Confessions of A 21-year old Drama Queen

The title is well-suited. I am currently 21, an age I don't announce often, and I am a Drama Queen. Why have I kept my age hidden until now? Somehow I'd convinced myself that in order to be successful as a person, business person, whatever the heck I try to be, that being young is somehow inferior in a world of older professionals. That is a lie and I love truth. This thought process is about to change. I found myself thinking recently that I must celebrate youth and stop being such an age snob.


Do not let anyone look down on you because you are young, but be an example for other believers in your speech, behavior, love, faithfulness, and purity. ~1 Timothy 4:12


So "Drama Queen"... I don't like that title, and I'm not proud of it at all, but this blog entry is about honesty and telling it like it is, so I'm not going to sugarcoat the problem. Drama Queen... (ouch.) So here comes the real confession time of what has happened to me the past 6 months. It is not pretty. Brace yourself as I brace myself to lay down my pride.


I have become sick. It started in October when I decided to rearrange my career ideals a bit and somehow I became so wrapped up in my goals I lost myself. The mind is a strange thing... I started suffering spiritually, mentally, and physically. I stressed out, always running to the next job, studying, making "to-do lists"... I was striving so hard to please others and to be proud of myself that I literally started wasting away... I lost a lot of weight, and people started asking if I was okay. My hair started falling out in big chunks. I had tension in my neck and shoulders, so I was in pain often. Many begged me to go to the doctor, but I was too stubborn. And my ridiculous process continued and quickly worsened. It was like I was killing myself slowly. 


As I'm admitting this, I have tears in my eyes. I want others to know, to be warned, and I want to beg them not to do what I did. I had withered away to 107 lbs. As a 5 ft 7", athletic dancer, that is WAY to little! I remember the first time I saw how tiny my body had become. I looked in the mirror one day while I was teaching ballet, and it's like my eyes were opened to reality. My muscles had gone away, bones were sticking out, and it hurt to dance. My JOB hurt! My passion for dance withered away because physically it had become too stressful on my fragile body. I continued working as a dance instructor, but slowly rehearsing my own dreams at the studio became more of a chore than a desire. Even with my Illusion learning, I suffered. What started out as something I just wanted to do quickly became something I felt I HAD to do, like just another item on the "to do list". When I lost passion for my goals, FEAR possessed me. I did not know what I was doing, and was afraid I wouldn't figure it out. It was a deadening... a limbo of sorts. Questions haunted me and I felt close to worthless. My mentors and my family became extremely worried as they saw me metaphorically drowning, because I still was very thin and wasn't gaining weight, though I tried desperately to gain. The pounds simply wouldn't come back, and my hair had thinned considerably. Chronic fatigue set in. Headaches pushed into my skull everyday. Pain in my neck made itself more prominent, an obvious injury... Depression settled in, and pressure to pursue my dreams only drove me deeper into a hole. 


Answers and Dealing With Truth:
To sum this up: stress, pride, and an injury was the cause of the past few months being so dark. I am under treatment with Dr. Josh Axe of Exodus Health Center, and already I am feeling better. Mentally, I am chilling for now, focusing on my Lord, Who makes the darkness come to light. As my body is healing itself, I'm focusing on healing my mind... Stress that is self-inflicted is dangerous. As I rid that monster out of me, it is a bittersweet time. I am making myself take a sabbatical, a welcome break. I hurt, I cry, and for the first time in a while, I'm allowing myself to feel those emotions without masquerading them. I still dream but I am just being in the present, enjoying the lifted spirit I am getting back. 


Hope is returning. My passion for dance and teaching is returning. I just want to tell others not to do what I did, especially young adults and teens. Society already puts enough pressure on us, and we don't need to add anything on ourselves. Yes, doctors found a neck injury and a Vitamin D deficiency that is being corrected, but I could have handled my mind a lot better. Making unrealistic demands on myself is not what my God called me into. He specifically told me to be FREE and tell others to be free. The chains I have been putting on myself to be perfect and successful had made me a hypocrite and disobedient to His calling on my life. For this I am so sorry... to my Lord, to my friends, to my family. I say "No more". I have a message, a voice, and it needs to be heard. I will not allow my own junk to silence this voice anymore. I am healing. :)


If you are reading this, please don't do what I did. You don't have to be perfect. Success is not all it's measured to be, especially if it makes you sick! Pursue dreams, chase your goals, but know your strengths, your bounds. Push, but don't break. Learn the balance of being the best you can be without demanding unrealistic ideals upon yourself... I am learning this and am re-creating my life to be shaped in a new priority fashion. 


Much love, in peace...
Lindsey

Poetry: A Fake Author's Perspective of Control

A poem I wrote about what can happen
when we play the Author of our lives.

“Surrender”

I had displayed a fancy smile for all to see,
Flashed a bright lie like a red marquee.
I had controlled the pages of my own story,
Then shed tears when it controlled me.

Iron grip wrapped around my pen and my pain,
Flashes of lightening in my heart again.
I wanted life with no one but me to blame,
But I trod down a path of resentment and shame.

But as the pen fell from my ice cold hand,
My broken pride fell like rapid quick sand.
Time for pride to fall and surrender to stand,
And not expect life to go as I had planned.

Then I watched words I had written fade,
Disappear from the storyline I had made.
I threw off a character I had miserably played,
An Author of Life was what I had portrayed.

Then a Hand wrapped around the pen tight,
And began to write new things in my sight.
I was no author, and surrendered the fight,
As the true Author took over in all might.