The First Day

{Emotional drama ahead. I get really descriptive with my emotions sometimes. I'm a drama queen. But writing it all out like this is kind of helpful. I apologize for the length and the intense disappointed sadness.}

"Go back a little to leap farther." ~ John Clark

I like that quote. But I doubt that's what I was thinking when I broke my 20-month clean streak {clean from what? Click HERE for that post} a couple of days ago.

It's confusing. Confusion was the first emotion I felt at 1:30am last Wednesday. Huh? What had broken me? Why had I given in? How was that night different from the other 607?

The confusion was followed by disbelief. This hadn't really happened. It had to be a dream. I didn't actually throw away a year and a half of determined effort. I wouldn't do that. That's not something I'd do.

But, like, it was. I had really done that.

That's when the gut-chilling, spirit-crushing, somehow-tangible burden of disgusted, disappointed, nauseated, crippling regret descended.

I had somehow talked myself into believing I wouldn't regret it that time, despite the fact that I have always monstrously regretted every other time I've slipped up. Why did I decide to believe that lie? There was no evidence to support it! It didn't make sense. It DOESN'T make sense.

After I messed up, I couldn't be still. I was actually afraid to be still, like I thought my problem was something physical that could literally catch me. I walked around the big room downstairs. I went to my room. I ran upstairs. I had lots of rapid, choppy, blurred thoughts.

Then the feeling of regret started to feel too heavy to move around. I stood still. I held my head up with my hands. I stared at myself in the mirror.

I felt really alone. Not in a pitiful, sad way, but in a violently terrified, I-am-literally-the-only-person-alive-right-now kind of way.

I texted Sam. "I really hope this doesn't wake you up, but I have to tell someone: I fucked up. 20 months clean and I just fucked up. I don't even know what to do."

The text did not wake him up, and that was a good thing, but I was still irrationally afraid that there might not be anyone else on the planet with a beating heart and working lungs. So I texted Aaron.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes."

"I just broke my 20-month clean streak. I don't even know what to do."

"...nothing? Move on? Nothing else you can really do."

He then proceeded to talk me up from I Fail At Life And Don't Want To Breathe Anymore to I Feel Terrible But I Guess I Should Sleep Now.

The next day--yesterday--was really difficult. I had forgotten how difficult it could be. I had actually forgotten what it feels like to have those thoughts right beneath your skin, pressing and crawling and burning. Pressing behind my teeth. Crawling through my hands. Burning within my stomach. Invading every moment. Every moment was a struggle. EVERY. MOMENT.

I had seriously contradictory feelings about the whole thing. Part of me wanted to talk about the failure all the time, and part of me really wanted never to speak of it again. I wanted to tell everyone, scream it out on the street, but at the same time I didn't want to bring it up to anyone at all ever.

I felt like the biggest attention-whoring drama queen in existence {and after this post, you probably will too XD}.

Sam came over that night. He and Sarah and I watched the Olympics for like 3 hours. I hadn't eaten all day, so I had some pizza. Then I had ramen. My body was starving, but it felt wrong to eat. Had it not been for people around, I know I wouldn't have. It really worries Sarah when she thinks I'm not eating enough.

Apart from a hilarious chase scene between me and Sam-the-Cellphone-Thief, I wasn't really fun the whole night. I mostly sat on the couch and thought negative things about myself XD I did a completely atrocious job of disguising my mood, and felt really awful about that. But somehow I couldn't force myself to be happier, funnier, more alive.

Dunno why, but Sam stayed around with me. {Sam, I swear I'll be more fun next time you see me. I'll figure out how, and I'll make myself not be terrible XD Promise.} He probably would have stayed longer than he did, but my parents weren't home and it was late and we both knew he needed to go.

Today has been better. A lot better, actually. I didn't expect it to get this much easier this quickly. {And the screwed up part of me says, "See, no problem. You can bounce back in a couple of days. Go for it again." Gah, shut the hell up.}

I have a lot of days to go before I'll be back where I was on July 31st. But I know I CAN do it--I have before. I know what a 20-month clean streak feels like, but more importantly, I know what it feels like to lose it, and I have no plans to let that happen ever again.

I KNOW what I can do. I'm STRONGER this time. I'm MORE determined. I'm MORE sure of what I want.

Huh. "Go back a little to leap farther." Maybe that quote isn't so far off after all.

{Not that I recommend leaping back XD}

Here we go again, guys. Here's to getting through the rest of Day 2.

~Stephanie

Another Step

I did something huge a couple of weeks ago. At least, it should have been huge. The second I actually went through with it, the weight dropped out from it.

I told my best friend, Cassidy, about "my problem."

I don't know what I was expecting. Shock? Horror? Awkwardness? Some distance in the friendship? Not being able to look each other in the eye?

Maybe.

I did tell her over texting. We were already having a serious conversation though, so it wasn't like I was randomly dropping a bomb on things.

I typed it out. It wasn't that long. Maybe two texts.

As I prepared to hit Send, my heart chilled out. It stopped beating so hard. A wave of peace swept over me, and when I sent the text, the gravity of the situation evaporated. I might as well have been telling her that I was going to have chicken for dinner.

Her reaction?

Total acceptance. Understanding. Zero judgement.

o_o Wow.

Nothing about our relationship changed. If anything, our connection is stronger and more open. But there was no shock. No horror. No awkwardness. No distance. No avoidance of eye contact.

Telling her was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I feel less like a fake. I feel...just more real :)

This is what having a best friend is supposed to be like. I've never had a friend like Cassidy in my whole life. I'd go into obnoxious detail about us, but I'm already planning to do that in a whole separate post sometime XD So I'll save it.

But yeah :) Another step in the right direction.

In your face, Satan.

~Stephanie

Blogoversary

That word sort of bothers me, because it doesn't etymologically mean anything. ANNIversary comes from the Latin words "annus," meaning "year" and "vertere," meaning "to turn." So what does "blogoversary" mean? The turning of my blog.

Hm. Okay, so it makes slightly more sense than I originally feared.

I digress.

IT'S PANDORA'S BIRTHDAY!!!

One year ago today, I posted a quick welcome and then jumped straight into the important stuff: hott actors.

Want to know a secret? I decided to start Pandora so that I could post that post. I'm serious. The desire to post about hott actors is what pushed me over the edge. It's completely true that my old blog had started to feel really fake and I had outgrown it. It was only a matter of time before I started Pandora.

But the last straw was when I got a lot of self-righteous, critical feedback for posting about hott actors on my old blog. It occurred to me that if my followers couldn't embrace the slightly more worldly pieces of me...well, then what the hell was I doing giving them all the awesome pieces of me?

The Perfect Girl box was running out of oxygen fast. I needed somewhere that I could be ME, whole damn thing.

Pandora have given me a venue of complete freedom to express myself, because I say up front that I'M NOT PERFECT AND I PLAN ON MAKING THAT REALLY, UNCOMFORTABLY OBVIOUS, 'KAYTHNXBAI.

Through Pandora, I haven't just revealed myself to the world. I've also revealed myself to MYSELF.

I've come to face myself--all of myself. The good, the bad, the ugly, the surprising, the uncomfortable, the tragic, the encouraging, the exciting and the furious. I honestly think Pandora has helped me grow as a person, especially in the areas of openness and personal direction.

Pandora also was--and is--the only place where I can openly talk about "my problem," meaning my struggle with masochistic erotica.

It's still ridiculously hard to...to TYPE THAT OUT. But each time I do, it gets a little easier, and the burden on my chest gets a little lighter.

I'm slowly, surely, FINALLY becoming me, guys. And it's largely thanks to YOU. You who accept me, listen to me, counsel me, humor me, talk to me, believe in me, support me, challenge me, advise me.

I want to say Thank You. Creating a venue to express myself is something I did on my own. But having an incredible support system of fellow bloggers is not something I can do for myself. You guys continue to bless me every day. I hope Pandora and I can do for you just a little of what you do for me.

Happy birthday, Pandora :) Here's to many more.

~Stephanie

Trying Different

Wow, thanks for following, Adelle {who blogs with the lovely Gabrielle}, normal.is.overrated {who will write for Miss Unlimited}, and knockedaskew {another Miss Unlimited writer}! I'm not sure what to say about this influx of followers, but thanks, everyone! I'm determined NOT to get too wrapped up in numbers, but I'm not gonna lie, it makes blogging more fun when I know people are "listening."

~~~~~~~

Every year, you make New Year's Resolutions. Sometimes they're all new; sometimes they're the same old goals you set year after year and never reach.

Or maybe you stopped making "Resolutions." Maybe you don't like to feel like a failure when you don't live up to your own expectations. Come to think of it, who does? I don't.

Every year, we promise ourselves to try harder. We'll get up earlier or put in more hours or trash talk ourselves louder. "This is the year," you think. "I'm gonna try harder than ever. I'm gonna try my hardest."

And how does that work for us?

My NWRs last year were

- stop cracking my knuckles

- finish a story

- conquer my problem {masochistic erotica}

- finish my math book

- get in shape

- never go on Omegle again

I did one and a half of those things. I got in shape, and I'm officially a year clean from erotica.

{I say I achieved one and a half and not two because I don't think the erotica issue is something I can exactly "conquer". I think I'll always struggle with it, at least some. But I do think I did well. Staying clean for a year was one of--if not THE--biggest thing I've ever done. It took so much prayer, willpower, and determination. I don't think I failed at achieving the resolution; I think I failed at making it. I shouldn't have made it a goal to "conquer" my problem; I should have resolved to do my utmost to stay clean for a year.}

Anyway, I achieved 1.5 of 6 resolutions, and I had made all of them but the Omegle one in years past. I guess I just haven't tried hard enough yet. Right?

I'm starting to doubt that statement. Let's look at it logically. Take the resolutions that I DID achieve. Why did I succeed?

In years past, I've relied solely on myself to get in shape. "I'll take up jogging," I told myself. "I'll do two hundred crunches every night. I won't eat junk food."

This year, I did something different. I joined a workout class with my mom. {That looks unbelievably lame when I type it out, but I promise you, this class kicks your ass.} The trainer is personal and persistent. I wasn't alone in my quest for fitness anymore; I got accountability. I tried something new.

I also went a whole year without reading masochistic crap online. How did I do that? To be honest, I feel like I can't take any credit for that all. I tried for years to contain my twisted side and failed over and over. I doubt that I got a sudden burst of unprecedented strength when 2011 hit. I give all the credit away, to God mostly, but also to other people.

God's presence, strong and faithful, kept me sane in 2011. When I felt like I couldn't stand up against the temptations, God was there standing up for me. Through others' prayers, he aided me and gave me hope and strength all year long.

My mom knew about my problem, but I didn't make her understand until the beginning of last year. She thought it was something I could just quit, cold turkey, like throwing away a ratty pair of jeans. I made her understand that THIS DOES NOT WORK LIKE THAT. By being a better communicator, I gained a stronger ally in my journey.

I also started this blog. I think the biggest mental block towards recovery was the loneliness and shame. By keeping my struggle hidden, there was no way I could ever have deep fellowship. By keeping my problem secret, there was no way I could ever gain acceptance. Pandora has helped me realize that IT'S OKAY TO BE MESSED UP. By sharing my darkest secret, even with just this small part of the world, I've been able to accept myself a little better.

And that is making all the difference in the world.

So what did my two successful resolutions have in common? One thing is OTHER PEOPLE. We're all lazy and lack self-discipline sometimes. You need accountability this year. Get others involved in what you want to accomplish, for moral support and a kick in the butt when you need it.

{And don't forget to be an ally for other people, too. The best way to have strong friends is to be one. Ask what you can do to help others this year.}

The second thing is DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT. Let's face it: I would never have started jogging or doing two hundred crunches every night or cutting out junk food entirely. Some people can pull those things off, but I certainly could not.

{A part of me is indignantly screeching "YES, YOU COULD HAVE, EVENTUALLY." Well, Screeching Part of Me, that was taking way too long.}

This year, don't try HARDER, try DIFFERENT. Get down to the root of your problems, like I've begun to do with my masochism. By uncovering the burning loneliness and raw shame, I've been able to get farther than ever on the road to recovery.

This year, dig down deep and do something different. {Lawl, alliteration.}

With that in mind, here are my Twenty-Twelve New Year's Resolutions:

1. Finish a story.

2. Stay erotica clean for another year.

3. Stop cracking my knuckles.

4. Try my best in school.

Good luck, and thanks for listening to me. It's making a lot of difference.

~Stephanie

Forgiveness Part II

"Forgiveness" has been a big thing with me lately, if you couldn't tell just by the title.

And the weird thing is, until lately I've never thought about forgiveness much. Sure, we've studied it in youth group and on mission trips, but I never felt like it applied to me. I was actually annoyed that I never had anyone big to forgive. No one had ever done anything to me. I didn't HAVE any grudges to feel release from releasing. It was sort of annoying. I used to really get into emotional jazz like that.

And now, out of the blue, the concept of forgiveness is popping up everywhere. Last Sunday my pastor's sermon was actually ON Forgiveness. He mentioned that a lot of people have trouble accepting GOD'S forgiveness for what we've done. Like, "Well, if I were God, I sure wouldn't forgive me." And we try to earn God's grace by doing good things.

So, 1) It doesn't work that way.

2) It doesn't work that way.

God will always forgive us. There is nothing we can do that would make him turn his back on us. We screw up a lot, and the natural punishment for that is Death: eternal separation from God. But because Jesus just loves us SO MUCH, he died instead, so that we don't have to. So if we accept God's forgiveness, when he looks at us he doesn't see all the sh't we've done; he sees the perfection of JESUS CHRIST.

Which is mind-blowing.

But I'll buy it. I'll accept that. God will forgive me because Jesus took the blame on my behalf. Okay. I believe it. I'm forgiven.

But DO I FORGIVE MYSELF?

*blink*

I hadn't thought about it that much until Sunday, but I knew the answer right away:

No.

Mostly I don't have trouble forgiving myself. Mostly I forgive myself too easily. {"Oh, I just ruined your project with my orange juice? That sucks. Sorry." *moves on*} And I think that's bad too. But there's one thing in particular that I do not forgive myself for:

My masochistic porn...tendencies.

{I feel like I can finally stop saying "addiction..." And that feels really good. But it's still a monumental boulder of suck in the path of my mental happiness.}

I can't forgive that, and every time I get close to forgiveness, I feel awful. The voice inside my head goes "WHAT? YOU FORGIVE YOURSELF? Well damn, it's probably only a matter of time before you decide it's okay completely."

I feel like I can't forgive myself, because I haven't changed yet. If I didn't keep an ironclad grip on myself all the freaking time, I'd go back to it. There is no question about it. So why should I forgive myself for something that I'll just do again? It's like I haven't really repented. I'm not REALLY sorry or I would change.

And that's a whole 'nother can of worms right there. How am I supposed to change something that I can't even understand? How am I supposed to change the way my mind has worked for literally 17 years? {I remember being this way when I was 2 years old. I'm not kidding.}

*sigh*

But that's not what this is about. This is about forgiveness and my lack of it towards myself.

As I was sitting in the second row during all this, feeling real great and everything, my pastor says this:

"When we don't forgive ourselves, we're presuming to be better judges than God himself."

Oh. Oh my. I'd never thought of it that way before. If we refuse to forgive ourselves, we're not only throwing God's grace in his face, but we're also saying we know better than God. "Well, God, YOU might forgive me for this, but I know better than to do that."

So, I'm slowly coming to grips with the fact that not only do I need to forgive others, I need to forgive myself. I have absolutely NO IDEA how to go about doing that, but at least I'm now sure that it needs to happen.

What about you? You don't have to comment or anything if you don't want to, but think about it. Is there something you're holding against yourself?

~Stephanie

Linkin Park

**This post is personal and gritty, but turned into one of my favorites actually.**

Linkin Park is one of my top three favorite bands of all time. I love their sound, versatility and lyrics. Their sound is really my style, the mix of screaming and clean vocals sprinkled with plenty of minor keys. The lead singer, Chester Bennington, has a good singing and screaming voice. The band's lyrics are kind of angsty and angry, but not all of them, and at least their entire repertoire isn't centered around lust.

I was first introduced to them at age twelve when my nonbiological older brother was into them. Back then I was extremely sheltered and assumed anything not played on K-LOVE was trash from hell. The first song I ever heard was Papercut {which is now one of my very favorite songs} and I thought it was pretttty hard core.

After that fleeting introduction to the world of nu metal, I forgot about Linkin Park for years until...*winces*...the "Twilight" soundtrack came out. Leave Out All the Rest is on the soundtrack. On my first listen-through, I saw the Linkin Park number coming up and my eyes widened.

See, the nonbiological brother was a huge part of my childhood, and he'd cut himself out of the picture a year or so before. Just seeing the band name "Linkin Park" was a bit of salt in my heart wound. I didn't even think I'd like the band, but in a fit of masochistic honor for my brother, I decided to listen to the song anyway.

I loved it. I LOVED it. In a way that I'd never loved a song before. It was one of the first songs that really spoke to me. It was one of the first songs I hadn't listened to just for the beat. Because I was listening to it for my brother, it felt like he was singing the song to me, and the lyrics actually kind of fit. I think I even cried a little.

The song became my favorite for weeks. I did some exploring into the music of LP and the band never left my top three.

A few years ago when I started struggling with internet porn/erotica, Linkin Park grabbed onto my heart in a new way. Their songs expressed what I was feeling perfectly. I didn't have to try to figure myself out, they had already given my soul words.

"Breaking the Habit"

It was like one day I woke up and realized that I really, truly, seriously had a problem. I'm not sure how I didn't see it before, but it took me a ridiculously long time to figure out that I was actually battling masochism and addiction. I realized that I had to Break the Habit or I was going to lose myself.

"I don't know how I got this way

I know it's not alright

So I'm breaking the habit tonight."

"Easier to Run"

This song perfectly expressed how I felt in the middle of it all. Like, Linkin Park literally took the words out of my mouth, heart, head. I actually wonder if the lyrics were written specifically about what I was going through. The song covers it all: the shame, the desperation, the loneliness, the helplessness, the hopelessness, the way it felt like my addiction was invading my mind. The way I would do ANYTHING to make it go away.

"If I change--I would

Take up the pain--I would.

Retrace every wrong move that I made--I would.

If I could stand up and the blame--I would.

If I could take all the shame to the grave--I would."

"From the Inside"

From the Inside was the song that spoke to me as I started to get angry and fed up with myself. I could no longer trust myself to do the right thing. The slightest thing would send my mind into the dark place where the dirty secrets grew. Something innocent would turn sexual in minutes. Just going online at all became dangerous. I hear the song sung from the good me to the dark me.

"Take everything from the inside

and throw it all away

'Cause I swear for the last time

I won't trust myself with you."

"What I've Done"

This song expressed how I felt coming out of the darkness: hesitantly hopeful. Can I do this? Will everything be okay? Does my mom still love me? I CAN do this. Everything WILL be okay. My mom DOES still love me.

"So let mercy come

and wash away

what I've done.

I'll face myself

To cross out what I've become.

Erase myself.

And let go of what I've done.

For what I've done

I start again.

And whatever pain may come,

today this ends

I'm forgiving what I've done."

And that's where I am today. It's still an every day struggle, some days are harder than others, but I'm getting through this. One day maybe I'll have the final breakthrough and really become the person I was meant to be, without all this despicable baggage. But until then,

I know it's not alright, so I'm going to take up the pain and throw it all away because I'm forgiving what I've done.

And so is God.

~Stephanie

{truth is}

**This post talks about some adult issues. If you just hesitated even slightly, please don't read this post. It's NOT that it's horribly R-rated, it's just that there are so many things I wish I didn't know, and I don't want to be the one to introduce you to this crap.**

So, the whole "truth is" thing has been going around Facebook for a while, although I'm pretty sure it's over. All good {or just kind of lame} things must come to an end. But I recently showed a friend this blog, and got to thinking about "truth is."

The things I post here are me. All the way. The way I think, the way I talk, the way I feel. Some of it is weird, a lot of it is a little crude, but it's me. Uncut, uncensored. {And honestly, it could be a lot worse. Just saying'.}

But as the friend scanned the posts, I felt on edge, like I was about to lie.

"Oh, that wasn't me posting actually, one of my friends did that one."

"I don't really think that, I just thought it was funny."

"Someone...put me up to that?"

But no.

No. No. NO. No. NO.

I am done lying. I am done hiding. At least here, at least on Pandora.

I'M NOT PERFECT, GUYS. And sometimes, I flat out suck. I'm not proud of it, I'm trying to change it, but I am not going to lie or hide it. The whole reason I started Pandora was so I could have a place to be REAL. My REAL thoughts, my REAL feelings, my REAL mind.

I will never lie to you here. I might not tell it all {last name, birthday, street name, social security number}, but I'm not going to slant things. I'm not going to twist a story to make myself look better. I'm not going to pretend like I'm not one of the worst people I know.

I've told you before that I struggled/struggle with porn. That idea is true, but it's not exactly right. I didn't feel like explaining it then. But what I really struggle with is masochism, and in the written form. Not like graphic novels, but the crap you can find online.

{I know some people are going to tell me that there's nothing wrong with that, that it's just who I am and I should embrace it and stop worrying. Well, I don't want to be that way.}

I didn't even know masochistic stories/descriptions/websites existed when I started looking for them. I was completely innocent. I just had these raw feelings of masochism that I've had for as long as I can remember. I didn't know it was a sexual thing, I just knew what I wanted and Googled it. I had no idea what I was getting into.

But, as you all know, the internet is ready and waiting to help people like that, and I got sucked into the whole thing really fast and hard. Without knowing what was going on, I didn't know that I should fight it. I mean, I figured there was something wrong with wanting to be beaten and enslaved, but I didn't...I just didn't know what was going on.

Ugh. You don't even know how hard it is for me to write this. I know it's easy to read, but writing it is like pulling out my insides. This whole thing is probably the hardest thing I've ever written >.< But no lies here. No sugarcoating. I lay it all out on the line for Pandora. For the first time in my life, I have a place to be brutally honest.

In real life, I hide that whole side of me. The Me inside is so different from the Me my friends know and love.

I'm not one of those people who's afraid no one would like her if they knew her real self. I have some really good friends that I know would never forsake me, even if they knew. That's not what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of their eyes. If they knew the darker side of me, they'd look at me differently. Every time a related subject came up, I'd feel dirty and horrible.

You know that uncomfortable feeling you get when watching a racy movie scene with your parents? That's what my whole life would feel like if everyone knew. I hate being fake, but I'd hate being real more.

That's the whole reason behind Pandora. I don't have to fake here, at all, ever. In fact, I forbid myself to be fake here. I don't allow myself to lie, twist, slant, etc. anything I post. Is it uncomfortable? Yes. Do I worry about my friends somehow finding this blog? Absolutely. But I need Pandora. As much as I needed my old blog at the time, I now need Pandora.

The truth is, I'm not perfect, and I finally get to admit it.

~Stephanie

(: Easter :)

Thanks for following, Shruti! :)

It's about eggs.

And candy.

Getting a new dress.

And looking fresh and springy.

It's about embracing new life.

And chicks.

Checking for the Easter bunny.

And getting sick from too much chocolate.

But what's it REALLY about?

I love eggs and candy and bunnies and dresses, but the real reason is somewhere else.

Easter is about love. It's about the biggest, deepest, strongest love there is. It's about someone who loves you more than anyone else in the world, someone who's crazy for you, someone who thinks you are to die for.

Literally.

No matter what you've done, Jesus loves you.

No seriously. Listen to me.

I didn't even understand this until a couple of years ago. I used to lie awake wondering why people had trouble getting it. "Jesus loves you," okay, cool, done. It's not that hard to get your mind around, people.

Then I started having trouble with pornography and other things along that line. It got really bad. It consumed me. I was not the person I had been. My mind was poisoned, every thought came with a bitter taste. I dreamed things I never should have thought about. I felt like there was literally something inside of me, eating me alive.

I hated myself. I hated myself so much that I didn't want to exist. It's not like I wanted to die, I just thought that if I couldn't be better than this, I wasn't worth living. Horrible thoughts and feelings choked me, suffocated me. I was the worst person I knew.

How could God love me?

For the first time, I started to understand how big that was. How could he love me? WHY would he love me? I didn't even love myself.

I'd ask him to help me time and time again, and he would. But then I'd just mess up again. I'd ask for forgiveness more times than I could count, but I'd just turn around and do the very same things again. I threw God's help in his face more than once. I'd decide he wasn't worth it, that I just wanted him out of my life, that I wanted him to leave me alone and let me enjoy doing the wrong thing.

My mind and soul felt black and destroyed, I felt disgusting. I was a bad person, I really was. How could God love me? HOW COULD HE LOVE ME? He couldn't. It was impossible. He didn't love me. He couldn't.

But for some reason that I can't even fathom, he did. He DID love me.

2000 years ago, he knew me. He knew EXACTLY what I would do, who I would become, and all the horrible things I'd give in to. HE KNEW. He knew I couldn't help myself on my own. He knew I would need help. And despite the fact that he knew I would become the worst person I knew...

He died for me anyway.

He was whipped, beaten, and mocked until he was unrecognizable as a person. He took blow for blow the most painful execution known to man. They didn't even have a word for that kind of pain. You know the word "excruciating"? "Ex," meaning "out of," "cruxio," meaning "cross." They had to invent that word to describe that kind of torment.

Jesus did that for ME. He loved me with a fierce, protective, gentle love. He loved me so much he would have done that if it had been only me. But it wasn't only me. He died for you too. He died for everyone, every single person.

No matter what we've done, it's never too much. We can never go too far, we can never be "too bad." Jesus knew what he was doing. He knew all the shit would do, he knew all the thoughts we would think. He knew that, and he died for it.

The penalty for our screw-ups is death, but Jesus loved us too much for that. He died instead. Instead of letting us take the unbearable burden of eternal death, he died for us so that when we die, it can be just the beginning.

That's what Easter means to me. It means that no matter what I do, or who I am, Jesus will always take me back. He loves me that much. I finally "get it," and yet I get the feeling that I'm only seeing the tip of the iceberg.

~Stephanie