Fear And All That Comes With It

I'm afraid to stop moving and doing because when it comes down to it I'm scared that I'm not going to be enough. Just me, no crazy activities, no new outdoor skills, no adrenaline seeking thrills to hide behind. If I'm just me I'm not good enough to be loved. Or to even be a friend. Just me is boring and plain and insufficient. 


I know all of this is a lie. Yes, as me I'm not enough. But I've found what makes me enough. Why can't I own my wholeness in Christ? Why can't I grab onto it and accept it? Why can't I accept that I am complete in Christ, that God loves me that much? Why can't I just let go and be child of God? WHAT COULD I POSSIBLY BE THAT AFRAID OF? What inside of me is so insecure that I can't grasp the only thing that I know will no matter what make me 100% complete. 100% done. 100% enough.


I'm not sure but I'm thoroughly annoyed with Satan. He knows all of this. He knows that I won't let myself feel complete and he leaches on to me. He rides me day in and day out whispering lies to me. No one wants me. No one will ever accept all that is Kait, they only want the exciting new things about me. I will never fell whole. I had better just give up and take what I can get. Give into my flesh and act impulsively so that I might momentarily feel right. So that I might just for a second feel whole and complete. 


I hate him. I hate him with everything that is inside my being. He knows me inside and out. He knows just how to make me fall. Inch by inch nudging my feet closer to the edge. Until I have to realize what is happening and run. I'm tired of running. Can't it be someone else's responsibility to pick up my feet for each step so I can get a break. My legs are exhausted. My feet don't want to hit the ground again. My entire body is awash with an unwillingness to fight back. But the tiny knock in the back of my brain that tells me I know better. And I do. I know better than to give into my flesh. I know better than to act of my emotional impulses. But most of me tells myself that I'm too tired from the previous day's battle to fight again. My sword is too heavy. My armor too hot. My mind too foggy to think clearly. But the knocking always manages to give me the push I need to fight another day. I hate that knock that makes me work so hard. But after the battle I can't thank the knock enough. 


Life's everyday battles are excruciating. But we continue to win.