Broken Crayons Still Color

My feelings have always felt too big to fit inside of me.  For as long as I can remember, I've been overwhelmed by emotion.  My beautiful mother encouraged me to draw my feelings.  Although art didn't prevent me from suffering from a laundry list of mental illnesses, it has certainly given me an outlet.

I've always loved the statement: Broken Crayons still color.  It's true.  My students knew not to destroy broken crayons.  They would bring me bags filled with broken crayons that they wouldn't let their parents throw away!  It is a simple fact that reminds us that when we are down, we can't quit.  We still have a job to do.

You see, I'm a quitter.  When life gets tough, I want OUT.  I distinctly remember when I learned that my 2nd grade teacher would be retiring at the end of the school year.  I remember having panic attacks.  I remember trying to figure out HOW I was going to survive if Ms. Stevens would no longer be at Guilderland Elementary School.  My conclusion?  I won't.  I just couldn't.  My solution? "When I'm 16, I'm going to run myself over with a car."

Okay, not the best suicide plan.  But in 2nd grade, that was the best I could come up with.

The retirement of my 2nd grade teacher didn't kill me.  Nor did my eating disorder.  Nor did my multiple deliberate suicide attempts.  Because I may be broken - but broken crayons still color.

Fast forward (so many details I can fill you in on at another point) to now: February 2019.

I have been "stable" and eating-ordered (it's definitely the opposite of eating-disordered.  Yes, I made it up.) for almost 9 years.

9 years ago, I fell in love with my husband, Matt.

Almost 9 years ago, I miraculously became pregnant with Maddy.

Almost 9 years ago, I traded my "bipolar and anorexic" identity for my identity in Christ.


I wouldn't trade my story for any other.  I believe with every fiber of my being that I AM STILL HERE because God will use all of the MESS - all of the BROKENNESS - to do something bigger than what I can see.

I believe that, although I am a broken crayon, I was not made to JUST color. 

Coloring is for the pretty, pointy crayons with their wrappers still in tact.  

That's not me.  No, I'm a broken crayon. 

And for broken crayons, I'm learning, the possibilities are endless.

Paint Cans
Holding a Paintbrush
Clay Pot on Pottery Wheel
Artist Painting a Mural
Splattered Paint