I am not the Lorax

I am humbled every time someone reaches out to me to tell me that my writing has effected them in some way.

Strange but true fact: as I sit and write, I need to pretend that no one else will be reading it, for one reason: if I start to think too much about what others will think of my writing, I start to censor myself. I start to think what will people want to read, instead of what I need to write.

And as I share my thoughts and experiences, I want to be clear: I am speaking for myself. I am not the Lorax, speaking for those who have no voice. It is almost akin to a miracle to me that people read my thoughts and relate to them so much.

For so long, I thought no one would understand me if I let go of all my inhibitions and freely expressed what runs through my mind. The experiences that have created the woman I am today. The beliefs I have.

Some force took over my mind one day and decided that I needed to sit down and start writing again, after not writing much of anything for over 13 years.

I was surprised to find that I was being guided to write about me. To use my weight loss surgery as a catalyst to delve deeper into the beautiful mess that I am and share it with the world. (it is not an exaggeration to say I have a world wide audience, according to my blog stats. Shout out to those who read me in other countries: Cześć! Zdravo! Hola! Salut!)

And as people began to reach out to me, to talk to me about my writing, I was horrified. I was embarrassed. I felt shame that people were getting to know one facet of me, which is not the facet I normally share with the world.

I thought about stopping.

I can't stop though. Just as I used to be compelled to binge eat, I am now compelled to write. After squelching that desire for so long, after numbing it, after denying it, after letting the opinions of others sway me away from writing, I sat down and began typing.

And I keep going. Some days I think that I will run out of things to write about, particularly when it comes to myself, however, there's a wealth of material.

I am still getting used to the idea that people can relate to what I write.

And that knowledge, well, it helps me not be so closed off when I meet people. That perhaps, after feeling for so many years that I was not worth getting to know by anyone, unless I was the person that they expected me to be, instead of who I am, letting my truth shine, instead of hiding it....

I felt that people wanted me to be quiet, to not express my thoughts and opinions and experiences unless they were happy. Unless they were positive. Unless it validated them. I felt that I was crazy. Because most of the time, when I revealed what I was truly thinking, I was told that I was.

However, there is nothing wrong with being crazy. There is nothing wrong with being open.

I am still selective over who gets to fully know me, but that's just self-preservation.

And although I am still trying to get comfortable with people relating to me through my writing, it is not a bad thing that my writing speaks to so many.

I do feel that my need to tell my story is what God has planned for my life. That there needs to be more unflinchingly honest voices in the world about what it does means to go through such a transformation in your life.

And like becoming comfortable with my crazy, I am becoming more comfortable with sharing my writing. I am becoming more comfortable with who I am.

And if my writing inspires someone else to embrace themselves and become the person they need to be, or accept the person that they are, then it is worth it.

For this blog isn't as much about me as it is about God, I am learning.

And if my blog shows someone that a Christ follower can be someone just like me, someone who is not saint like, someone who struggles with depression, addiction and a wide variety of other challenges, that a Christ follower is not a over zealous person who will hand you religious pamphlets on the street corner, then it is worth it.


I embrace my crazy. I embrace my faith. I no longer feel shame about those two parts of my life. And I keep writing, as maybe I am crazy enough to think that my sharing my voice, which is resonating with others, that I can somehow change the world. Although I still contend I am not the Lorax. For one thing that most people forget about--the Lorax failed when he spoke for the trees.