Hated

For the past few weeks, I have had a battle raging inside of me.

Life incidents have set in a motion of smug snowball of self-loathing, but I didn't notice it until the snowball was so big it was knocking constantly against my heart and soul.

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me -intolerant hatred was pouring out of my mind constantly.  I felt heavy and sad.  Voices stirred from the back of my mind, "This IS YOU.  This is how YOU REALLY ARE."

I knew it wasn't true, but it felt so so true.
I've been criticized in small ways lately, and the criticisms have come from varying sources -each one small, each one adding a thick layer onto my muddy snowball.
After a conversation with my sponsor, I was able to vocalize what was really going on.

"I hate myself right now, and as a result, I hate everything."
This hate doesn't spring from anything inside of me.  I am not a hateful person.

But Satan hates me.  Satan hates women in general and reserves a special sort of hatred from women individually -knowing us as well as we know ourselves, yea, even better -he coils around our most sacred attributes, our most poignant feelings and twists them, turns them, manipulates them into filth.
Hatred is filth.

Battling Satan's hatred for me has been HARD.  It isn't something that goes away when the baby is crying or takes a sabbatical when I'm trying to make dinner for four in a messy house with no husband.
It is constant -as unchanging as the Savior's love.
The darkness is almost tangible.

I wonder what I have to offer -why I even bother getting up when all I ever do is leave my children to work and come home to a dirty house that my aching body can't grapple with.
I'm too tired to even cry, so I pick up a crochet hook and weave beautiful colors together in an effort to create something lovely.
Creating is my specialty -the specialty of all women.
We create beauty in every form imaginable.  We arrange flowers and produce laughter, we stitch fabric and buy throw pillows, we gather ingredients and our kitchens smell like home, we pay more attention to our dress, our hair, even pining over which color of eye shadow ought to be used for date nights.  We can delight every sense with our natural gifts: perfumes, silk, vibrant colors, uplifting music...
In short, we create and nurture life in every form... working hand in hand with our Father in Heaven, whether or not we are marked to create life in this mortal realm on not, women are unconquerable creators.

Satan hates us.  We stand for everything he despises.  We are the anti-demons.
Just as I weave brightly colored yarn through my fingers to create sturdy blankets and hats, so does Satan weave his blackened hatred through the tapestry of my soul.

This morning, I woke up to a blog post that sent healing tears down my cheeks -the tears that would not come these past few weeks have finally fallen.
Thank you, Jane.
I saw God today.

Remember you are LOVED.  Remember you are also HATED.  And don't ever confuse the two.