ieroaima

I'm miserable and terrified about both Thanksgiving and vacation coming up, both situations in which i will inevitably be forced to eat strange foods in public settings, and I'm trying to figure out if whatever the heck I'm dealing with ACTUALLY IS. How much co-morbidity is going on?
I've been diagnosed with OCD, anorexia, and bulimia, as well as a tendency to psychosis, but I'm googling ARFID and some of these comments are SPOT ON=

https://www.reddit.com/r/AMA/comments/1hgtcxb/i_have_arfid_a_complex_type_of_picky_eating/
"ARFID is not like a severe craving to certain types of food, and a willingness to starve in protest until you get that food. Parents can serve their kids as much real food as they can get and never let processed food near their kid. The child will starve rather than eat unsafe foods. Not because they’re holding out for cookies instead, but because their brain makes them feel like they will die if they eat that food. It’s a survival instinct, just a poorly wired one..."

THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS WITH ME. The issue is that I apparently dissociate so bloody hard that I don't even COMPREHEND textures/ tastes/ smells typically?? Like I can sit here and try to remember sensory data of food, but despite all of Iscah's old obsessive datalogging NOTHING IS ACCESSIBLE. It's due to abject terror. How in the world did that develop post-TBHU?? Most notably though, is that my avoidance of food is actually rooted in "poison" and "infestation" and "moral panic" fears, rather than sensory issues. I am literally scared to death that if I eat 1/4 teaspoon of dry oats, it WILL somehow "kill me"-- either because my body will reject it/ react to it so disastrously that I will die, OR because "eating it is WRONG/ SINFUL" and I will be PUNISHED with death for "disobeying God" BY eating it. It's hell. 
BUT THEN there is ALSO the terror of gaining weight, which is ACTUALLY tangled up IN the "poison/ infestation" fear. To me, "weight gain" is the result of FOREIGN MATTER. It is a PARASITIC SYMPTOM. "Gaining weight" means that THERE IS EXCESS STUFF INSIDE OF ME THAT DOES NOT BELONG THERE. It's a literal "existential horror" reaction, based on this rocksolid conviction that the REAL me, the TRUE me, is STILL PHYSICALLY CHILDLIKE (prepubescent), and therefore if I gain weight-- which, honestly, is synonymous with "become an adult/ become female"-- I am actually only "burying myself alive" beneath superfluous junk matter. The "real me," the small but healthy wiry fiery child me-- NOT thin or waifish or sickly-- is SUFFOCATING. It's a TERRIFYING feeling and I get it ALL THE TIME. It's why "feeling full" is one of the scariest things in the world, let alone feeling food IN the body at ALL-- it registers ENTIRELY as essentially a MALIGNANT TUMOR. I cannot find strong enough words to describe it. Food, to me, in general, is INVASIVE. It is an INCURSION, more specifically-- "an invasion as well as an attack," a "hostile entrance into a territory." Eating, to my psyche, is INHERENTLY something scarily analogous to rape. Even with my "safe foods," I need to dissociate the entire time (hence the Bible study hyperfocus) or THAT awareness clicks in and I am overwhelmed with survival panic. It's a literal trauma response. 
Eating food, to me, means "forcing foreign objects into my body in a painful and humiliating manner, where I cannot get them out and I am helpless to do anything about their unwanted weight inside of me, and they will take over my mind and body from the inside out, and I will die from their poisonous influence infecting me unless I violently vomit them up to destroy them, and am clean and safe and good and pure again."  THAT IS MY DAILY LIFE, and THAT IS NOT NORMAL. THAT IS TRAUMATIZED LANGUAGE. And, despite recognizing it as technically incorrect according to "normal people data", IT STILL "MAKES PERFECT SENSE" TO MY LIFE SITUATION and registers as 100% FACTUAL. 

I had FIVE RELAPSE DAYS THIS WEEK due to trying very hard and therefore very stupidly to reintroduce "new foods" (mostly carbohydrates) into our diet. Long story short= 99% of it ended up donated, thrown in the garbage, or vomited up. I was SO UNBELIEVABLY SCARED that as SOON as I got symptoms of nausea, stomach pain, headaches, dizziness, shaking, confusion, itching, burning, etc. I PANICKED and PURGED EVERYTHING. But are those symptoms really life-threatening, or are they the results OF unconscious fears? I don't know. 
I tried lettuce, bread, tomato, mayonnaise, tunafish, salmon, oatmeal, sunflower butter, blueberries, apples, raisins, zucchini, cucumber, carrots, chickpeas, blackeyed peas, eggs, rice, and protein powder. ALL OF IT SCARES THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF ME. But when I look at that list and ask myself, "but WHY is it so deadly/ scary?" The only response I get is, "because it's POISON." When I ask, "can you define "poison"?" The response is, "IT DOESN'T BELONG AND IT WILL KILL ME." So... deep, deep down, ALL FOOD is somehow potentially "poisonous," because EVERY SINGLE THING THAT "GOES INTO OUR BODY" IS FATAL BECAUSE IT IS A FOREIGN INVASIVE OBJECT. 
That's the fear. "It doesn't belong." "It's an invading enemy." "It's a parasitic infection." 
How ironic that Animorphs was such a definitive series for me as a kid. I was already severely germaphobic back then, with serious magical thinking issues... the Yeerks were the second most perfect simile for the deep horror I experienced daily. The most perfect one was demonic possession. 
God I am so tired.

I have so much more work to do tonight. I'll pause this thought for now. At least I was able to voice some of my most immediate concerns.

OH. I almost forgot. The PARALLEL concern is how my MOTHER is reacting to this, because this whole topic came up during a phone call in the specific context of my saying, verbatim, "every time I go up that house, I have a relapse into disordered behavior. I've been saying that for years; you know that, and it hasn't changed." It's true. No matter WHAT I do, being in that environment just RUINS me. When I went up on Saturday evening to do some odd jobs for mom, as I was peeling old wallpaper off the walls, I had the sudden awful lucid thought that, "if I still had to come up here every night, with no escape, I would absolutely still be drowning in the eating disorder and self-abuse." I knew it was true, and that terrified me. ...and then, my mother decided to keep me there for for hours while she did other things, and what do you know, I had my worst E.D. relapse in MONTHS. My brain just couldn't handle it. I don't know how to explain it. It feels like the "opposite" of a survival instinct-- it's the same screaming urgent compulsion, but it's DESTRUCTIVE, not protective. It's like... "I can't get out of here, everything is wrong and dirty and scary and loud and evil, and I'm stuck here, and it's ALL WRONG," therefore "I'm going to kill myself WITH it." THAT'S BASICALLY WHAT IT BOILS DOWN TO. Somehow, being in that environment triggers what I can only figure is a bizarre SUICIDE REACTION, an "escape route" that is POINTEDLY ACCUSATORY because it uses the impetus itself AS the means. Basically = this house is scaring me to death, and I can't do or say anything about it, and I cannot get away somewhere safe, SO the ONLY way I can "scream for help" or "protest against this horror" is to MAKE MY AGONY VERY VISIBLE by using this house itself to make me sick enough to DIE." Does that make sense? It's like, if a child was mute and couldn't voice his fear, but he was scared to death of the family dog, so he did everything it could to make the dog ATTACK and HUR him, JUST so the family would GET RID OF THE DOG. It's a desperate cry for help, for rescue, for escape, but no one is listening, and no one takes you seriously, and no one believes you, and no one cares, so your ONLY OPTION is to force circumstances to become SO UNIGNORABLY BAD and DIRECTLY ASSOCIATED WITH WHAT YOU NEED TO GET AWAY FROM, that it will annoy or inconvenience or outright outrage others to the point where they WILL get you out of there EVEN if it's solely in their own interests. The single point pursued is to escape. The means are not important. Desperation will do anything it must. So that's apparently what happens when I go up that house and am forced to stay there for longer than a few minutes apparently.
HOWEVER. What was my mother's response on the phone? It was the same as it's been for years as well: "I don't know what else to do! I'm making EVERYTHING in that house look so different, so you SHOULDN'T be traumatized by it anymore! Everyone who used to live there is dead, so you SHOULDN'T have any problem with it!"
This time I had the guts to reply, with noted resignation, "that actually made it worse for me, mom."
See, it's PERFECT for her-- she actually feels "completely safe and happy" there now, "for the first time in her life" she claims. And I am GENUINELY HAPPY FOR HER. Apparently, making it look different DID help her. But not me. 
There was no way I could explain why over the phone, and I know she didn't want to hear it anyway-- whenever I attempt to explain how my broken brain works, she immediately cuts me off or changes the subject. This is a repeatedly proven phenomenon and I do not want to burden her with that data anyway; she has no interest in it and therefore no need to hear it. She isn't my therapist, she isn't a nousfoni, she isn't Jesus, so there's no reason for me to tell her anyway. So I didn't even try. This was fine by her-- she continued the conversation in a different direction and I nudged it along that way, glad to not be talking about myself anymore.
However, I knew that I would have to at least try to explain WHY/ HOW "that made it worse for me" in this journal, for System purposes. 
Here's the core of the matter: what triggers me about that house is notsomuch how it looks but how it feels. I get triggered by the SPATIAL REALITY of it somehow. There's a texture to the air, a smell, a sense of proprioception in reverse, almost-- it's like I'm physically, immediately aware of the ghosts of the past. It's like building an amusement park over an old graveyard. No matter how cheery and uplifting you try to make the space now, no matter how much you try to override and abrogate the memory of what was before, there are still corpses buried beneath it and you cannot get them out. The bathroom looks 1000% different than it used to, but it still takes up the same physical space, and therefore it registers to my psyche AS the SAME bathroom, which it "is," regardless of physical appearance. Don't forget-- I've lived my entire life as internally-rooted in one sense or another. Physical appearance is not what I'm focusing on. My subconscious seems to assume, by default almost, that "what I see is illusory" or at least "not the reality of the thing." I notice this more often now-- it's a "dream logic," this assumption that apparent forms could shift or dissolve or disappear in a moment. It's hard to parse that yet. But I feel it, even looking around now. It's the constant underlying feeling that "I could wake up at any moment" and everything will just disappear, leaving some deeper, truer reality behind? Like everything is just a symbol, or better, a hologram, like Erek the Chee. He's a human boy and yet he is absolutely not, and yet one can know him all one's life as the former without suspecting the latter. Still, it's the truth. That's how I feel about life, I guess. Maybe that's a depersonalization symptom-- this "nothing is quite real" sort of "interim space" undertone to life itself. 
But I digress. With the house, "changing the hologram" is not going to alter what's beneath it, to continue that analogy. And, most importantly, it's still taking up the exact same space in the world. THAT'S what triggers me, more than anything. 
The second and third issues are ones that I cannot tell my mother out of filial respect. First is the fact that she is, to my perception, a hoarder. She owns DOZENS of outfits, DOZENS of shoes, HUNDREDS of books and CDs and DVDs and movies... the house is SO CLUTTERED with sheer stuff-- BOTH hers and grandpa's-- that it completely burns out my brain the minute I walk in the door. The sheer dirtiness of clutter is bad enough on its own, but the oppressive VOLUME of it makes that house a cesspit of NIGHTMARISH SENSORY OVERWHELM. And it's not just visual volume-- it's AUDITORY. When my mother is around, NOISE DOES NOT STOP. She's either talking literally nonstop, AND/OR she is blasting music or an audiobook or the television or all three at once PLUS the conversation AND the cooking AND the bloody CATS. That's the new and unbearable overwhelm: the ANIMAL FILTH. Oh of course there is an ABUNDANCE of "human" filth-- garbage, food waste, hair, unknown sticky substances, spills, etc. not to mention the incredibly unsanitary condition of the bathrooms-- but  NOW we have LITERAL FECES AND HAIR AND VOMIT OVER EVERYTHING due to the fact that there are three filthy dirty stinking animals running free around the ENTIRE HOUSE, so that NOWHERE IS CLEAN and NOWHERE IS SAFE and EVERYTHING "BELONGS TO THE CATS" now, in my brain. The "infection" feeling is tangible, with those animals everywhere. It literally makes my brain scream the instant I open the front door, and it is impossible to escape. No matter where you go, there's litter and kibble and biological waste and everything STINKS. That's INFINITELY WORSE than all the overwhelm with the more "abstract dirt" of sight & sound, and even of tangible touch, as horrible as that is. I've realized lately that, unexpectedly, a TON of my WORST triggers are OLFACTORY. Although I don't "pay much attention to it," it is HUGELY IMPORTANT TO MY MIND, and when I want to remember something I NEED to "smell it." It's almost obsessive; I'm noticing that, frequently, my memories don't seem real UNLESS I can "smell" them. I guess this plays into the "dream" mindset I have due to dissociation and trauma. Sight and sound and touch are all very easily "imagined" and "abstract" and oneirataxic almost by nature, to me. But SMELL? THAT MAKES THINGS CONCRETE AND REAL. So when I walk into that house and the FIRST thing that hits my brain like an airbus from hell is the STINK OF CATS AND FILTH, my immediate survival instincts kick in screaming to GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE. But I can't. 
"But wait," the invisible audience interjects. "There were no cats in the house until right before your grandmother died. Surely they can't be the biggest trigger, in the big picture?" That's true, they're not. They are the biggest SENSORY OVERWHELM trigger that EXACERBATES my trauma trigger symptoms, because such overwhelm SEVERELY INHIBITS MY CAPACITY TO STAY STABLE. It shakes me up SO BAD that my ability to "calm down" at ALL is almost SHUT DOWN. You know the "spoon theory" metaphor for chronic illness? Well, the clutter and cats take all my spoons and throw them in the litter box. I'm DONE. I CANNOT handle it, sometimes IMMEDIATELY, right out the gate I'm crippled by the sheer amount of junk and the HORRIFYING STINK OF IT ALL. So when I start getting ACTUAL TRAUMA FLASHBACKS, I'm already incapacitated. So this is an extra layer of why "making it look different" does not work-- I am getting ACTIVELY traumatized by how it looks NOW, a totally separate chronological reality that is STACKING DIRECTLY ON TOP OF THE OLD ONE. But I cannot tell her that. It would be completely rude and inconsiderate, even if it is true. I can't make her change, I can't get a dumpster and just chuck everything in the bin on a massive scale, I can't get rid of the cats, I can't get rid of all her clothes and toys and things. I can't say or do anything about it. Hence feeling "mute" and desperately trying to "passively destroy the environment" through the eating disorder, I suppose?? 
I cannot talk about "taste" as a trigger because the eating disorder is a whole unique hell of its own.
But... there's another very particular and hellish extra problem with the smell of the house, and that problem is mom herself. There is a very particular odor that HER objects have that TERRIFIES ME TO THE GUTS. I've been trying to talk this out with the paidifoni but they are SO SCARED that the data is a jumbled screaming crash of static deathterror and we can't get anywhere far without Wreckage showing up and demanding what the heck I'm doing, rightly so. But... deep down, as tragic and disturbing as it is, there is the fact that she herself scares the living daylights out of me/us, and explicitly in a SENSORY manner. Her smell, her "texture" (feel of clothes/ skin, weight, position in space), her voice, all TERRIFY ME in such a deep subconscious "survival fear" way that the mere thought of them makes "me" start sobbing and hyperventilating like a panicked child. WHY. I have not been able to figure this out. But it's the most intense fear we have, in a sensory respect, even worse than the immediate environmental ones in the house. Her perceptible form and its accompanying sensory data are just... utterly frightening to me in such a visceral way that I might stop screaming and never stop. I cannot escape. I cannot run. I am trapped in that sensory space. I am going to die and I cannot get out PLEASE HELP HELP HELP---- and THAT is what happens when I bring up the SMELL DATA, which is inextricably linked to the "space data." I need a better word for that. I... I tend to remember people by the space they take up. It's unique, it's hard to explain. I struggle to remember faces and voices often, but for some reason, even when thinking about grandma, I remember her smell, I remember how it felt when she stood next to me in a room, the shape and weight of her arms, the contours of her bony hands, her weight when I carried her, the texture and scent of her hair, what it felt like to kiss her face and head. I remember contact data. And even with my brothers, the first "data" I can access in memory is smell. I remember doing the laundry for the family and being so pleased that with my eyes closed, I could tell exactly whose clothes I was hanging up by the scent of each one. That data still sticks, although it's from childhood, and probably doesn't match them now... I wouldn't know; I haven't been close to any of them in years, and that is so sad. It breaks my heart. But... I can't do anything about that either; people change and places change and yet the space is the same. That's what it all comes back to, for me, in the end. The house is in the same space. Their souls are still in the same bodies. I'm looking at this lamp on my desk and my brain registers it as "not real" solely because it's just a visual, and even when I touch it it just registers as "interesting data" detached from the reality of it as an object?? But lightbulbs have a smell. And THAT makes it "click" as real. So many scents are so subtle, so small. And, also, now that I have touched the lamp, when I RECALL the data in my head, THEN it feels "real"? NOT in space, but IN MIND specifically. That's SO WEIRD. It's like... things only "exist" in a verifiable manner if I internalize them, somehow. 
Anyway. That's why the sensory memory triggers are scarier than the actual things, sometimes. I can be around my mom at the house and not have a meltdown, but the INSTANT the sensory data is recalled I have a MELTDOWN, even if the recall happens seconds after the exposure. It's because NOW the data is INTERNAL and THEREFORE IT REGISTERS AS "INFECTION"!!!! Oh dude I think THAT'S IT. Once something is INTERNAL we can NO LONGER RUN OR GET AWAY. It's like CANCER. It's... it's the damned rape analogy again. "It's been forced into us, and we cannot get it out, and we are ruined." 
And that's what happens with the house, I suppose. Even though it looks different, and even has new different smells (however disturbing they are), the old data is still there too, and will ALWAYS be there, because ultimately it's STILL THE SAME HOUSE, and I STILL HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT IT EVERY NIGHT, and I am so sorry mom but until I can figure out how the heck to get a grip on it I do NOT want to come over for Thanksgiving because it will be ALL OF THAT PLUS HAVING TO EAT. 

...We're back at square one. The worst, deepest, scariest, most pervasive and hellish fear is food. It's the ultimate amalgamation of all horrors. It is sight AND smell AND touch AND sound rolled into one PLUS TASTE, which NOTHING ELSE HAS naturally, unless you're a weird child like I was and look for it anyway, just to "know." But naturally, food is the only thing that hits EVERY PANIC BUTTON AT ONCE, and the most distressing part of it is that GUESS WHAT, YOU CANNOT EVER RUN AWAY FROM EATING. I have tried, believe me, that's the whole anorexia bit. It doesn't work for very long. The body is designed to need food and I HATE THAT SO MUCH but it's true. 
I'm losing my focus. I apologize. I guess I cannot dive into this topic right now because we're getting the "dissociative flight response" at the attempt. 
So here's what I'll say. I do not want to go over mom's house for Thanksgiving because I do not want to eat in that house ever again. I do not feel safe in that house the way it is, and having to EAT and therefore "SWALLOW THE FILTH" as well would kill me on some very real level. I would NOT be able to prevent a destructive-suicidal binge and purge. I would INEVITABLY feel infected and doomed to die and THEREFORE would "cope" with that by forcing myself to overeat, which would be my ONLY WAY OF "DESTROYING THE THREAT." And then I would throw everything up as my sole means of "conquering/ escaping" the attacker. The minute I swallow even one crumb of ANYTHING in that house environment, I have INGESTED FATAL POISON and the ONLY POSSIBLE OUTCOME is to THROW IT UP. But my brain adds that bizarre EXTRA step of, "since I'm already poisoned and will already have to vomit, I should take advantage of this opportunity and DESTROY AS MUCH FOOD AS I CAN." Why? I'm still not sure. I think it might just be "to eliminate all possible future threats of this ever occurring again" as a protective/ defensive mechanism, PLUS "knowing the enemy" so I "burn the terror into my brain" by heightening the traumatic experience as much as I can so that I don't forget it or ever expose myself to that danger again by forgetting just how bad it was. I've noticed that motivation in myself too often. If it's not "bad enough", I'll "justify" it as being "not actually traumatic" and THEREFORE I will "HAVE TO" endure it again, because remember, there's no escape, you WILL be forced into this situation again, but if I make every successive situation as DISASTROUS AS POSSIBLE, maybe my abusers will get FED UP WITH ME and LET ME GO FINALLY. Is that what I'm doing??? If I destroy enough of their food, and make myself into an appalling enough gluttonous monster, and humiliate and embarrass and inconvenience and shame them badly enough by my behavior, will I FINALLY BE FREE? I think that's the bottom line. I'm just... I just want to get out of there, please, I don't want to go, I don't want to go through hell again, I'm so scared, I don't want to eat. I just want to go home. ...but home doesn't exist anymore, only in memory space, only as a ghost. 

...that's it for tonight. I can't even think about the vacation threat yet. That's so frightening it's shutting my brain down. 

Mom's calling. Time to log off. 

...actually, you know what the worst thing is about all of this?
I love my mom. But I'm so scared of her on some deep awful level. I don't know why. When she calls I want to cry and scream and run and yet I wish no harm on her whatsoever, I am happy she's my mom, I am so happy that she's happy with the house, but I can't go up there because I'm scared of it too. I like seeing her and spending time with her but afterwards I utterly collapse and feel so dirty and wrong and I don't know why. 
I WANT to share Thanksgiving with her and the family. I WANT to be able to eat normal everyday people food with them and not be afraid. I WANT to just... be a part of their lives again, to not be a burden or a freak, to not be so bloody terrified of everything.
But... I can't seem to do it. I am terrified. No matter how hard I try, the food fear kicks in, the mother fear kicks in, the house fear kicks in, and suddenly I'm dissociating and losing time and having meltdowns and acting like a total stranger to both myself and them and then I'm vomiting uncontrollably in the bathroom and begging God not to kill me tonight, please, I am so tired of this, why won't it stop?
...
I don't know how I'm going to get through the next two weeks. I really don't. I cannot imagine any outcome that is safe or painless or happy. Everything ends in horror and suffering and potential death. 
All I can do is just... pray, I guess. All I can do is put it in God's Hands and plead with all my stupid broken frightened heart that He get me through this, and not hurt my family, and please fix me, heal me, somehow. It's either that, or this is going to kill me. 

I need to sleep. I'm exhausted inside and out.
...and that just makes me think of my weird little orange girlfriend who I haven't seen in weeks because apparently my brain has hard-dissociated from TBHU to the point where I am struggling to remember her. 
...I need to... meet her again, really. That's a special joy. But I need to remember and "meet" myself, too. All this stress and terror about family and food, all this survival panic, all this preoccupation with death and disease... it's suffocating me with anxiety that doesn't have a beloved face and heart attached to the name. 
Maybe that's part of why I'm not healing yet. Maybe I really do need to just... bring love into everything. Isn't that the function of a Core, after all? Isn't that the real reason I exist, to begin with? How did Jay do it? How did we live?

There's a lot of work to do, in so many ways, and right now is not the time to start any big projects. Sometimes, I guess, all I can do to live and cope and heal is the next small right thing. Right now, that means letting this poor body sleep, because we have to buy our last safe groceries for the month tomorrow, and we have the privileged beautiful blessing of receiving the Precious Blood at Mass, and it's going to rain too. So there are still good and beautiful things to hope for, untouched amidst all our ridiculous piteous fears and struggles, and that's something I need to focus on, and treasure, and pay attention to.
Tonight I will start by going to bed, where I know my beloved blue angel is waiting for me, as always, knowing full well my torments and tortures and loving me anyway. Not "despite," but... is there even a word? It's just a feeling, something as tangible yet ethereal as a scent memory, something etched into my bones in that way, something lingering and utterly true no matter how much changes on the outside, no matter how many wounds and horrors I have accumulated over the years. He says he is so grateful he has "learned how" to smell things because now he knows what my existence scent is, and... that means a lot to me, so much. It's like how I remember grandma, forever, long after she left this world. It's proof of her, real proof that she was here, and she was unique, and she mattered, and I remember. 
See, this is how I want and need to live on the outside. I'm so tired of this, of the truth of me, being beaten bloody and buried alive under the screaming fears of daily existence. I'm so, so tired.
Step one: go to sleep. Go surrender into soft warmth and love for a while. That's what's real, beneath everything, amidst everything, no matter what. Please, remember that. Hold on to that. It might be the only thing that gets me through any of this-- that certainty, that tangible incredible hope, that touch of God, that tiny glimpse of heaven where nothing is dirty or wrong or scary forever, and everyone is okay, and everyone is safe, and everyone is loved. 
 
God, I just... I wish I could... I wish that being human wasn't so terrifying until then. 

"The material world, which we believe God created, not only speaks to our minds and hearts but also to our senses. For example, we believe that God listens to our prayers, but that belief is not as tangible as the smell of roses in our garden. We acknowledge that our God expects moral action, but that belief does not have the raw power of a summer thunderstorm. We trust that God journeys with us through life, but that conviction is not as warm as the newborn daughter that sleeps in our arms." 
GOD MAKES ALL THOSE CHARACTERISTICS "TANGIBLE" THROUGH CREATED THINGS AS "SIGNS" UNDERSTOOD BY FAITH!!!

1. How did the exodus from Egypt expand Israel's faith in God?
They now SEE God's power to save DEMONSTRATED by great acts of divine power, INDEPENDENT of their own efforts OR belief. Furthermore, they now have seen that God is BIGGER than they realized-- God is more powerful than Egypt, AND He can control nature itself! This too was PROVEN by MIGHTY WORKS, notably of a truly MIRACULOUS sort-- NO mortal could ever do such things, and no false "god" ever had either. Lastly, God had PROMISED to do this: to save & deliver them & bring them to a good land of their own. God proved His FAITHFULNESS to them.

2. God's Name is revealed to Moses as "I AM WHO I AM" or, as it is sometimes translated, "I WILL BE WHO I WILL BE" (Exod 3:14). What does this Name say to you about God? How does this Name influence your faith and hope?
God IS Who He IS, even if I doubt or struggle to believe, even if I don't see or perceive it, even if I don't understand or comprehend it, even if I don't know or realize it. God IS Gracious & merciful & loving & forgiving & faithful & patient & just, no matter WHAT the world says, and REGARDLESS of whether or not I have any proper frame of reference for, or definition of, such things. That gives me SO MUCH HOPE. Even in my bleakest ignorance & stupidity, even in my blindness & woundedness, even in the darkest hour of agony, GOD IS GOOD, and GOD WILL BE WHO HE IS, ALWAYS. I can put ALL my faith in His Word, for it is TRUE. 

3. In the account of the crossing of the Red Sea (Exod 14:21-31), God utilizes both supernatural and natural means to save the people of Israel. Have you experienced the power of God working in your life in both ways? Can you share an example of each?
Bro this is my DAILY LIFE. "No such thing as coincidence" and "synchronicity" are ANCIENT terms we've used to refer to God's subtle miracles in everyday events. Countless times, God speaks through unexpected music, words, patterns, people, pictures, etc. He LOVES to shock & surprise me; His "Voice" is always totally unexpected yet so familiar and "just right," even in solemn chastisements & convictions-- and it is ALWAYS loving. As for supernatural... that's System life. How about the "warns ending" on a DIME solely by prayer & grace? How about dreams & headspace events that changed the course of our heart for the better? How about the fact that we exist at ALL, and love each other so much? God is at work in every beat of our heart.

4. The Israelites promise to follow God's laws even before those laws are revealed (Exod 19:7-8). What does that tell you about the nature of their faith?
It's actually where mine is finally headed, by grace, thank God. It means that they realized that God is GOOD, God is TRUSTWORTHY, God is JUST, and God is THEIR GOD, to say the least. But they grasp enough of God's CHARACTER to understand that, WHATEVER commands He gives, WHATEVER laws He establishes, they are INEVITABLY going to REFLECT & MANIFEST God's attributes-- as they had seen in the Exodus-- and WILL be for their HIGHEST GOOD. God could ONLY give the most perfect & righteous laws. Israel had FAITH in that, AND possibly in God's willingness to HELP them obey? But the point is = they TRUSTED that, whatever God would mandate, it was WORTH following, without question. ALSO = the COMMITMENT to UNCONDITIONAL OBEDIENCE shows their RELATIONSHIP was REAL.

5. What does it mean for Israel to be God's "treasured possession among all peoples" and "a kingdom of priests, a holy nation" (Exod 19:5-6)?
"Kingdom" = God is their Ruler in all things. "Priests" = they are to offer sacrifices to God on behalf of others. "Holy" = they are set apart from all other nations, FOR the sake of those nations, as their intercessors before God. "Treasured possession" = they specifically BELONGED to God in a special way, as something particularly & preciously related to Him PERSONALLY. ALL of this was ONLY possible through the RELATIONSHIP of FAITH. Priesthood & holiness REQUIRE a personal devotion to Him, and a deep connection to Him AS a personal God. WE are to "treasure" & "possess" HIM, too.

6. What does the revelation of God as the God of the Nations mean for the way we live our our faith?
The WHOLE WORLD is beloved by God. Israel was chosen IN ORDER TO eventually REGATHER EVERYONE to God, as in Eden, as the prophets foretold. God created ALL and He loves ALL and He wants ALL to be saved. Our faith is a GIFT, a MISSION, not a "reward" or a "club"!! We MUST WORK to invite & call EVERYONE into this same faith! It means everyone is our family. It means "the bell tolls for thee." It means we can NEVER be ignorant, aloof, prejudiced, miserly, uncharitable, distant, or cold. Global events matter to God because ALL men are His creatures & called to be His children. EVERY soul is priceless to Him. So they MUST be to US, too.

7. The Israelites consider living God's law to be a life-giving expression of the covenant relationship with God. Christians experience something similar in following the teachings of Jesus, Who said: "If you love Me, you will keep My commandments" (John 14:15). How can living God's law/ commandments be an expression of faith, hope, and love?
Because NOT living them is BLATANTLY uncaring & shows we DON'T trust God to guide us. When you love someone you LISTEN to them & WANT to do good things for them & make them FEEL loved. With God, Who is our Father, we WANT to obey like a child who TRUSTS their Dad and can't even imagine saying "no." Keeping His commandments shows that we have FAITH in His Truth & Trustworthiness, that we HOPE in whatever outcomes & goals God plans via those commands for us & others, that it all serves His Kingdom, and that we LOVE Him so much that we just delight in doing whatever He tells us to do, because He loves US, and all His Commandments ARE Love.

8. After God forgives Israel for worshipping the golden calf, "gracious and merciful" is revealed as essential to God's Name and Identity (Exod 34:6). How have you experienced God as a forgiving God Who is gracious, merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in love? How has this experience strengthened or shaped your faith and hope?
GOD HASN'T KILLED ME YET. That sounds brutal but it's the hard truth. My past is SIN and I DESERVED to die COUNTLESS times, PLUS I almost DID die BECAUSE of my sins, COUNTLESS times. But what did God do? He mercifully SAVED MY LIFE, BLESSED ME WITH GRACE, AND GAVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE. He didn't kill me because He DIDN'T WANT TO LOSE ME TO SIN. God REFUSED TO LET ME GO OR GIVE UP ON ME. God "SAVED ME BECAUSE HE LOVED ME." And now, by grace, here I am, alive & in love with Him, forgiven & redeemed, snatched right out of hell! It's beyond comprehension, how merciful & kind God has been and ALWAYS will be. If God abandoned me to sin, I'd be dead forever, with NO hope at ALL. But He DIDN'T, and He WON'T. God ALWAYS gives more grace, so I CAN repent and be saved. I have FAITH & HOPE in His LOVE forever.

9. How and when did the creation stories of Genesis 1-2 emerge? How do these stories reflect Israel's growing faith and hope in God?
They emerged DURING BOTH the Israelite MONARCHY (David/ Solomon) AND the Babylonian EXILE-- two totally different contexts. But in each case, the creation stories proclaim God as SOVEREIGN & UNIQUE & GOOD, in contrast to pagan idols & myths. The kings sand God's goodness, seeing it reflected in the beauty of the world, recognizing His characteristics in it, and thereby refuting all Gnostic-esque hatred of creation. This conviction & perception is what SUSTAINED them in exile, and enabled them to KEEP writing about God's justice & mercy too, because no matter what, God WAS in control, God HAD a plan and ALWAYS had, He WOULD follow through, and He WAS STILL GOOD.

10. What insight about faith or hope can you share with your group after studying and reflecting on these stories from Exodus?
Our faith and hope are anchored in GOD'S SELF-REVELATION, through BOTH His WORDS and His WORKS. God TELLS us Who He IS, and then He ALWAYS DEMONSTRATES those attributes IN THE WORLD HE CREATED. So faith ENABLES us to hope; we BELIEVE in what we CAN'T see, because we TRUST that there is a GOOD GOD orchestrating EVERYTHING we CAN see... because we KNOW WHAT TO SEE, since GOD TOLD US. Even to those who DON'T know God, they can recognize His attributes "as they are" and be MOVED to HOPE in "something bigger" BEYOND and yet WITHIN that good they CAN see, a hope that LEADS to faith, by grace. "Our hearts are restless until they rest in You." There is ALWAYS hope because THIS IS REALITY. GOD IS REAL. Creation DOES reflect Who He Is, albeit dimly, "as in a mirror." But "hope does not disappoint," because God WANTS to be found & known & loved. And SCRIPTURE is our roadmap. Our faith finds its foundation in God's TRUE WORDS of hope. BUT IT'S ALL BASED IN LOVE. Without love, without relationship, nothing else can survive. Love IS life, because GOD IS LOVE!!!