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  • Kathryn Shultis

a sickness with no name.


How do I begin. It’s another slow morning. They are my FAVORITE ever. But there’s that horrid nagging in the back of my head and heart. Body image… a sickness with no name, she comes and goes whenever she pleases, far more often than a simple, unwanted guest.

She tries to deplete my ability to love others, to enjoy my life, to do the things I love, to be confident, to chase my dreams. She tells me I cannot when I KNOW I can. She tells me I will not as if her will is my command.

She depletes my excitement for life far more than any human ever could. She becomes my entire thought process some days. I give her more than I would ever admit.

Her sickness and contagion strikes yet again with a double tap on a post of a friend I am supposed to love but instead I hate because she says they are “better” than me and I can never even compete. I can’t win, I lose to her every time.

Not today. I refuse to listen. I refuse to go numb to my senses, my love, my excitement, my absolute love of the life my dad has given me. She knows she isn’t smarter than Heaven she just wants me to keep me believing she is. She wants me to keep believing this repetitive cycle is my life and I can’t just choose anything else.

Not today. My desire for any form of food or exercise begins to diminish as I reach for the only words that seem to help when my immune system gets weak. She tries to convince me I am unworthy of these Holy words I’ve cried over myself night after night after night. Stating that they will not be my assist no matter how many times I read them.

My weak reach again, again, “Oh, God, in fire and wind come and do it again. Open up the Gates let Heaven on in, come rest on me. Come down, Spirit when you move you make my heart pound, you’re here and I know you are moving, I’m here and I know you will fill me” (Rest On Us, Upper Room). I know He is the only one who saves, He’s bottled up my tears every other time she’s come, I just let her stay for far too long. Not today.

My song is not one of defeat. Yours is not either. The voices in your head have no say, while I know it seems they have all the say. Every time we believe a word from the enemy we are damaging our spiritual immune system, our spirit gets sick.

God come fight our battles, we know you make us well. We invite you in, come and bottle up our tears again. Resting our heads on our Father’s chest, His heart beat is good. His heart beat is for me. This is how we fight our battles sisters.

Blessings, Kat

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