ASHAMED. GUILTY. REGRETFUL. FOOLISH. LOST. EXHAUSTED.

Well, here I am. I’m back. I wonder if you remember your ol’ pal Ava? It’s only been 262 days since my last post. I guess you could say that I’ve been a bit distracted and preoccupied since I last wrote. Okay… Maybe obsessed and consumed are better ways to describe why I’ve abandoned my beloved WordPress family. I doubt you guys even noticed I was gone, but in truth, I have really missed connecting with you as you mean more to me than you may ever know.

Folks, I love writing more than you can imagine. I sometimes struggle, more than I’d like, with devastating feelings of inferiority and am, beyond the shadow of a doubt, my own worst critic, so it’s significant when I tell you that writing is something that I know I do well. I know that it’s a gift that God lovingly bestowed upon me and I feel so connected to Him and wholly alive when I write. So naturally, I don’t do it like I should or want to. I mean, I am codependent after all and am typically consumed with fixing and serving maladaptive people and simply don’t nurture the things that are edifying to “me”. I am self-sabotaging and sometimes downright self-destructive, so it stands to reason that I am not going to do anything that would build me up, right?

Now, you all know, if you know me at all that brevity is not a strength I possess. I am too wordy. I don’t know when to shut up. I am uncomfortable with awkward silences and feel the need to fill the void with verbal vomit. Admittedly, my posts are usually way too long. This one won’t be too bad, so fear not. Just know that I am having a hard time finishing anything I start as of late. I feel that I just “need” to submit one post, connect with you, and get myself back into the habit. It’s imperative. This is becaus, there are people in my life who–despite my best efforts–did not get the memo about my awesomeness. My Dad is one such person. There is nothing that I will ever be able to do or say that will change his pervasively low opinion of me; for some reason, he just cannot see my heart. You however, see my heart! You’ve seen my filth, you’ve heard me bitch and moan, and you’ve watched me making colossal mistakes BUT you loved me in spite of that. That’s major!

Several of you like Grandpappy Sky, Diane, Rod Arters, Arlene the Queen, Sabrina, and Scott Williams I feel like I know personally. You make me feel cherished, and I certainly cherish you. You all inspire me to be a better version of myself. I dearly love you and am so thankful for your presence in my life as it has served great purpose. I am going through some struggles that I am working on harder than I think I’ve ever worked on anything. I have been in bondage for so many years, particularly where my need for love and approval from unloving, disapproving men are concerned. I have been addicted to sex and love. Guys want to f@#k me senselessly, but they don’t want to commit to me and they sure as hell don’t want to fight for me.

I officially reached the end of me and surrendered everything to God with my “entire” soul about 4 days ago. Before that, the devil was whispering (more like screaming) lies into my ear… again. When the bottom fell out a little over two weeks ago the fear that I was going to end up just like my mother, dead by my own hand at a young age, was in my face like never before. After all, we seem to be twin souls. Moreover, I can still envision the look on my father’s face and hear the sincere disgust in his voice when he’d say, “You’re just like your mother.” I grew up thinking that being like her was an awful thing. I’m not so sure it was though…

I love the Lord more words could ever express and when I make a promise to Him, I take it seriously. Therefore, I simply will “not” make a promise to God that I know that I cannot or may not keep. With that, I am fasting from sex, including getting my freak on with myself, which I don’t mind telling you, “I quite enjoy.” My power tools are about to be locked in my attic. I am also fasting from booze, which makes me do really, really regrettable things that are out of character for me when I am feeling emotionally fragile and vulnerable.

I was seeing this guy for about a year. I stayed too long in the relationship (more later on that). I could have walked away with my dignity, but “no”. I did not. I am fasting from my addiction, not to him, but to what he represents in my head as I have recognized that he, like so many before him, are mere symptoms of the root cause of my problem. He was just a personification of some really old, deeply repressed shit that I never really knew existed in me. Nevertheless, all lines of communication (e.g. text messages, phone calls, Facebook, etc) have been blocked and I will not make any attempt to communicate with him in any fashion. The only reason I have the strength to do this is simply because of my affection for God and desire for Him to be number one in my life.

Enough is enough. The journey that I am embarking on with God is not going to be easy for me. However, I am afraid that if I do not overcome it, that I may die. I do not want to die. So I’m fighting harder than ever this time.

My goal is to write about what God is revealing to me, at least over the course of the next month, particularly since I am in the Word like I have honestly never been in my entire life… I hope you’ll stick around and listen to me get honest about my not-so-pretty, insanely unflattering junk. I believe that pain and the human will to survive is universal, so I’m betting that you may see yourself in some of my stuff.

Nevertheless, I just want you to know that I love you… and that I’m so thankful for you. I pray that you’re all still out there. As it stands, I am feeling a bit: