I've found that since I decided to tackle all the things I fear the most, my creativity has exploded...and in new and deeper ways. Art, after all, is emotion unhindered.
And my latest project? My Converse boots. I have been embroidering them for the past six months, and finished them last week. I must say, that I am not pleased with how they turned out. Quite the contrary...I am exceptionally surprised at the beauty of them, and they exceeded all expectations I had. Not only that, but they are, in fact, my journey on canvas. They are beyond symbolic...they are a piece of my very soul. The design is entirely my own, and scripture based. And so, without further ado, here they are!





 


(The pattern starts at the bottom of the right boot, curves up and around to the back zipper, and continues at the left zipper where it curves down and around the left boot.)




These boots turned out to be far more than I imagined. Funny how much that parallels to my life at the moment.
Like I said in the beginning, my art has soared recently. I think its because I'm finally become comfortable with being me. As a kid I decided early on to never to aspire to be an artist. Artists were conveyed to me, to be starving nobodies following dreams that would never come true. Misunderstood outcasts of society who are often intelligent, but rarely successful, and very often just adult daydreamers who never got a grip on reality and have far too open minds that almost cross into the realm of the insane. But not quite.
Failures.
They were early on labeled in my mind, though (secretly) I wanted to be one. Because deep down I knew thats what I was. But somewhere along the way I concluded that I had to be a scientist to be successful. Not that I don't love science (because I thoroughly do) but that I had to run with that desire and deny myself the pleasure of art. And if I did want to indulge in art, I had to make sure it was really really really good and that I at least stood out in the art world. Only one problem. I wouldn't allow myself to make mistakes. I had to get it perfect the first time. But how can you improve if you won't let yourself mess up? You can't. So I was stuck. Wanting to express myself but scared to death "myself" wasn't good enough. I simply wouldn't forgive myself for being human.
But, after all, if I can't have grace for myself, how in the world could I have grace for others? And if artists were mislabeled in my mind, how many other people/things? Dancers, myself, my parents, my teachers. I had a warped perception of them all. And I still do in several areas. But to undo what has been done one first must identify the problem (or in my case stop labeling and "identifying". After all it was my need to label the problem and try to fix it that was my problem in the first place.) I had to, first and foremost accept myself completely for who I am...warts, sins, shortcomings, characteristics, beauty, and all. The good and the bad. Let myself be me...completely. Come to terms with the fact that I am artistic, and that's not a bad thing. Only when I accept my good and bad traits can I do the same for others. Accept them, forgive them for their shortcomings and sins, learn to deal with it, go with the flow and keep going. I'm learning that not only patience, but grace and forgiveness are virtues as well. I even had to do this with my eating disorder. When I was a teen I had the misconception that anorexics were selfish addicts who were shallow and only cared about fashion. Only after I was anorexic myself for over a year did I realize that this was anything but true. And I had to come to terms with that as well. But you know what came out of it?...my boots (along with learning to play the guitar, taking up ceramics, teaching myself the Socratic method of philosophy, dabbling in French, and making my dog a raincoat out of an old air mattress). Or rather, my artistic freedom. Sure, it wasn't easy. And it was highly messy and confusing at times. But through accepting myself I've learned to let the little things slide, pick up after mistakes, not to sweat the small stuff, and to generally just enjoy being human. Messes, sin, weirdness, shortcomings, misunderstood-ness, and all. After all, if we were all perfect, life would be rather boring.

"Blessed are the flexible, for they will not be bent out of shape."
-Some wise guy

~Finding freedom to take after the Creator

"It helps so much to be punished; it feels so kind, like the only gift I have to offer. I don't deserve to live and I want to show you  I know that. I need you to see it on my face so you can receive some assurance, some inkling of my regret, some idea that I am sorry. There is no way to tell you, no way to express my sadness, no means to make obvious the guilt in my heart, the knowledge of my evil, the compassion you deserve, the pain I have earned. Let me hurt myself, let me do good...."

-The Secret Language of Eating Disorders

One of the reasons I took to my ED so readily was the thought/feeling that it was a way to communicate myself. A way to express my own awareness of my unworthiness...for life, for love, for good, for food. I fear greatly the thought of someone (especially someone I love) not seeing me. Not so much that but not seeing my awareness of my own state. I often feel completely inadequate at communicating my desires, motives, and ultimately my awareness of my own insignificance and your worthiness of more than I can give (and my inadequacies to provide for your needs). But even when I get past that and stop hurting myself (because i know it hurts those who love me) I find I deny myself, even of small things, because I feel unworthy. Not even on a great level most days, but subconsciously.

Thursday was hard again. The first day in months I've had a hard time eating. I feared I was slipping backwards, slowly almost undetectably.
Almost.

And I know what started it. The week started out hard. It was looking up, but I ate while studying with friends for a test I'm afraid I will fail (plus they are seeming to excel). Its not that I'm having that hard of a time with it, but its the fear of failing. Either way, I found myself staring at a six dollar salad I barely ate and giving into far too many voices this week.
What is it going to take? I believe in complete healing, but why in the world haven't I received it yet? Maybe its just that. Maybe I have to receive it. He is willing to give it, more than willing even, but I have to reach out my hands and accept it. I keep asking myself what I have to do to get it, but then again, maybe its about what I don't do. Making an effort to stop trying so hard. When you have a broken leg what do you do? You put your feet up for several weeks. But to heal, you must make a conscious effort to accept healing. To recognize you are worth it, you need it (and your needs are good things, you deserve to have your needs met), and that the only way you are going to get it is to let yourself. There are lots of things I don't let myself accept, not out of pride but because I believe I don't deserve them. Warm showers, for instance. Notice I didn't say hot showers. I take hot showers all the time, steaming hot showers. Not because I like it, but rather the opposite- to scald myself on purpose. At first it was a way to distract from the voices, then the voices told me to continue because I deserved it. I wouldn't allow myself to temper the water. There have probably been months where my back has been consistently raw because of it. And parking spaces. If there is an open parking space close to the front, without fail I will pass it, looking for one farther off just over the thought that there could be a mother with young children somewhere in that parking lot just wishing for a space close to the door. Hitting the snooze button on sat mornings, walks with my dog longer than fifteen minutes even when I have more than enough time, the first slice of a pie (I will go out of my way to find someone who will eat the first piece), buying the bagels that cost 20 cents more because they taste better, and watching more than one movie in a span of two weeks are all things I deny myself of (among many others) on a regular basis. No, make that a consistent basis. Now I'm all for conservation, saving money, giving to those who need it, and making the most of your time. But when I won't indulge in any simple pleasure when it is no cost to anyone else, I have the money and the time, and it is not only harmless but can be a good and productive thing...that's when we have a problem. Somewhere along the line it crosses into pride. Not just the instant pride that comes with the knowledge that you are capable of denying yourself of something others seem to lack the self control over, because that is not always present and prevalent, but rather a more subtle brand a of pride. One that is ultimately an usurp of God's authority. By saying I'm not worth something and that I inherently don't deserve it is directly going against God's definition of me and what he says I am worth. And by doing so I'm implying that I know myself better than God does, which implies that I am more intelligent than God- which is ultimately pride. To further this, when I believe those voices (telling me to deny myself of something good) I am insulting God because all good things come from him. It is ultimately a recognition of who I am because of who he is. He is worthy and, being created in his image, I am worthy also. Worthy of good, simply by being. That I do not deserve punishment, evil, or even the withholding of good. I am no longer evil because I have been washed by the blood of Christ. (The evil I recognize is not me, but Satan. Evil does not desire its own demise, but rather good does.) But how can I receive his gifts if my hands are clenched behind my back? It is not simply enough to say "yes I would like your gift". And so what must I do? Accept it. Accept his grace and mercy that are so readily available. Accept the fact that I am loved, cherished, beautiful, and worthy of good things (and that to deny myself of such is sin). So that's what I have done. I tried on my own to change my mind, but it was to no avail. And on several occasions I have even asked God to change my mind, to forgive me of my denial, and to help me go a different direction only to find myself exactly the same. But then I realized what I needed...to take the gift he was offering. To lay down my sin, ask for forgiveness, move on, and accept healing. Let him do the work. So I have. And you know what? He has changed me. Yesterday I took a warm shower without even noticing. And today I'm taking a nap, simply because I know my body needs it (and I really want to, hee hee). When I look in the mirror I don't automatically view myself as ugly. In fact, the idea of doing so seems a little weird even. And food? I'm enjoying it. Not making a point to because I don't have to. I simply do. I don't even have to try to like it, or think about it, or make myself get past the nervous knot in my stomach when eating with people because its not there. I can literally tell a difference between my mindset today and what it was two days ago (wow, was it really only two?). And I can honestly say it was not my own doing. He has changed me, and I am happy to say I'm accepting it, and rejoicing in the new and good.

~finding I am worthy, because he is

"Have you cried over it yet?"
"what?"
"Have you cried over it being gone yet?"
"Um, no, not yet. I am a little sad its gone, but I really like it the way it is now too."
"Well, its really cute on you."
I ran my fingers through my chin length hair as my boss said goodbye and walked out.
Its gone.
That's when it caught up with me. I went to the bathroom and sat on the floor sobbing. Over nine inches of my hair. Gone. Its not that my hair was short that really got to me. I had been thinking of getting it cut for months. What was it that bothered me so, when just half an hour before I was excited about it? I've gotten rid of the one thing about me that was beautiful. Wait a minute. Seriously? That is what was bothering me? A realization of monumental proportions hit me just then. I feel that short hair is "cute" while long hair is "beautiful". That I can't be one without the other and that I couldn't be beautiful without it; that a part of me was missing. Do I miss my long hair and all the fun it was? Well, sure. It took me over two years to get it that long and I could do a lot with it. But it was also a pain too. Plus I really like having short hair. There's nothing wrong with it, in fact it can be quite pretty. But I feel a pressure that there is a subconscious connotation in our culture that a woman is only stunningly beautiful if she has long hair. And how many more of these ideals do we face? Tons. A woman also has to be thin and have a job as well as children. That she has to desire a career and be a size 2 to have the most value. Because they don't want to say that she only has value if she has these qualities, they will simply imply that she has more value if she does. But having long hair isn't who I am. And my beauty is not solely dependent upon that. My true beauty and worth come from Christ and who he has created me to be within. So if that's the case, why am I still putting so much of my identity in my physical appearance? Because I have yet to define who I am on the inside and realize my inherent value. And I'm scared that by trying I will only find out that I am not what I greatly desire to be...beautiful, treasured, good, and lovely.

"so dear amber...how do you see yourself and who do you feel you are?" (buddy71)

That indeed is an important question. One that has been rolling around in my head for weeks. And though I have not found the entire answer I am learning just who it is I am. I used to define myself completely differently, even just a year ago, and I am learning that even that year ago I was an entirely different person. I know a lot of people say that, and I even have in the past, but this time it rings wholly true. I am by no means who I was even six months ago. I used to define myself as such:
Abused, beaten, downtrodden, with good intentions, quiet, quick to learn, a child trapped in an adult body, mildly creative, day-dreamer, tries hard (get the implications of this one?), people pleaser, invisible, reader, perfectionist, failure, and alone.
My senses were on overdrive and anxiety born of an overt desire to self defend and a fear of failure ruled my life. I was paranoid, self abusive in every sense, hypersensitive, quick to take on too much blame, and extremely hidden (to my friends, family, and even to myself). The turn around has been so drastic that I don't react to circumstances in even slightly the same ways. Like cutting my hair for example. Then I probably would have brushed it off and it would have mildly affected me because of my constant self-numbing and repression of my feelings. Now It affects me deeply, but I'm learning something from it and rolling with the punches. Learning how to keep moving and how to see myself for who and what I am. The change is so very different that I don't even recognize myself some days. I went back and read about a years worth of my old xanga from about three years ago and the difference is like night and day (I don't think I can even describe it fully. To see for yourself, go >>HERE<<). Reading it makes it hard for me to believe that I once wrote it. That it was mine. It feels like another person wrote it. And in a way they did. Because I'm not who I was.
So who am I? A very good question indeed. And like I said, though I don't have that answer in its entirety, I'm getting there. And I'm learning how to define myself:
I am Amber. The creative, quirky, deep, empathetic, compassionate, thoughtful, introverted, people loving, extravagantly dreaming, photographer, artistic, poetic, and beautiful woman with a deep knowledge of grace and a growing sense of who God is and who I am in him. I am a daughter of God, bought, sealed, and seen as his beautiful beloved. I am a former anorexic continuing on the path to complete healing who knows how to believe in futures. I am a treasure, a Jewel, a strong capable glorious woman, not because of anything I have done but because of who He is. I have seen many mountains and valleys and have fought many battles, but by the blood of Jesus I am victorious. It has been a long hard road but He has been faithful to see me through and I know how to trust that he is not done with me yet. I am growing, and the journey has just begun.
And you know what?
I'm excited to see whats in store just around the bend. I'm excited to discover who I am, and just how amazing He is.

"I wish you could see me now
I wish I could show you how
I'm not who I was
I used to be mad at you
A little on the hurt side too
But I'm not who I was
Well the thing I find most amazing
In amazing grace
Is the chance to give it out
Maybe that's what love is all about
I wish you could see me now
I wish I could show you how
I'm not who I was "
-Brandon Heath

~finding I am me and He is He, and just how wonderful that can be