𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝𝕤 ℂ𝕝𝕦𝕓 ☁︎☀

The Beauty of Flaws~Abi

I suffer from a complex clinical syndrome of chronic airway... or in more normal terms, I suffer from a severe case of Asthma. If you're not familiar with Asthma let me explain.

Asthma is your bronchial tubes when they become inflamed and irritated. They will begin to clog with mucus and begin to shrink in size not allowing air into your lungs. For most people, this means a tightness in their chest, wheezing, and coughing.

For me, it's VERY similar. I am always out of breath and cough. There is no wheezing you might think that is a good thing... sadly it's not. When you start coughing instead of wheezing it means your airway is practically 3/4 of the way closed. If I move at all the coughing increases and I can't breathe at all and every time I try to get air in it starts another round of coughs which makes me bend in half and then it leads to vomiting. I use a machine called a Nebulizer to open back my airway. This helps me most of the time and I don't end up in hospital.

I am not saying my asthma is worse than anybody else's because Asthma is terrible and every version is terrible.

When I was a little girl was I told I wasn't able to do things like everybody else because my body would react differently. I remember being held by my dad because I couldn't walk all the way home in the cold weather when I was five. Or I would try to play a game of tag with my friends and then having to stop because the coughing fits just won't stop and people are giving me weird looks. Or I have to get the flu shot because of my body and not being able to withstand the spray. And worst of all people pitying me and giving special treatment. If you have ever suffered from anything mental or physical you know that people treat you differently once they know your "sick."

I have a friend who literally tells me I shouldn't run because it might spur on an attack and I head her advice. I head everyone's pity on compassion for my supposed "sickness."

I have had this since I was born. I have been "sick" for all of my life.

I'm used to the questions and children staring when I have to use my Nebulizer in public or how adults look really quickly and then look away as those I can't already see their pitting looks.

Over the years I have gotten used to it. It's what started my writing actually. If I can't run and play like a normal child then I would something abnormal. So I started writing. I started writing when I was eight years old. Of course, those were trash and I have no clue where they are, but they were my life support. Every time I had to sit out on something my mind to drift to my characters problems. In those times I didn't feel so different.

Growing up as an asthmatic child gave me empathy for the those with needs, those who were different than the standard "norm." If you look at me you won't see anything wrong with me I look normal, act normal when I'm not having to play a game.

I had friends, but they never treated me like I was normal. I remember dreaming as a little girl what it would be like once I was an adult and wouldn't have to run and nobody would have to know about my "sickness."

After having Asthma for twelve years you grow used to the strange looks, the questions, and the pitting remarks.

When your "sick" you feel trapped, unable to do things. My mom sufferers from anxiety and she lost five years of her life to anxiety until she finally went to a doctor. My oldest brother suffered from depression and anxiety for months of constant worry and fits before receiving counseling.

I have lost days of my life, of could have been memories, to a disease I cannot control.

I had a friend who asked me why God hadn't healed me? She asked why did he give me this disease? Why did a just God give me something that makes me go to the hospital, sit out on fun activities, stop me from eating ice-cream? If He loves me why did He make me make "sick?"

You might be asking yourself those questions.

I once asked my amazing mom "Why do bad things happen to good people?" This question perplexed because I saw all of the evil around. Innocent people getting killed for no reason. My mom isn't one to give the answer she likes to makes us think before she gives us an answer, but I will give you an answer.

Bad things happen to good people for God's glory!

And I can hear you scoffing from behind screens because it sounds SO ludicrous. But once you think about it, it actually makes a lot of sense. Me, with my asthma, it gave a sense of compassion for people. I might have turned out differently if I didn't suffer. I might not be here writing this post. I might not want to share the peace and freedom of God has given me on my Asthma.

Instead of feeling bitter over something you have. Instead of hating yourself or God because you have a disease or illness of some sort, accept it. It a part of you, whether you like or you hate it's you!

I once wrote this story about a girl who was me with a different name. She had asthma, she was clutsy, she locked herself in her room until she finished a good novel, and she never stopped daydreaming. What was different about her though was that she was married and loved by a man that wasn't her father.

I am only thirteen and wrote that story when I was ten years old.

In one period of my life, I believed no man outside of my family could love me because I wasn't athletic, I wasn't interested in games, I read books, and wrote, and was at the doctor's office a lot. Every day, I fed these lies to myself, Satan fed me these lies to me. Slowly my dreams began to die because of something that wasn't true.

Never think lowly of yourself because you suffer something that makes you "sick." Never believe people cannot love you because of your quirks! My dad still loved my mom when she would wake up at three in morning with a panic attack. I still loved my brother even when he sobbed and yelled to be left alone. And they still love me when I force them to give a day of their lives so they take me to the hospital.

And we still love you no matter who are, what you suffer from! WE LOVE YOU!

Why has God not healed me? Because my illness teaches something every time. It has taught to not take life flippantly. It has taught that people are vitally important. It has taught me that is okay to be different. It's taught me how to be free in the midst of captivity.

Sometimes, when you feel like you cannot breathe whether metaphorically or literally it's hard to understand freedom. For more than half of my life I was kept in bondage because I felt like I was trapped inside a cage that nobody could love me because I was too flawed.

I have been reading a lot of books and articles about family, perfection, and freedom.

What have I learned about these things? A family isn't blood-related, a family is the people that love you no matter how flawed you are, perfection doesn't exist and it is COMPLETELY okay to be flawed, and freedom well freedom comes when accepting those flaws and giving them all to God.

I learned that being flawed is the most beautiful thing in the world.

I asked my mom what she loved most about my dad and she started naming all of my dad funny quirks that he as. I was in awe because my mom fell in love with a completely flawed man and she loved him dearly for it.

Your flaws aren't your weakness, there something to gain from, to feel weak over, there are your strength! They are the thing people love most.

Never deny yourself the freedom of being flawed.