Walk in the Woods

Abstraction Nik Curfman Abstraction Nik Curfman

Abstraction: Perfect Cookies

In a panic, she flung open the oven door and yanked the hot sheet from the rack. Of course, she was right! One cookie was starting to turn black, while another still raw. The flaws of this latest attempt too great to bare.

The air in the kitchen was laden with the scent of dark chocolate, brown sugar, and melted butter. In her heart she knew, this was the batch. Her long awaited perfection. The bake to end all bakes. No more tears or failure she thought. This is gonna be it.

As time passed a crowd gathered, and her pulse raced. A dozen tiny voices began to ask the questions she long tried to ignore.

What if she burnt the cookies, or they were too sweet, or bitter? Did she remember the baking soda? What would her mother say? Did she even like chocolate chip cookies? What about her fellow baker’s and her former life? What would become of her if she did bake the perfect cookie?

Suddenly her nose caught the scent of something off. She couldn’t be sure, but the longer she stood frozen next to the oven, she convinced herself. She made a mistake. Somewhere in the prep, perhaps the baking, but along the way she f*cked up.

In a panic, she flung open the oven door and yanked the hot sheet from the rack. Of course, she was right! One cookie was starting to turn black, while another still raw.

Tears filled her heart, and she had neither the wisdom or the ability to find the good in this batch. The flaws of her latest attempt too great to bare. Without a taste, she carefully slid her latest effort into the trash heap. The voices applauded her bravery, so why was she ashamed?

The thin baker turned to begin again.

Perfection, her ideal and her burden, keeps her hungry and starved. Alone and afraid. Always baking, never eating the fruits of her labor. Always perfecting, never grateful for the goodness at hand. Always wishing, never enjoying the cookies she baked.

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Daily Journal: #118 Stuck Is A Lie

Each of us can overturn the tables on shame and self-condemnation. It will always start with being honest and using our faith to fight through it. Faith says “The Father knows what I’m facing, and He has a plan. Lord, be God in the place in my heart (or mind.) I do not believe Your will includes my failure.” The moment we make room for another possibility, we allow God to go to work.

I’ve been there, that hopeless feeling when I see the same sins creep into my routines. It’s present when the scale confirms my worst fear, when my bank account dips lower, and I spend another Friday night on the couch. I’m stuck living a life I hate. I am fat, broke, and alone. I always will be.

These are powerful thoughts to think, even though they are lies. That’s because these are no ordinary lies. There is a logic to them. I’ve battle my weight all of my life, rarely held onto extra dollars, and dated once every few years. There’s a pattern, one I seem unable to break. But…that’s not true.

What Is True

Patterns are a gift from the Lord. I believe that. They tell a story and shine a light on our flaws. It is the enemy who adds condemnation to your insecurity. When I face the same disappointments it is an indication of I have an area in need of my attention.

For nearly 40 years, I thought I was overweight because I was undisciplined, lazy, and impulsive. I could diet for a while, exercise, and focus on my sleep routine. Eventually, I’d fail. I’d fall off the tight rope. The pounds marched back through the door, and usually brought friends. Each extra pound was confirmation I’m stuck being fat.

But, that’s not true.

I wasn’t overweight because I’m lazy or undisciplined. I was overweight because I hated myself, and lacked self-worth. All of my motivation was focused on winning the approval of others. I didn’t have grace for my lapses or mistakes. Each piece of pizza was a symbol of my hopelessness.

Once I learned to love myself, I found the grace to enjoy life without condemnation. I spent an entire weekend in September eating and drinking foods I never eat or drink. When I got back to California, I didn’t sweat it even though I gain a pound or two on the trip. One pound did not turn into twenty.

Get Back to Healthy

My key to moving past my patterns is grace. The more I love myself, the more I am able to move through shame and sorrow. When I got from my trip to Alabama, I went right back to what is healthy for me: walks in the morning with Jesus, intermittent fasting, and a low carb diet. It took a week, but that pound melted off.

In my past, whenever I fell off my horse, I stayed down. I criticized myself for falling and refused to get back on the saddle. It seems silly now, but that’s the truth. I couldn’t handle failure, because failure meant I was unworthy and imperfect.

I am imperfect. I will fail. But, that’s ok. It doesn’t mean I’m unworthy. I am worthy because the Lord says I am. I am loved because I exist. I am amazing, and wonderfully made. These are the truths about Nik (and you.) I am stuck only when I choose to believe that lie. I am not my sins. I am not a loser.

It does not matter how many times I fall, I can get right back up. This week I’ve felt sad everyday, but I’m not stuck in sadness. I let myself feel the sorrow, then I go for a walk with Jesus. Lord, I’m here. I admit my sadness and why I’m sad. Then I let Him take it from me. Instead of spiraling into self-pity and depression, I laugh and the peace of God finds my heart.

I am not stuck.

Moving Through Stuck

Each of us can overturn the tables on shame and self-condemnation. It will always start with being honest and using our faith to fight through it. Faith says “The Father knows what I’m facing, and He has a plan. Lord, be God in the place in my heart (or mind.) I do not believe Your will includes my failure.” The moment we make room for another possibility, we allow God to go to work.

The next step is immediately go back to what we know is healthy for us. Healthy behavior includes expressing gratitude, exercising self-grace, and question the anxiety (What does the Lord say about me? What is the truth? What else is possible in this moment?) Go for a walk, drink some water, and listen to some worship. Do what it takes to treat yourself with love and kindness.

You’re worth it.

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Love over Shame, Everyday

I woke up Sunday morning and thought thoughts I’d rather not think. My emotions started to run down a mud path as my mind rummaged for answers. How do I make them see me? Value me? How do I make it happen? It’s a bullshit trap, where the true answer is to stop asking the questions. The premise is wrong. 

Still I tried to give myself permission to stay under the covers rather than start my day the healthy way. It’s Sunday. Take the day off. Your legs are sore. You’ve been good. But I didn’t listen. I battled back. It’s just walking Nik. A few miles. You can walk a few miles. It won’t be hard. You’ll be proud of yourself tomorrow.

I flung my comforter against the wall as I swung my feet to the ground. If I lay here I’m going to sink. And I love myself, so I refuse to sink. I need time with Jesus. I’m going for a walk. 

I didn’t know how twisted my motivations were until this year. I didn’t understand how much anxiety and shame played into my decision making. (Not in every decision. Some decisions I made because I thought it was the right thing to do, and some because it’s what I truly wanted. Earlier this year I dated a woman for the mere fact that I liked her and really enjoyed being with her- no fear or shame present in that moment.)

One area of life long contention is my body image. More aptly said, I worried about what some think my body said about me when they met me. Obese people are often seen as lazy or unable to control their habits- any number of undesirable judgements. I often saw myself in those terms: lazy, unambitious, undisciplined. When an interview went poorly or a woman gave me the cold shoulder I’d instantly begin to hate myself for being fat.   

Consequently, every diet I tried was motivated by my attempt to transform myself into a more acceptable human. I’m not good enough for the job or the girl, but I could be in 50 pounds. And so I would lose weight for a while. Then hit a stall. The pounds would stop dropping, and I didn’t love myself enough to say no to lasagna and a beer and slice of pie. The pounds start to come back like old friends, and the stigma is reinforced. I am lazy and undisciplined. I don’t deserve better.

What I’ve finally discovered in 2020 is I was never going to be a healthy me from a place of shame and self-pity. But if I actively choose to love and affirm myself, I create room for imperfection and lags. When I believe and trust the Lord, it’s ok when I get my heart broken, because I believe the best is yet to come. It’s self-fulfilling prophecy. 

I find self care and love is much more affective form of motivation. It doesn’t allow my feelings or internal narrative to make decisions. It looks for creative answers and hopes all things. It’s patient and kind, always gracious and loving. 

New habits are still forming, but I’m excited by the results. I’m worth loving. My body isn’t a shack. It’s a testimony to the Lord’s faithfulness and endurance. 

Thank you Lord for teaching me to love myself. 

Amen. 

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