Death of a Vice

I was so thrilled and proud of myself. After double-checking page and word counts, it was official. I had finally reached the 33% completion mark on revising my novel. It hadn't been easy trying to squeeze in time between my two jobs, grading, helping out at VBS, softball games, and watching the final Captain Phil episodes of Deadliest Catch (ergo, my new I-need-a-cry series). I had been pulling out the purple binder while sitting on the bench between innings, while students wrote out corrections to their rough drafts in class, while waiting for appointments to show at my outreach office. Hitting the 1/3 mark was incredible...and I wanted to celebrate. I popped onto Facebook and proclaimed my accomplishment in my status update, adding "Who's going to buy me dark chocolate pomegranate candy to celebrate?"

If you want to try some, ask me when I first open the bag. I may not share if there's only a couple left.... :)

A friend congratulated me, then added this juicy bit to her comment. "Oh, and I heard that there is, on average, about 8 insect legs in every bar of chocolate. I'm not sure if that's true, but I figured you would know."

Oh. My.

You know God has a sense of humor when he orchestrates things so I'm currently munching on said beloved candies when I read this little notice. Bugs. In chocolate. That was completely disturbing.

The only non-disturbing option to Bugs in chocolate.

I mean, bugs are nasty. They carry diseases. Their legs have little feelers on them that would tickle the roof of my mouth as I chew. I used to catch grasshoppers and crickets to feed to salamanders when I was a young teen. Those bites on my palms, but instead alongside my tongue...it's completely nauseating and gag-worthy, to say the least.

If you find this spread appetizing, I am *NEVER* eating at your place.

Of course I drop my celebratory candies and sweep them into a drawer. "I am a reformed chocoholic," I proclaim to the room and to the world of Facebook, sure that with that sort of visual image, I won't be able to consume the sugar-milk-cacao mixture ever again. Ever. I've seen the errors of my mass-produced consuming ways.

Until later that night when I give in to temptation and munch happily through an offered Reese's cup. It's not a chocolate bar...therefore no bugs, right? I cling to my huge logical fallacy and enjoy the heaven that comes from every woman's best friend. Before too long, I'm back at my drawer, digging for the fruit-laced goodies, and hold a belated celebration for my writing prowess.

Eating chocolate isn't the only bad habit I have that has some fairly vicious potential undercurrents. Pushing myself so hard that I end up exhausted can lead to me falling asleep at the wheel, becoming apathetic, or lowering my immune system so I get sick more often. Forgetting to spend daily time with God makes me more vulnerable to Satan's attacks, taking my focus off my Heavenly Father and letting me be overwhelmed by the world's problems and selfishness. Those bug legs aren't restricted to being harrowing experiences...they can be incredibly harmful, potentially lethal. I can pretend all I want that there are no side effects to my actions, that everything will be ok simply through the force of my stubborn will. It's not going to change the fact that eventually I will have to come to terms that I am not in control of the world and there are always consequences for actions (or lack of them).

Psyching myself out of my love affair with the melty good stuff isn't the answer. Understanding my limits is. Am I really ok with the knowledge that there are probably a few ground up fly skulls in the chocolate chips, or maybe should I turn to the strawberries I washed clean for my sweet treat of the day? Am I really ok with adding yet another project to my to-do list, or maybe should I let someone else help serve who isn't juggling so much? Am I really supposed to watch Season One of NCIS for the fourth time instead of really studying, say, Genesis?

In the end, it's going to take more than just a close encounter with a thorax to get serious results--mindsets and habits are really hard to change. Baby steps are still steps in the right direction. So, maybe I'll start just buying one dose of chocolate goodness every two or three weeks instead of whenever I'm "in the mood." I'm thinking these babies might help me wait for several days before I want anything sweet again....

Vile maggots that melt in your mouth, not while nested in your hand. How comforting.

A Wake-Up Call....without the hotel bill.

It's been nearly a year. Wow. Talk about not following through. :) It'd be ridiculous for me to try to post an entire year's worth of news, musings, and revelations. That's something I can use to fill in future days when I feel I have nothing/little to say (and those who live around me...know that is never really true).

How do I restart a part of my life so obviously abandoned? With the truth.

I was recently prompted (read: coerced) into going to the doctor. I had ignored a persistent fever and a myraid of other symptoms for two weeks...and some of the people I love were worried, especially my boyfriend. Wait--scratch that. He was not worried. He was concerned. Learned that distinction.

The sinus infection was a new deal, but not wholly unexpected. The other news...dropped me like a wobbly water balloon down five stories onto the college freshman-littered sidewalk below. My blood pressure was sky-high. Granted, I had excuses. I've been sick for two weeks. I had only two hours of sleep the night previous. It's the most stressful time of the year for me--approaching finals. Didn't matter to the doctor. He gave me an ultimatum: start taking care of myself and get on a medication for the problem, or end up having a heart attack/stroke at the ripe old age of 25. I got the prescription filled within the hour.

God (and many other people--maybe He was speaking through them, maybe it was just that obvious) has been trying to get through my stubborn, willful, self-sacrificing head for a long time that I am doing way too much. I'll argue the point until...well...I have a heart attack. I've always worked multiple jobs, sometimes two or three while going to school full-time. I'm used to having lots of committments, using the stress to get me through the long hours of the day. I thrive on being needed, being wanted--and what better way to constantly feel needed/wanted than to put your hand in as many projects as possible? This, however, is not God's plan. At least, it's not for me. Facing the very real prospect of an impending premature death rather emphasizes this.

I've been worried about losing half of my teaching contract this fall, not finding a full-time with benefits job teaching at a college, trying to deal with the insecurities of a long-distance relationship. What God has been waiting, much more patiently than I ever could, for is for me to stop and really sit and listen to him. Instead of burning my candle at both ends and six different places along the middle, He wants me to be a steady, strong light to others. He has given me gifts for teaching, writing, ministering, creating, loving. I can't use any of these to the best of my abilities if I don't follow His plan for them.

So here's a step in the right direction. I'm going to keep up with my blog, using this platform to minister to others who are involved in academia, are writers, both, or neither. I'm going to stop fussing internally about money and trust that God will provide (and that I really don't need to overspend like I tend to do). I'm going to enact more self-discipline to make myself more dependent on God and independent of the world. It's going to be a long road, but I'm anxious to start walking.

Well, maybe not at 12:30am. Perhaps I should start another positive habit, getting enough sleep each night, and discuss some the particulars...later. :)

Take care, all, and welcome to a new chapter.