The Power of Tears

“... ‘I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears: behold, I will heal thee...”

2 Kings 20:5

There was once a product called “No More Tears” detangling spray I used frequently as a child. As a little girl, snarls were my reality; therefore, this product was mandatory. Mom pulled and sprayed my hair, while I’d stare at the bottle’s portrait. Radiant mother was brushing radiant daughter’s flowing tresses. There were no feelings of inadequacy, no complicated views of human emotions and no sore scalp. The bottle simply promised, “No More Tears.”

If only life could be that easy.

But, indeed, my personal experience with tears has been un-easy. Crying- unpleasant emotion of any kind- was viewed and treated negatively, as something to be avoided, covered, silenced or punished. Tears were the uncomfortable evidence all is not well; there is disease, pain and trauma here.

However, over the years, I have come to view tears through a healthier, more meaningful lens. As we deal with our addictions, disorders and traumas, addressing what our tears represent to us, we aren’t far removed from the harmful beliefs which contribute to our struggles and thwart our recoveries.

I once stumbled across a photo which compared four types of human tears: tears of grief, tears of change, tears cried from onions and tears of laughter. I was struck by their imagery; each seemed to offer a specific signature concerning life experience.

Tears of Grief:

First, we see this microscopic picture of tears of loss. It resembles a sparse wasteland. To me, the prevalence of the tears’ open space appears as a lonely island surrounded by an ocean. The impression I get from these magnified tears is one of disconnect.

And this was exactly where I was as I was confronted by my dad’s death in 2003.

 “The Easy Death:”

Even as I found connection within my faith as an adult, I still did not deal with the unresolved issues I had with him.

By this point, I was married, living in another state, and pursuing my writing career. I had also been in therapy. Still, the dysfunctional relationship with my dad proved to be painful and powerful.

But I never thought he would have such an effect on me.

After all, as a child, I prayed for him to die.

I hated him; I had murderous revenge fantasies concerning him.

I was thoroughly convinced his death would be easy for me.

Then, I could and would be free and happy. Not quite…

 

Instead, my dad’s old age and health challenges caused me to feel pity. I tried to get closer with him. But I didn’t get the results I desired. Deterioration of his health, hearing loss and mental fog now made connecting with him almost impossible.

The Last Father’s Day:

Father’s Day has always been painful. However, in June of 2003, I decided to call my dad to wish him a “Happy Father’s Day.” The conversation was uncomfortable as his confusion and hearing loss got in the way.

His aggravation increased.

At one point, he asked me, “Aren’t you doing anything?”

I felt slapped. I then spat out the words, “Happy Father’s Day” and ended the phone call.

I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I’d speak with him.

The following month, my mom phoned me; my dad had a health crisis. Having already experienced a series of mini strokes, he was now further weakened from larger, more crippling strokes. This left my mother with no choice other than to hospitalize him and later place him in a care facility.

Now I felt an urgency to see him; it had been at least four years since we’d seen each other. But Mom assured me there was still time. “There was still time.” That statement haunted me. I wasn’t there. There were legitimate reasons why, finances and scheduling conflicts being two of them, but to reassure myself, I held onto that statement: “there was still time.”

July of 2003 consisted of reports of his temporary paralysis, sprinkled with occasional improvements, like regaining movement and consciousness. This rollercoaster added further urgency. My husband and I booked a flight for early August.

But, on August 6th, 2003, life changed. My phone rang at seven in the morning. He was gone. There was no longer time.

“Grief teaches the steadiest minds to waver.”

Sophocles, “Antigone”

I went to the funeral, spending a few days in Minnesota. That was expected of me.

My outward display of grief and tears and grief were also expected.

I could not comply.

I did not cry on cue at the funeral or at the cemetery. He was given military honors, and my mom was presented with the American flag. I heard the sobs and sniffles of people behind me.

But I did not cry.

However, behind closed doors, away from everyone, it was a different story. Night after night, I was up until two or three o’clock in the morning, sobbing in the hotel bathroom.

And that took me by surprise; I was still convinced my dad’s death wouldn’t be this painful.

I was grieving, but I wasn’t even grieving him. I never really knew him. Instead, I grieved the loss of the potential for that father/daughter relationship. It would never be. It was further complicated over what “should have been.”

There was no denying it; I definitely experienced the stages of death and dying, documented by Elizabeth Kubler- Ross. I would not escape them.

Upon my return home to Oregon, after the funeral, I kept people at a distance.

I knew the right “grief speak” when I encountered people.

I would say things like the cliché, “He’s at peace” and “He’s in a better place.”

I would thank everyone for their prayers and support, but inside, I felt abandoned, and overwhelmed with regret.

And those feelings eventually showed up physically.     

My bouts with insomnia made everything worse: my nerves, my routines, my communication with others and my spiritual connection with The Most High. Everything was viewed through my exhausted filter. I had no will, no desire and no energy to do any of the things I had done before.

“For my life is spent with grief, and my years with sighing: my strength faileth because of mine iniquity, and my bones are consumed.”

Psalms 31:10

My grief made me physically sick with back pain, an upset stomach and sluggishness. I still tried to press on, convinced I could return to normal. But, as I failed each attempt, I came down harder on myself. And that’s when I got a big physical sign of my grief, a lump in my breast.

I went to my doctor and had the lump tested, having my first mammogram; fortunately, it turned up nothing.

While being relieved, I was also frustrated. Why did I have to deal with this? My doctor informed me the stress from my grief had also physically contributed to the lump.

Mind affects body.

 “...grief can compromise our immune system... it is also associated with more severe outcomes, including premature death. Research has found a significant increase in excess mortality...”

“How Grief Affects the Body”By Kathleen Hall

www.qualityhealth.com

 

And because I suppressed my physical tears, nothing else in my body was processing in a healthy manner either.

“... Tears help us process the loss so we can keep living with open hearts. Otherwise, we are a set up for depression if we suppress these potent feelings...”

“The Health Benefits of Tears,”  

www.psychologytoday.com

 

Tears of Change:

I was, indeed, poised for depression as I attempted to stop change from happening. Grief was internalized for a year after my dad’s death. I could not sleep. I was crying all hours of the night. I repeatedly cancelled meetings and appointments; I was unable to get out of bed and out of the apartment.

My failure concept, therefore, was even more emphasized. It was just too much to bear. I couldn’t do it, even though I knew that I “should!”  I was going through loss, failure and hopelessness. That was now who I was!

Tears of change, according to this microscopic image, appear to crowd each other out. My impression is one which is overwhelming; there’s not enough room to breathe, to think or to simply be.

And that’s where I was, now grappling with my own complicated tears of change.

Trying to find comfort and safety anywhere, I attempted to sustain my normal routine, but that was impacted as well. My church was going through leadership changes. I felt even more desperate and lost. I had no room to logically entertain the truth: everything changes over time. But in my vulnerable state, this was the worst possible time for anything more to change. Hadn’t I experienced enough already?

Life inevitably moved on. As that happened, however, I felt forced to confront my grief by myself.

“Waters flowed over mine head; then I said, I am cut off.”

Lamentations 3:54

No matter what anyone did or did not do, it wasn’t enough.

Now I’m a prime candidate for the next stages of grief, Anger and Bargaining.

I was stuck.

It was punctuated by years of my frustrated efforts to please and be loved by my abusive dad. I was a powerless child.

And so, part of my adult struggle was to defy that oppressive world. For years, I tried to do just that. I graduated college, sought therapy for my eating disorders, married a non-abusive, loving man and was on the brink of my first book’s publication.

So, when my dad died, all of that felt derailed. As I flailed in my grief, fighting the existence of every tear, I soon found myself at my childhood conclusion: “There’s No Point!”

A definition of anger asserts it consists of three factors: fear, hurt and frustration.

Denial of any or all of those three anger components can only be held back for so long. Eventually, the dam bursts. We are crying out of anger, but it’s much more complicated than that actual word itself.

And, this anger issue is often tied to our perceptions of change, impacting our tears of change, as we struggle with one specific question: do we have the permission to change?

Not surprisingly, change was not viewed positively in my family. It represented a threat to family reputation. Therefore, it was forbidden.

I had not been granted that permission for much of my life.

So, now, in the reality of my dad’s death, what was I supposed to do? The biggest opponent to my change was gone. My abuser had died. So, why wasn’t I freed? Because I had now assumed that abuser role.

And it was here where I entered the bargaining stage.

I’ll do anything!

I was desperate to keep my pre-grief schedule, commitments and responsibilities. I wanted to show how I was fine (and not cry). However, my life was affected.

Chaotic sleep schedules, raging failure feelings and a dry well of writing now existed in my grief. I couldn’t get it together like I was supposed to.

When it came to the unavoidable, inevitable life constant of change, I was stressing myself out.

“Your central nervous system (CNS) is in charge of your ‘fight or flight’ response. The CNS instantly tells the rest of your body what to do, marshaling all resources to the cause... If the CNS fails to return to normal, or if the stressor doesn’t go away, it takes a toll on your body.

Symptoms of chronic stress include irritability, anxiety, and depression. You may suffer from headaches or insomnia. Chronic stress is a factor in some behaviors like overeating or not eating enough, alcohol or drug abuse, or social withdrawal...”

“The Effects of Stress on the Body”

www.healthline.com

In addition to seeing a physician, I needed intense grief counseling as well. And, it was here where I started re-evaluating my definition of what life was now going to look like.

“...For I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
I will create rivers in the dry wasteland."
Isaiah 43:18-19

It was here that I dealt with another human version of tears.

Onion Tears:

These may appear to be the most unlikely kind of tears for us to face as we deal with grief and painful issues. After all, when we think of cutting onions, what springs to mind is the chemical reaction they have with our bodies...

“...When you cut an onion, you break cells, releasing their contents. Amino acid sulfoxides form sulfenic acids. Enzymes that were kept separate now are free to mix with the sulfenic acids to produce propanethiol S-oxide, a volatile sulfur compound that wafts upward toward your eyes. This gas reacts with the water in your tears to form sulfuric acid. The sulfuric acid burns, stimulating your eyes to release more tears to wash the irritant away...”

“Why Do Onions Make You Cry?”

http://chemistry.about.com

 

Nevertheless, they are important. As I look at the microscopic image of these tears, to me, they resemble intricate snowflakes, completely filling the space.

The Mundane Day- To- Day:

And that, I suppose, is part of the point: these unassuming onion tears can represent most of what life is about: the day in, day out stuff. If we dismiss these onion tears as a chemical reaction only, I believe we do ourselves a disservice.

As I muddled through my grief and each of its stages, I gradually learned a newer kind of normal. The cliché was still true: life continues.

Co-existing with the grief, the pain, the tears, mundane stuff also needs to be accomplished. We still have to do our laundry, brush our teeth and take care of every tedious task.

And no, that reality is not easy.

Nevertheless, I needed to navigate that collision of the mundane and the grief. Mercy’s necessity was a played a large part in that.

 “It is of (Elohim’s) the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.”

Lamentations 3:22-23

No matter how alone I felt, I needed to tap into the patient kindness as I adapted. And strangely enough, the mundane daily tasks offered reassuring healing. Life DOES go on.

And all through that reality, further reassurance exists as we learn and apply Divine Truth: The Most High knows ALL about us.

Scripture proclaims this Omniscience.

“Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.”

Psalm 139:2

We can be actively mourning, feeling our despair or “white knuckling” our way through each complicated emotion as we carpool, grocery shop, go to the dentist and keep life going. All thoughts are known to our Creator. And He helps in the midst of all of them.

“When you close your doors, and make darkness within, remember never to say that you are alone, for you are not alone; nay, God is within, and your genius is within. And what need have they of light to see what you are doing?”

Epictetus (55 AD-135-AD), Discourses

And, oh so slowly, as time passed, I moved through many of those painful thoughts; I moved through my grief.

I gradually arrived at the living organism of acceptance. And, within this space, I encountered a form of tears I never believed I’d experience again.

“They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.”

Psalms 126:5

Tears of Laughter:

Whether it’s the pain of grief or tackling any other difficult issue, laughter is much-needed. There needs to be perspective and a healthy release valve.

Returning again, to this photograph of tears, we see its microscopic image. With tears of laughter, there seems to be “enough room.” And, unlike the desolation depicted with tears of grief, these laughter tears have some activity going on. But it is neither the overwhelmed, too crowded of tears of change nor that of the busy snowflake action of the onion tears. Instead, we see breaks, or bursts, in the tears.

And we can find, yes, it is true: bursts of laughter can help to break the tension of any situation.

Case on point: the favorite chick flick, “Steel Magnolias.”

There is a famous cemetery scene in which the mourners’ sobbing is interrupted by an explosion of laughter. The character, Truvy punctuates this much-needed incident, “Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.”

And we can see, physiologically, why there’s a big reason why...

“… laughter relaxes the body by overriding stress and anger so relieving tension – an effect that can last for up to 45 minutes after... The positive effects of laughter also extend to health benefits that can prevent serious illness. This includes an improved immune system which it achieves by increasing immune cells and antibodies to strengthen its ability to cope with viruses and disease... Laughter also protects the heart by improving the function of blood vessels, encouraging blood flow and over time improving cholesterol and blood pressure thereby helping to prevent heart attack, heart disease or other circulatory system diseases...”

“Positive Effects of Laughter” by  Mack  Lemouse 

www.healthguidance.org

Whether it is matters of grief or of addiction/recovery, we all need a break from this most difficult work.

And, in zenith of laughter’s tears, we can tackle life’s traumatic realities with, perhaps, the completely inappropriate response of outrageous humor. We can do that with grief; we can do that with our addictions. We can challenge the absurdity of it all.

A key help in my personal challenging of that absurdity included heavy viewing of standup comedians served as a reprieve from my reality. And yes, that is necessary. Escape still is vital when it comes to the grueling stuff of life.

And it’s a much healthier option than going full bore into addiction.

“A merry heart doeth good like a medicine...”

Proverbs 17:22

They are NOT kidding there.

Tears of laughter often go overlooked in the grand scheme of emotion.

And furthermore, there may even exist an extra complicated layer for those of us struggling with both addiction and grief. For one reason or another, we may believe we don’t deserve happiness. Survivor’s guilt, PSTD, lack of closure- these are but a few possibilities which can argue against our right to attain wellbeing. If we’re not careful, we can easily fall into the pit of believing we deserve to be in a state of despair for the rest of our lives. We “should have” or “shouldn’t have” done this or that. Therefore, permanent removal of laughter, happiness and joy is our much-deserved punishment.

More reason, perhaps, why The Most High has specifically created these tears of laughter; like all of tears, they have their purpose. That purpose emanates from His astounding, unfathomable Love.

“...‘Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love...”

Jeremiah 31:3

It, indeed, may be argued tears, Divinely- given, are so given because Elohim knows we, as human beings, need to express the wide range of emotion we encounter. To suppress anything falling within that range, therefore, is harmful and does not portray accurately just how important tears are TO The Most High.

“Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?”

 Psalms 56:8

Our Heavenly Father is so invested in His love of us. Tears are necessary in recovering from everything under the sun. They are as important to us as any sponsor, program, church or step.

Each of us has an opinion about tears. What is it?

Answering that question and adjusting our perspectives on these watery entities could, perhaps, make the difference between us experiencing further pain or further healing. It is up to each of us to decide what to do with this untapped power.

It’s about more much more than crying.

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

Harmless Dabbling?

Yeah, sure, I flirted. I dabbled. But it was okay, right?

“Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness but instead expose them.”

Ephesians 5:11

This flirting, dabbling, and “harmless” activity started when I was eighteen.

Darkness, masquerading as sleepwear.

I had a nightshirt with the famous comic strip character, Garfield’s likeness on it. This nightshirt was one of twelve. Each shirt depicted a humorous portrayal of the orange cat, embodying famous traits of a certain zodiac sign.

Zodiac. Astrology.

As in, “What’s your Sign, Baby?”

“… ‘let them be for signs...’”

Genesis 1:14

The Sagittarius Garfield night shirt, like its zodiac’s archer sign, loaded a bow, not with an arrow, but with a slice of pizza. The fat cat character loved Lasagna and was a “foodie.”

The shirt was cute and playful, enough so, to get a teenage girl’s attention.

It got mine.

Sagittarius.

Harmless fun.

Yep, I’m a Sagittarius, alright.

That explains it.

Ha-ha.

Well, it explains something.

I was searching for meaning, identity, hope, and purpose.

All things that should be sought of and found by turning to The Most High, through the redemptive work of His Son, Yahshua.

He died for our sins. He is the answer, not Divination.

Astrology is a part of that Divination.

Subtle, seductive. Seemingly, harmless.

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” 

Ephesians 6:12

It won’t hurt if I read my horoscope or wear a t-shirt, celebrating my sign, right?

Well, it hurt me more than I realized.

Try two years later.

Disordered eating: it changed, as my emaciated, two-digit weight, Anorexic battle for control moved into my Bulimic phase.

As a college sophomore, I rapidly gained over one hundred pounds within months. I felt hopeless. I could not see a life worth living.

As much as I prayed flailing prayers to Our Heavenly Father, usually consisting of, “Please don’t let me gain weight,” I sought answers elsewhere… a Psychic hotline.

Calling these 1-800 numbers, any time, day or night, became a necessity in my despondent state. When my roommates were asleep or gone, I dialed the hotline to get a spark of hope about my future. Would I fall in love? Would I be successful? Famous? Beautiful? Would my life work out?

“Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from (YAH) God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world.” 

1 John 4:1

I was told a wide variety of things.

I would be married about four times. I’d be a famous actress. People would applaud me. There were some physical descriptions of individuals who I’d meet along the way, complete with blonde hair here, and hazel eyes there.

Vague, yet Specific?

But enough to keep me hooked.

And I felt I had nothing to look forward to.

This desperation continued for months, racking up a phone bill, displeasing my roommates and my parents. Hundreds of dollars spent in the hope that my life would not continue to be this painful.

But it was.

As I moved into young adulthood, in and out of faith pursuits and churches, I was curious about the paranormal.

Ghosts.

Again, “harmless” fun.

Who doesn’t love a ghost story, right?

 “Do not defile yourselves by turning to mediums or to those who consult the spirits of the dead. I am (Elohim) the LORD your (YAH) God.”

Leviticus 19:31

I watched shows that had paranormal teams, investigating haunted houses and castles. They would connect with “spirits,” disembodied voices of once living, restless, and tortured people. There were cameras and devices that picked up on “hot spots” and voices of the dead.

Communicating with people from other time periods, sometimes, other centuries, was fascinating.

And I had some personal curiosity concerning my childhood home and its folklore. Supposedly, there were two dead children, from the late 1800s, buried under the Lilac grove in my parents’ backyard. I wondered who these children were.

Being a lonely child, sometimes, yes, I even longed for them to be my playmates.

As an adult, no matter what role faith played in my life, I wanted to challenge what’s possible, via the supernatural.

How exciting! What could go wrong?

More things, it turns out.

 “I will also turn against those who commit spiritual prostitution by putting their trust in mediums or in those who consult the spirits of the dead. I will cut them off from the community.”

Leviticus 20:6

Spiritual prostitution. Not flattering.

Feeling unsettled, never belonging when it came to matters and people of faith: that’s some of it. This included my level of church involvement, the publishing of my first book, and a bout with breast cancer.

I still wanted more. I still was tempted.

I still was hurting and starving for The Divine.

I was still wounded from childhood abuse.

Therefore, I sought therapy.

And here’s where Divination took another turn.

“See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on (Yahshua Ha-Mashiach) Christ.”

Colossians 2:8

Talk therapy led to inner child work… and workbook exercises.

Create a statue to symbolize your loved, healed, inner child.  

This arts and crafts project would put me in touch with honoring and celebrating my younger self.

Uh-huh.

So, I bought a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth’s Maple Syrup. I spray-painted it silver, slapped a child photo of me on it, and superglued a small angel to the bottle.

Divine Love, honoring, protecting, and healing me. Ta-dah.

Try Do It Yourself IDOLATRY! Anyone remember the golden calf?

“Little ones, keep yourselves from Idols.”

1 John 5:21

But, because it was an activity, listed within a self-help, inner child workbook, it was healing?

Well, an idol is still an idol.

I was deriving strength from- or giving strength to-it.

And what happens to those who do such a thing?

“But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexual immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death.” 

 Revelation 21:8

Within therapy, I embraced archetypes. I read and studied about the Greek gods and goddesses.

Okay, first. GODS AND GODDESSES!

“YOU SHALL HAVE NO OTHER GOD BEFORE ME.”

Exodus 20:3

I know. Hang in there. It gets worse.

This “therapeutic approach” emphasized that, through certain traits, we embody these mythological figures.

“For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.”

2 Timothy 4:3-4

(Turn aside to myths)…

I soon over identified with some goddesses, including a protective huntress, and a flame goddess, illuminating others’ paths with her light.

Yeah.

Now, please remember, I was “practicing” my Christian faith?

Hmm. Some practice.

 I was praying, reading Scripture, seeking The Almighty, pressing into relationship with Yahshua, while I am, apparently, also embodying traits of some Greek GODDESSES!

I am also a grown adult woman now.

Let’s all take some heavy sighs and deep breaths, shall we?

How did I arrive HERE?

“Now the serpent was more crafty than any other beast of the field that (Elohim) the LORD (YAH) God had made. He said to the woman, ‘Did (YAH) God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden?’”

Genesis 3:1

Gradually, deceptively, ridiculously… and operating from a pain place, desperate for relief and answers.

With goddess archetypes, under the heading of therapy, I believed I was recovering from painful childhood abuse and trauma.

Archetypes. Goddesses.

I was ensnared.
So, still in pain, broken hearted, and isolated, I delved further into astrology.

That led me to psychics/mediums… and to Tarot Cards.

(Sigh).

I wondered about astrology and its Divine origins.

What if the alignment of stars impacted my nature and my destiny?

“ ….‘Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years.’”

Genesis 1:14

Let them be for signs? What if that was part of His mystery in their creation?

Astrology influenced psychics, mediums, and Tarot cards, further heightening the others’ influences.

First on deck?

Astrology’s Natal Chart.

This chart emphasizes star placement of when and where a person is born. Destiny, personal choices, relationships, life experiences, strengths and weaknesses are governed by that star placement.

You plug in the data: birth date, birthplace, and the birth time.

And there’s all kinds of confusing stuff to decipher, like talk of Houses, a sun in this House, a moon in that House. Trines. Jargon.

I was thoroughly confused.

And we, in the Christian world, understand confusion is not of The Most High (1 Corinthians 14:33).

Here’s where a psychic/medium came into the picture. Through the internet. The internet makes catching various soothsayers easier than ever.

“Saul said to his attendants, ‘Find me a woman who is a medium, so I may go and inquire of her.’”

 1 Samuel 28:7-9

From one psychic medium, I learned that my natal chart was exactly like that of the late Doors’ lead singer, Jim Morrison.

This psychic medium claimed to speak to the much-dead Jim from beyond the grave.

“Breaking on Through to the Other Side,” as the rock star once sang.

You know, Necromancy.

“When someone tells you to consult mediums and spiritists, who whisper and mutter, should not a people inquire of their (YAH) God? Why consult the dead on behalf of the living?”

  Isaiah 8:19

Is it still entertainment?

“Saul died because he was unfaithful to (Elohim) the Lord; he did not keep the word of (Elohim) the Lord and even consulted a medium for guidance.” 

 1 Chronicles 10:13-14 

Oh…

According to this medium, Jim Morrison and I had the same mapped grid. I identified with shared commonalities. Like Daddy issues. Like Mommy Issues. Like quirky personalities. Like creativity. Like moodiness.

Yet again, it was vague, yet specific.

“The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons.” 

1 Timothy 4:1

Huh?

Yeah, exactly.

“And when they shall say unto you, ‘Seek unto them that have familiar spirits, and unto wizards that peep, and that mutter: should not a people seek unto their (YAH) God? for the living to the dead?’”

Isaiah 8:19

When you are desperate, lonely, in pain, crying out for answers and meaning, it is tempting to think that yeah, maybe you’re a bit like a famous rock star.

That’s where I was at.

“There is a way that seems right, but in the end, it leads to death.”

Proverbs 14:12

The natal chart ushered in Tarot cards.

Again, seeking the future.

The cards represented love, fortune or misfortune, crisis/danger, and life change.

First, I just looked at readers online with casual skepticism.

As each card, with its ornate illustrations, was laid out on a table, it didn’t seem to be that big of a deal.

And then, again, some things started hitting too close to home.

Relational issues and… personality traits?

Once again, vague, but specific.

That seems to be a key thread, laced throughout all these Divination practices.

Vague, but Specific.

10% Truth? Taking the Bait.

It’s just enough.

A little…accurate?

Enlightenment as Truth. Demon as dead loved one, angel, “spirit guide.”

Intel that no one else could know.

And that’s how we can be reeled in.

“The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons.” 

1 Timothy 4:1

Satan counterfeits.

So, the “Word from the Lord,” is in a Christian setting.

Its counterfeit counterpart, however?

A “reading.”

Psychics. Mediums. Cards. Astrology. Divination.

You don’t think it could happen to you?

“So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!”

1 Corinthians 10:12

I thought I was a strong person of faith. I prayed, believed, and read my Bible (not as much scripture on Necromancy/Divination as I should have read, clearly).

And here I was.

Misled.

Scriptures on this dark topic were there, alive, in the Bible. I had access to them, to learn, study, to be warned about them my entire life, yet I didn’t know what I didn’t know.

“My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge; because you have rejected knowledge, I reject you from being a priest to me... “

Hosea 4:6

Yeah, there are some consequences. No blissful ignorance.

The Result?

Unease, darkness.

This has shown up in eating disorders, emotional/mental health challenges, and cancer, just to name a few possible “results.” To what degree Divination impacted those things, I cannot say. But it certainly didn’t help me.

Being “cut off?”

“Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.”

Revelation 22:15

I felt like an outsider. How much of that was due to my dabbling with Divination?

Or how much of it was because of my flirting and dabbling with the Occult?

“The Occult” denotes the most severe depiction of Satan worship, demons, and gore. Most of us think along these lines, don’t we?

“The Occult.”

Now, it’s more uncomfortable, isn’t it?

We play a game with semantics.

The Occult is knowledge, practices, or beliefs that are mystical, supernatural, and hidden. Indeed, the word has Latin origins, meaning, “secret” and hidden.”

But this “secret,” this “hidden” thing…is sin.

Flirt with…sin.

Dabble with…sin.

Leaning toward Divination/The Occult/Sin, therefore, leads us further from The Father of Lights (James 1:17).

And it looks like such a gradual, seemingly, “harmless” lean.

“…How can righteousness be a partner with wickedness? How can light live with darkness?”

2 Corinthians 6:14

Scripture’s short answer? It can’t.

I needed to admit I was isolated and “cut off.”

Dabbling with darkness will do that.

Confusion.

Uh-huh. That, too.

And it’s painful and scary!

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.”

John 10:10

“Dabbling,” indulging, partaking of evil, even if it’s the seemingly 10 percent “true” aspect of the 90 percent dark lie, creates confusion.

“You cannot drink the cup of (Elohim) the Lord and the cup of demons too; you cannot have a part in both (Elohim) the Lord’s table and the table of demons.”

1 Corinthians 10:21

That stings.

We don’t typically think we’re dining with demons when we “innocently” check our horoscope.

But Christianity 101: Good and evil cannot be buddies.

Loss of Intimacy with The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit.

Yeah, I’d say there was some definite, uh, estrangement going on.

Not from the part of The Divine. Executed by yours truly.

Astrology. Psychics. The paranormal.  DIY Idolatry, via an inner child workbook. Mediums. Tarot cards.

I was at the wrong table, consuming the wrong things, while proclaiming I was a Christian?

There are layers here.

Don’t despair, however.
For there are more layers of how He is always there, eternal, present, loving, and reaching out.

For instance…

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in (Yahshua Ha-Mashiach) Christ Jesus our (Elohim) Lord.”

Romans 8:38-39

Again, sin is the obstacle.

Not knowing we’re sinning?

Still an obstacle.

Underestimating it, downplaying it, refusing to deal with it?

Still a sin obstacle.

And ultimately, it has this result…

Death.

“There is a way that appears to be right, but in the end it leads to death.”

Proverbs 14:12

Many kinds of things can die.

Spiritual connection. People. Relationships. Marriages. Careers. Destinies/callings. Finances. Health. Dreams. Joy. Peace.

These things can die a slow or a quick death.

Sobering.

So, now what?

“Seek.”

Wait, isn’t that how the whole dabbling mess started? We’re still supposed to seek?

Yes, but in a different direction.

“See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on (Yahshua ha-Mashiach) Christ.” 

Colossians 2:8

We search for answers. That’s a human trait and desire.

However, now, you and I know some things. We know about the seemingly “harmless” dabbling with the dark.

We need to adjust our focus.

“Trust in (Elohim)the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear (Elohim) the Lord and shun evil.”

Proverbs 3:5-7 

We need to ask Him. We need to pray.

“Guide me in your truth and teach me…my hope is in you all day long.” 

Psalm 25:5

Abba, in the Name of Yahshua, I come to You.

Forgive me. You know how I have dabbled.

I have done things not of You.

I have participated in the darkness You have forbidden.

I accept that I have sinned in this manner; I renounce, in the Name of Yahshua, any and all interests, activity with, and influences from The Occult practices. I renounce all Divination, knowing it is evil.

In its place, I ask for a stronger Presence of You, leading, loving, and guiding me in every facet of my life.

Be in complete control. Thank You. I accept Yahshua as my Lord and Savior, the force determining my life, from this point on.

Thank you for hearing my prayer.

Amen.

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

 

 

The Dissolving Cotton Candy

I am a sucker for all things cute; therefore, I frequently find myself checking out various animal gifs online.

One which captivated my attention was of a raccoon and some cotton candy. Has anyone else seen it?

This raccoon grabs a significant hunk of cotton candy and, like raccoons are prone to do, quickly rushes to a water source to “wash it” before eating it.

And then hard, cruel reality presents itself: the cotton candy dissolves in the water, instantly slipping through the little guy’s tiny hands, distressing and confusing our friend. You can almost hear him cry, “No! No! Come back!”

This gif made me think about addiction. We are, in essence, this little raccoon, aren’t we? We decide on and chase our cotton candy addiction, convinced it will satisfy us. And then, somehow, right before our eyes, its solution promise dissolves. It didn’t deliver; it didn’t last.

“Go and cry unto the gods which ye have chosen; let them deliver you in the time of your tribulation.”

Judges 10:14

And, here we are, left confused and lost. Now what do we do?

Well, cue The Almighty, right?

“Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy (YAH) God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.”

Isaiah 41:10

But, do we?

That seems to be the dilemma.

Here’s where Eve, a raccoon and each of us all share something in common...

“And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes...”

Genesis 3:6

One can argue the phrase “eye candy” started here.

 (I know, bad pun, bad pun).

Still, we seem to be captivated with the beautiful, alluring object of our affection. It somehow sells us on the answer of eternal satisfaction, love, happiness and freedom from pain and fear.

And so, going with that hard sell, we soon find it in our hands, attempting to hold it forever, allowing it to make everything right in our lives.

But, no matter how hard we try to hang on, it dissolves in the midst of our beings. We try to grasp and chase, but it is gone. We torture ourselves by asking questions like “What could I have done to make it last?”

Answer: nothing.

That’s a difficult answer to hear, let alone, accept.

Yet, accept we must. It’s the bedrock of the Twelve Steps:

Step number one...

We admitted we were powerless over our addiction/compulsion - that our lives had become unmanageable.

Step number two...

We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

Step number three...

We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of (The Most High) God as we understood Him.

Step number eleven...

We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with (The Most High) God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

Step number twelve...

Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

So, yes, Psalm 118:8-9 is in full effect...

"It is better to trust in (Elohim) the LORD than to put confidence in man.
It is better to trust in (Elohim) the LORD than to put confidence in princes."

No, The Most High is not cotton candy. Or, more specifically...

“(YAH) God is not a man, that He should lie; neither the son of man, that He should repent: hath He said, and shall He not do it? Or hath He spoken, and shall He not make it good.”

Numbers 23:19

We are not to trust anything manmade. And, let’s face it, our addictions are manmade: they are faulty, imperfect human interpretations of what The Great “I AM” should be to us. We craft them for ourselves because we operate under the delusion that they work.

They don’t.

Again, what happened as the raccoon tried to wash his cotton candy?

“What profiteth the graven image that the maker thereof hath graven it; the molten image, and a teacher of lies, that the maker of his work trusteth therein, to make dumb idols? Woe unto him that saith to the wood, Awake; to the dumb stone, Arise, it shall teach! Behold, it is laid over with gold and silver, and there is no breath at all in the midst of it.”

Habakkuk 2:18-19

Repeatedly, through failure after failure, we see how our trusted answers did not come through. There were never meant to do so.

Only The Most High...

"For (Elohim) the LORD will be your confidence,
And will keep your foot from being caught."
Proverbs 3:26

He is not a man that He should lie...

And He is not cotton candy, that He should disappear.

Let’s, therefore, learn from the raccoon- and face the reality of our own cotton candy, whatever it may be.

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

 

Organic Face Tattoos and Other Hijinks

“My times are in your hands...”

Psalm 35:15

It’s hard to prepare for Breast cancer.

We can often believe we know exactly what that landscape looks like: intense fear, surgery, chemo, radiation, hormone blockers, and the looming possibility of death.

But that is not all of the possibilities out there.

Oh, no!

There is still more fun to be had.

Since my diagnosis, I have stumbled upon a few instances of this extra “fun.”

First, there was the matter of my chin. Yes, you heard me.

At the tail end of my radiation, I woke up to a parting gift one morning: a black mark on my chin.

And no, it was not a mole. Those are dark brown. This sucker was jet black and noticeable even with makeup covering it.

After several unsuccessful attempts at scrubbing my face, freaked out, I called my radiation nurse. What was this? We were targeting the right side of my chest, not my chin.

She seemed unconcerned as we spoke on the phone. Meanwhile, I’m wondering if this thing was going to spread further; I still had some treatments to go. I envisioned my mug looking like Mike Tyson’s face tattoo.

She examined it when I came in later that day.

And, upon closer inspection, my nurse calmly mentioned how, your favorite and mine, stress could change the pigment of the skin.

So… black spots.

She assured me, “In time, it will fade.”

And yes, it has, although I still see a faint trace.

Souvenir, I suppose.

I’m Itchy:

Okay, so, eventually, my face calmed down and, concerning Breast cancer mayhem, I was able to focus on my chest.

Yep, things were quite chesty in the early days of my recovery. And, that’s because I was itch-er-rific.

They say itching is a sign of healing. Well, then, I was healing intensely.

With my bilateral mastectomy, I told my surgeon to take all of the breast tissue. I wasn’t interested in leaving some behind, a flap’s worth here or there, to possibly get reconstructive surgery if I changed my mind.

Nope. I really was done.

So, from surgery wakeup on, I had one patch on my right side that was especially “skin and bone.” I’m talking tissue-paper thin… and itchy.

As I went to checkups with my Cancer Care treatment team, no one raised an eyebrow. This is just my brand of healing. Because so much tissue was removed during my surgery, that patch would be sensitive.

It was skin over breastplate bone. Sensitivity, plus all breast tissue removed, plus healing, equals itchy, I guess.

And it persists, to this day. It goes with the tight scar tissue band across my chest.

Healing.

You can probably hear me scratching right now.

With so much emphasis on the loss or change of breasts, there is not much said about personal itchiness. And I could have really used that head’s up.

Dents and Creases:

Continuing on with the lack of head’s up concerning my Breast cancer experiences, there was the matter of me changing shape with dents…oh, and creases.

I knew I would not have breasts on my chest after my bilateral mastectomy. I knew that area of my body would change. After the stitches, after the burned skin from radiation, after months of my skin tightening and healing, I noticed something.

On my right side, the side that contained the tumor and the irradiated, slightly swollen skin, I had a couple of dents. It was explained to me, by my both my physical therapist and my surgeon, how part of my healing involved rebuilding that area. Visions of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Mr. Universe competitions danced before me.

I wasn’t thrilled about that.

But, indeed, as I healed from major surgery and from radiation’s intensity, I was rebuilding muscle and tissue.

So, dents.

And the creases, mainly one prominent one where my right breast used to be, also got my attention.

This was beyond a person’s face having a crease or indentation from a pillowcase or a bedspread.

This looked like the right side of my chest was ironed and folded incorrectly. When I raised my right arm, it formed a “Y-shaped” crease that traveled North. And it did not straighten out as I attempted to push, pull, and stretch my skin.

Nope, just a divining rod, “Y-shape,” almost smirking from its crease-i-ness.

So, there I was again, panicking, bringing this up to my care team.

Again, I was assured I was simply healing. This was how I was sewn up and this was how my skin responded to my scar site. Regenerating muscle and developing scar tissue were all part of the “new normal chest,” with a large “Y” chest crease.

I learned the lesson: if you have Breast cancer, along with its accompanying surgery and procedures, your chest will change in ways you didn’t expect.

And, just when I got slightly comfortable in that lesson’s discomfort, another wackadoodle thing popped up.

But this time, it wasn’t my chest. Try my left calf instead.

Yeah.

A year after my surgery and radiation, I felt a discomfort- and a lump- in my left calf muscle.

My little imagination went straight to worst-case scenario. I wondered if this was a cancerous mass. And this discovery happened during the holiday season.

It wasn’t a very merry Christmas- nope.

Amid the colorful lights and “good will toward men,” I was pondering Sarcoma and possible amputation, fa-la-la-la-la.

Extreme, you might say? Out of the realm of possibility?

Well, cancer already hit my life. And my dark nature bleakly concluded that all bets were officially off now.

When I had it checked out, my primary physician, to her credit, did not dismiss me as a silly girl, patting me on the head.

No, after explaining my symptoms, she immediately ordered X-rays and an ultrasound.

Top of her concern list? A potential- and life-threatening- blood clot.

Oh, great, something else to think about.

I learned this possible issue could occur after surgery and radiation: yes, both of those procedures put me at an elevated risk of blood clots. Fantastic. Cut nerves and pathways are cut nerves and pathways. I couldn’t avoid the fact that my body was attempting to adjust to itself after some major physical trauma.

Anyway, I was zapped and canvased; I received my results within the next two hours.

No, I wasn’t dying. There wasn’t a tumor. There wasn’t a blood clot.

 Instead, it was the return flare up of my chronic back issues, a non-Breast cancer issue. My physician explained I had thousands of miles on me, like a car.

It’s always great to hear you’re old, especially from a medical professional.

But even though this was not directly Breast-cancer related, the knowledge of potential clots showing up in my legs and other weird things happening to my body is still something on my radar screen, as I ponder all manner of “what’s wrong with me now” thoughts.

The fact is I’m more vulnerable to things going wrong. Fun. Call it recurrence, complications, “increased risk,” or “mileage,” it still emphasizes how a weird thing happening to my body can no longer simply be dismissed.

Cancer Land, the amusement park that it is, changed that.

So, lumps, bumps, dents, aches, pains, sensations and pigment changes are all possible hijinks now.

And yes, that irritates me.

Nevertheless, I pay attention and go along for the ride, taking care of each situation, one by one.

I say “hi” to the hijinks.

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

The Hungry Hungry Hippo Approach

When I was a kid, one of my favorite games was “hungry hungry hippos.”

Ever played it? The goal was to have your hippo, one of four, devour as many of the marbles, positioned in the center of the game, as possible. By the press of the handy dandy levers, each player could control his/her own hippo head and chomp away as the feeding frenzy started.

Fun and games, gluttony and appetite...

Playing that kid’s game started me thinking more and more about these hot button words. They drive disorders and addictions. I know that as someone who’s in recovery from eating disorders of all types, they certainly were giant hippo heads chomping at my life.

Gluttony’s definition lists itself as an “excess in eating or drinking, greedy or excessive indulgence.”

And let’s not forget about the fun word, “appetite,” describing itself as “an instinctive physical desire, especially one for food or drink, a strong wish or urge.”

So, with that, we’re off and running. Chomp away!

Yet we rarely recognize exactly what we’re doing until it’s too late.

“For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice: but what I hate, that I do.”

The Apostle Paul in Romans 7:15

This would probably be a great time to mention I broke OFF one of my hippos’ heads while playing the game as a kid.

Ideally, the game wasn’t supposed to go like this. We children were supposed to play nicely, reasonably chomping for marbles. But inevitably, I got impatient and carried away. It was world domination time. And so, my chomping became faster and harder, snapping for every white marble, bashing heads with another hippo. The loud clatter made my mother come out of the kitchen, just to make sure we weren’t destroying the furniture.

So, the fury intensified until one head bash or marble chomp too many launched my hippo head through the living room. I was now headless and powerless, all because of my marble-hungry attitude.

But there’s nothing new under the sun, according to Ecclesiastes. Once upon a time, just like the kid’s game, there were some clear instructions provided on how to play:

 “And (Elohim) the LORD (YAH) God commanded the man, saying,’ Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.’”

Genesis 2:16-17

But then temptation came in. It may or may not have even been triggered by trauma. Nevertheless, it was influenced by dissatisfaction, greed and a large dose of cluelessness...

 “Now the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field which (Elohim) the LORD (YAH) God had made. And he said unto the woman, ‘Yea, hath (YAH)God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?’ And the woman said unto the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden: But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, (YAH) God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die.’ And the serpent said unto the woman, ‘Ye shall not surely die: For (YAH) God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.’”

Genesis 3:1-5

“And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat.”

Genesis 3:6

Eating the apple or obsessively playing a game? Same thing driving it- the “gimme more” demand.

So, now we have blurry guidelines, impulsive decision making and confusion...

 “For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice: but what I hate, that I do.”

The Apostle Paul in Romans 7:15

Wonderful. We go after our cravings, compulsions and addictions and we lose our way.

“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned everyone to his own way...”

Isaiah 53:6

We just keep chasing our appetites, no matter that doing so brings ruin...

“Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.”

James 1:15

And lookie here, we get still more confused...

“For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice: but what I hate, that I do.”

Romans 7:15

Just like Adam and Eve, we also eventually decide to blame God or someone/something else...

“And the man said, ‘The woman whom thou gavest [to be] with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat.’

And  (Elohim) the LORD  (YAH) God said unto the woman, ‘What [is] this [that] thou hast done? And the woman said, The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat.’”

Genesis 3:12-13

Now we get it ALL wrong! If there’s any confusion going on, it is not coming from God.

 “For (YAH) God is not the author of confusion, but of peace, as in all churches of the saints.”

1 Corinthians 14:33

We’re the ones who bring the disorder; we choose to recklessly play Hungry Hungry Hippos until our heads come off and our life game breaks.

We don’t fully get we are in a battle, especially if our chosen war toy is something notoriously irresistible, like drugs, alcohol or food. If something remotely looks like a fun or a soothing option, we tend to stick with it.

But, make no mistake about it, according to Romans 7, we are at war.

“But I see a different law in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin which is in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Thanks be to (YAH) God through (Yahshua Ha-Mashiach)Jesus Christ our (Elohim) Lord! So then, on the one hand I myself with my mind am serving the law of (YAH) God, but on the other, with my flesh the law of sin.”

Romans 7:23-25

However, the answer is found within that war, even in spite OF the war: The Most High.

Shocker!

He’s not intimidated or blindsided by our struggles. He knows what’s going on.

“Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed that he does not fall. No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and (YAH) God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.”

1 Corinthians 10:12-13

“For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.”

Psalms 103:14

And, just like how He responded to Adam and Eve (Genesis 3:14-19; Genesis 3:23-24), He still chooses NOT to pulverize us.

Does that stop us from encountering some consequences? No. Does that mean we’re hopeless? No, it doesn’t. It means we need to turn our hunger, even our hungry hungry hippo hunger, in a different direction: to HIM.  

“For he satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness.”

Psalms 107:9

There’s a temptation to do a serious eye roll here; it seems too Pollyanna to be true. I know. But let’s stick with the scripture for a second, even in the middle of our battle weary, out of control selves.

And one more thing about battle...the battle is The Most High’s...

Proverbs 21:31 is an often-quoted scripture, especially when it comes to trials: “the battle is (ELohim)the Lord’s.”

However, when I did some study on the scripture, what I came across was not the word “battle,” but “victory or “safety” instead. Check out some translations.

New International Version:
“The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but victory rests with (Elohim)the LORD.”

New American Standard Bible:
“The horse is prepared for the day of battle, But victory belongs to (Elohim)the LORD.”

American King James Version:
“The horse is prepared against the day of battle: but safety is of (Elohim)the LORD.”

Douay-Rheims Bible:
“The horse is prepared for the day of battle: but (Elohim)the Lord giveth safety.”

In all of our fury, desperation, appetites and drives, we still, however, often skip over this one important factor: The Most High. And we could be chomping at the bit at Him!

 “...‘Love (Elohim) the Lord your (YAH) God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ ”

Matthew 22:37

Furthermore, there’s this little ditty from our Father to us...

“‘Since you were precious in my sight… I have loved you…’”

Isaiah 43:4

So, the next time we’re hungry, in battle, struggling or resembling a chomping hippo in any way, it might do us some good to remember the winning of the battle has less to do with our performance and more to do with our willingness to let Him be Who He is.

“Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.”

Romans 8:37

Recovery speak often calls it a moment of “surrender” or “clarity.”

What if we simply called it being hungry for The Most High?

“For he satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness.”

Psalms 107:9

No hippo heads required.

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

Thin Enough Book Introduction

Grace at Emily Recovery Night

Resemblance

“That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Isaiah the prophet, saying: ‘He Himself took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses.’”

Matthew 8:17

One of my sweetest friends has dimples.

They are pronounced. Obvious dimples. The kind that could place a quarter in to play a jukebox. That deep. That pronounced.

I also have dimples. They are less juke boxy. But they are there.

My first-grade school photo is evidence.

With our dimples, therefore, my friend and I somewhat resemble each other.

Empathy.

Yahshua did it for all humanity.

He resembled us as He was moved, by compassion, to die, taking every sin, for us. He knew what each experience we would encounter was like.

He resembled us. He took on our characteristics.

Like the physical traits of dimples.

“He is despised and rejected by men, A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him; He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.
Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; Yet we esteemed Him stricken, Smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed.”

Isaiah 53:3-5

We have Spiritual Dimples, Like Him.

“Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you. but rejoice to the extent that you partake of (Yahshua Ha-Mashiach’s) Christ’s sufferings, that when His glory is revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding joy.”

1 Peter 4:12-13

We share in His suffering.

More resemblance, back and forth.

We are to be conformed into His Image.

“For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren.”

Romans 8:29

Don’t feel like that? Don’t see much of that Image in yourself?

Well, the resemblance, again, going back and forth, was already decided. He would look like us; we would look like Him.

“For He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless in His presence. In love He predestined us for adoption as His sons through (Yashua Ha-Mashiach) Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of His will.”

Ephesians 1:4-5

Foreknew. Predestined.

Our insecure feelings pale in the weight of HIS Truth.

That Truth includes Resemblance. It’s displayed this way:

Empathy.

Love.

Indeed, we are to love; it’s a Command…

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another.”

John 13:34

“Going from Glory to Glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

My dimples, over time, have become more pronounced.

Likewise, spiritually, I believe this also happens with us.

The resemblance becomes more pronounced. More obvious.

The resemblance deepens. We discover who we are; we discover Who He is.

It’s ongoing. We are continually fashioned, being conformed, resembling Him over time.

The process can possibly speed up, if we say yes to love.

Do we say yes?

Empathy and love are the resemblance.

We look like one another; we look like Him. That’s how it should be.

Let’s see the resemblance already!

Let’s see those spiritual dimples!

ABBA Father-

We come to You, in The Name of Yahshua.

You know what we look like; You decided every feature and characteristic.

Thank You for deciding we are valuable.

Help us to seek You, to fully resemble Who You are.

We need help in this process.

Forgive us for not accepting Who You have called us to be. Forgive us for not prioritizing our relationship with You.

Help us with empathy and love. It can be so difficult for us to practice these crucial things. Forgive us for falling short.

Thank You for loving us. Thank You for continuing to work in us, and in our lives.

We receive it humbly, with gratitude and commitment now,

In the Name of Yahshua, we pray.

AMEN.

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

 

One Tough Chick? Eight Years Later?

“His Strength is made perfect in weakness.”

2 Corinthians 12:9

Eight years ago, I encountered a breast cancer diagnosis.

At the time, I received this little pink critter…

“One Tough Chick.”

And, Man, back then, did I try to become tough. Strong.

(Excerpt from “Cancerventures; Tales From a Diagnosed Woman”)

“D Day:”  

“So, after waiting through this long weekend, July 11th came.  I was on the loveseat; my husband was in the recliner nearby. Braced for impact. Shortly after 9 o’clock, the phone rang; I put it on the speakerphone so he could hear. 

“Hi, Sheryle, it’s Joy. So, we have your biopsy results back and unfortunately, there is the presence of cancer…” 

My husband grabbed my hand. 

She then started getting into the findings, medical jargon all its own language… 

“Invasive Mammary Carcinoma, Nottingham grade 3 of 3, at least 1.1 cm in greatest dimension.  Focal Ductal Carcinoma In Situ.”

This was real. 

I scheduled a consultation with the surgeon for that Thursday. I thanked her for the phone call and hung up.  

And then, I operated in states of being numb, scared, and fraught with crying jags. 

This diagnosis news, indeed, on 7-11 was my 9-11. 

Explosion. Disaster. Life-changing event.  

Ta-Ta-Ta- Tina!  

And then, my mind focused on a famous nickname for breasts: “Tatas.” I couldn’t stop thinking about it. This obsession eventually led to Tina Turner.  

Diagnosis day, my mind kept obsessing about the word. Tatas would not fall out of my head. I felt disempowered, looking for any image of female encouragement. Enter Tina Turner. 

A lot of times, people have a stuttering reaction to Tina's performance by stating, ‘Ta- Ta- Ta-  Tina Turner!!!!’

And then they scream and fan out.  

But if you know Tina's story, you know there is a nemesis to the late, great Ta-Ta-Ta-Tina: Ike Turner, her abusive husband. Part of Tina's triumph is reinventing and freeing herself from that abusive dynamic. Ike was a cancer. He was taking up toxic space. He had to go. And that transcended the breasts-do-they-stay-or-do-they-go issues. I am Tina, not my breasts.  

This was how my mind worked on July 11th, 2017. And it stuck. 

I had a special place in my heart for Tina’s sci-fi character, Aunt Entity in the 1980s film, “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome.” Her character was fully decked out in a chain-mail dress that, still, to this day, I wouldn’t mind adding to my wardrobe.  

I’m serious. Dress it up with pearls; dress it down with a jean jacket. 

Anyway, I immediately had those Aunt Entity images seared into my brain and Tina, in one way or another, would be a kind of cancer alter ego for me. I decided. 

Now, let’s fight Ike.”

 

It’s been eight years since I “fought Ike.”

It’s been eight years of me being “One Tough Chick.”

It’s been “Crazy 8’s.”

Cancer can do that. And you can be a Believer, and this health issue can still do that.

And His Grace is greater than any “Tough Chick” mandate we self-impose.

Cancer can pressure us to present tough, unstoppable, formidable, and strong.

And the entire time?

Well, we often feel like the weakest baby animal.

Not strong. Not tough. Not inspiring.

But/And…

HE is in us. HE is strengthening, perfecting, living/defying imperfect life.

HE is.

 

Do you have a diagnosis milestone?

Did you just find out some scary news?

Are in you years into “survivorship?”

How tough do you feel you need to be?

 

HE will be strong for you, no matter how weak you show UP right now.

“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

2 Corinthians 12:9

 

ABBA Father-

We come to You, in The Name of Your Son, Yahshua. You know the diagnosis. You know the health challenge.

You know how “tough” we are.

And You know the cry of our weakness. You know how it’s often invisible, embarrassing, painful, and lonely.

You know.

Therefore, remind and show us that, yes, indeed,

You ARE making YOUR STRENGTH PERFECT in OUR weakness.

Live in and heal us, while You love us. Thank You that it is constant.

We accept Your Son, living, dying for us, paying every penalty, including any diagnosis.

Thank You for loving each of us in this way.

Help and heal each of us to love You back in ways that bring You Love and Glory.

We receive it, in Yahshua’s Name,

Amen.

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

(Bridesmaid)Thin Enough Book Excerpt

Visitor Friendly

There is a widespread trend going on within the Christian Church; it’s called “visitor friendly.” The focus is to not be intimidating, in any way, to the non-churchgoer.

So, often times, churches have taken on a more secular attitude and appearance. Gone are the traditional hymns; in their place is a laser and light show resembling a rock concert. Instead of choir robes, there are the latest hipster fashions of skinny jeans, porkpie hats and more casual attire worn by the worship team. And the Gospel message is often at its rudimentary basics: The Almighty loves you; He sent His Son, Yahshua, to die for you.

Most people think because of my Christian perspective on recovery, addiction, and abuse issues, I was staunchly raised within the church. Not true. I was once one of those unchurched.

That’s not to say that, as a child, I knew nothing of The Most High. I was blessed to have a Christian mother, who did her best to teach me the core principles of Christianity; most of the emphasis was on Yahshua, or, Jesus, as I knew of Him at the time. But, because of my abusive home life, Mom and I were forbidden from joining a church.

Eventually, solely for the purpose of being confirmed in my family’s denomination, I was allowed to join one in our small town. But it had more to do with avoiding the wagging tongue gossip of being the only child not getting with the usual confirmation program. There was no thought given to the spiritual importance of belonging to a spiritually-nurturing and sound community.

So, until my adolescent confirmation years, most of my church experiences consisted of being an occasional “visitor.” Sporadic Sundays, spent attending various churches, piqued my curiosity, while simultaneously pointing out how different I was from everyone else.

To me, “visitor” meant “misfit.”

Not exactly inviting.

Identifying as a misfit, with all of the rejection built in, conveyed a harmful message. I was “different,” ergo, “wrong.”

The more recent “visitor friendly” phenomenon has been in the forefront of my attention. For all of the talk about changes within the church and the newer focus on being relevant to a secular crowd, one, however, still needs to keep the main thing the main thing: it’s about reconciliation, not ostracism.

And, if we invoke such things as the spirituality of the Twelve Steps, we need to recognize it is not only about surrender to The Most High, our “Higher Power,” it also deals with serving one another, accountability, and stewardship.

“…‘Am I my brother's keeper?’”

Genesis 4:9

With the discussion and implementation of “visitor friendly” changes, where is the practical aspect of caring for a vulnerable member of the flock?

“Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of (YAH) God, which he bought with his own blood.”

Acts 20:28

“Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such a one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of (Yahshua HA-Mashiach) Christ.”

Galatians 6:1-2

What I have observed in my many years of church attendance, as both a member and a visitor, is, perhaps, the lack of enthusiasm concerning Christian support. There are, indeed, unfortunately, some churches which have nothing in place when it comes to drugs and alcohol. And it’s even bleaker concerning eating disorder and abuse recovery groups (please don’t get me started there)!

Look, I understand the reality that there is no such thing as a perfect church. With a living, breathing organism, comprised of imperfect individuals, hey, it’s going to be messy. I’ve frequently heard of how the church is a hospital, even a triage unit.

And so, to that, I suggest the attitude of the Hippocratic Oath:

“First, due no harm.”

But, if the church is a hospital, there doesn’t seem to be nearly as much giddiness over being harmless, let alone, actually doing some healing and helping, as there is about the latest visitor friendly trend.

And that, scripturally speaking, can be a stumbling block…

 “Therefore let us stop passing judgment on one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in the way of a brother or sister.”

Romans 14:13

It brings up the harmful condemnation which often co-exists for those who are struggling with addiction, compulsion, disorder, and abuse.

There can be a subtle, oh, so subtle, message sent of “you don’t quite belong here because…”

And then add whatever excuse/ reason you choose to the statement.

But, again, if we’re going to ask the “What would Yahshua do?” question, then, perhaps, we should first look at what He wouldn’t do:

“When (Yahshua) Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, ‘Woman, where are those thine accusers? Hath no man condemned thee?’ She said, ‘No man, Lord.’ And (Yahshua) Jesus said unto her, ‘Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.’”

John 8:10-11

“For (YAH) God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through Him might be saved.”

John 3:17

Part of the spiritual and emotional obstacles we’ve been working on overcoming involve the stigma attached to these less than pretty struggles. Be they disorder, addiction, or abuse, unfortunately, they can often be dismissed, if not downright mishandled, in a Christian setting.

A frequent response can be “just pray and have faith.”

This, in and of itself, is not a bad thing, but it’s potentially wounding when it’s used as the only method for healing and recovery. It can become especially painful when a church body decides there is no need for recovery and support programs.

By simply stating, “all you need is (Yahshua) Jesus,” however unintentionally, the judgment comes across; the struggling person’s faith- and their very being- are not good enough here.

The sentiment is further cemented by the absence of real, functioning support.

“Ye shall know them by their fruits…”

Matthew 7:16

Actions speak louder than words. By cavalier, judgmental attitudes, and a lack of resources, the church body can send a dangerous message; recovery/healing is not a top priority.

And then, it is taken to an even more destructive level when the person in need accepts that verdict, complete with its shame and the lack of support.

You may think I’m being melodramatic here. But I’ve encountered many people who’ve been burned by their experiences with churches, especially concerning this dicey healing issue. There can, unfortunately, still be an oppressive stigma operating in a place which represents itself as “God’s House.”

 I’m not against the welcoming aspect of being “visitor friendly.” I am not against updated music, lights, and sound equipment.

But these things should not be at the expense of the healing message.

“And (Yahshua) Jesus saith unto him, ‘I will come and heal him.’”

Matthew 8:7

“‘For I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds,’ saith (Elohim) the LORD...”

Jeremiah 30:17

And part of that involves support, compassion, and restoration- in, ideally, functional programs. The proof is in the pudding.

If you only have money within the budget for the latest equipment or trendy changes, but not recovery resources, what message is truly being conveyed?

I offer this commentary on the visitor friendly situation to challenge us all. If we truly wish to be “about our Father’s business” (Luke 2:49), let’s be about it, instead of just being excited about gadgets or the latest trends. Let’s love and care about each other.

“This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you.”

John 15:12

It’s not a new message, but man, is it ever powerful- AND visitor friendly!

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

It Takes One To Know One

(TRIGGER WARNING: Please note there may be some disturbing content in this entry. If you are struggling with disordered eating and image issues, please be prayerful as you approach reading it. Take care of yourself; you are worth doing so).

“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.”

Ecclesiastes 1:9

 

It’s been said “It takes one to know one.” I now see this concept repeatedly in my life.

The first occurrence? Well, that was at the apex of my anorexic condition. I was a college freshman, hellbent on distancing myself from my teenage overweight body as possible. Hence, the serious restriction of calories, interspersed with starvation periods and excessive exercise (up to six hours a day).

My freshman year, therefore, found me whittling to smaller weights. To those unfamiliar with my former self, I was only seen as thin. But, to those who knew me “way back when?” Well, I couldn’t quite convince them everything was okay.

Carrie (not her real name) attended both the same high school and now the same college as I did; she was also a recovering anorexic. As I started the year, she was keenly interested in my changed appearance. It started out casual; she remarked about my weight loss. However, by spring, I was at a disturbingly low weight- and that’s when she pounced.

During that term, we took the same world history course and Carrie pulled me aside one day after class. She, once again, remarked about my weight loss. And then she revealed her battle with anorexia and expressed concern that I was veering down the same path.

I was “caught,” but, as eating disorder sufferers are often prone to do, I told her I was “fine.” No, of course, I was not anorexic. My racing mind panicked, “Don’t be ridiculous! That kind of thing doesn’t happen to me.” But Carrie read my mail.

Once I extricated myself from that encounter, I thought I had fooled everyone.

Nope.

Cut to the middle of that following summer. Carrie and I both came from a small town; it wasn’t unheard of for us to run into each other. Both of us were living at home until the fall term started. And, because there was only one major shopping mall in our small-town locale, this was the meeting place of yet another “It takes one to know one” encounter.

Because of my already intense eating disorder behaviors, I tried to occupy my mind with anything I could think of. One of my latest “answers” was crafting.

Yes, that’s right, I said crafting.

I guess I believed pipe cleaners and glitter could save me. So, I was a regular at the mall’s hobby store.

I was close to my lowest weight, attempting to keep from passing out, while looking at the dollhouse miniatures section. I was staring at teeny furniture when… bam. Carrie appeared out of nowhere. I felt busted. I had lost another ten pounds. She and I started some chitchat, but, c’mon, we both knew the score. Eventually, she brought up the dreaded words, “eating disorder.” And I had nowhere I had to be. I had no class I needed to escape to. I just had to stand there in the hobby store and be cornered by the truth.

“It takes one to know one” was getting too close to home.

And it wouldn’t be until many years later that I would experience the other side of this phenomenon. After the publication of my book, I had a signing event in Oregon.

A young anorexic woman was eyeing me for the entire four hours of the event. She kept pacing in front of the bookstore. But she kept her distance. There was this weird synergy of “I know you know” going on between us. Finally, after four hours of her pacing, lurking and eyeing me, she rushed the book table, spurting, “I had gone through it, but not the six-hour exercise stuff you did.” And then she took off. I think she left snow tire tracks behind.

In that moment, I saw how when we are in any kind of dysfunction or disorder, there’s still a part of us which wants help.

Sometimes, it does “take one to know one.”

Right now, is there someone out there who is experiencing the exact same thing?

Is it you?

It’s worth reaching out.

Disordered eating and image issues can affect anyone, regardless of age, gender or socio-economic factors.

Just because someone doesn’t “fit” the stereotype, doesn’t mean they’re not afflicted.

If you suspect someone is suffering, please reach out with love and support. Here are some helpful strategies to do just that.

When You Want to Help Someone You Care About

What to do if…

If your child is younger than 18

Get professional help immediately. You have a legal and moral responsibility to get your child the care s/he needs. Don’t let tears, tantrums, or promises to do better stop you. Begin with a physical exam and psychological evaluation.

If the physician recommends hospitalization, do it. People die from these disorders, and sometimes they need a structured time out to break entrenched patterns.

If the counselor asks you to participate in family sessions, do so. Children spend only a few hours a week with their counselors. The rest of the time they live with their families. You need as many tools as you can get to help your child learn new ways of coping with life.

If your friend is younger than 18

Tell a trusted adult—parent, teacher, coach, pastor, school nurse, school counselor, etc.—about your concern. If you don’t, you may unwittingly help your friend avoid the treatment s/he needs to get better.

Even though it would be hard, consider telling your friend’s parents why you are concerned. S/he may be hiding unhealthy behaviors from them, and they deserve to know so they can arrange help and treatment. If you cannot bear to do this yourself, ask your parents or perhaps the school nurse for help.

If the person is older than 18

Legally the person is now an adult and can refuse treatment if s/he is not ready to change. Nevertheless, reach out. Tell her/him that you are concerned. Be gentle. Suggest that there has to be a better way to deal with life than starving and stuffing. Encourage professional help, but expect resistance and denial. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink—even when he is thirsty—if he is determined to follow his own path.

 

ANRED: When You Want to Help Someone You Care About.

www.anred.com

 Used with permission.

 Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

The Diagnosed Caregiver

(As originally appeared in Summer 2019 Issue of Christian Living in the Mature Years)

On July 11th, 2017, I received my Breast cancer diagnosis. Life changed. And immediately, I thought about my elderly mother, who resided in a care facility.

Some of us caregivers may experience a health crisis; we’re not immune.

How will we handle that, especially concerning our elderly loved ones?

Be as Non-Terrifying as Possible:

Awaiting my diagnosis, I laid some groundwork. I didn’t get specific; I didn’t want to scare her. But I did inform Mom of my mammogram, ultrasound and biopsy test results.

She seemed nonchalant. Since this was not my first cancer scare, I think she viewed it as another false alarm.

In the beginning, when you know very little about your health crisis, don’t go into gory detail. Gory equals scary. Just surface facts.

Need-To-Know People:

When I finally learned of my diagnosis, my first notification was not to my mother, but rather, to Rachel, the lead nurse on my mother’s floor. I requested she be in Mom’s room when I delivered the news. During that phone call, my mother seemed unfazed. But she’s known to withdraw.

Therefore, I next told care facility staff about my diagnosis. If Mom interacts daily with people who are in the know, there’s less chance of isolation. I was determined to blab to them, getting the help we needed.

Locate your own need-to-know people, from diagnosis on. They can be family, friends, or care facility staff. They can monitor your loved one regularly, while also giving you intel on what’s really going on with him or her. They can also support you in how you disclose and deal with your health condition as it unfolds.

That First Post-Diagnosis Visit:

Eventually, you’ll need to have direct contact with your loved one. Late July, 2017 my husband and I visited Mom for the first time, post-revelation.

 “How are you feeling?” Tears were filling her eyes.

“Mom, I’m okay. I’m not in any pain. It’s mostly discomfort.”

I saw a look of slight relief.

We then took turns saying things like we caught it early and we have support around us.

Mom, however, was still teary. I asked, “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m concerned for your health.”

“And what else?”

“I’m afraid… you could die.”

There! The fear was spoken.

We reminded her she could talk to and pray with care facility staff. She quietly nodded.

Overall, this visit went well. Mom saw for herself I was not her dead daughter. People often associate the word, “cancer” with death. So, any evidence of life is reassuring.

That first face-to-face interaction can set the tone for how your health condition is received by your loved one. Again, don’t go into graphic detail. He/she doesn’t need to know about the disturbing realities of procedures. Think headlines only. “I have this diagnosis,” “I’m getting this test done” or “I’ll get my results on this day.” Anything more and you risk upset that neither your loved one, nor you need.

There is comfort in the face-to-face, if you can arrange it. Your 3-D presence, establishes, “We’re here together now.”

Caregiver, Heal Thyself:

There is no perfect way to deal with cancer and caregiving.

I had my breast surgery and went through a course of radiation. So, during this time, concerning Mom, I did most everything by phone, including her quarterly care conferences, executed via speakerphone. I also called Mom twice weekly. We did not spend the holidays together; that was during my most intense treatment and recovery time. But we mailed her letters, cards, gifts and personal care items. Care facility staff provided us with updates and coordinated special occasions, like my mother’s 80th birthday party, which, fortunately, we did attend.

Cancer shifted my focus. I had to let a lot of once- micromanaged things go.

It was “Behold, thy mother” and self-care.

“… ‘Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.”

John 19:27

I did my utmost to take care of her needs. But I couldn’t do everything; and I shouldn’t be expected to, either. My mother was in a place where her health and safety were monitored daily. She had human contact. And, even if the face-to-face interaction was much less now, we told each other we loved one another every time we spoke.

In this imperfect situation, I was doing everything I could.

 “… having done all, to stand.”

Ephesians 6:13

Self-care now dictated I trust my Creator with both of us; but I had to take care of myself. It’s the airline analogy. You put on your oxygen mask first before you can help anyone else.

And that’s the challenge.

Dear Caregiver, stewardship of your own well-being is His Divine Will. Eradicate each “should.” Delegate. Ask for help in making things happen for your loved one. Do as much by conference call and mail as possible.

Life is different now. But you can still care for your loved one with this different, diagnosed life. And you will learn to treat yourself kindly in the process.

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

Type

As a college theatre major, I once took a television performance class. The class was asked to serve as casting director and label what “type” of look I had.

Several classmates made comments like, “exotic,” “a foreigner,” “a gypsy.” But one comment stood out:

“She looks like that woman from ‘Misery.’” (After waiting for what seemed like an eternity for the answer, my professor mercifully named actress Kathy Bates).

And then, everyone chimed in with “yeah, she’s a great crazy woman.”

Uh… thanks?

I’ve had much experience with the type concept. As an actress, I was cast- or rather, typecast- in certain roles. Most of them were crazy women. I was the “character actor,” rather than the ingénue. That, however, still didn’t stop my yearning to be a different type.

By college, I was introduced to William Shakespeare’s classic, “Hamlet”- and, of course, the young, fragile-and crazy- Ophelia. I couldn’t get past the ingénue’s mystique. But let’s look a little closer at what this ingénue actually is.

 “An unsophisticated girl or young woman: a girl or young woman who is naive and lacks experience or understanding of life”

 

“A naive character in drama: a character in a play or a movie who is a naive inexperienced young woman”

 

Really?

That’s what little girls want to be when we grow up? Hmmm…

I mention it because, for years, I associated that ingénue type with beauty. And, since I linked beauty with extreme thinness, well, things went awry. Hopelessness, despair and wrong views of God started the ball rolling. Physical and emotional complications, like eating disorders, an irregular heartbeat and suicidal thoughts were also some fun highlights.

And yes, as my college’s production of “Hamlet” got underway, I was also introduced to the Queen Gertrude character, Hamlet’s mother. I was the understudy. Still, I yearned to play the blasted ingénue.  I still wanted to be the beautiful damsel fairy princess.

This wish continued to butt heads with my character actress reality. Once, in my directing class, a fellow student was berated on how he miscast his Lady Macbeth in an assigned scene. My instructor then stated I should play the character; I could “play mean.”

Another time, when I asked my instructor for advice on audition pieces, he again mentioned Lady Macbeth. “You know you’ve already set yourself up. You’re strong; you have a strong presence.”

Types and roles- they’re really the same thing, aren’t they? And the female gender is hit particularly hard with the issue. Do we box ourselves in, believing only certain characteristics are worthy? What types do we covet- and disdain?

While researching an article on image, I came across a beauty product ad, as featured in “Hope In a Jar: The Making of America’s Beauty Culture,” by Kathy Peiss. This 1929 Armand ad promoted different beauty types, touting its “Find Yourself” campaign, complete with each female type’s matching names. Here are those descriptions…

The Cleopatra Type: “Masculine hearts pound when she goes by.”

The Godiva Type: “Anglo-Saxon, blond, winsome and how!”

The Sonja Type: “Dark and mysterious, she has a way with her.”

The Cherie Type: “She brings the boulevards of Paris to America.”

The Sheba Type: “Dark-brown hair and a queenly air.”

The Lorelai Type: “Blond and aggressive, she ‘gets her man.’”

The Mona Lisa Type: “Light-brown hair and a devastating smile.”

The Colleen Type: “She has more pep than a jazz band.”

Yeah, I know.

Again, this beauty type was not foreign to me. After all, I participated in my own “cute, pretty, beautiful” rating system as a child.

My mother and I set up this system to judge other females, focusing on those exact words. We’d pick a friend, a classmate, a teacher or a celebrity and decide on her ranking.  And, even though we didn’t know it, we were also determining their value as human beings.

Lovely.

And this rating system wasn’t just a judge-y sport; it also underscored my full-blown eating disorder behaviors: anorexia, bulimia, binge- eating and, of course, constant self-loathing.

It sprang from that obsession I had with a certain type of beauty. Again, here comes the frail ingénue worship.

“...They were now competition for me. If I could be thinner than these women, then I’d be better than they were as well… Competition grew between me and any thin girl or woman. Mirror, mirror: I had to be the thinnest one of them all. It was life or death importance, anything less than that was unacceptable. Gaining any weight, whatsoever, meant failure, simple as that...What I didn’t realize at the time was that my eyes and mind were incapable of seeing anything but a distorted image...”

(Excerpt from “Thin Enough: My Spiritual Journey Through the Living Death Of An Eating Disorder”)

However, no matter what I did, I could never perfectly attain that coveted standard. No matter what, I never felt “beautiful.” And so, what was I? Answer: an ugly failure.

Why aren’t we enough?

Spiritually, it’s because we don’t see what Elohim sees. We limit ourselves. And we, as finite human beings, are more obsessed with the temporal, distorted and often, harmful depictions of beauty rather than God’s eternal, spiritual truths.

Awareness is key. First and foremost, what is The Most High’s beauty assessment of us?

I direct you to the following passionate (yes, racy) - and far from ambivalent- scriptures; check out The Song of Solomon:

1:15: “Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes.”

2:14: “O my dove…let me see your form…for your form is lovely.”

4:1: “Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes...”

4:7: “Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.”

6:4: “Thou art beautiful, O my love...”

7:10: “I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.”

Still, if we only look to outward appearance, we’re selling ourselves way too short. Yes, each of us has inherent beauty, but that is only part of who we are. There’s so much more to our intrinsic value than our faces and bodies, wonderful as they are.

Scripture, in fact, states just how clueless we can be about something as important as our literal worth.

“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”

1 Corinthians 13:12

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts.”

Isaiah 55:8-9

And external image and inherent value issues? C’mon, we mess those things right up! We cannot wrap our minds around Psalm 139:14:

“...I am fearfully and wonderfully made…”

Forget about the deeper things like love, destiny, meaning and purpose!

“Since you were precious in my sight… I have loved you…”

Isaiah 43:4

“I have chosen you and have not cast you away.”

Isaiah 41:9

 “The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying, ‘Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee.’”

Jeremiah 31:3

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.”

Jeremiah 29:11

(And these are all declarations from The Most High, Himself, here).

Notice there was no mention of “type.” There was no asterisk, ingénue standard, no Godiva, Sheba or Cherie categories in any of those scriptures. There was just unconditional love, affirmative acceptance and value, as is.

We’re beautiful and valuable now- no diet, manipulation, or other people’s opinions are required.

Therefore, right now, we’d all do well to typecast ourselves as Divinely-ordained incredible creations!

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

 

                                                                                                           

Modern Day Pharisee Thirst Trap?

“And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.”

Matthew 6:5

The word, “Pharisee.”

It brings up an image, doesn’t it?

And not a positive one.

What do we think of when we hear the word?

How much do you and I inhabit that word?

You and I may be offended by that question. We may think that it’s ridiculous.

After all, many of us can state that we are not members of the clergy. We are not in highfalutin positions of power.

Most of us… “just work here,” right?

We would like to think that we are not hypocrites.

“Even so ye also outwardly appear righteous unto men, but within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.”

Matthew 23:28

In recent years, pop culture has introduced a phrase: “thirst trap.”

This phrase refers to someone who is so desperate for attention, especially online, that he/she will post/say/do/film anything for attention.

The controversial site, “Only Fans” is a potential example of “thirst trap,” in its extreme measures of attempting to garner attention… and money.

But “thirst trap” is more insidious for you and me, isn’t it?

We are all a little guilty of posting/saying/doing something to get attention.

We are all a little “thirsty.”

So, maybe the case can be made.

Social Media Sites: The New Pharisee?

At least, the new stomping grounds of the... thirsty… Pharisee?

“Everything they do is for show. On their arms they wear extra wide prayer boxes with Scripture verses inside, and they wear robes with extra long tassels.

Matthew 23:5

“Everything they do is just to show off in front of others. They even make a big show of wearing Scripture verses on their foreheads and arms, and they wear big tassels for everyone to see.”

(Contemporary English Translation)

Doesn’t that sound a bit like social media nowadays?

Why are we doing what we are doing?

Why do we post photos, comments, and everything we can post?

Does the world need to know what our meal looks like? Does the world need another selfie from our mugs?

Why are we thirsty?

“Motives are weighed...”

“All a person’s ways seem pure to them, but motives are weighed by the LORD (Elohim).”

Proverbs 16:2

Great. Heart issue stuff.

“For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

Matthew 6:21

Bumping RIGHT into it.

What Has Our Heart?

“Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.”

Proverbs 4:23

Alright, so first we have wild hearts that cannot exactly be counted on. Again, it sounds offensive to be viewed that that.

Nevertheless…

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?”

Jeremiah 17:9

It’s a great running start.

Therefore, if we have this wicked, unreliable, even, heart, how can we truly expect we will have right motives? It goes beyond posting something on Instagram. It cuts to relating to Him.

You know… HIM? The Big Him. The Most High.

“For their heart was not right with Him, neither were they steadfast in His covenant.”

 Psalms 78:37

“But” you and I may counter, “I just want to post photos of my vacation.”

Uh-huh.

I get it.

We all post pics of what we’re doing, what we’re eating, our pets, and our smiling faces.

What’s the spiritual state of our hearts as we do that?

I am interrogating myself here, too. I’m not just throwing stones at other people’s glass selfies.

When you and I post…anything, what is the REAL story going on here?

The fabulous vacation?

(We fought with our family the entire trip).

The scrumptious meal?

(We couldn’t afford it, and had to max out a credit card, just to order it. So that we could post about it online).

The adored pet?

(Still not housetrained. We regret getting the critter. And we are constantly deep cleaning our carpets).

And what about our smiling selfies?

(We feel dead inside. We feel ugly. We spent the last hour just trying to find the right filter to edit our appearance, making us look thinner, more attractive… and “happy”).

In Pharisee language, our online presence is like that of the long flowing robes, the impressive tassels, and the strut the Pharisee gives in the Sanctuary.

“Look at me! Look at how great I am!”

Reality?

“‘Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cleanse the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of extortion and self-indulgence.

Blind Pharisee, first cleanse the inside of the cup and dish, that the outside of them may be clean also.

Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which indeed appear beautiful outwardly but inside are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness.

Even so you also outwardly appear righteous to men, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.’”

Matthew 23:23-28

We are “white-washed tombs” (Matthew 23:27).

Who sees and smells the decay already?

Smells like… Hypocrisy.

We may not wear robes, have tassels, or strut in a Sanctuary lately, but we post hypocrisy, don’t we?

Just a little bit?

“Speaking lies in hypocrisy; having their conscience seared with a hot iron;”

1 Timothy 4:2

Our posts “speak lies in hypocrisy?” Yikes.

So, our wicked, hypocritical hearts are posting. It’s one thing to “fool the public.”

You and I may do that, with varying degrees of success.

For instance, take yours truly here.

I would love to look like the Beauty and the screen siren, Rita Hayworth, right now, as I type these words…

More accurately, right now? I’m paraphrasing, substituting “reading” for “writing” from this little gem right here…

Yep.

Weird bun. I’m writing this with a weird bun. Too weird to capture as a still image.

(Looking out for your emotional health today. You’re welcome).

Plus, I am not having a cute day.

Anyway…

We can fool the public, maybe, some of the time.

But what about The Most High?

“He answered and said…prophesied of you hypocrites…‘This people honoreth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.’”

Mark 7:6

He sees our metaphorical weird buns; He sees our appearance. He knows what we just posted, tried to get attention.

Like my little Rita Hayworth Thirst Trap.

Guilty!

Again…

“All a person’s ways seem pure to them, but motives are weighed by the LORD (Elohim).”

Proverbs 16:2

Why am I writing and posting what I am writing, right now?

To get attention?

“The king's heart is in the hand of the LORD (Elohim), as the rivers of water: He turneth it whithersoever He will. Every way of a man is right in his own eyes: but the LORD pondereth the hearts.”

Proverbs 21:1-2

Yep. That’s there. I admit it.

Dear Reader, please pay attention to me.

Tricky heart. Yep. I have one. How about you?

And, before I am completely cavalier, not treating the heart issue stuff as serious, something we need to pay attention to, in all sincerity, let’s trot to this scripture…

“Thy terribleness hath deceived thee, and the pride of thine heart, O thou that dwellest in the clefts of the rock, that holdest the height of the hill: though thou shouldest make thy nest as high as the eagle, I will bring thee down from thence, saith the LORD (Elohim).”

Jeremiah 49:16

Yep, it can tip over into this.

I have tipped. How about you?

It is, furthermore, not comforting to think about being brought down.

Pharisee... Hypocrisy… Pride of Heart… Deception… Posting…

Left unchecked, it could go there? Really?

Uh, yep. Caution. Slippery heart roads ahead.

So now what? What do we do?

Beyond lofty advice? What can you and I do here?

Delete all social media counts? Never post again?

Not necessarily.

Getting Sprung from the Thirst Trap?

“The king's heart is in the hand of the LORD (Elohim), as the rivers of water: He turneth it whithersoever He will. Every way of a man is right in his own eyes: but the LORD pondereth the hearts.”

Proverbs 21:1-2

So, we see, according to scripture, that ultimately, He, not us, oversees our hearts, even as wild, tricky, and rotten as they may be. HE turns and alters hearts in any way He chooses to turn and alter them. All while doing this, The Most High is precisely and unfailingly aware of our heart state.

So, that’s sobering and encouraging. None of us are calling the shots here.

Let’s go deeper still with these hearts and their postures.

“But let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of (YAH) God of great price.”

1 Peter 3:4

Our hearts physically, externally, are hidden from view, unless something extreme, like heart surgery, opens us up and exposes them.

Most of the time, however, our physical hearts are hidden from everyone and everything… except Elohim.

What if we take that in?

What if we pause, even for a second or two?

“But let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of (YAH) God of great price.”

1 Peter 3:4

What if we pause and do a heart welfare check on ourselves?

Why are we posting this?

Whether or not we know that answer, He already does.

But, at least pausing, just a bit, we could do that, right?

Pausing is often quiet, isn’t it?

It doesn’t command a lot of attention, fuss, and noise.

What if we pause before we globally display images of our face, our pet, our relationship, or our salad?

“But let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of (YAH) God of great price.”

1 Peter 3:4

Perhaps we would rethink some stuff. Change our approach.

And maybe, we also wouldn’t completely derail our lives in the process.

“Post-Post Regret,” after all.

We have all had that cringe experience, haven’t we?

Pausing. Quieting down.

Being aware that HE is aware of our hearts. That can be a start of administering an antidote to the Pharisee mentality that lurks within us.

The Thirst Trap.

We can turn and admit we are thirsty for Him.

Psalm 63 Palette Cleanser: “I thirst for You…”

I proclaim this daily, because I need this daily.

It speaks to the yearning for Him.

This yearning cannot be replaced with any other substitute, including any other form of attention or validation from any other source.

We need to turn to Him.

After all…

“He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”

John 7:38

Therefore, starting out Psalm 63, with verse 1…

“O (YAH) God, You are my (YAH) God;
Early will I seek You;
My soul thirsts for You;
My flesh longs for You
In a dry and thirsty land
Where there is no water.”

(I’m going to post the rest of it here. Let it quench our thirst)!

2So I have looked for You in the sanctuary,
To see Your power and Your glory.

3Because Your lovingkindness is better than life,
My lips shall praise You.
4Thus I will bless You while I live;
I will lift up my hands in Your name.
5My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness,
And my mouth shall praise You with joyful lips.

6When I remember You on my bed,
I meditate on You in the night watches.
7Because You have been my help,
Therefore in the shadow of Your wings I will rejoice.
8My soul follows close behind You;
Your right hand upholds me.

9But those who seek my life, to destroy it,
Shall go into the lower parts of the earth.
10They shall fall by the sword;
They shall be a portion for jackals.

11But the king shall rejoice in (YAH) God;
Everyone who swears by Him shall glory;
But the mouth of those who speak lies shall be stopped.”

Briefly notice. “...But the mouth of those who speak lies shall be stopped.”

That includes the Pharisee Thirst Trap posting.

But look at the benefits, outnumbering seeking Him?

That is much better than any “like” or comment from anyone else, isn’t it?

You and I need help when it comes to the social media, and this “modern age.”

Let’s pray for that help now.

Abba Father-

We come to You, in the Name of Yahshua.

You see that we need You.

We try to seek fulfillment and attention in so many different ways, including social media.

You know how we have operated in deceit, impure motives, and hypocrisy doing so. We act like a Pharisee.

Forgive us for that.

Help us to thirst for You. Help us to turn to You.

You will satisfy our needs.

Help us to pause, to wait, to turn to You.

Let even our social media posting glorify You and draw us closer to You.

Thank You for loving us, for meeting us where we are, and for helping us.

We receive it as finished, in Your Name.

Amen.

Gotta go for now. I’m going to post photos of my lunch. I’m kidding. I’m posting photos of my cat instead. Her name is Glory.

Feline Thirst Trap, Everyone! Enjoy!

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

What Cracker?

“He who covers his sins will not prosper: but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.”

Proverbs 28:13

Denial: it’s a ridiculous looking thing.

I once saw a photograph of a mouse or a hamster (whatever kind of critter it was), looking straight at the camera, cheeks puffed out to a Saltine’s square shape.

And the tag line attached was “What cracker?”

It made me think of my own erratic disordered eating behaviors, including stealing my roommates’ food and dumpster diving.

 “…I thought I was hiding my secret well from the outside world. I replenished the food I’d stolen from my roommates. I played ‘beat the clock’ before they came home to notice…

…It became a regular hide and steal, hide and eat, hide and deny game… I knew their schedules by heart. I’d wait for them to leave for class. I’d hurry home, skipping my own classes to ensure enough time alone… I had to eat as much as I could before they came home…

… I’d be first to volunteer among my roommates to take out the trash, because I knew what ‘goodies’ I’d thrown out...

…Trips to the dumpster at 2:30 a.m. were not unusual… I’d rummage through other people’s trash bags...

…I was caught on more than one occasion. I’d try to play it off, pretending everything was normal as people passed by me scrounging in the dumpster. As I became more desperate, however, I began going to the dumpster frequently in broad daylight while other students were coming and going from class… I tried to convince myself I could ‘just act natural’ and disguise the truth…”

I was asking, “What Cracker?”

Transparent honesty is a big key to our recovery, especially when it comes to the addictions, compulsions, and disorders, which thrive on deceit. The old adage, “You’re as sick as your secrets” screams an unflinching truth: we can’t get better unless/until we get honest about what we’re doing.

So why is it we still ask, when all is said and done, “What Cracker?”

I offer my theory. I believe we, at our base nature, can come up with our own excuses...

 

We want to believe we’re powerful and in control. We have our lives figured out, including the substances and behaviors in them.

 

We know what is best for our lives. We don’t need Divine Sovereignty.

 

We’re certainly not going to waste our time or give up our vices pursuing Elohim. We’re fine, really, we’re just great.

 

We’re fully convinced we’re doing nothing wrong. We’re certainly not hurting anyone else. Our behavior is harmless.

 

We don’t want to change. Everything’s fine.

 

Indeed, our lives are fabulous, requiring no change whatsoever. If you can’t handle what we’re doing, that’s your problem, not ours.

 

We don’t owe anyone any apology or explanation. We’re living our lives as we see fit.

If anyone challenges or disagrees with what we’re doing, we’re done with them. No one tells us what to do.

 

We are never wrong, never responsible. We have every right to go on living our lives as we want.

 

Again, we don’t need anyone else’s help, including The Divine’s, here. That’s just for weak people. We’re great.

There’s no need to do any unpleasant, tedious or hard work. We certainly don’t need to help others. All we need to do is mind our own business, be left alone and live the lives we want.

 

Thinking those excuses are a tad exaggerated?

C’mon, you and I, at one time, have thought and lived those things.

We have forsaken right for wrong, responsibility for pleasure, accountability for excuse, and healing for disease.

“There is a way which seems right to a man, But its end is the way of death...”

Proverbs 16:25-26

 

And denial is at the epicenter of ALL of it, isn’t it?

Still, John 8:32 holds true:

“The truth shall set you free.”

Denying the evidence of our real cracker situation does nothing to promote freedom, let alone, health.

Where do we stand on our reality? Do we believe our own denial?

Is The Most High catching us, all puffy cheeked and startled?

When we’re caught, perhaps we should respond this way instead:

“What do you want me to do about this cracker, Father?”

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

 

Hoarding Amongst the Elderly

(As appearing in “Christian Living in the Mature Years Magazine,” Fall 2019…).

Hoarding Amongst the Elderly: An Underdiagnosed Reality

Our aging adult population is inundated with issues: health, interpersonal, familial, financial and legal.

However, perhaps one of the least-discussed is hoarding.

This condition often reveals itself once an elderly loved one struggles to function in his/her daily life. Keeping a house in order becomes impossible.

This is my mother’s situation. But it also confronts how hoarding doesn’t just pop up out of nowhere. Instead, it has existed the entire time; it just went undiagnosed.

The “Messy” House:

My mother was challenged by housekeeping; our home was always unkempt. Arts and crafts projects, boxes, piles of newspapers and magazines filled its rooms. The home was disorganized; and it also was often dirty. Layers of dust and grime covered the furniture.

And, not surprisingly, this was an issue with my dad. Already an abusive personality, this cluttered house was his frequent rage flashpoint. He often complained and, in an effort to make his point, threw away stuff himself. Mom pleaded for him not to do so.

It was to no avail. Mom’s original birth certificate and numerous personal mementos were among those discarded casualties. The more he tried to throw away something, the more tightly she clung to keeping it. Mom hoarded.

And, it has only been years later where I learned clutter didn’t just start with my mother.

Rather, her maternal grandmother also had similar co-existing compulsions affecting her life. Food and weight struggles led to her morbid obesity. And she also had a “messy house.” But my great grandmother took things one step further; she was an animal hoarder. She “collected” Blue Persian cats. Therefore, the ammonia stench was overwhelming in her residence.

I bring up this family history to illustrate how hoarding can often be an intergenerational problem.

“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.”

Ecclesiastes 1:9

It can exist by itself or be accompanied by such conditions as depression, addiction and obsessive-compulsive disorders. Certain members of my family battle with food, drug and alcohol addictions, while compulsively doing laundry and filling their front yards with broken vehicles and appliances. My mother’s mother had severe obsessive- compulsive disorder. She rearranged the furniture at all hours of the day and night.

The “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th edition” classifies hoarding disorder as a mental illness. Often, it is underdiagnosed.

And Mom’s condition and lack of diagnosis further exacerbated other painful situations.

The Explosion:

One of the most devastating was my dad’s death. The hoarding bomb exploded during my mother’s grief.

 “My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart.”

Job 17:11

After surviving an abusive 30 year marriage to my dad, Mom underestimated these issues and that of her own grief. She frequently shared with me her happy fantasy about that day when he finally died, freeing us. However, she was completely unprepared for the actual event itself.

And, of course, she did not deal with her churning emotions. The constant verbal and emotional abuse imprisoned her. Not surprisingly, his abuse also spread to the financial realm as well. She did not- and could not- do anything without my dad’s controlling permission.

Therefore, this heavily motivated Mom’s grief response: obsessive shopping sprees and increased hoarding from those sprees.

Her psyche screamed, “Now I’m free; no one will ever tell me what to do again!” The attitude showed in how she lived, what she bought and what she did with the house and any “outsider’s” access to it.

But, the problem was she viewed my husband and me amongst those threatening outsiders. When we came back for my dad’s funeral, she did not let us get past the kitchen. She was embarrassed. That embarrassment was familiar territory. But what was unfamiliar was the isolating spirit with which she demanded her independence. She tried to convince everyone she had things under control. She was doing that with us in the kitchen.

“A man who isolates himself seeks his own desire;
He rages against all wise judgment.”

Proverbs 18:1

So, we reluctantly decided not to press the issue. We hoped Mom’s grief would go thorough its stages and eventually lessen.

But, it didn’t.

Instead, the grief roared with spending binges in the nearby town, multiple catalog orders and accumulating everything she felt she had been deprived of while my dad was alive. Clothes, shoes, bedding, household items and art supplies were just a few of the purchases she made. She was stockpiling. And no one could tell her to stop.

But it was more than stuff for stuff’s sake. It was her vague definition of “freedom.”

She didn’t have to answer to anyone- and she liked it that way.

Still, despite her determined efforts, she could not continue to have it STAY that way...

The Discovery:

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick...”

Proverbs 13:12

Just six years later, Mom had a health crisis which brought her desperation into full view.

In the summer of 2009, Mom had a stroke which left her unable to walk. Forget about caring for herself; forget about being independent. Life changed, forcing her to reside in a care facility.

And, for the first time, we were able to enter the house, with no restrictions on its access. It was devastating.

Every room was packed with boxes, bags, newspapers and garbage. We couldn’t see or walk on the floor. We had to step on or climb over piles of garbage, paintings and newspapers.

I also saw proof of my mother’s unrealized dreams. Boxes and bags were filled with paint brushes, blank canvases and art books, for the paintings she was going to paint “someday.”

Proverbs 13:12, therefore, is a fitting description of what was going on. The hoarded house was just symptom; Mom was struggling for hope, struggling to realize her unfulfilled dreams:

“Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.”

This challenging wish fulfillment is now what I have to deal with concerning my mother. I have had many delicate conversations with her about her inability to remain in that house.

I have also gone several rounds with her about the necessary cleanup required of it, without her presence determining what is done. Yes, Mom initially fought me on discarding anything. She has tried to insist on things not changing; but life has not cooperated. Repeatedly, as respectfully as I can muster, I have told her everything cannot be kept. Things come and things go. She doesn’t like that and tries, all the more, to cling to whatever she can.

And so, even though now, she resides within the limited space of her room and its attached bathroom, she squirrels away assorted papers, junk mail and wadded Kleenex. She insists she will need/use them “someday.”

However, she doesn’t. Stuff, instead, just accumulates.

And, as if cleaning the house was not enough of a project, other life changes have, again, spotlighted Mom’s compulsion.

The Move and Something Found:

In the summer of 2016, Mom’s care facility relocated to another building.

So, that meant my husband and I were responsible for packing and storing her stuff, as well as setting up her new room. This was the perfect time to edit what had been collected for the past seven years.

Within her dresser drawers, we found a lot of crumbled paper, outdated catalogs, birthday and Christmas cards. That was not surprising. Mom being the “packrat” she was, never threw anything away. At first, we thought combing through her possessions, especially if most of them were paper, was a bit obsessive. That was, however, until we discovered a different kind of paper... money!

That’s right, we found $326 of it.

Now, to fully appreciate this find, you also have to be clued in on this money’s backstory. During her seven year stay at the care facility, Mom often insisted her money (and assorted items like hair rollers and fingernail clippers) were stolen. Several times, she stated, in a low sinister voice, “there’s thie-e-e-e-ves here.” And we’d bring this matter up at care conferences, asking for help from social services. The nursing staff would go on hunting expeditions which easily turned up the rollers and clippers.

But, because it was against policy for staff to rummage through a resident’s drawers, the money went undiscovered. That is, until her move.

As we were packing her possessions, amongst various papers and cards, a little white envelope fell. In it were two crisp one hundred dollar bills. Okay. We’re alert now. Maybe there is more moolah to be found.

If you’re good at math, you know the answer to that question. On a separate packing occasion, in yet another white envelope, stuffed in a drawer, there was the remaining $126.

“Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?

And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbors together, saying, ‘Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.’”

Luke 15:8-9

While Mom was thrilled to rediscover this missing money, there was still no connection of how her hoarding behavior led to this situation. Instead, she insisted she didn’t have any issue with clutter, while maintaining her argument to hold onto everything. She’s convinced she’ll need these items “someday.”

Independence: The Struggle for Control:

I attempt to understand and deal with her in hoarding’s reality. I can tick off Mom in the check list. Perhaps, you can do the same with your loved one.

Do you see your situation here?

• Inability to throw away possessions

• Severe anxiety when attempting to discard items

• Great difficulty categorizing or organizing possessions

• Indecision about what to keep or where to put things

• Distress, such as feeling overwhelmed or embarrassed by possessions

• Suspicion of other people touching items

• Obsessive thoughts and actions: fear of running out of an item or of needing it in the future; checking the trash for accidentally discarded objects

• Functional impairments, including loss of living space, social isolation, family or marital discord, financial difficulties, health hazards

“Hoarding: The Basics, Understanding Hoarding,” Anxiety and Depression Association of America; www.adaa.org

Used with permission.

 

Mom is unlikely to change. Her desire for autonomy is reflected in her attempts at control. She no longer calls the shots concerning her ability to walk, her diet or her living accommodations. So, the hoarding takes on an importance of that much-coveted independence.

Our strategy, therefore, is to limit its negative consequences.

Her care facility and its limited space, makes this more doable than when she had an eleven room house at her disposal.

She still has clutter in her room. But here’s a major difference.

Now, the facility’s staff knows about her tendencies; they monitor what’s accumulating. They have Mom’s reluctant permission to help her tidy things up when it becomes unruly. She cannot deny the facility’s stringent policies concerning fire hazards, health and safety risks which no longer only affect her. She cannot hoard like she used to. She cannot isolate either.

Where once, she could hole herself up in the house, having no interaction with people for days, now, her daily care ensures she is not practicing unsafe habits like she once did. But that doesn’t stop her from trying.

There is an ongoing conversation and negotiation with her. We allow certain things to acquire space in her room. But if they aren’t used, their necessity is discussed and modified. Her living situation is healthier and safer.

Hoarding awareness concerning an elderly loved one is half the battle. You are not alone in your caregiving situation.

“...there is no new thing under the sun.”

Ecclesiastes 1:9

This knowledge is power.

Be empowered!

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

 

 

Confessions of an Anorexic/Bulimic Theatre Student

(As featured in “In Recovery Magazine”)…

I am a recovering actor. I’m not talking about healing from auditions here. No, my recovery is from eating disorders and the oft emphasized importance to actors of their physical appearance and discipline.

I’m not saying theater ruined my life. In many ways, it was quite the opposite. It provided me with a release valve of emotional expression. It was also where I met my wonderful husband, Russell.

As I have worked on my recovery throughout the years, I’ve realized how the emphasis on outward appearance and discipline unfortunately played a confusing role in my burgeoning eating disorder.

At age nine I made my acting debut. I played a baby doll in a Christmas play. As the play was presented to my third grade class, I became obsessed with the role. More than anything else, I wanted to be that character. It occurred to me I needed to audition in a baby doll voice. When the teacher who was casting the play howled with laughter at my reading, I knew I had it locked. That was intoxicating! I was bitten by “the acting bug”.

For that debut there was no pressure to have a thin physique. It was, however, the last time I would experience that freedom in any role I played.

Throughout my elementary, junior high and high school years, I was in numerous school plays. As adolescence unfolded, my body image issues continued to worsen. I was often cast as the dumpy friend or the humorous comic relief character, never the beauty. I was, in short, “the fat girl”.

My self-consciousness followed me into my senior year of high school. During a production of the musical South Pacific, I was doing double duty. I was cast as the French maid and an island native, because I had brown eyes and brown hair. My coloring worked in my favor since many of my peers were blue-eyed and blond-haired. My drama teacher joked about the Scandinavian presence in our school by saying, “The Sons of Norway portray the Pacific Islands.”

My native girl costume consisted of a strapless top and a grass skirt. As I sang and danced to the Bali Ha'i number, I obsessed about whether my arms and shoulders were too big to effectively convince the audience I was a beautiful South Pacific ingénue. Was I too fat?

As a speech and theater major in college, I still wrestled with that question. Anorexia kicked in. College was all about reinventing myself. I needed to be someone else, someone thin. That became my main focus. Because I was only a production assistant or assistant director in my first two years, and not cast in plays, the “fat and ugly” arguments in my head solidified. I wasn’t thin enough or pretty enough to be a leading lady. Instead I was the grotesque gorilla who worked behind the scenes.

So, with my anorexic mindset, I starved and exercised compulsively for hours at a time, gradually weighing less and less, until finally reaching a two-digit weight. This stage in my eating disorder was short-lived. My bulimic behavior took over during my sophomore year. Because of my misery and physiologically ravenous state, I became an eating machine and put on over one hundred pounds in less than nine months. My attempts at damage control – obsessive exercise, diuretics and laxatives – failed me. I was devastated.  My predominant thought was that I wasn’t dedicated, disciplined or deserving enough as a theater student and as a human being. I certainly didn’t deserve any ingénue roles, but that didn’t keep me from wanting those parts.

I again became a stage actress when I transferred to a new school in my junior year of college. After a fear-driven starvation and exercise-obsessed summer, I won a few lead roles in auditions. I was cast mostly in character actor roles, playing crazy women. Nope, no ingénue, pretty leading lady roles for me; but hey, at least I was onstage. That was progress, right?

But this behavior was not without complications. During costume fittings, I again ran smack dab into my insecurities. One had to dress the part, and that was about measurements and fitting into clothes. Oh, the fun of shouting down all the weight and body image voices in my head!

When I was cast as Claire in Neil Simon’s play, Rumors, I was asked what size dress I wore. According to my perfectionistic fears, I wasn’t good enough or thin enough, so I wrote a large dress size. The costume department immediately argued with my assessment and instead gave me a smaller-sized dress. It actually fit! You would think that would have set me at ease and given me some reassurance, but it didn’t.

I was studying the importance of discipline, fitness and adaptation in acting classes, and the importance of the body as an instrument. This emphasized training one’s physical body as part of artistic preparation. A minimum of two hours of exercise a day was recommended. I dutifully obeyed the rule.

Years later, I squirm about this. From a recovery perspective, I realized this two-hour-a-day exercise mandate triggered my eating disorder yet again. Yes, I believe physical exercise is a necessary part of life and health. However, exercise in an eating-disordered mind is often coupled with a set of ritualistic rules or is used as punishment. At the time, I didn’t see exercise as taking healthy care of my instrument (body). I only saw it as a way to punish myself for being a horrible failure of a human being or to compete with other females to win the elusive title of “The Thinnest Actress of Them All”.

Having the body portrayed as an unruly thing that must be subdued by a dedicated, worthy theater student prompted guilt, fear and, yet again, the predominant thought that I was “not good enough”, not now, not here, not ever.

If that was not difficult enough, I also had an incident with a fellow student which further emphasized the “instrument” theory in my head. To be fair, I believe he did not intentionally want to hurt me. He probably saw himself as being helpful.

Oh good, more help.

During a rehearsal for Rumors, this fellow actor pulled me aside backstage. I immediately knew what the topic of our conversation would be. I had put on some weight, and it was visible. He told me he had noticed. He went on to tell me how our bodies are our instruments (there’s that word again), how we need to exercise and take diligent care of them. We couldn’t let ourselves get out of control.

I felt exposed.

I had not revealed to anyone, much less my theater comrades, that I’d ever been anorexic and bulimic or that I was struggling with the entire issue. I did everything I could to hide, lie and deny this ugly and shameful reality.

So, in this cornered moment, I did my best to laugh it off. But it stung. I felt I was a worthless failure.

From that point on, my self-consciousness escalated. Now I not only deeply feared gaining weight, but I also feared being taken to task for it in the name of theater. I feared being labeled, not only as fat, but also as uncooperative, lazy, ugly and untalented. I feared losing roles if I wasn’t aesthetically pleasing (thin) enough for them. I feared any weight changes would be revealed in costume fittings. I feared life would only continue to show me I was a worthless human being, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

My eating-disordered mind was in high gear. I constantly thought, “I’m fat and ugly. I’m unacceptable. I’m a failure.” Mercifully, I somehow managed to complete my college degree, but I was riddled with anxieties, perfectionistic standards and self-rejection.

Since those theater days, my life has taken a different direction, one that involves recovery from my eating disorders and their underlying issues. I am blessed to have written a book and to have numerous articles published on this subject. My faith, hindsight and therapy have helped me come to terms with many memories and erroneous beliefs, including those revolving around my acting experiences.

Theater is an environment for rejection. Anyone who has been told “no” at an audition knows that reality. Critical standards are attached to anything emphasizing art, dance, theater and beauty. I get that. I understand that dedication, hard work, talent, appearance, costumes design, set design and the actors themselves all must factor into the final product. My observations are not about demonizing the study, pursuit or performance of theater.

They are, however, about raising awareness and sensitivity when teaching theater principles. Unfortunately, there are individuals who may be triggered by these regimented disciplines. If there’s going to be so much emphasis on exercise and training, then I believe there should be equally as much education on the potential pitfalls, including eating disorder behavior. Safe havens of support should be in place for those who are struggling with these issues. Indeed, there are acting students who are struggling.

I love the theater. I love seeing an opera, a play or a riveting piece of performance art. I don’t think that will ever change.

I also love acting. Only time will tell if I participate in any more productions.

I now know myself and the triggers which still lurk in unexpected places. Situations with an emphasis on appearance and image are probably not the best for my continuing recovery.

This exploration of my experiences is not about bashing the theater world; it is a love letter to it. I searched for information and statistics on eating disorders in the theater setting and found nothing. I contacted major American drama schools to ask for their help on this subject and was informed they could not help me.

I did discover considerable information about eating disorders relating to dancers, models and celebrities. I know it is an issue in the theater world, perhaps even a dirty little secret no one wants to discuss. How many people fear losing a role or being labeled and stigmatized if they reveal their struggles?

Not everyone who pursues acting has an eating disorder. But for those of us who do, words like discipline, training, instrument and dedication may be interpreted in a radically different way. Unfortunately for someone struggling with an eating disorder, these words can have a literal “do or die” meaning.

That kind of death does not belong in the theater.

 Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

JADE

“Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No'...”

Matthew 5:37

“No is a complete sentence.”

I have come across people who cannot accept my no, on various issues, including, but not limited to, being accommodating about doing what they wish instead of doing what’s best for me. Cancer has changed that because it had to change the acquiescence that I once gave others.

Twelve Step Recovery Programs often include the acronym, “J.A.D.E.”

And, since my diagnosis, I’ve discovered JADE has covered the bases, falling under the statement, “No is a complete sentence.”

I may be taken behind the woodshed and shot for that perspective.

How dare I?

How dare I be displeasing?

Yet, here I am, Ladies and Gentlemen, often placed on trial, asked to prove my case.

Therefore, JADE…

Justify:

Right after I was diagnosed, medical opinion asserted that a simple (hah, simple) Lumpectomy would be all that was necessary. Let’s schedule me, then, for that procedure.

So, when I informed my surgeon I decided differently, I was met with surprise. I decided to have the more radical, in some peoples’ minds, choice of a bilateral mastectomy.

Taken aback when I voiced my decision, my surgeon immediately asked me about my choice.

I gave my reasons which were personal, as this whole breast cancer context is, indeed, personal. But, looking back on it now, I see it more as “I don’t need to justify myself to you; it’s my body.” My surgeon didn’t ask me about my decision for “health reasons.” After all, no matter what surgical procedure was performed, both would accomplish the same goal: to remove the cancerous tumor.

No, my surgeon wanted to know because it didn’t align itself with medical expectation, meaning, the surgeon would tell me the medical opinion of what was best… and I’d follow that decision, without question.

And no, that didn’t happen.

“No” was a complete sentence to a Lumpectomy; “Yes,” however, was my complete sentence to removing my breasts.

Done. I decided. And I would not change my mind.

What do you feel you need to justify to others? What you choose as a profession? Who you love? Being a non-conformist, in any way? Do you feel you need to justify your entire existence?

Be on the lookout for interactions which want to shove you into a “not good enough” corner. Pay attention to the “J” of JADE.

Argue:

This word is another connected element to the J.A.D.E. principle. It can function as a synonym to the previously discussed, “Justify.” I say that because, like “Justify,” the word “Argue” seems to come to the forefront in some interactions which can involve another person’s inability or willingness to deal with our “no” response.

Once I made my decision about my bilateral mastectomy, my surgeon next assumed I would jump on the reconstruction bandwagon. I would get new breasts now. After all, leaving my deformed chest like that simply was unheard of.

That is, it was unheard of until my surgeon heard of my answer.

I was adamant about not undergoing further surgeries. No reconstruction for me, thank you. I was at peace with being breast-less, which appeared to mortify my surgeon.

There was a bit of argument over my decisions; reconstruction was just the tip of the iceberg.

And I say that as a caution concerning other peoples’ agendas. I cannot say for certain, what were my surgeon’s motivations. But I did have my gut reaction and my conversations with other women about their experiences to go on.

And I got an abundance of intel, in my research and conversations with other women. Through both, I discovered some surgeons tried to pressure their patients to get reconstructive breast surgery because they make more money that way. I heard experiences of some women who were coerced into not only getting reconstruction, but also getting a breast size they didn’t want, all because the surgeon wanted that size for them.

As I held my ground and “argued” my choices with my surgeon, I still wasn’t heard.

Okay, then. Let’s try something else.

How about involving the hospital charge nurse and patient advocate about my frustrations? Yep, that did the trick.

I no longer wanted to engage in the back and forth with my surgeon. I was an informed woman; I made thoughtful choices that were best for me. I would no longer argue about that.

Arguing can be quite pointless, especially if the other party is neither willing, nor able, to hear you and I out. Pressure, coercion, name calling, insults, and dismissive attitudes can all surface. These mechanisms exist because it is about agenda from the other party. Whatever he/she wants, perhaps, in their minds, is more important than what you and I want.

Pay attention if your gut check is screaming that to you. Major breast surgery and arguing with my surgeon may appear to be an extreme example, but, in your own circumstances, do you see any similarities?

Are you feeling pressured? Coerced? Dismissed?

Is someone telling you that what they want for you is more important than what you want?

How much arguing are you having to do right now about a certain issue?

Do you feel the force of someone else’s agenda?

Defend:

“Defend” can quickly surface with “Justify” and “Argue.”

How many of us are put on the defense, simply for asserting our position or rights?

Again, check for agenda and coercion. See any?

How does someone react when you disagree with them?

Do you desire to go in another direction? Do you get pushback? Are you on the defense?

Concerning my surgeon, “Defend” often popped up in my interactions with this person. There was a constant battle of wills, even though it was my body and life that were directly affected. So, naturally, one would think, it would be me then, to decide, what choices I made concerning my body and life.

But it, of course, wasn’t that simple.

Upon recovering from my surgery, I was on the defense, again. I quickly encountered the “God complex” from my surgeon, feeling like I was little more than Dr. Frankenstein’s creature to be molded according to the great doctor’s vision.

Not helpful.

Again, it calls into question the matter of agenda. What was my surgeon’s? To get me on the expensive cancer conveyor belt of procedures, treatments, and tests? There certainly wasn’t any “bedside manner” or interest in me as a human being.

At my most vulnerable, perhaps, I was still having to fight, not even the cancer, but the people who claimed to treat the cancer.

Actions speak louder than words.

So, again, check the action. Are you having to take action to defend yourself?

Simple question: yes or no.

Answer it and act accordingly.

Explain:

And lastly, there is this word in the acronym.

This is, perhaps, the final complexity we bump against when you and I find ourselves “stuck in a moment.”

This might be the final attempt to pressure us when we say “no” to an otherwise, wanted “yes.”

Long after my surgery, I encountered more people, who, upon finding out about my diagnosis and choices since, asked me if I underwent reconstruction and when, exactly, I would get breasts, already.

Cue the temptation to explain my decision. Just add it to Justify. Argue. Defend.

However, “explain” is a bit more involved. It requires a detailed accounting of our actions…to people for whom it was none of their business.

I still remember the awkward silences, wide eyes and the restless fidgeting as people awaited my explanation as to why I didn’t get breasts. I’m getting better at just quietly staring away these incidents. I don’t need to explain myself, especially about something so personal.

But some people still, somehow, believe they are owed an explanation.

How about you?

How many times have you felt the need to explain your right to be yourself and make your choices? How many times have you been punished for doing otherwise?

JADE. A tidy little acronym, with so much hidden power held within it. When we think of Jade, typically, we often envision the gorgeous green gemstone.

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse

 

Don’t Be a Begging Dog

 

Back in college, as I theatre major, I was cast in John Guare’s “The House of Blue Leaves.” I played the role of Bananas, a mentally ill housewife.

Part of her behavior included begging like a dog.

And, while it was, indeed, fun to play that role, years later, I’m struck by the significance of begging.

Begging for attention…begging for approval…begging for love…

It’s that last one which seems to be the most widespread and powerful. I have seen how much it drove me to desperate self-loathing and eating disorder behaviors. I wanted to be pleasing, lovable, pretty, and valuable.

But, through my abusive family dynamic, experiences with high school cruelty, and the self-hatred of my weight struggles, I felt I was none of those things.

And so, I HAD to beg for any attention, love, approval, and self-worth. It was contingent on what others would give me.

Most of the time, unfortunately, I only got scraps.

And that felt worse than getting nothing at all. It’s one thing to have nothing; it’s quite another to have the subpar discards and to be told to be content with those discards.

Recovery from eating disorders and negative image issues requires major work on the “worth” issue. There are too many young people who do not know their value.

We all struggle with this area. Our cultural climate does not help matters any either. Image, power, money and fame are large determinations of what a human being’s value is worth.

And that harsh reality can lead us to become a begging dog, while never seeing, accepting, and applying our inherent worth.

Scripture speaks about our true estimation.

 “Since you were precious in my sight… I have loved you…”

Isaiah 43:4

“…I am fearfully and wonderfully made…”

Psalm 139:14

“I have chosen you and have not cast you away.”

Isaiah 41:9

 “But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.”

Luke 12:7

Discovering these verses for myself has had a tremendous part in my recovery, in recognizing how I do not need anyone else’s permission to be valuable. I am that, as is, already. The Most High states it as Truth.

It is the most personal, intense, and deep homework we can do.

Each of us needs to explore and claim our value and the lengths to which we will go to be loved. The experience of being loved and lovable drives how we live our lives.

We have unique, individual circumstances we need to face. But there are some common denominator questions covering the love and worth issues.

It is, by no means, simple, or painless.

Nevertheless, these questions need to be addressed, questions like…

Do you engage in self-destructive behaviors?

 

Do you believe you deserve to be abused and mistreated?

 

Do you feel love and acceptance are conditional?

 

What reasons do you give yourself for “not being worth it?”

 

Do you beg like a dog in your life? This is not Elohim’s design for you.

This, instead, is more like it:

“I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.”

Psalm 37:25

“…‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’"

Hebrews 13:5

“But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.

Matthew 10:30-31

“‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you,’ says the Lord(Elohim), ‘thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.’”

Jeremiah 29:11

Part of the recovery and life work each us needs to do is to accept ourselves as we are, flaws and all. No one is so valueless they are required to beg for what is inherently true. John 8:32, therefore, carries freedom and health.

“The truth shall set you free.”

Let’s stop begging for that freedom and health and simply, spiritually, emotionally, physically and practically accept and embrace it!

Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse