Of Butterflies and Chihuahuas

I saw a butterfly today. In the midst of my exhaustion, frustration, and anger, it lighted onto my drive-thru window at work. It seemed to be greeting me. It stopped me for just a moment...and reminded me of the peace I have missed this week.

It has been a week of emotional turmoil... anger... flashbacks...rage....and rawness. Old wounds have been torn open and are just beginning to heal. I feel as if my heart has been ripped out of my chest only for me to grab it back and hold it close. I struggled with laying my armor down. I want to fight, to hurt, to feel. I am just a child trying to be a warrior. I hold my shield and my sword with deft determination and I stand at the ready. And I find myself beyond exhaustion because I cannot stand on guard at all times. 

And it was in this moment a butterfly visited me. If you want me to lay my armor down, give me something that needs a hug, that needs love. Give me a person or little critter that needs comfort, and for a time, I will lay the shield and sword down in order to make that little one feel safe.  This warrior is a comforter and when she cannot be a comfort, she picks up her battle gear in order to fight off whatever may harm this little one. In many ways, I am a momma bear. 

Someone once yelled at me for trying to save so many animals. In my rage, I screamed, "I cannot save myself, but I can save them! I can't NOT feel terrified, but I can make them feel safe! I'll be damned if I will abandon them." And so I didn't. 

But what did I feel I needed to be saved from? From terror? From panic? From self-hate and self-doubt? 

As I have said in previous blogs, I have struggled with self hate since the days I knew I was different and unacceptable in God's eyes. At least that was the message the church beat into my brain. And so that self hate gets internalized to where you feel you deserve to hurt. And so you find all manners of ways to fulfill that. 

It was my chihuahua, Ms Ruby, who saved me from myself earlier this week. Ms Ruby understands fear and so she and I understand each other. It hurts her and frightens her to see me when I am in those moments. I lay in bed last Thursday night with my knife. I don't like to leave evidence behind, so I have learned to force the knife into my palm causing pain but knowing that the evidence will fade. As I did this, Ms. Ruby, her eyes full of such love and hurt came to me and put her paw on my arm. She was begging me to stop. And so I did. She crawled into my arms and comforted me. She let me cry. And then she watched over me as I slept.

And now I sit here. Not eating again. Another form of self punishment. The thought of eating sickens me. It is so ironic that a fat girl can have a form of anorexia. Yet here I am. I looked at my face tonight and I saw age, I saw exhaustion. I saw a person who, although her scars are hidden from the outside world, is a soul covered in them.  

I ask myself, how can a person with so much hurt inside, be also full of such gentleness? How can I bring peace and comfort to an animal when I can't seem to bring it to myself? 

I know that growing and healing is painful. And I hurt. I want to be that person that is the gentle one and I want to learn to be gentle to myself. I want the voices from the past who tell me I am worthless to go away.

I want to love me as much as I am capable of loving others. I want to believe my own words when I say  that God loves us just the way we are. I pray that God will help me believe it, for until I believe it myself, I can be of no good to anyone. 

And perhaps it is in butterflies and little chihuahuas, that God reminds us that we are lovable and loved. I certainly hope so.