Excerpt From Controlling Destiny

I've just started writing this. I knew it was meant to be, because it came directly from my soul--and some boredom. Well anyway, here it is. Tell me what you think.

Her body was tone from the hell she put it through. She worked hard to fight the fat that once plagued her body. She had managed to lose 150 of the pounds that used to harass her body. It wasn’t enough. She fought daily to fight the remaining 50 she would have to lose. The doctors told her she should be 180 pounds to be healthy, but the last 50 were hell to melt off. She would give her right arm for some pistachio ice cream, but then she would feel guilty and add another hour to her already intense work out. Never again would she be known as a big girl. He loved that about you. She suppressed the thought by working hard. He nearly destroyed her; he took her heart, put it into a meat grinder, and laughed at the ground meat that once loved him faithfully. He destroyed the hopeless romantic, and left a cold, heartless witch. Twenty more minutes left. She punished her body for her thought of him.

After the workout, she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and drank slow. After she finished, she headed toward the shower. Her body ached with satisfaction as she walked toward her room. She removed her workout clothes, folded them, and placed them in her dirty clothes bin. Her room was pristine; she kept it tidy, because it was one of the things she could control in her life. There wasn’t a spec of dust to be found anywhere, yet she new she would begin to clean the room again when she got out of the shower. She walked to her linen closet, removed a towel and two washcloths, a white one for her face and a brown one for her body. She walked over to the full-length mirror and inspected her body, as she always did right before the shower. She mentally picked the places that she needed to work on, as she made a list of exercises that she would need to focus on to make them better. She walked toward the shower; she turned on the hot water, full blast, and added a little cold water. As the steam rose, she felt relief. The shower was her space. It was one space where she and God could connect. The water seemingly melted her pains and troubles away as she talked with God. She lathered the soap and began to wash her body, and as the soap slithered off her body, the pains and troubles she felt in her body, mind, and soul washed off as the soap gathered around the drain.

Her body was completely at peace. She waited. She never left the shower until she had her talk with God. Hello daughter. Are you ready to face what you are running from? It was the beginning of every conversation she had with God. She knew she couldn’t make excuses, and what was the point of lying to the one who knew the count of every hair on your head? She knew she didn’t know herself that well. So she answered honestly. No. I don’t think I will ever be ready Lord. I keep telling myself that I am turning over to you, but I can’t let go. And I’m tired of lying to myself. I keep holding on, and I can’t figure out why. Lord, I don’t want to hurt anymore, but I don’t want to face the brunt of what I feel either. So I deny that I feel anything. And I attempt to self-control it by taking it out on my body. But I know that you already know that. I’m trying to control what I can’t control. I’m insane right? She sighed. Here in the shower, she could be weak. She could cry, she could scream, and she could be whatever she needed to be. She waited for her response. She continued to wash meticulously. She needed to make sure she got every spec of dirt to be found on her body. You know, it’s not that hard to turn it over to me. Why is it so hard for you to just let go and let me take care of it? She sighed again. How many times had she asked herself that same question? Furthermore, he already knew that, and he knew that she knew. And he knew the answer to the question that she didn’t. I wish I knew. I don’t know how to let go. She paused. She did a mental checklist—what parts hadn’t she washed well? She couldn’t recall. She began again. Daughter, you would do well to remember that you can only heal when you turn it over to me. After you finish washing, reread Proverbs 3:5-6. She sighed again. It wasn’t a disrespectful sigh, but a knowing sigh. Everyday for the past ten years, those scriptures had been the end of their conversation. She had memorized it. But apparently didn’t understand it.

Peace and Blessings,

Bumble