Not giving up yet ... ever.

You know, a few weeks ago, I had to remove one of my posts because I stepped on a few toes. And that annoyed me and made me want to rebel against my own blog.

How silly.

But, the truth is, I'm not going anywhere. I don't care who reads; who doesn't. I told myself that this blog was for me. And one day, maybe for my kids. I feel the need to get my journey down on paper, somewhere, somehow.

So, here I am. I'm actually at the gym. Just finished letting the gym kick my butt and here I am, relaxing at one of those little round tables outside of the smoothie stand. Yes, my four kids are in the day care ... for two hours (down to the minute!)

Hubby (the firefighter) is on a 24-hour shift tonight and, since I'm paying for this expensive gym membership (and kind of need to keep my sanity), I decided I'd use the last hour to blog and get on facebook. This post is really all-over-the-place random, which is just a reflection of the thoughts in my head at the moment.

Nothing too specific. Just feels good to be here.

Forgiveness. It hurts. For a minute.

My entire body aches today. I was convinced that I had somehow caught the flu--and then hubby reminded me how I spent three days last week in spin class. And the pain made sense.

So, remember I was writing about that book I was reading (am reading ... almost finished)? It's called Beauty for Ashes, by Joyce Meyer, and it is about finding emotional healing.

Well, I have been emotionally broken for so long that one day not too long ago, I knew it was time to pick up this book and let the healing begin. I quickly learned that the heaviest weight I have been shouldering is the weight of unforgiveness.

Where I thought I was shouldering the pain of my past, I was actually carrying the cumbersome weight of not allowing myself to forgive those who have hurt me. And the pain goes years and years back. And it has many, many layers.

So, when I began reading the book, I just prayed. I prayed that God would do whatever he wanted to do with me--with my pain, my hurt, my heaviness. Well, he did that. But, he (being His usual wise self) worked on me while I was asleep. You know, because I figure it was too much while I was awake.

Imagine a child who needs a shot. You know how they scream in horror? Well, that needle was my forgiveness. And I was that child. I needed the shot to make me better. But, I was too afriad of the pain that the shot would bring. Funny thing is, you know a shot only hurts for a brief moment. But, it is the fear of what is to come that actually causes the most torment.

Well, I have been tormented for a very long time. I'd have nightmares with such clarity that it was like I was reliving these horroible moments from my past. I'd wake up soaked with sweat and sometimes, I'd be crying; even sobbing.

I'd have these recurring dreams--about running from a man in the woods who was trying to rape me and hiding in a patch of poison ivy until day break, until I knew it was safe to come out (true story) and about living in a tent as a teen (true story) and about being abused. All true stories.

But, the thing about these dreams were that they were so hauntingly clear that it was like I was reliving the moments over again.

But, when I started reading this book, where there were these nightmares, I instead began to have these very clear dreams. And it was in the dreams where the healing began.

In one dream, I was trying desperately to get back to my high school. I had the chance to re-do my senior year. (In many dreams, I go back to a point in time where things went terribly wrong and I try to make them right; I try to re-do them).

I was waiting for this bus when, finally, it arrived. It was 10 a.m., and I knew I was already late. I got on the bus and I saw my old bus driver from middle school. She said "You are on the wrong bus."

And so I stepped off and began walking and then running towards the school. I needed to get there on time. Yet, I was running in the wrong direction. I was running towards that little "hood" where my family and I once lived.

I passed through the home of a single mother who was pregnant. "Help me," she said. "I cannot." I replied. "I have to get back there."

"Where?" I did not answer. I had to go.

The next apartment I walked through was ridden with squalor. There was a crack addict sitting on an old couch. "Help me," he said. "I can't," I replied. "I have to get back."

"Where? Where are you going?" I did not answer. Instead, I ran.

I was then standing in front of this bus stop, hoping that the bus would soon arrive, when I heard this voice. "Where are you going?"

"I am going to school. I have to get back there. I have to finish."

"The bus is not coming," He said.

I was so sad and I began to cry and sob and wail. "Child," He said. "You are not trying to get back to school. You are trying to get back to your past. You do not need to take this bus. You have somewhere else you need to be."

And at that moment, I was sitting in a church. It was a beautiful building filled with huge, open windows and there was breeze flowing through my hair. There was a woman sitting to the left of me. She was embracing me. Sitting so close.

I heard the voice again. I couldn't see Him, but He was there. He handed me a porcelain dove figurine and placed both of my hands around it so that I was embracing it. "Together, you two are going to do great things," He said about the woman sitting beside me.

"Who is she?"

"She is wisdom."

"The dove is Holy Spirit. He will guide you to forgiveness and wisdom--she will protect you on the journey."

And then, I woke up.