I’m so mad, so emotionally wrecked, that I’m binge-eating. Sweet, addictive, organic dried mango. I’m pretty sure I just consumed about four servings of the stuff, at 20 grams of natural sugar per serving. But at this point of the Daniel Fast, it’s all I can do to feign the real cravings for a waffle cone piled two scoops too high with local Sweet Peaks ice cream. Agony, let me tell you!
But it’s the other thing that makes me mad. I did it again. I hoped. I thought for sure I was pregnant. But it was all a guise, a horrible scam.
The hope. I don’t want it. I want to just move on, to forget that I ever wanted children. To not care. To not notice what my body is or isn’t doing. To not think about it or talk about it or even know about it. I want to be wiped clean, never to remember again what this hope is like, or this feeling of loss and sorrow perpetually spinning inside of me.
I’m supposed to hope, I know. I am supposed to have faith that moves mountains. It says in the Bible that Abraham’s faith was credited to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:6), which basically means it is a sin to not believe. But that’s the thing. I do believe that God can do anything, and that He can make me pregnant. I just don’t know that he wants to. He is God; I believe He has the best plan. Which is why I am trying to loosen my grasp on this thing. I don’t want to want it. It’s too painful. Can’t I just accept my lot and be free?
I know my good friends may want to reach out to me and comfort me. Please don’t. Don’t say anything. Don’t make me cry. I’ve cried too many tears now, and I want to be free. Just pray for me; pray for us. We need your prayers. God bless you all. xoxo