But in an effort to be honest about a struggle of mine,

to open for discussion a topic I believe others will resonate with,

and to speak from a heart of mutual respect and non-judgment,

I will try my best.

(Even as I’m cringing…)

It’s a myth that overeating is a problem only for people of a certain size.

I like to eat.

Actually, I like to eat a lot.

I’ve always blamed it on being Italian. We Ronzinos love us some food!

If there aren’t abundant leftovers, we haven’t cooked enough. If our plates aren’t piled high, we must not be feeling well. If we aren’t addicted to carbohydrates, we’re practically sacrilegious.

But the truth is that it has less to do with my heritage than it does with my heart.

While I’m still unearthing all the reasons why, I can no longer avoid this simple fact:

I overeat.

My portion sizes are routinely larger than healthy.

I usually continue eating long after I’m full simply because it tastes so dang good.

I eat when I’m bored or because it’s “time to”, whether I’m hungry or not.

In the past few months, I’ve realized what an emotional eater I am. I crave carbs when my heart hurts.

I recognized a huge red flag when I caught myself trying to trash my empty Chick-Fil-A carton before my friend noticed it.

Yeah. I have eating issues.

So I’m choosing to go public with my unhealthy eating habits to help force some change in me.

(Nothing says motivation like public accountability.)

My first intentionality is to scale down my portion sizes. Not to minuscule, but to normal. To healthy.

I’m also going to try eating slower. I say try because I usually don’t realize how fast I eat until I’ve cleared my plate. (Yikes.) If you have suggestions on ways to remember to slow down, please pass them along.

And I am going to ask God for help. Sounds so simple, but—to be completely honest—I’ve never asked Him to help me with this before. It’s time to start.

(Still cringing.)

That’s just what happens when you’re married for 9 years. Even when you suddenly… aren’t.

I love my married friends. Love them.

But if I’m being most honest, it’s bittersweet to spend time with them and their husbands.

The Sweet—
I enjoy their men and have a blast when we’re all together. I love watching my friends come alive in unique ways when they are with their husbands. I find joy in observing their interactions, of seeing the love between them in the smallest of things: unconscious gestures, a kiss on the top of her head, a hand-hold, him unloading the dishwasher while she cooks. I love seeing my friends treated well.

The Bitter—
I am painfully aware of what I don’t have, of what I’ve lost. I ache even for things I now realize I never had to begin with. It makes me miss so much. I miss being held. I miss having endless history and still so much to discover. I miss having someone to call mine who loves calling me his.

I hesitate to say any of this because I don’t want people to be self-conscious in front of me.

Just this weekend I shared these thoughts out loud with a married friend for the very first time.

I also told her that I don’t want her to change anything.

I don’t want people to walk on eggshells when I’m around or be less affectionate with their spouses.

Because there are moments when the bitter and the sweet collide in a beautiful symphony that leaves me hopeful.

I become hopeful for what could be, for what might be. I become hopeful to see and understand how I deserve to be treated. I become hopeful that I may get to experience that someday.

So, married friends, don’t change anything when I’m with you and your husband.

And, single friends, listen closely for that beautiful symphony of hope when you’re around married couples.

It’s right there in the bittersweet.

But we are.

And we do.

I’ve heard it said—and have even said it myself—that God wouldn’t give us passions and dreams, and then not fulfill them. I used to swallow that whole, but I don’t really believe it to be true any more.

Once you factor in free will, sin, and natural consequences, there is no way every hope, dream, and longing can be fulfilled.

Even when we do everything “right”, life simply isn’t fair. For reasons we may never understand this side of heaven, not every prayer is answered and not every dream comes to pass.

Consider a little league baseball tournament where boys on both teams dream of winning the championship.

You dream of a promotion at work. So do three co-workers who are competing with you for the position.

I dreamed of a restored marriage, while my husband dreamed of a new life with another woman.

It is simply not possible for every dream to come true.

I’ve had to come to terms with that truth in my life. It sucks. And it hurts. And I’m not totally sure what to do with it.

All my deferred hope has left my heart sick.

I miss those dreams that will never be. I miss the future that is no longer possible. I miss what could be and should be, but won’t be.

I have to surrender those to God, trusting that even when it doesn’t seem like it, He has my highest good and His maximum glory in mind.

I’m wrestling with the balance between surrender and hope.

I want to live surrendered—fully embracing what I’m given, rather than longing for what I’m not.

And I want to live with hope—faithfully trusting God’s promises and believing Him for what I cannot see.

But how do I do both at the same time?

How do I hope while embracing what I’m given?

I miss people I love. I miss things I value and places I cherish. I miss hope, security, roots. I miss a sense of home and a feeling of being someone’s someone.

I also find myself missing people I’ve never met and things I’ve never had.

Does that sound crazy? Maybe it does. But I know it to be true.

It is possible to miss what I’ve never experienced.

Almost as much as I miss what I have experienced.

Sometimes the aches are similar. And equally deep.

Sometimes they are so intertwined I can’t separate them.

Sigh…

What do you miss?

We’ve got custom t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, bracelets, and coffee, and the proceeds go directly to funding our ministry in South Africa.

I love all our merch, but by far my favorite is the coffee. Because it’s unique. I mean, lots of organizations sell t-shirts. But c’mon! Who has their own custom blend of coffee?! So fun that we do.

It’s fair-trade and organic. And it’s made with all African-grown beans.

From Africa, for Africa.

I love that!

So take a look around. Maybe you’ll see something you like. You can even create a wish list to give someone an oh-so-subtle hint.

Will you help spread the word?

You can tell people about Thrive. Blog or tweet about our new online store. Grab one of these graphics to put up on your site.

Click on the graphics to see size options
& to copy the HTML code.

Help us train African leaders and turn the tide of the AIDS pandemic.

Do something.

(It’s not too late to lace up your rollerskates and join in if you haven’t yet…)

I’ve had a blast reading all your comments. It’s been fun seeing all the creative ways you’ve responded, and I’ve learned tons of new things about you.

I’m astounded by all the lurkers who’ve come out of hiding.

I’m so glad you did. Seriously.

I appreciate knowing who I’m talking to everyday.

And now that you’ve officially de-lurked, hopefully you’ll start commenting more often. Because, I promise you, the best part of the Grit isn’t my posts.

The best part is the comments.

I cherish the community that takes place there. I value the conversations that unfold in that space. I am grateful for the safety and freedom you feel to be authentic and transparent.

In the comments, hearts are shared and connected.

It’s where I get to know you, and you are my favorite part of blogging.

Thank you for listening to my heart and for sharing yours. Thank you for walking with me through this valley, and for strengthening me with your prayers and encouragement.

Thank you for simply showing up.

I’m still amazed that you do.

Well, I’m calling an all skate at the Grit.

Everyone’s gotta comment on this one.

Even the silent-lurker types.

It’s time to de-lurk.

So here’s the all skate question:

In ten words or less, tell me who you are.

“He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support.”

She reminded me that the enemy of my soul is ruthless.

He confronts me in the day of my disaster. He kicks me when I’m down. He comes at me from all sides when I’m feeling like I’m at my lowest.

I know she’s right. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it.

While there are many Christians who blame the devil for far too much, I know I don’t blame him nearly enough.

I need to get better at recognizing his schemes.

I’ve got to realize sooner when he’s attempting to steal, kill, and destroy in my life.

I need to catch on quicker when he sends my heart spiraling with false accusations.

Because I can’t fight an enemy I don’t acknowledge.

And though I’ve been fighting, I haven’t actually been fighting against the enemy as much as I need to be.

So I’m gonna be talking to the devil more than usual today.

I’m gonna call him out for the thief and liar that he is. I’m gonna remind him of the truth God says about me. I’m gonna look him in the eye and declare, “Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise.”

This battle’s not over yet.

And I’m staying in the ring.

Spring is nature’s way of saying…

It’s been one helluva week.

I’ve been crazy-emotional. I don’t feel well. I’m exhausted. I received some rough interesting emails. I have more to do than I have time to do it in or energy to do it with. I miss my friends. I’m desperate for a real hug.

And that’s the short list.

On top of which I went and did something crazy.

Posting about my new normal was by far the biggest risk I’ve taken this year.

I was scared of being that vulnerable; I was anxious about the responses that would come.

But then there was the hug in the form of a blog post about me that caught me completely off guard in the best way possible.

There were the phone calls, texts, emails, and comments I received from people who care deeply for me.

There was the “I love you” from God that came in the form of “I love you”s from people.

As this crazy-hard week comes to an end, I’m assured that I’m not alone.

He’s holding me tight.

And so are you.

Done.