was not hardcore enough for me. Then I traveled to Europe where I smoked weed for the first time where it is legal in Amsterdam, Netherlands. And it had a huge and positive impact on me.
I had imagined that on my trip to Europe, I would finally try cocaine and spend my time between the museums and the disco. Instead, I unwound a tiny bit. I enjoyed looking at nature, man made cities and architecture, & of course art. I even enjoyed good food and interacting with people. :-). Although I was still pretty much a hot mess. ;-).
There was 1 time in Spain when I tried cocaine in someone’s cigarette with a friend and then tried to buy more. I won’t seriously bore you with the whole story but it ended up being sketchy. And I had a moment of fear where I wondered if I would ever get home to see my parents again. So I bailed; we banged on the door of a closed casino where there were people inside. They let us in. A man there spoke French and no one spoke English. So I drunkenly and sobbingly explained my situation in French: that I had wanted to buy cocaine from this person, but then I didn’t want to anymore because I realized it was a bad idea. They let me stay there. Then my other friend found me there and we all went back home.
After that I stuck to hash. And I had a surprisingly good and low key 3 month, youthful European adventure. Then I returned home to Juneau, Alaska. I felt changed but nothing else had. I still loved my old friends and I still liked to party. But I no longer felt this urge to party to the edge of my physical limits.
This was the time when I was a beginning stoner. Getting high was a powerful experience, where my own mind was freed. I tried to follow the conversation in a room of a dozen people while trying to follow my own thoughts. I had nice times with friends. I even enjoyed getting stoned with only my own company. I looked at the sky full of clouds and the stars. My hometown Juneau, Alaska is beautiful. I treasured its beauty. I felt oneness with nature. I was finally a little calmer and a little less angry. But I still wasn’t entirely happy. I was still very insecure. I was still seeking to know my own soul.
One day, at a party, when I was 19, I tried heroin. I didn’t inject it. I only smoked it. I only even got a tiny bit high. But I kept reflecting on the experience. I questioned why I was doing what I was doing. So that along with some other scandals I won’t talk about helped me decide to move away from Juneau. I imagined that leaving would give me a fresh start. It would be a non confrontational way to move on. I began to have this vision: Juneau is surrounded on 3 sides by mountains and on the fourth side is the Pacific Ocean. There are no roads out; one comes or goes by plane or boat. I saw myself flying up over the town of Juneau with its population of 35,000. I flew over the mountains into Canada bathed in sunlight. In the vision I felt a literal leaving behind of my past.
So I stacked up my dollars until I could pay for a deposit and first few months rent on an apartment and I moved to Seattle. It could have been easy to do drugs there. Seattle has a thriving drug scene and I was aware of it. It’s prevalent when your eyes are opened to that. But that wasn’t what I moved there for. People offered me cocaine twice in Seattle. The first time was by a coworker. The second time was by a stranger at a party. It was easy to say no because I had redefined myself as not a drug user.
Seattle also has a huge thriving weed culture. After all Seattle’s Hempfest is the world’s largest celebration of cannabis. And that is what I moved to Seattle for. So that’s where I grew into a more mature stoner. Then I met my sexy stony husband. Now we live happily ever after.
I’m going to add that I don’t judge people for using drugs. I can understand a little because I once did too. And I don’t know anyone else’s life. I can’t know what works for every person. I’ve only lived my one life. Nothing good ever came from using drugs for me. All the times I thought were great are a pale shadow of the great times I’ve had completely free from drugs. And of course marijuana’s not a drug. Thank God my state Washington state and Colorado state just legalized it in 2012! And that it has been decriminalized in my city Seattle, Washington since before I moved there! And that it has always been legal in Alaska <3!! And that it was legal in Amsterdam, Netherlands so I could have my life changed! And that it is so thoroughly tolerated in Denmark and Spain! And that it’s also so prolific all along the West Coast of USA. <3.
Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. These are not instructions on how to quit drugs.
I started to cut myself around age 13 as a way to cope with stress and anxiety. There were a lot of times when my emotions felt really out of control, yet I was unable to cry or get angry. I just felt really anxious, like there was something bottled up inside of me that I couldn’t let out.
Cutting was somewhat prevalent in culture at that time. I knew other people who cut themselves at my school and it showed up in media like books and television. There was a popular notion at my school that people cut themselves were only doing it for attention. I spoke out against that because I thought if anyone needs attention so badly they think they have to cut themselves to get it, there is a serious problem. But because of this I was careful to only cut myself where no one could see. I cut my breasts and my thighs. It was an attack on myself against my womanhood. I hated being a woman. I saw myself as a mostly sexual object and was unhappy about that.
The more I cut myself, the more habitual it became until it was a part of my daily life. I frequently cut myself to relieve my anxiety. When I was 15, my parents investigated my internet usage and found evidence that I was cutting myself as well being involved with internet predators. First, I spent some time in a juvenile detention group home. Later, I went to a mental health ward at a hospital in Anchorage to receive treatment for my self injury. My perspective on it was that they only wanted to drug me so I could better cope with my miserable life. I refused the drugs and am grateful for this now. When I went back home, I continued my same habits but in greater secrecy.
I continued to cut myself and even let others cut me and burn me in sexual contexts. Then I met Heath. He also asked me to stop cutting. So I stopped cutting myself.
I had to learn to handle my anxiety through other ways. Here is what worked for me:
-Controlling my breathing to be calm and steady
-Going for a walk
-Smoking a cigarette (which obviously I don’t reccommend you start doing if you don’t already)
Heath and I have been together for 5 years now and I haven’t cut myself once. Now, I have no desire to ever cut myself. Before we met, I cut myself daily. Now I’ve learned healthy ways to manage my stress and would never want to go back to hurting myself. I’m grateful for Heath’s support and love that helped me to heal.
Of course I still have scars on my body. So I can never forget that when I was so young, life hurt so much that the only relief I could find was inflicting pain on my own body. My blood was the only sign that I was alive, a real person.
So it’s important to me to share my story. I hope that I can give hope to anyone else who feels the way I used to feel and who hurts them self in any way. Because life can be good. It can be full of happiness and joy without the deep valleys of depression or gripping terror. It takes stopping engaging in behaviors that hurt you, which is hard when they are addictions and the only pleasure you know is derived from them. It takes making real and often difficult changes in your life. But to be out on the other side is worth it! God truly made you. He has constantly saved you. He has a plan to prosper you. And with His strength, everything is possible.
It has not been easy to write this and share it. I have cried. I have not shared every detail. I feel that I’m making myself vulnerable. But the truth sets me free. Now I am happy and peaceful, but it was not always this way for me.
Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. This is not advice on how to recover from self injury, only my personal experiences.
First, I was born a baby. As a toddler, I learned to ski, do gynastics and hike. As a kid, I walked, biked and rollerbladed to my friends’ houses and I learned soccer and dancing. I ate everything my parents fed me which was healthy and unprocessed food.
Then, I had my first period in the summer between 7th and 8th grade, around my 13th birthday. I experienced a sudden rush of new hormones. These natural hormones changed the way I emotionally felt. They also changed my body. I felt uncomfortable in my body. I felt like suddenly nearly every new man I met, I wondered, “does he want to have sex with me?” Encountering people felt awkward. I remember seeing a picture of myself and thinking I was fat. One part of what was going on with me was overeating to numb out all the uncomfortable social feelings and to disconnect from feeling the changes in my new womanly body. But I didn’t want to be fat.
So I starved. I used all the common ways to trick your body into starving, but I don’t want to share which ones I used all the time, because I think some of that sharing can be toxic exposure for someone who doesn’t already know how to do it. Anyway, in the words of Fiona Apple, “Hunger hurts but starving works, when it costs too much to love.”
By the time school started again in the fall, I had lost some weight. I was in a situation where having control over my body was comforting and I was locked into this struggle of hating my body and fighting with it to try to shape it against its will into a body that I thought would make me happy. It was a sick adventure pursuing an impossible task. I skipped meals all the time until I was so physically hungry that I would eat. Whenever I did eat, I felt incredibly guilty.
In freshman year of high school, when I was 14, I learned how to purge. Then I followed nearly every time I ate and felt guilty with the additional punishment of purging. Obviously, I was insecure with my body. I thought I was fat, even though I never was. I definitely had a distorted body image. I couldn’t look at my body and see it for what it was, a normal, healthy and beautiful teenage body.
This continued with a cycle of starve, eat, purge for the next 7 years of my life. I continued to be at a healthy weight and to look healthy. People told me I was cute or sexy. I continued to hate myself, hate my body and to engage in these unhealthy and miserable eating disordered behaviors. I looked healthy, but secretly I had these troubles.
Then when I was 21, I started dating Heath. At some point, I told him I was bulimic because it consumed so much of my life. Sadly, I identified myself with it. I had told other boyfriends before and their reactions had been, “oh, that’s not good; I wish you would stop” or even, “that’s hot!”. When I told Heath though, it was different. He told me, “Stop. I can’t date someone who does that.” So I did stop. Heath was worth it.
I say this so casually, as if it’s so easy. Well, it is that easy, but there’s more to it. so I’ll explain. There is an idea about giving people permission to do things or not to do things. My point is that you have to be ready in order to change. I wasn’t ready to change until the moment we met. I was ready to listen to and obey him when he told me to stop.
When I stopped, I found out that I was worth it too. I had one day where I nearly slipped up. I had a bad day at school and was in a bad mood. I stopped at the store and bought food with the intention of eating it and then purging it, to cope with my feelings. Instead, I went home and ate all the food until I was so stuffed, I was physically sore. Then I just thought, “wow, I feel terrible and now I am going to have to uncomfortably digest all this food because I told Heath I’m not going to purge anymore.” So, I didn’t get the emotional release I was looking for from purging. Instead, I got a moment to reconnect my body and brain. I thought, I love Heath and I want to please him. He doesn’t want me to hurt myself this way. I don’t like the way I just made my body feel, so I don’t want to do that. And that was the end of my purging behavior.
After stopping purging, anorexia or starving took over my eating habits. I already had this long term habit of starving. I gave up eating and purging for just eating less and less. At first, I was empowered by my ability to stop purging. I felt a lot healthier! I wasn’t giving myself guilty feelings for over indulging in foods. And I started exercising. I guess I was hooked on the control aspect. By controlling my desire for food, I was controlling my body. But of course this got out of control. I knew in the beginning that I was losing weight and felt happy about that. But soon, I was constantly checking my body for all of its fat spots. Even though I kept losing weight, I looked at myself each day and thought I was fatter than ever. So I told myself, I had to fight myself harder in order to be thin enough to make myself happy. Always thinner but never happier for it.
I was deluded into thinking I looked better than I ever had before, but still not good enough. And I always wore a smile. It would be unfair to to say that in this time when my body got so sick, that I was miserable. Because I had a lot of great things going for me. I was doing well in school, something I had never done before. That really shaped me, helped me discover who I was and what my interests were and it gave me self confidence. I made new friends at school. I had my wonderful relationship with Heath; he loved me, accepted who I was, and encouraged me to become great. As I got thinner and thinner, he began to talk to me about it. In a gentle voice, he would ask me how much I was eating. I would lie. As we lay together to sleep, he rolled away and said it hurt to cuddle me because I was too bony. It hurt for me to sit or lie down in yoga poses because of my exaggerated skeleton body. I blacked out several times a day. Then, after 2 years, I lost my period.
Finally, after I finished the school year and was preparing for summer break, Heath convinced me to see a doctor. The first thing they did was weigh me. The scale balanced just above 80 pounds. I had this terrified look on my face, like my secret had just been found out. The nurse told me, “let’s say 85?” I agreed. The doctor was out, so I talked to a nurse practitioner. I explained to her about losing my period around the time I was caring for my grandfather and about how the experience had been stressful. She checked my body out and started some tests. At the end of the meeting, everyone agreed that if I just gained a little weight and relaxed, then my period would probably return. It had been gone for 5 months.
We left the dark doctor’s office and outside the bright sun made me squint and it filled me with hope and relief. When my grandfather got sick, I prayed to Jesus, had a personal encounter with Him, and became a Christian. In that time, I had been continuing to pray and to study scripture. Outside of that doctor’s office, I felt a connection with God. I knew God loved me. He was making me strong enough to love myself too. I repeated this bible verse: Matthew 15:11 “Not the thing going into the mouth is contaminating the human, but the thing going out of the mouth this is contaminating the human.”
The first thing we did was walk to the store and buy food. There was a sale on pepperoni. We bought 2 packages of pepperoni and ate them together. Then later, we went to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. I ordered chicken enchiladas that came with beans and rice and I ate every bite. I felt so bloated and in pain from so much food. But I was proud of myself.
I spent that summer learning to feed myself. I kept a food journal and aimed to eat at least 1500 calories per day. If I didn’t want to eat that much on any day, like it was dinner and the number was too low and I felt like I was full, then I would force myself to eat more. I would snack on chocolate or fruit or toast. Some days I ate as many as 3000 calories. I meticulously counted the calories. Like the old days but in reverse. I was so happy and proud of myself when I did this. No guilt. It was good for me. I needed to gain weight to be healthy. And I cooked! I wanted to eat yummy food. And I learned to bake bread! I slowly started to put on weight. I couldn’t have done this without prayer to Jesus. I was transformed. I constantly felt a healing light flowing through me. I discovered my beauty. As I gained weight, I gained health. I felt happy. I felt free. And then Heath proposed to me! Obviously, I said yes! And then I had my first period back! It took 3 months to return.
We started planning our wedding and honestly got too stressed out by that. So, we decided to elope! It was such an amazing and magical experience. We brought Vera, our cat! Then it was evening. Then it was morning. The next day and I was Heath’s wife. Suddenly, I was changed. Heath, my husband. I’m your wife. Everything that is mine is yours.
For our honeymoon we roadtripped through the Western States and saw beautiful country and scenery. Actually, Heath did all the driving since I don’t have a driver’s liscense/know how to drive. We had so much fun!
When we returned home, I had another period. It was a little disappointing to see, because we were trying to get pregnant. But ok, this is fun, we get to keep trying! And then it became in the revolution of the days, that I became pregnant. Pregnancy was good for me. I was so happy to be carrying a little life inside of me, a little seed of the mortal human, my future child. Thanks God, for this blessing! I gained weight throughout my pregnancy. I was so happy to be gaining weight because it meant I was nourishing my baby. I researched extensively about pregnancy and child birth. The female body is just so amazingly cool. I stayed really active and exercised nearly every day during the last 2 trimesters.
Your body changes in pregnancy. Your boobs grow. Your hips widen. Obviously you get a big round belly full of baby. I really embraced all of that! I was sexy.
I decided to give birth without drugs in a hospital birth under the care of midwives. I had a super detailed birth plan and the hospital was so good about following it completely. My midwives and all the labor and delivery nurses were so good, so helpful, and so crucial to the safe birth of my baby. Of course, I decided to breastfeed. Lovely Girl knew right away how to do it. I nursed “on demand” from the time she was born. In the newborn days that meant at least every hour!
When I concieved, I weiged 105 pounds. During pregnancy, I gained 35 pounds. By 2 weeks postpartum, I weighed 118 pounds. To be honest, I thought my body looked amazing good. Better than I ever imagined it would. And when my milk came in, my boobs grew 2 more cup sizes!! I’d read the advice that it takes 9 months to gain the weight, so it should take 9 months to lose it. I took it easy on my body, putting all my energy into caring for my newborn and growing baby. And that is a lot of energy! I didn’t worry about losing weight. I thought, those 13 pounds will come off when it’s time.
I didn’t even start exercising again, until Lovely Girl was 6 months old. And I just start with a little, gentle yoga. I slowly built my yoga practice up more every day. Back then, I didn’t know about rest days. So I did progressively more yoga every day for the next 3 months. But I felt more and more tired. And I always felt hungry. And the only thing I ever wanted to eat was toast. Then I weighed myself and found out that I had gained 10 pounds. I prayed to God. I wasn’t happy and it seemed like I was doing it wrong. I wanted to have the energy to be really present for Lovely Girl. The answer, I got back in prayer was to rest on Sundays, duh. And that was a relief! That helped a lot. It helped to clear my head, but it wasn’t enough. I still felt like I wasn’t my best. I was always tired and wanted to sleep.
Then I found through blogs some of the information that’s out there about wheat and inflammation. I thought, I feel so bad, these sound like all of my symptoms, I’ll give this a go. I decided to stop eating wheat and see if I felt better. After 2 weeks of miserable wheat detox, suddenly I felt better. All my symptoms were gone. I was so amazed. And I weighed myself. I was back to 118. And I was keeping a food journal, so I know I wasn’t eating less. I was eating between 2225 and 2500 calories per day which is what is recommended for a lactating woman my size.
Ok well, I admitted to recently gaining weight going from 108 to 118 (again). I eventually stopped keeping a perfect food journal. I listened a little to the voice that said, you look great, you’re so skinny, don’t eat too much. So, it is easy to slip up. I’m not perfect.
Now, I’m just committed to living a life of honoring my body, of nourishing my body, my mind, and my soul. I know I won’t fail because the goal is in my sight: I want to be healthy; I want to live this life God gave me with the wonderful body he made me to explore and do and learn everything I’m capable of.
Have a blessed day!
Disclaimer: I am not a medical doctor of any kind. This story is not advice on how to recover from an eating disorder.
Who knew I had so many of these? Hmm…
Well, maybe I already mentioned this, but since about March when the weather started to warm up, I’ve been going on daily walks. I walk anywhere from 15 minutes to 2 hours. Most days, I would guess I walk for about 30 minutes. There’s so much fun stuff to do and see and I like to be outside moving my body so that’s what’s up. :-) I just wanted to be honest here.
Another thing I don’t think I’ve mentioned is that as part of attachment parenting I baby wear. That is, I carry my 20 pound 2 year old, supported by a carrier, on my body. If you’re curious, I’m using an ergo baby carrier. I’m pretty happy with it. I’m not 100% satisfied with it, but it’s good enough that I continue to use it and be happy with it. When Lovely Girl was an infant, we used a moby wrap that she grew out of around 4 months. I carry Lovely Girl on my daily walks and I also wear her for up to a couple hours a day doing housework. Some days, except for going on a walk, I don’t use the baby carrier at home at all.
I’m still practicing yoga, of course. I’ve actually changed my practice up quite a lot, so I’ll have to do a yoga update soon. I practice for about 50 minutes every morning before Heath and Lovely girl wake up. I also practice throughout the day, rarely doing another 50 minute practice if I’m really feeling like it. I have been neglecting taking rest days, so yesterday I forced myself to take one (no yoga, yes walking). I need to rest every Sunday, so I’m making a public commitment here to do that.
I was not able to give up running, jumping and tumbling with Lovely Girl in favor of an always calm approach to fitness and daily movement. We just have too much fun! And Lovely Girl has so much energy; I think it’s important for her to get to run around. Some days, I get a good work out just keeping up with her!
I think that sums up all the exercise I’m doing nowadays.
Have a wonderful day!
As you can probably guess, I’ve had sex a lot of times with a lot of people and I had sex before marriage. For the sake of honesty on my blog, I’ve had sex with 13 people including my ultimate lover Heath. I had sex for the first time the summer of my 17th birthday and I have barely ever stopped since. ;-).
I guess I just have a few random thoughts about sex and love and my personal loveolution:
-Ex Lovers: Really, I had a nice time. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I forgive you if you hurt me.
-Heath: You are my true life destiny. Destination you. The moment we met there was magic. We were transported in time and space and dimension. I loved the way you held my hand, the way you looked into my eyes, and the way you touched me. Then I couldn’t leave you. I just didn’t want to go home. You were so crafty. You made me laugh and smile. You saw the real me behind all my masks and you weren’t afraid to set me free. I love to make love with you. Oh, what would life be without you? I’m so grateful to only ever share the moment of conception with you. Wow, did that blow my mind! A real act of submission. Then we were so blessed to have a pregnancy and for me to give birth naturally to our beautiful, smart and kind baby girl. You’re a great father. I’m grateful for every day of my life that is filled with loving you. You are sexy, you are handsome, you are fit, you are strong, you are intelligent, you are compassionate, you are generous, and you are patient. We are a perfect match. I thank God for making you. You are my knight in shining armor. You are the answer to all of my prayers.
-I have no regrets about anything in my past. Every moment lead me to be the person I am today. It didn’t happen a different way.
-Love really matters. Every day we have chance to love others and to love ourselves.
-Sex and love are not unrelated. I used to think the other way and I learned through experience that I was plain wrong. Oxytocin, the love hormone or the love drug, is released in large quantities when we have sex. It’s the same hormone that causes a woman’s uterus to contract so she gives birth to a child. Oxytocin has the effect that it makes you feel in love. A child is a union between both parents, both sexual partners. Half of each parent’s DNA is in their child. A child is an expression, a physical representation of his or her parents’ love. The moment when a man and a woman love each other so much that they come together, they are united, they have sex, a new soul is brought to the world.
-When Heath and I became Christians, we decided to get married and start having children. We felt that we were already married in God’s eyes. We wanted to fufill His command to be fruitful and multiply. But I can’t say this is the right choice for everyone. Sexuality and fertility are personal topics. I don’t judge anyone for having sex while waiting to get married or having sex without the intention of getting married. Heath and I were together for 2 years before we got married and they were beautiful times filled with lots of love. I cherish the time that we spent together as a couple, getting to know each other and falling, easily, more deeply in love with each other.
-This post is not an invitation to have sex with me. I’m done with that! I am happy and complete to be in a monogamous relationship with Heath! I could go on and on about how great that is. Let’s just say I am a happily married wife.
On those notes, I will end with some of my favorite bible verses about sex and love:
Genesis 2:24-25: Therefore, a man is leaving his father and his mother and he cleaves to his woman and they become one flesh. And they were both naked, the human and the woman of him, and they were not ashamed.
Genesis 3:16: To the woman he said to increase I am increasing toil of you and pregnancy of you in labor you shall birth sons and to man of you impulse of you and he shall rule in you.
Genesis 6:2: And the sons of God are seeing that the daughters of the humans are good and they are taking for them women from all whom they choose.
Song Of Songs 2:7: I charge you, daughters of Jerusulem, in gazelles or in hinds of the field, do not awaken the love until which it is desiring.
Mark 10:9: What therefore the God yokes together let no human be separating!
I have one final life confession for you today. I’ve touched on each dark aspect of my past in my static page about recovery. Except one: between the ages of 8 until 16, I was sexually exploited on the internet. What does that mean, exactly? I found pornography and adult chatrooms online when I was 8. Maybe younger, but I remember for sure being exposed to pornography and adult chatrooms by 8 years old. ASL? 8/F/ALASKA. Except that I would lie about my age and pretend to be older. There was an added awkward transition for me in puberty as I approached the ages I pretended to be. Around age 13, I met an internet predator in a yahoo chatroom who I exchanged pictures with and talked to on the phone. And that’s the confession.