Here we go again...

{A St. Remy stained-glass window}

I find myself, yet again, on the other side of a holiday and feeling miserable.  This past weekend, we had three Easter parties to attend.  For me, that meant an over abundance of food for three straight meals.

I did everything I could to stay positive.  I used all my tools and coping skills that applied to the situation.  I prepared for battle like a textbook recover-ee.

Even though I was, apparently, doing everything right, I still had a difficult time.

I felt crumby.  I was anti-social.  I faked a smile the whole day.  I was lazy, tired, and boring.  The worst part was feeling guilty about how I was feeling.  What reason have I to be in a bad mood?  It’s Easter, for Pete’s sake!  I must be terribly ungrateful to Jesus for rising from the dead…

This morning, I had a hard time starting a new day.  I thought of this weekend as a test, and, in my opinion, I failed.

Sometimes, you do everything right and things still don’t turn out the way you would like.

 

I guess I handled the circumstances much better than I had been handling them in the past, so that is a plus.  However, I just didn’t deal with the holiday as good as I had hoped.

Since, I’ve been thinking about it all morning, I came up with something to blame my attitude on.  I think my problem was that I was putting my hope in myself, rather than put my hope in God.

I was hoping to have a good relationship with food.  I was hoping to not let eating ruin the day.  I was hoping to be genuinely happy with Easter Joy.  I was hoping to not feel so fat today.  I was hoping I would not obsess about everything that I ate yesterday and the day before.  I was hoping, at the very least, not to care about my appearance or worry about what other people thought of me.

But none of those things came true for me this weekend.  I am disappointed because of all the expectations I put on myself even though I so cleverly disguised them with the word “hope”.

I did not realize that I was trying to do everything on my own until it was too late.  Looking back, I should have lowered the bar and given myself some wiggle room.  I should have accepted that God would take care of me no matter what and He would forgive me even if I didn’t live up to my own standards.

But there is no use in dwelling on the “should have’s” just for the sake of dwelling.  Learn and move on, OK…

I learned that I still need God’s help every single day.  Jesus took all my sins (past, present, and future) upon Himself, died on the cross, and rose from the dead for me so that I can get to Heaven.  He did all that for me, and yet, I still need Him to do more.  I need Him to take care of me and love me day in and day out.  It is not enough to rely on Him just the once.  I have to depend on Him time and time again until the day I die.

I will never stop needing Jesus.

This made me think of the Holy Mass.  Maybe our need for repetition is one of the reasons the crucifixion is re-presented during every sacrifice of the Mass.  We need help over and over and over again, day after day after day...

Maybe, if I didn’t struggle with an eating disorder, I might think I didn’t need Jesus.  Maybe, if had my life under control, I wouldn’t give my life over to God.  Maybe, if I was never depressed, I wouldn’t look to God for comfort.  And maybe, I wouldn’t appreciate His gifts, if I never knew what it was like to live without them.

The journey is not over until it is over.