Pleading

Romans 5:8  " But God demonstrates his own great love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

The second question that I continue to wrestle with is " God what in the world do you want from me?  What can I do to end this suffering?"  Basically I am asking " God what can I do to earn your favor and have you heal me?"  So there it is in His word in black and white.  " Nothing "  He doesn't want anything from me other than to love him, and most importantly, let him love me just as I am.

So often I come to my father with the painful memories etched in my mind of coming to my mother.  I see him as disappointed in me.  Waiting for me to screw up so that he can punish me again and again and again.  I forget that unlike  my mother God is slow to anger.  Psalm 86:15 " But you, Lord are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness." ( NIV )  I see myself crying out to him as I silently cried out to my mother " Please mom, I tried to do it right and you are still angry.  Just tell me what to do and I will do it. Just stop hurting me.  Am I really that bad?  I want to please you, really I do, but I keep falling short, and the bar keeps moving.  Mom can't you see I am just a little girl trying to earn your love. Oh, what have I done to anger you so?"

This is how I often approach God my father.  I fall to my knees in anguish crying out " God I can't do this anymore.  Tell me, tell me what you want from me.  I will do anything to make this pain subside if you can just tell me what to do."  I even beg him to take me home as I am out of strength and my faith is fading.  I become the same scared depleted little girl that cowered in my mother's presence; working and striving everyday to figure her out or at least avoid her wrath.  If I can just figure out the rules, then not only will I avoid the verbal and physical bashing, but maybe, just maybe, she will also love me.

God, my father reminds me with his word that it isn't by my works or effort that he loves me.  He knows I am imperfect and that I love him.  That is all he asks of me....To Love him and trust him.
I was bought at a price on the cross. He loved me enough to die for me.  My intellect knows this, but my heart and soul often shies away from his great love out of fear.  My view of love is tarnished. For me love means a lot of work for little, if any gain, but a lot of pain. Today I focus on his great love. Ephesians 2:4-5  " But because of his great love for us, God who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions - it is by grace you (I) have been saved.  So, there it is again.  He loves me and today his grace is sufficient.

Justified

Romans 5:1 ( I have been justified ) NIV 1984
" Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ "

Oh how long the past two weeks have been.  I should be relaxed and peaceful gazing at his creation.  this is northern Michigan, God's country.  Yet it has been marred by a well spring of anxiety, pain, and suffering.  Some of the pain is physical, but most of it is emotional. The truth is that even the physical pain and suffering originates from my spirit;  a spirit that has been broken.  So the anxiety presents itself with twitching muscles, and massive headaches.

Where as many with eating disorders are out of touch with their bodies and its  physical sensations of hunger, cold, pain, etc., I am hyper-vigillant and aware of by body.  I notice every twitch, every rumble of my gut, every heart beat, and every breath I take.  This in and of its self is emotionally and physically exhausting.  Couple that with my suppression of any physical, or emotional pain that tries to make itself known, I am tired and out of strength.  Yet, somehow I manage to eat and keep it in.  I just want to surpass that one month marker of not purging.  I have done it and this causes me to feel just a twinge of hope and pride.

God has used this time to once again wrestle with my relationship with him and two questions.  The first is pretty universal.  "Why me?"  The second, comes from that little girl inside of me that still sees God as a reflection of my mom.  "God, what do you want from me?  I will do anything to please you to earn your love.  Please oh please, I beg you, just tell me what you want from me!"

I find it somewhat easy to answer the first question.  "Why not me."  We live in a fallen world.  There is illness, accidents, and trials that God allows us all to go through.  He never promised us a life without suffering, because it is through suffering that I believe he makes his presence  known; that we are brought to our knees to rely on him.  Psalm 46:1 (NIV)  God is our refuge and strength, an ever- present help in trouble"  If only I had turned to him instead of the eating disorder to rescue me from my mother's demands, criticism, and anger.  If only I had trusted him to carry the burdens I was never meant to carry,  if only I had remembered my body is his temple, if only I had remembered Philippians 4:13 (NLT)  "For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength", if only......But, I became fearful and impatient, and turned to myself instead of God; my Jehovah.  The name for God that means he is interested in me on a very intimate and personal level, and desires to set me free.  Jehovah never tires of picking me up  and dusting me off that I amy try again.  Just as I never tire of listening to my children and helping them through difficulties, Jehovah never tires of me coming to him and crying Abba (Daddy) this is too big for me.  Will you carry it please.

So it is now that I am paying the consequences of my actions?  I am a little frustrated that now, after months of eating well and purging only a few times, as opposed to a few times a day, here I am suffering from muscle twitches and headaches, etc.  I suppose it is my body telling me it is still stressed.  Maybe it is the low weight, the low body fat, or the high activity level?  I have hovered around the same weight and body fat for the last 8-10 weeks.  There is something that keeps me here, but I honestly don't have to fight very hard to stay here.  I keep asking, "What if this is my new normal?''  Yet my nutritionist and therapist continue to warn me that it is just not optimal for my physical or emotional health.  So, that is why I press on to do the things that ask of me, not just because I have faith in them, but because I have faith in my Jehovah.  The God that I ask to speak through them, to guide their hearts and words for me.  The God that I ask to be the third person in the room.  If I trust Him, than I have to trust those he has entrusted me to.  So, I press even as I wonder what is physiologically based versus what is psychologically based because it really is all from my broken spirit.

Anxiety

Philippians 4:6 " Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."(NIV 84)

1Peter 5:7 "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you" ( NIV 84 )

Psalm 55:22 "Give your burdens to the LORD, and he will take care of you.  He will not permit the the godly to slip and fall"  (NLT)


There are times when I find it hard to maintain my faith in all that God has promised.  "He will not let the godly slip and fall"  So, God you will instead allow me to slip and fight with all the strength I can find just to stay upright.  After 2 weeks of watching Olympics coverage, I compare myself to a gymnast on the beam.  I am spinning, flipping, and in  the end I am standing, bobbling on one leg, while I should be on two.  I am  Hanging on by the tips of my toes, flailing my arms in the air trying to not fall, and while falling is painful, there is a certain amount of pain the body and mind endures just to hang on.  I remember the commentary on one poor girl.  "Oh my that was just awful, she didn't even try to hold on.  She just gave up!"  God must be somewhere in this balancing act with me because truly I feel like that poor young girl.  I just want to give up.  It would be easier to fall.

I have a lot of anxiety.  Some I am aware of and some not so much.  It is that anxiety that holds me in the grasp of the Eating Disorder, causes the bizarre Burning Mouth Syndrome ( google it ), and now apparently the twitching of my eye for three weeks.  Now for most people this eye thing is just a casual nuisance, for me it is the new thorn in my side.  One more thing I have to fight.  I wonder if it is ever going away, and how my friends that have experienced it didn't gouge their eyes out?  I immediately jump to fear.  Fear that I am weak of character, that God is testing me, punishing me, or worst yet, like my parents abandoning me. That somehow peace and contentment is meant for others and not for me.  Should I have to always work this hard just to feel normal.  And what the fuck is normal anyways.  See there I go swearing.  Ugh just another sin in my life.  Sorry Jesus!  Forgive me.

Oh and while I am on sin.  I whole heartedly confess that I am a sinner and I need my  Savior, but I also need a break.  Oh and by a break Lord, I mean some peace and relief, not to be broken.  I am already in a place of brokenness. Isn't that where you want me; dependent on you?  Take my anxieties because you care for me.  As I bring my requests to you in prayer, if you aren't willing to calm this storm, calm me your little girl.  I am thankful that I can come to you and grateful that you gave it all for me on the cross.  I am thankful for my blessings.  Some that are apparent and some that are disguised by struggle and pain.  Abba Father ( Amen ).

Battling the Giant

Psalm 27:9 (NLT)  "Wait patiently for the Lord.  Be brave and courageous.  Yes wait patiently for the Lord.
I was asked describe my self in one word at one time and my answer was resilient. ( recovering readily from adversity ).  Yet, I no longer feel resilient as I have not recovered readily from the eating disorder that I have allowed to afflict me for the past year.  Today, one word to describe me?  I am a warrior waiting patiently on the Lord.  Like a warrior it takes courage beyond belief to fight the battle. It also takes the full armor of God.  Mine is not a battle of slings and arrows, but one of  fighting the eating disorder day after day.  It is a formidable foe that never ceases to come after me.  I am grateful that I have the Lord on my side and it is through his strength that I don't just give up in total surrender to the enemy.   It is his armor that protects me from mortal harm.

It is hard to wait and it is hard to be brave.  It is also hard for those around me to wait and be patient as I fight this battle.  People mean well, but really have no true understanding of just how entrenched, and tangled the eating disorder is in my life.  Oh how I wish I could be fixed by, just eating, stop purging, decrease my exercise, get a job to take my mind off it, love myself, like my self, see myself, remember all that is good, be grateful for all my blessings, and the list can go on and on.....  I have been there, done that, yet, I am still here in the midst of the battle.  I spend each day trying to climb out of the trench and untangle the threads of the eating disorder.  It is a tedious process like trying to untie a stubborn knot fine golden chains.

So, I am a warrior waiting patiently on the Lord to lead me through this battle.  I often feel like David must have felt like when he faced Goliath with just a stone and a sling shot; scared to death, like God has picked the wrong one to fight this battle because I would just as soon die at the enemies hands some days then face it.   I am weak, weary, and the enemy is way to big for me to slay.  I believe that God has me right where he wants me; dependent on him.  I am just like David.  I am seeking God to be the strength I lack.  I am trusting that he will lead me through the battle.  Although, I am sure God has not called me to the greatness of leading his kingdom, I think he will use me to do great things in his kingdom.

I find hope in the story of David.  I call on the Lord to be my strength today as I struggle to be still and rest on this the sabbath.   It is hard for me to be still, and even harder to be still and fuel my body.  It is a metaphor for my life.  I have to earn my food just as I feel like I must earn love, acceptance and nurturing.  Today I am like David dependent on the Lord to lead me through the battle.  He has faith in me to slay the giant and like David he has chosen me to fight the battle not because I am unworthy,or disposable, but because he loves me.  His strength is enough and I am worthy of it!

Sorrow

Psalm 103: 9-12 " He will not constantly accuse us, nor remain angry forever. 10 He does not punish us for all our sins;  he does not deal  harshly with us, as we deserve. 11 For his unfailing love toward those who fear him is as great as the height if the heavens above the earth. 12 He has removed our sins as far as the east is from the west. 13 The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him. 14 For he knows how weak we are; he remembers we are only dust"(NIV)

I love how the Lord reminds me of His unfailing love when I am feeling quite unlovable, and even angry with God.  I don't mean a little angry.  I mean swearing at him to the point of begging him to just take me home and return me to the dust of which he speaks.

How can I go from faithful and hopeful, to anger and utter despair in less than 24 hours?  Then I remember I have someone else battling for my soul.  That Satan is a living powerful force trying to pull me away from my father.  Thursday through, well most the weekend, he had me just where he wanted me.  After a day of giving my body the rest it so desperately needed and nourishing it, I purge the next nights dinner.  I find myself believing that I can't do this.  I can't beat this eating disorder and that God is somehow toying with me.  I can't get a break from the eating,  twitching of my eye, and the tension headache that is now pounding more like a migraine.  None of which seems like they will ever subside.  Then there is the fear that my drop back in weight and metabolism his ruined any progress I have made in the past weeks.  I am so discouraged!  I cry out for God to stop screwing with me, I can't take this anymore.  I am tired beyond tired of working, and fighting this battle.  I am tired of me, of being me.  I just want out!!!  I want some respite.  No, I need some respite.  My husband tries to console me, but I am at the point of inconsolable.  I hate myself for putting him through the melt down.  I am ashamed of the fear I have caused to flash in his eyes.

I just wish anyone could understand for just a moment what it is like to live inside my mind and body; to understand the fight the prayerful effort each day entails.  As I watch the Olympics, I think, shit!  with all the work I am doing I should be dripping in medals.  Some days, as much as I try to remember that God promises I won't be given more than I can handle, I feel like I am bending to the point of breaking.  Friday was one of those days.  I was broken physically, emotionally and spiritually!  The only thing that pulls me back together is knowing that I am going to my future daughter-in-law's to spend time with her aunts, friends, and my sister and Donna.

Then when I tell Donna how I am feeling done,  she reminds me of what the future holds in my son's marriage and the "G " word.   We aren't allowed to say grandchildren it freaks my husband out, so we all play around it!  I do go and manage to keep it together, enjoy myself, and eat without purging.  I try to just soak up how much my niece and Kels love me.  Although I still wonder how anyone can love me today when I feel and behaved so unlovable.

I wake flooded with fear, sorrow, and anxiety.  I am wide awake, but pretend to be sleeping until I hear my husband leave.  I don't have it in me to face him and pretend I am fine, and I don't have the heart to let him see all the fear, sorrow and anxiety I am carrying.  I just want to be alone.  Still feeling like I could crawl out of my skin with my head and heart pounding, I hit the road for a long run.  I use every once of emotion I have bottled up inside of me to propel me forward.  I tackle the roads, the trails, and the hill with a vengeance.  Am I truly punishing myself with the aggression of the run?  Or is it releasing all the anxiety that has settled in?  Am I running away from myself?  Am I running to find myself?  Am I running simply to off set some of the dinner I am going to have to eat out with old friends.  It is a beautiful coolish day.  I just keep running and running, feeling a little like Forest Gump.  Searching for answers from God and from myself as I really just hope to find a little peace.

I come so close to canceling our plans for dinner.  I still just wanted to be left alone and frankly was terrified I would need to purge the dinner anyways.  I somehow mange to gather the emotional strength to meet our friends for dinner.  It ends up a safe enjoyable evening.  I think because of the intensity of my run i am able to justify keeping my food in.

Sunday I am church and I don't even realize I am crying until I feel the tears spilling over onto my open hands that rest longingly at my chest to feel Jesus spirit falling into them.  I am so sorrowful of my anger towards God.  I am overwhelmed as I listen to the words and try to choke them out in song.  "Well, everyone needs compassion, A love that's never failing, let mercy fall on me, Well, everyone needs forgiveness, the kindness of a Saviour, the hope of nations''
So take me as you find me, all my fears and failure, fill my life again....( Mighty to Save by Hillsong )

He takes me as he finds me, and that means even today as I am ugly, discouraged, worn out, unlovable, unbearable....

Nothing......

Kate Moss was quoted at one point in her life as saying " Nothing taste as good as skinny feels"  I admittedly lived by this mantra as I fell back into the eating disorder last year.  Each time I would reach for something, anything, to fill my empty body,  I would repeat this myself.  I would repeat it over and over again until the shame of eating became stronger then the hunger rising up in my gut.  It worked!  More often than not I would walk away feeling strong in my resolve to restrict my food and work off what I did eat,  but in turn I was weakened by the hunger radiating through my body, and eventually my soul.

I felt myself drifting back into this mantra briefly today as my body ran out of steam and I hit "THE WALL"   I am so tired physically.   I have literally exercised hard every day for the past 33 days.  And I wonder why my weight is back down and I am encroaching on my own muscles once again for fuel, my eye is twitching and the tension that once settled just into my shoulders has worked its way through my neck and into my head?  I promise myself that today I am just doing an easy yoga class, then I am resting.  Oh yeah, I can do this, but can I do this and eat?  I mean eat according to my meal plan from the nutritionist?  Eat normally in front of my mother-in-law at lunch?  She is a tough one for me to eat around as she has never even acknowledged that my body had drastically changed back into the anorexic woman she saw enter in patient 20 years ago.  Such typical anorexic thinking.  Somehow me not eating lunch will cause her to take notice of me and my suffering.  Yet, I find my self, even with out the strenuous exercise hungry.  Frankly, I am a little irritated that my hunger pokes at me , not like a child trying to get her mother's attention, but like a battering ram powered by hydraulics. I try the mantra that carried me through the past year.   "nothing taste as good as skinny feels, nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. nothing tastes.....nothing."

Then it hits me by tasting nothing, I had allowed myself to become nothing.  And then, by the grace of Jesus Christ, I remembered what skinny felt like.  Initially it felt comforting, soothing, powerful, almost a state of euphoria settled in.  I was in control.  Then with out warning it twisted and turned on me, forming a knot that hung like a noose waiting to strangle the life out of me. That is what skinny feels like.  It feels like a death sentence.  It sucks the life out of your body and your soul.  I am not sure which it comes for first, but it comes; devouring you when you should be devouring sustenance and gorging yourself one life. The abundant life God desires for you.  John 10:10 " The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they might have life and have it abundantly: ( NASB ) ( 1995 )

Skinny doesn't feel good. It is the thief!  It may for some distorted reason feel safe, but it is not good.  It doesn't feel good to go to sleep each night wondering if you will wake in the morning, so consequently you hardly sleep at all.  It doesn't feel any better wondering if your body will give out during the day as you workout to burn the little you have taken in. It doesn't feel good to shake and see blackness as you stand because your blood pressure is so low it can't keep up with your movements, to feel acid burning in your stomach because there is nothing there to digest, to wretch and purge the smallest of meals as your eyes water and small specks of blood leak from their capillaries. It is agonizing to sit with your boney ass in any chair for any length of time without shifting and moving to keep the pressure from forming bruises. It is terrifying to be sent of to a cardiologist for further testing because your heart beats irregularly and at a slow pace. You remember how your bones and veins protrude, and how being hugged sometimes hurts those bones.  You remember your son pulling out of a hug remarking how your back feels like skin and bones.  Then you wonder how you will explain your slow death march to your children.  It doesn't feel good to be treated as a child following someone else's guidelines designed to keep you alive. You feel even smaller than your physical presence. Weighing in, checking off meal plans, baring the ugliest parts of your truth to doctors, a therapist, a nutritionist, your pastor, and the other practitioners you see in search of wellness.  Somehow there was less shame in this the first time around.  You were young and lacked any cognisant awareness of what you were doing.  This time you know, on a base level, what you are doing.  And there is a sense of shame and  humiliation that you are now turning not to older wiser people for treatment, but your peers. Now you are older.  You should be wiser, but......

I allow the memory of what being  really skinny really felt like to speak.  I Allow it to speak louder than the mantra.  I allow myself the permission to take the break my body needs today and to eat.  Like a good little girl ( insert sarcasm )  I do just as I am told.  I am not just tired, but tired of the fight.  As I pray for the strength to let go of my mantra God does answer.  Galatians 6:9 " Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up" (NIV)
Being that I am beyond weary, I can only assume He is my strength!

He also answers the question, "what does taste as good as skinny feels" ? Psalm 34:8 " Taste and see that the LORD is good.  Oh the joys of those who seek refuge in him!" (NLT).

And to Him goes the glory!

Revolving and Evolving

Philippians 1: 6 "  And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Jesus Christ returns"



To Weigh, or not to weigh?  That is my question today.  I haven't stepped on the scale in 2 weeks, and there is a part of me that has enjoyed freedom from a number.  A number that can make or break my day.  If it is up I panic that it is coming on too quickly, if it is down I worry I have let the support team around me down.  Or, worse, that I have proven to them that I am still on a slippery slope, that I am not as well as I feel.  However, there would also be a sense of relief if it were down or at least the same.

Knowing that I face the rest of my life trying to manage this demon is daunting.  Sometimes I feel like it  might just be easier to give into it than fight it.  I want to be well and feel well, but I want to do it on my terms (because that has worked so well for me this past year).  I guess that means I want to recover in every way, but the weight.  I am home and fall right back into some of the ritualistic behaviors that somehow comfort me, yet annoy me at the same time.  Ah, the mirror, the full length mirror.  Hello friend, judge, and jury.  Let me take a long hard look.  Top to toes, front to back, and side to side.  Have I gained weight or lost it over the past month?  I look a little heavier from this view.  No, a little too thin form this angle.  I move, I turn, and twist around until I am convinced I look ok for now.  What is really twisted and turned around isn't my body as much as my mind.  Not only does my body and mind send mixed messages back and forth to each other, my mind receives them as well.

I go out to the gym.  I work out, then literally shaking with fear, I step gingerly on the scale.  How will I react to this oh so powerful number?  I slowly move the weight to the 100 lb starting point and eek the top one down the scale.  I am sure I am close to the 120 lb they desire me to be.  I drop it down 1lb. then 2 lbs., 3, 4, 5 and 6.  Finally the little notch at the end of the scales rests in space. 114 lbs it rest just there.  I am not up?  I stand there for a moment in disbelief, then relief.  Then I look around the locker room hoping no one has watched me in this sacred moment.  Then I realize that I shouldn't be relieved, but I am.  I freed myself from the shackles holding me to the scale, I ate when I was hungry, I enjoyed just being and not feeling "sick" and I guess I essentially failed.  I proved them all right!  I didn't gain, or even maintain, I lost.  Today I am the exact same weight I was when I came home from Michigan 1 year ago.  I wonder if my therapist will look at me and know right away, or ask me?  I am curious as to what she sees?

The rest of the world sees me as stronger, fitter, healthier, than when I came home last year.  How ironic that the same weight last year caused shock and fear, but today I look great, perfect, lean, strong etc...?  Frankly I feel well, strong, and fueled.  I fell like myself. Even though am not sure who that is, others recognize me and see me emerging from the anorexic haze. I feel myself emerging from the anorexic haze.  I went out with friends tonight and Ally commented on how I have returned, not just from Michigan, but back to myself despite the lack of weight.   Maybe I work too hard to define me instead of just allowing myself to be.

Yet, I know I need to define myself beyond  the illness.  My therapists suggest that as a writing exercise.  I want to defer to those who know, or think they know me.  Define me.  Tell me who I am to you.  Then maybe, just maybe, if your definition aligns with who I believe I am then I can trust my self once again to be something other than anorexic.  Oh I know I am smart, kind, sensitive, thoughtful, giving, tender, sarcastic, and have acquired a wisdom from all I have been through.  I am a warrior, I am a survivor.  I am evolving.   I am resting on his promise that His work in me isn't finished yet.

Silent Tears

Psalm 56:8 “ You keep track of my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle” ( NLT )

Silent Tears

Your bottle holds my sorrows

My tears

The ones I can’t bare to shed

It holds the pain of a little girl

Who cries at night instead

She holds her pain

Her grief

Behind the perfect veil

But deep inside

She works feverishly

To stifle the deafening wail

The silent tears fall

None the less

They do not make a sound

Yet You Lord reach to catch them

Before they hit the ground 

She cries “Abba father”

(Daddy)

“I am tired

In need of a place to rest”

You Lord listen patiently

To her

And enfold her to your chest

Finally she is in a place

Where every child needs to be

Safe

Where tears can flow like water falls

That empty into the sea

For now, her tears and sorrow

Are in your bottle

Where they belong

Held until the day

Your little girl is strong

Strong enough to feel the pain

That she doesn’t want to see

Strong enough to realize

That she is really Me

Reflections

Exodus 14:14  "The Lord himself will fight for you.  Just stay calm"  NLT

I gather my memories of the summer like a bouquet of wild flowers picked from the trails and roadsides I have run, walked, ridden and traveled the past few weeks.  It is an odd collection. Like wild flowers, some of my memories are bold bright and beautiful with color. They are smooth and soft like the velvety texture of the sweet peas' petal.   Others resemble thistle, surrounded by prickly-edged leaves.  Yet even with the thistle and thorns, all in all, it is a beautiful bouquet compared  to last summer.  Where as last summer I was losing control and free falling into Anorexia, this year I am  trying to let go of it, but it is hard.  It has become so much of my identity, I still struggle with who I am without it.  It draws people to me out of concern but at the same time repels them as they tire of trying to understand it.  Yet I was thinking today that in a sense it does prove that my parents must have, deep inside, a love for me because out of fearing for my health they have at least left me alone. It would be nice if they knew or acknowledged how sick I was, but I will have settle for this.  Hopefully as I recover, I will learn to use my voice with them and not my body.  And most of all realize that they are limited and I am hoping to be limitless.

I have such mixed emotions about my body right now.  I  wonder if  I will ever be at peace with it?  I reluctantly run the 10K instead of the 1/2 I so desired.  I remember last year how my body strained and struggled to run after weeks of restricting and purging.  Although I finished well last year, the pain and discomfort is evident in the pictures.  There is the beginning of  the lifelessness I felt, exposed on film.  This year I was comfortable, strong and vibrant.  I didn't miss the searing gut pain from the purging with each step I took.  Ahh!  This year, even through my cheetah sunglasses, there is a sparkle in my eye and a joy that radiates through my body off the film.  I rocked the race, 11th woman in, 25th overall.  It was a great day!  I had my sister and Beth at the finish line waiting for me, and a week ahead of me with just the girls.  Lots of laughter, warm weather, and plenty of wine.

I have two favorite times of day up here.  Early in the morning and late in the afternoon.  In the afternoon with my back turned to the sun and my face to the water I take the time to breath, pray and reflect.  I count my blessings, and despite my past year feel a sense of calm wash over me.  There is a peace I feel in being alone, yet not being lonely.  I love how Anna Quindlen speaks of this " Solitude is an acceptable form of selfishness"  I couldn't agree with her more, but it has taken me years to allow myself this simple pleasure of being alone without guilt or, frankly feeling lonely.  Today as I sit with myself I feel the cool breeze coming off the lake.  I  close my eyes and imagine it is God's breath  exhaling and carrying with it the burdens I was never meant to carry as he inhales and lifts them to heaven for him to carry.  For the moment I feel free and unencumbered; light, tall, like I am beginning to unfold.

Renewal

Joel 2:25 (NLT)  The Lord says " I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts,  the stripping locust and the cutting locusts"

 I love this version of scripture from the NLT.  It is the perfect description of my past year.  I felt swarmed upon, and feeling helpless against the assault allowed the eating disorder to return and strip me down to an emotional and physical bareness; cutting myself apart bit by bit into small fractured pieces.

Today as I sit on my deck, I put my hope in this restoration.  I feel the restoration slowly coming through my body, my mind and most importantly my soul.  Sleep has returned, and I tolerate (not easily ) the weight. I feel a sense of normalcy returning to my life. And as I look out if the blue green waters of Walloon I find pleasure in the simple things, and of God's creation. I realize with a certain sadness how much of my life I allowed the " locusts"  to steal from me in the past year.

I love the early morning watching the sun peak over the hillside.  The sun is reflecting off the lake when not hidden behind quickly moving clouds.  The wind is cool and powerful as it ushers the clouds beyond the hill.  It is like God exhaling to reveal his splendid warmth and light of his creation.  It is this exhale that breaths new life into me.  Restoring me.

I fall into the silence of the moments before me.  I Want to soak it all in and savor  all that surrounds me.  I notice the ducks.  How do they swim so gracefully and effortlessly against the force of the wind? How easily they move in the rough water despite the gusting wind.  They are arrogant creatures.  They swim close into the shore just to aggravate the dogs.  The dogs tear after them, and they swim back towards the open water daring the dogs to come in after them.  The dogs retreat, and the ducks swim right back in to start the game over again and again.

There is no blue sky like the sky up her.  It is clear and vibrant.  The shades of blue vary from soft and pale, to bold and vibrant. The water's colors  shimmer in the sunlight like the hues found in precious gems of emeralds, sapphires and diamonds.  I want to be out on it on the paddle board breaking the surface, or under it hearing nothing but silence as a rise to the surface.  The water is cold as the ice turned just weeks ago, but still I want to enter it.

I look at my watch.  It is almost 9 am. and I should get up and ride, but I am so enjoying the sitting here on my deck watching the morning and summer on Walloon come to life.  Boats buzzing from the marina their engines being tested.  Children and grandchildren running down the hillside, plunging into the water despite the cold.  Growing up, yet still awed by  the simple pleasure of splashing in the water and rolling down the hill.  Puppies that have grown up, and dogs that have grown old, and new pups to replace the ones that didn't survive the winter.  Adel, almost 93 years old, no longer drives, but is still sharp and wise. The maple tree that was just an opportunistic sapling is now growing tall and gangly. It is not fully mature, but like an adolescent that has shot up quickly and waits to fill out.

New life is evident in minnows, tadpoles, June bugs, and May flies.  No signs of the fox.  It has been 2 years; I wonder where they have gone?  The scent of lilacs blooming come on the breath of the wind.  White ones intermingled with the lavender pale in color, but rich in fragrance.

The field on the hill is empty, but will soon be covered with cows and calves.  Sometimes when I can't see them I hear them.  This reminds of God's presence in my life.  Although I don't see him, I hear his voice.

I could stay here all day, but  knowing my ride will be just as enjoyable, I head out to the trail.  It is along the big water of the bay.  Again the water is colorful, but the bay has a power all its own.  Wave swell and crash upon the shore and over the break walls smashing the blues and greens into a fine mist that sparkles like diamonds  in the sun. Two small birds seem to lead my way.  I follow them until they disappear into the trees.  I travel on my own, breathing in the clean air allowing it to clear my mind.

I spend the rest of the day planting flowers and sitting on the dock drifting in and out of a welcomed nap until my neighbors ask me to go water skiing.  Are you kidding me?  Do they not know how cold the water is?  Ah what the heck...skiing before Memorial Day.  I am so in!  Did I mention how cold the water is?  I would do it again in a heart beat.

I am blessed, and for this brief time the pain and suffering of the past year fade like the sun setting behind the hills.

Ice Cold

Ice Cold

Dressed in flannel, wrapped in fleece
The scent of coffee fills the air
Each sips warms me from my center
Heat radiating like concentric rings
Flowing on the surface of the water
Disturbed by one small pebble

The water, like my soul, today is frozen
Cold, lifeless and desperate for warmth
It is a cold cocoon relishing the numbing sting
Of the bitter cold wind
Protecting the current of life running
Just below the surface
Where the rings of life are free to move
Undisturbed

The rigid surface hiding abundant life
Life that has remained dormant for a season
Curling in on its self preparing to emerge
Transformed
No longer small and lifeless
Unable to fly on wings untested
But on wings opened wide
Ready to soar

The ice moans and groans preparing
As it labors to give birth to the life it holds
It is guttural; it is primal
Wrought with pain and effort

The surface cracks
Fissures forming
Allowing signs of life to seep to the surface
It freezes
Becoming cold, still and frozen
One with the ice

It is like my soul laboring to rise
Only to be consumed
By its cold, icy surroundings
Or blown away in a fine crystallized mist

There is no life on the cold glassy surface
Yet still it moans and groans
Desiring to yield new life

Waiting for the gentle cleansing breath
Of springs warm breeze
To soften the jagged edges
That touch the shore

Waiting for the sun to create open space
Where the water can be moved by the wind
Forcing waves to erupt
Contracting against the ice

Breaking the facade
Allowing it to become one with the water
Free to flow; unencumbered
Revealing life transformed; able to fly
Capable of soaring

Motivation

Philippians 1:27 (NIV)  Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ"

Although far from perfect, I try to conduct myself in a manner worthy of my savior.  And when I feel my integrity questioned, it angers and hurts me.  I have great motivation to keep moving forward and keep fighting for recovery.  I have little motivation to feign improvement, or report that I am feeling and doing better.  It is a hard arduous task.  Sometimes it is one day at a time.  Some days it is one bite at a time.  Sometimes it means feeling uncomfortable, fat and bloated. Some days it means feeling stronger, healthier, and more present.  Some days it means just feeling normal and realizing it in the dairy section of the market.

My weight is up around 6 pounds, and my body fat, although low at 10%, is out of the absolute danger zone of 7 %.  I am choosing to move forward despite the days of fear and discomfort.  I find my strength and courage in the Lord.  I try to keep my eyes on Him and who I am in him.  I AM getting better.  Yet how does one measure this?  Here is my great frustration.  I have no blood test, CT scan, or any other test that can measure my success other than the weight.  Yet, somehow, that doesn't even seem to be a true indication of wellness.  Hmmm?

So, do I sit and wait for someone to tell me I am well?  I seem to have everyone telling me what I should or shouldn't do anyways.  So, maybe I should just sit around and wait to be deemed well.  Is it my child like frame (that isn't so much any more), that makes it okay to be treated as a child?  Is it the fact that, yes malnutrition effects brain function?  So, is it assumed my intellect is faulty too.  By the way, where is the test to tell me that my brain is nourished and functioning normally?  Oh, and does it effect my integrity.  I know that anorexia is a powerful disease, but maybe, just maybe, I am usurping some of its power?

How do I ever prove that I am more powerful than it is without being given the chance.  Maybe I could run the 1/2 marathon June and if not continue to gain my weight at least remain stable.  If I am willing to entertain every ones opinions on why I shouldn't, then  could they at least entertain the reasons why I could.  "How do we know you won't slide back?"  They argue.  "How do you know I won't" I argue my point.  " The disease is big and powerful it has its own identity" Can I get a little credit here?  I know that I am not fully down the road of recovery,  See, I am not in denial. I know I didn't have a sense of how "scary" thin I had become.  Yet when I saw it I acted swiftly and on my own.  I didn't wait for my husband to okay it, nor did I check with my therapist.  Like the big girl that I am, I found a dietitian and followed her meal plans.  I have followed every freaking rule set before me regardless of my fear and discomfort.  I would just like to have the chance to show how far I've come; a chance to set a few of my own rules.

I do realize that everyone has my best interest in mind.  I realize, that unlike my mother their motives aren't punitive, yet I still feel like a grounded adolescent.  Well, I know the choice is mine to make, but now if I try and fail, will my support team abandon me?  Ugh!  Here is a news flash; I may never be fully recovered, but when will I be free to try to step out on my own without the fear of abandonment if I falter?  It feels like I am being subjected to a crude form of behavior modification, only I am not really clear what to do to earn the coveted prize.  I am tired of feeling like a child.

I don't know if I am irritated with all those telling me don't, or myself and the anorexia for getting me here in the first place.  I know there are a lot of people that chose to give the eating disorder its own name, identity, or whatever!  It isn't me talking it is the ED talking or some kind of crap like that.  Frankly I think that is bullshit!  It is like excusing myself for engaging in the disordered behavior.  It somehow makes me not accountable for my behavior, and powerless.   It isn't the eating disorder lying about purging, it is me.  It isn't the eating disorder choosing not to eat it is me.  There is something about the concept that just doesn't resonate with me.  I am the one who chose it, and I am the one that can send it on its way.  Yes it is a strong pesky beast, but I am not powerless over it.

I am angry I am irritated, and I look to the Lord.  As I pray for wisdom and revelation I hear his voice.  Since day one I have prayed for my team of professionals to be wise in my treatment.  So, I suddenly realize that by rebelling against them and running this race, I would be ignoring the very thing I had prayed for; their wisdom.  I don't like the answer.  I don't like feeling like a child, but I will abide by it because I am his child.  I rest in the fact that God and I both know that I am getting better, I wasn't fabricating it to get my way.  I was speaking the truth; My truth.



 

Again

Matthew 14:29-31 (NIV)  29"Come" he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came to Jesus.  30 But When he saw the wind, he was afraid and beginning to sink, he cried out "Lord, save me!"


Let me begin over again, again and again.  Allow me to remember that each day offers up this opportunity to me.  The gift is in the dawn of a new day.  It comes wrapped in sun light, or hidden in the clouds, but it comes... The choice is mine as to whether to unwrap it or leave it alone.  So, it is with the dawn of each new day that I fight to begin again. I fight to find my voice and be heard.  I fight the urge to fade away instead of allowing myself to take up space.  I want to honor my body, my mind, and most importantly my soul.  Can I except that I am where I am for a reason?  It would be so much easier to beat myself up beyond recognition for falling back into the eating disorder.  I am, after all, used to brutal punishment. There is some twisted irony that the anorexia leaves me unrecognizable, yet I want to beat myself up beyond recognition for embracing it once again.  Either way I am not recognized.

This morning I reach and open the gift of today and the opportunity to begin again.  I share my story without guilt or shame.  I do however; share the pain and toll it has taken on my body and soul.  I pause for a moment to pray.  I allow the Lord's grace and mercy wash away the transgression of taking my eyes off of him.  Like Peter in the storm, as soon as I looked away and became afraid, I began to sink.  I became quickly submerged beneath a torrent of swirling doubt and pain.  It wasn't raging waters that took me down, but simply rage. It is really a matter of faith. Can I allow him to wash away the eating disorder knowing that the pain, suffering, and rage it hides will be exposed?  I am scared of who I am without the anorexia.  It is like letting a piece of me go.

Today I find myself letting go (ever so slightly) of the idea that I and anorexia are one.  Instead of my identity being wrapped up in the eating disorder,  I gingerly unwrap the gift of today and the opportunity to begin again.  I feel the value in having the courage to tell my story.  My words are received as painful, yet powerful.  I use my voice and it is heard.  I find great power in exposing my weakness.  There is an acceptance I feel that this struggle is a part of the fabric of my being without defining who I am, or who I am becoming.

So, this is my opportunity to receive the gift of a chance to begin again today.  I think and search my inner most thoughts and being.  I pray for the Lord to give me revelations; to lead me on my way.  I think I want to turn back time and reclaim who I was a year ago.  I want to reclaim the emotional and physical strength that I have relinquished to the eating disorder, but I am not the same woman.  This experience has added value to the sum of my equation.  I am not the same, I am not  less, but I more. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" Since I am not dead, I can only assume it has made me stronger.

Falling

Falling

Free falling

While holding tight 

Loosing my footing

While climbing with might

Hiding in my darkness

I have taken my eyes off 

His light

Fading, sinking, drowning

I yearn to re-emerge 

No more by shrinking or fading away

By my own power I will surge

Rising to the surface

The current pulls me down

I fight, I kick, I gasp 

For air

Trying not to drown

I hear that drowning is peaceful

Like simply falling to sleep

I search for  strength 

I know I have

To rescue me from the deep

Discomfort

John 5:8 (NIV 84) "Then Jesus said to him, 'get up!'  Pick up your mat and walk"  Although not physically paralyzed like the man waiting for the waters to stir, there are days that I am emotionally paralyzed and unable to move.  It is in these days that I still must do what seems as impossible as the paralyzed physically walking; the simple act of eating and keeping it in.  Today feels like it is going to be one of those days.

My body feels thick and foreign to me even though my weight is still 8-10 lbs below my swan dive back into anorexia.  My gut hurts as I eat, and the discomfort and bloating feels unbearable.  It is dark, rainy, and gloomy outside of my window.  I just want to go back to bed until I feel the discomfort dissipate.  I feel like the day, gloomy and unpleasant.  How can I possibly nourish this uncomfortable body?  What shall I do to take care of my restless soul?  I am struggling  to keep a yogurt in my body.  How will I put anything else into it today?

So, I look to my Savior for the strength I don't have available from within my soul today to fight this demon.  I know that some days I have to work hard at taking care of myself, but today I can't do it.  I don't trust myself.  I don't trust my strength.  I turn to Jesus and try to focus on him because today feels too hard for me.  I need his strength to enhance what little strength I can muster up.  My hope rests in his strength to enhance my own. I need it not only to eat, but to help me tolerate the discomfort.  Although I need Him everyday and know I am never walking alone, today seems particularly difficult.

I sometimes get frustrated by the whole process of recovery.  I feel like if God wants me to be well, he should make at least the physical discomfort go away.  Maybe it is in these moments that I am to trust him the most, but all I feel is fear and doubt.  Much like the paralytic must have thought.  "pick up my mat and walk?  Yeah right!"  Yet that is just what he did.  Out of faith he picked up his mat and walked away.  Can I have the faith to, regardless of my fear and doubt, pick up my "mat" and walk away?  Can I eat and keep it in knowing that the discomfort will subside?  Can I let myself be comforted by his grace and mercy in the midst of my discomfort?

Peace

John 14:27 (NIV) 'Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid"

There are times when God speaks to me in bits and pieces.  Yesterday I Googled what God said about fear and  heard  " do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid " speak to me.  What I didn't hear until today was the first part of this verse.  "peace I leave with you; peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives."  Peace!  How did I miss this?  Not only does he want me to fear not.  He wants me to be at peace.  Right now there are so many things that  am not  a peace about.  My body, my food, my parents, my sister, and myself.  Yet there it is in the Word.  " Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you'
All I have to do is step out in faith and take that peace. One day a at a time.  How can I be so afraid of tomorrow when his grace was enough for me today.

This shouldn't be a great surprise that God spoke to me through the part of the verse that I missed.  Peace! He will be the healer of my body and soul. Peace, he promises me whether I weigh 110 lbs or 130lbs.  I hear his voice speak to me today.  I believe he is telling me that I will be fine where ever I land, or rather wherever He places me.

Fear

John 14:27 (NLT)  "Do not be troubled or afraid"  Easier said than done!  Today I am afraid of the weight that I have put on.  It feels as though it is coming on way too quickly and like I have lost control.  So, although God promises that we need not be troubled or afraid, I am more than afraid.  I am terrified.  I am uncomfortable.  I fear that my body will betray me and just become fat ugly and disgusting.

Today I was surprised to see that my weight was the same or even up a couple ounces since I ran 9 miles yesterday. I eat according to my meal plan but don't really compensate for the calories expended.  See it just proves that my body has taken on a mind of its own.  Oh why didn't I leave well enough alone?  At least I knew what my body was doing a year ago.  Now I have no idea of how it will respond to refueling.  I hope that the weight is muscle and not fat.  I have my body fat measured this week.  Will that reassure me that I am not just fat?  Will it confirm my greatest fear that I am losing control of the only thing that was under my power?

I have packed my size 1 jeans in my gym bag.  The ones I bought to get me through my loss, but now they are, well they are fitting.  I miss the way the hung on my frame only weeks ago.  I feel the fabric hug my thighs, although they still fit easily around my waist.  I am sure it is a matter of days before I won't wear them at all.  That was the plan.  I would wear them just until I regained the weight, my health and myself.  Now I feel like getting rid of them is getting rid of a part of me.  I don't know if I am ready to part with them.

Although my body seems foreign to me, I feel more like my old self even though I am definitely distracted by the discomfort of the weight.   I am stronger and no longer shake from the inside out.  I seem to be sleeping better.  My mind seems clearer and actually attached to my body, but still I am afraid and troubled.  I pray for peace; that He will not give me more than I can bare.  Continuing to nourish my body is a huge leap of faith.

Contradictions

Psalm 34:18 (NIV)  "The lord is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit"

I feel that the Lord has been close to me throughout this journey.  I feel him pulling for me not just to survive, but to thrive. I know that he sees how broken I have become because of my family of origin.  I know he sees how it breaks my heart that I want to love and be loved by them in a  manner that isn't possible.  He calls to me and draws me near.  I feel his presence as I pray and meditate on his word.  He is saving my crushed spirit and body one day at a time.  I am beginning to feel something in my soul shift. I have this vivid vision of him taking all my crushed spirit and broken pieces of my soul into his hands.  He rearranges them one piece at a time.  He places them back together carefully.  Stopping every so often to survey his handiwork and gazes upon his masterpiece.  He somehow uses the bits and pieces, the shards of my soul, to form a beautiful mosaic.  One that is brilliant in color and design.  One that captures light, and gives off light. I am His masterpiece! He is recreating me one day at a time.

I hold onto this vision, because the work before me is hard.  I remember a quote form the The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson "Praying hard is two dimensional:  Pray like it depends on God and work like it depends on you"  I know that I know God  can and will walk me out of this pit, but I also know I have to do some hard work.  I have hard relational work before me, and eating and taking care of my body is at times quite painful.  There is emotional  well as physical discomfort to work through day after day.

Today is one of those days that is full of contradictions and distortions.  I am sure that I can feel the weight creeping onto my body like an army of ants.  I feel thick and heavy.  I am terrified to step on the scale.  I cringe at the thought of the number rising. Yet, I am also afraid to see them go down.  I have given myself two choice "Dead or Deal".  I must work hard to eat, to tolerate the weight, or I now realize to not do this is essentially choosing death.

I step cautiously on the scale I am still up 4 lbs, but am surprised it isn't higher because I ate so well the past few days.  My body feels so much heavier today.  How can the same weight that felt tolerable yesterday feel like a lead jacket today.  I am on some level relieved that it isn't higher even though I know I have many more pounds to go.  It is hard to get well, and so appealing to stay sick. It is scary that after months of losing and hovering dangerously low, my body is now responding and gaining about 1 pound a week.  I am scared that it won't stop.  I fear that it has forgotten the set point it had thrived at for 20 years.

Last week I was disturbed by how thin I felt and looked.  This week I am disgusted by how fat I feel, and that after months of not purging, I purge.  Notice I don't say how fat I look.  This is partly because I just avoid mirrors.  Today, even with the extra weight, I see the veins exposed on my torso, legs, and arms.  How can my body appear so different than it feels?  Then upon a second glance I see the fat beginning to take over my once thin frame.  Which reflection is real?  Which is the illusion?

Despite the great discomfort of putting food into my body, I am feeling better.  This means that I have to admit to feeling pretty crappy at times.  It means that I must admit that I am not taking in enough to fuel my body, and that even though I eat I am starving MY body.  I guess that means I have earned the title of Anorexic!  Way to go!!

Today I have to really focus on just taking in the food.  I am feeling physically stronger, but today mentally weaker.  The physical discomfort becomes more than I can bare.   The fear of gaining too much weight overwhelms me.  I purge not all I have taken in, but enough to ease the pressure building in my body and my soul.

And I trust that God will take this new shard of me and replace it in the perfect spot to add to his masterpiece.  I pray that he will take the broken pieces of me that continue to fall (shame, guilt, self-loathing,and pain) and make them brilliant additions to his creation.

Crisis

Deuteronomy 30:19 "this day I call on the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. NOW CHOOSE LIFE so that you and your children may live"

Returning from Belize and seeing what I truly have done to myself brings me to a crisis point in which I need to decide if I am indeed willing to chose life over death.  My death.  Seeing my startling thin frame in the picture from Belize scared me and concerned me.  I am at a loss for how to remedy the whole weight and food issue in a way that feels safe to me, but doing nothing scares me even more.  I tell myself that I feel pretty good, but I really have no idea what damage I have truly done to my body.  So I "throw in the towel" and make an appointment to see a sports nutritionist.  Funny how I see taking steps to take care of myself feels like a surrender and not a move of self care and empowerment.

There is a part of me that feels like I need to make sure I am light and lean enough before I go into the appointment.  There is a part of me that is still so convinced that I am just fine.  I am a lean athlete.  i am surprised and scared by the results.  My weight is 2lbs away from hospitalization and my 7% body fat is 7.5 % below what is considered dangerous for women.  I am particularly surprised by these results as I had eaten well all weekend.  I had really tried to eat well and take better care of myself since returning from Belize.  Yet, still it is the story of my life, it isn't enough.  I feel betrayed by my body once again. I feel just like I did after each miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy.  I did everything right, but still lost my babies.  Now I am really trying to do everything right for my body, but I am losing it one pound at a time.

I am beyond terrified, and Kurt is convince that I have dropped more weight on purpose and have lied to him about not purging in weeks and eating well in Belize.  I am not lying and now feel more alone than ever.  What I needed was so compassion and empathy, but at least I got what I was used to...anger.

I get the anger because I am the person who is the most angry with me.   I am angry, sad, ashamed, and beyond disappointed with myself.  I feel as low as I have been through out this relapse and my therapist is sick.  I am not sure what to do with all that has happened.  I want to run away, scream, or just check out.  Then there is a part of me that is so pissed off that I NEED my therapist to help me figure out what the fuck to do now.  God I hate feeling dependent. I hate that I am literally mad at her for being sick.
I am convinced I am just a self absorbed bitch.  In reality I am am feeling scared and alone.  So, I just sit back and hope to survive the days or weeks until she is well.  I am good at suffering and really good at hiding it.

2lbs away from in patient?  The thought of this sends me walking through the next few days and weeks gingerly. I am  aware of every unusual sensation in my body convinced that I am ready to drop at any minute.  I am embarrassed at the thought of going into a hospital and I wonder if I look as sick on the outside to the public as I feel on the inside?

So it is at this juncture  that I decide that despite my grave fear of eating, keeping the food in and gaining the weight, I CHOOSE LIFE!  My life.  My mantra becomes DEATH or DEAL.  Deal with the weight, the discomfort of food in my gut, the bloating, resisting the urge to purge, the gaging down supplements, and decreasing my exercise.  I feel like I am giving up my life to save my life because I am really not sure who I am with out the eating disorder any more.

He Is Risen....

John 11:25-26 ( NIV ) "I am the resurrection and the life.  He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die"

Happy Easter! I open the paper and watch the news only to see Easter egg hunts, Easter bonnets, Easter bunnies, and of course Peeps!  I even see a report on a church the is holding a drawing to give away attendees a chance at $500.00 to encourage attendance.  All I can see is my Savior on the cross dying for my transgressions and all people.  That is enough to draw me into church to praise his holy name, and acknowledge that my God is not dead.  1 Corinthians 15:4 ( NIV ) " That he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the scriptures"

So it is by faith that I walk through each day.  My Lord lives.  It is by and through this faith that  HE has carried me through my life since the day I first believed as a nine year old. Even when I have chosen to try to walk alone, I see his hands in my life.  Hands that reach for me and desire to pull me in.  Hands that desire to carry the burdens that I was never meant to carry.  Hands that desire to heal my mind, body and soul.

So it was by faith in his opening of my eyes to what I had done to my body that I stepped out  into REALLY re-fueling my body and it is by faith that I continue to eat for nourishment despite my fear of the 4-5lbs I have gained.  I am fearful yet I know that I know He is faithful.

What a difference a year makes

Review

How did I get here,

Where did I go wrong?

Now there is weakness

Where once I was strong.

Fear fills the space 

Where courage once thrived

Now, I just hope this day to survive.

I feel my heart as it beats in my chest

The pounding seems loudest when I need to rest

I am aware of each heart beat as I try to sleep

While wiping the tears that fall on my sheets

Fear overwhelms me as like the ocean's waves swell

And I wonder to myself

Will I ever be well?

Happy Birthday to me!  Well, at least I survived the year.  Oh what I wouldn't give to back and have a do over for the past year.  Yet, I do not get a do over on this one. My mind, soul, and my body pay the consequences of stepping back into the eating disorder.  I fear every day that I have harmed my body beyond repair.  Although I say I feel ok, many days I do not, but to admit that to anyone, even my therapists feels like admitting defeat.  It would mean acknowledging that I am truly am sick, and that I need to allow my body to be nourished by more than I am taking in.  It means facing the fear of  letting go of the eating disorder and discovering what I am without it.  It means allowing myself to take up physical space.  It means reclaiming my body, mind, and soul.  Yet, I am not quite sure how to do it, as I am scared to death and scared of death at the same time.

I am haunted by a picture that was taken of me on the beach in Belize.  There is no denial now that I am very thin.  There it is on film, and I finally see what others see.  I look sick.  I look anorexic.  How did I let this happen?  How could I not really see my self fading away?

I was so deceived by it this time.  It was so easy.  I try to find the words to describe how the 47 year old anorexic, feels so much different than the 20 year old anorexic.  I don't fight hunger, I am just not hungry.  I don't make myself exercise, I HAVE to exercise.  I don't over eat and purge.  I just purge.  The disorder deceives me that I am not starving, but that I am just giving up "mindless eating".  I am rarely uncomfortable due to hunger, but am uncomfortable when I eat.  The problem is that I am uncomfortable in my own skin and afraid of who I really am.

Now, with the picture burned into my mind, I am scared.  I am in trouble, and it is time for me to stop working so hard in therapy to be mentally healthy, while going through the motions of physically taking care of myself.  What I really need to do is crawl out from under this false security blanket and allow God to show me who I am in Him.  I look back at how he used me to serve his people in Belize.  If he could use me in such a weakened  and flawed state, how much more could he use me healthy and well?  I marvel at how he mercifully opened my eyes to see myself, so that I could see him more clearly.

An Illusion

1John 4:18 " There is no fear in love.  But perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment.  The one who fears is not made perfect in love."

His love is perfect even though I am not.  To have faith in his love and allow his love is an ever present prayer on my lips.  It is so hard to accept love and believe you are lovable when the love you saw growing up seemed to be based on performance, striving, pleasing, and when you weren't "perfect"( what child is?) what you thought was love was replaced with not even discipline, but unreasonable punishment.  I guess that is where I learned to be so punitive with myself for simply being human.  I learned that being loved meant being hurt physically and mentally.  It was something to be given and then quickly snatched away.  Then I also realized that I was defenseless and no one ever jumped in to save me.  Was I not worth defending?

So, I basically learned to live out of fear, not love.  And now  each day I am afraid to eat, afraid to not eat, afraid to live, and afraid to die.  Well, actually I am not afraid of dying because I know where I am going and who I am going with.  I just don't want to die..yet.  But, I am beginning to feel the effects of my restricting and aggressive exercise.  Although, I am reluctant to admit this to anyone, especially myself.  And I certainly don't see myself fading away.  The reflection I see in the mirror is nothing like the one that brings more than one of my friends to tears.  Beside, I have been called by God to serve his people in Belize.  Why would he call me and allow it all to fall into place if I were too sick and weak?  And then I remembered his servants that were also weaker or reluctant to serve.  David took on Goliath.  Moses thought he wasn't up to the task.  And Mary was just a young innocent girl.  I began to wonder just what God really had in store for me in Belize.  Could I trust my heavenly father?  Yes, I will go and open myself to the work he will not only have me do, but do in me

It was just before this mission trip that God began to slowly open my eyes to how disillusioned I was with my parents.  I started to see how limited they were to love and defend me as a child.  Then he slowly began to open my eyes to what  really looked like one little glance at a time.

I had just finished showering after my last class before leaving in the morning to serve in Belize.  my weight has dipped and I justify it as a result of the excitement over the trip.  I still haven't really owned that I am deep into the eating disorder again.  But tonight as I glance in the mirror I see that I am not just thin, but very thin.  I close my eyes as if to erase the image.

When I open them the image is still there.   I look at the image, my image.  And for this brief moment I see how thin my frame has become.  There is a part of me that likes the lean thin frame before me.  I get a sense of pleasure as I watch the fibers of my muscles working directly beneath the surface of my skin unobstructed by any fat.  It gives me the same pleasure I feel when watching a thoroughbred race around the track. I love how their skin glistens with sweat and you can see the muscles straining just beneath the surface of their skin.  It fascinates me. My own image now,  not only fascinates me, but captivates me.  I am not sure if it was opening my eyes and seeing my father for who he is, or divine intervention that caused me to ever so briefly see what I have done to myself.

It is odd because I know the person in the mirror is me, but I do not look like myself.  Maybe it is the way the lights reflect off my ribs, my chest, and shoulders.  I have always had one raised rib just above my sternum.  I have always felt its subtle rise, but today I see not only this rib, I see all my ribs as the meet sharply at my sternum.  It startles me.  I close my eyes again and shift  positions in hopes that the vision was just an illusion caused by the angle of the light. I turn myself this way and that way.  I am sure that the image, my image, is just an illusion.

Wow, for this brief moment I see myself.  I am thin, very thin ( for me ).  For me?  I begin to ponder this statement. Yes, I am thin for me, but it really isn't me that I am thin to please.  Who's standard am using to measure whether or not I am too thin, too fat, or just right.  I glance back at what I have written.  I am very thin for me.  There it is. I suddenly see that I have veered away fro my own standard.  It is mine and no one's standard should matter.  Yet by being too thin for me, I am staying too thin for me.  It is where I feel safe, although not well. It is a place where I can appear to be as small and invisible as I feel.

I want to go back and trust in my own standards. The standards I had when I was solid and sturdy.  To know that when my husband hugs me tightly and it hurts my ribs that I am indeed too thin for me.  I am slowly growing tired of feeling small and invisible.  I want to speak with my voice, not my body.  I want to trust the voice of truth that God has given me.  I want  to trust and have faith that I can do all things through Jesus Christ who strengthens me.

Then I hear the Lord speak to me " Liz, do you want to be healed, do you want to be well?"  And I know that as much as I fear this disease, I also fear that giving it up is like giving up a part of me.  You see I really think I have forgotten how to live without it.  Maybe I am not too thin, maybe the reflection I saw was just an illusion.  I can only be healed when I am ready to admit how sick I am.

Ambivalence

In Deuteronomy 1:6 God speaks at Horeb,  The Lord our God said to us at Horeb, "You have stayed long enough at this mountain" NIV(1984)  Somehow I think his words speak to me as well.  I hear him saying"Liz, my dear, you have stayed here in this eating disorder long enough.  Trust Me to lead you off this mountain."  I want off this "mountain"!

It is now deep into the winter.  I feel lost and unsure of how to find my way back to solid ground.  I feel like I am off the marked trail of a mountain with snow falling and blowing with such vengeance that I can't even tell which way is uphill and which way is downhill.

I am sitting here running out of strength to fight my way out of this storm.  I have tried to fight my way out, but keep ending up in the  same place.  Do I keep moving, or is there some one out there that can rescue me?  Or maybe I am just going to have to make do with where I am.  Besides, I am really not THAT thin.  I weigh myself.  I knew I was over 110 lbs, but now I feel a strong desire to drop below it just to see if I can do it.  Oh, I won't stay there, but I  will just flirt with it.  Then, I will begin to seek health and wellness.  The problem lies in that I have forgotten how to be well.

What scares me is how easy it was to become sick and how easy it is to stay sick.  Am I really sick?  Do I have to have the physical manifestation of  the eating disorder to justify my need for emotional support and healing of my soul?  Could I possibly seek help for the emotional trauma and upheaval I feel without the symptoms of the eating disorder?  I push my therapist. "Tell me, tell me what I am"  I beg her.  I eat way too much ( in my eyes ) to me anorexic.  I don't binge and I purge only to rid myself of foods I feel I must eat just to appear normal.  Hell, for me a yogurt can be a binge if I must eat it when I don't want it. "You are anorexic" she says. " Well your exercise is your purge, so you are bulimic, but you don't binge"
I just want IT to have a name.  For some reason I think that if I know what I am fighting it will somehow be easier.  Then I just get pissed off and agitated as I realize this is just one more place that I don't fit in.  I am an anomaly even in the spectrum of eating disorders.

My goal weight (their goal weight) is 120 lbs. I agree to it, but today I don't own it. I have always been fiercely goal oriented.  So if this were My goal I would have met it by now.  I see the prize and I race towards it.  Today I am not really fighting for this goal.  I am afraid of it, and keep looking back at 110 lbs.  it would be so easy to reach if I really wanted to do it.  It has never been like me to take the easy way out.  Who would ever guess that restricting or self denial would be the easier choice?  Today the self denial feels easier.  It is like choosing to ski the green runs instead of the black diamonds.  Feeding my mind and body, today, feels like the challenge of the black diamonds.  Too risky!

So I am standing on the edge trying to decide which way to go.  I hover like a humming bird.  Only the humming bird stops just long enough to find its next source of nectar to sustain her.  I hover, think and debate, do I stop long enough to take in the sweet nectar of sustenance, or do I continue to hover....going nowhere.

Distortion

There is a reason why they use sleep deprivation on prisoners, because it is TORTURE!  As I drifted further into the eating disorder, sleep eluded me night after night.  I would fall asleep only to wake after 2-3 hours of sleep.  Once awake my mind would race like a rat running through a maze.  Sometimes I would run through thought after thought like the mouse on a straight away in the maze.  Then my mind, like the mouse would get stuck in the corner.  It would focus on one thought.  Most the time my mind would focus on my shame and pain of being here again. It is in this corner that I would beat myself up trying to figure out how I could never measure up.  I like the metaphor of the corner because that is where the eating disorder has put me. I was Like a child being punished, only I was the one punishing myself.  So in the dark night of sleeplessness, and probably hunger, I would literally beat my self up.  I would punch the walls, rock back and forth and throw myself on the floor like a child having a temper tantrum.  Sometimes it was all I could do to not bang my head into the wall in hopes that by knocking myself out, at least I would sleep.

Now looking back with a little more clarity, I wasn't literally beating myself just because of the sleep deprivation.  I was beating myself up because I was disgusted with my self.  Then I had to admit to
myself that is wasn't only at night that I would do this.  I would do this on "bad" days when I looked in the mirror.  You know?  That distorted eating disordered mirror.  I would pound on my, perceived, protruding belly, or claw at the "huge" thighs. I would pinch the "thick" spot on my back just above my hips to stop it from encroaching  to my waist.  Then when I was finished with the physical torture.  I would verbally turn on myself for both the "fat" that I let creep up on me, and then for physically hurting myself.  "You Bitch, you ugly fucking Bitch.  When are you going to get some control over this?  I hate you!!!!"

I am able to share this now because I know that  am not alone in this, and I know that this is really the eating disorder speaking out and acting out. You see, I am shifting ever so slightly into accepting me for me. I am a beautiful sacred creation of the Lord most high. I see the irony of beating myself up for not hurting myself enough through the starvation itself.  It is an odd concept for me to think about even as I write about it.  If only I had hurt myself more by fading further away, then I wouldn't have to beat myself up. Really?   If only I had been a better daughter, I wouldn't have been hit with that yardstick, or told I wasn't good enough.

I had, once again, taken over where my mother left off.  She wasn't the one poking me in my size 6 tennis skirt telling me you look a little thick in the waist, I was the one doing it.  Only now my size 6 is a 0.

It is through this shift that God speaks to me through His Word 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 ( NIV ) 19" Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?  You are not your own; 20 you were bought at a price.  Therefore honor God with your bodies."  He isn't speaking this to me today in judgement or condemnation, but believe as a gentle reminder to take care of his special creation because it is the dwelling place for my soul and His spirit.

It is never too late He promises me this. Philippians 1: 6(NIV)  "Be confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."

Is this ever so subtle shift the beginning of a good work in me?

Restoration

(NIV) Joel 2:25 " I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten..."  So it is in this that I rest my hope.  It is hope that that, yes I will recover, and hope that I will recover and see the good that has been clouded my the Eating Disorder through the years.  My hope is not only in this restoration of good memories lost, but they will cease to devour my remaining days, weeks, months and years.

Even the days of recovery are somehow still shrouded in, at the very least, a thin veil of the the eating disorder.  Can I really remember a time when my days weren't directed by how I felt about my body, when I was going to exercise, or what I was going to eat? I know that I had those days. Although the eating disorder was managed; it was always there.  And here is the reality, my reality, it will always be there, and that makes me scared, sad and overwhelmed.  Some days I am better at ignoring its call.  Other days I answer the call and acknowledge it presence.  Hell, I even let it in the door.

SO, maybe the valley I am walking through right now isn't a bad thing.  It is simply realizing that the demon has been hiding in the room the whole time.  Now it has made it presence  known.  I know where it hides.  Now that I see and acknowledged it,  can usher it out the door?  I am tired of the space it is taking up in my room? I am letting it take up more and more space while I apparently continue to take up less and less.  I say apparently because it isn't until God uses me in my weakest state to serve him that my eyes are opened.

Taste

Once again I ask that you will hang in there with me as my story unfolds.  Often I find myself looking back in review.  It is my way of not only sharing with you what it is like to live with this affliction, but also for me to see where I have been and where it is I want to go.

As I have said all along, this is a spiritual journey for me.  One that The Lord and I are walking together.
Psalm 34:8 "  Taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man who take refuge in him"  I find it ironic how often God uses references to food and partaking in it to teach us his love and guide us.

So today "TASTE"  There is something in this for me.  In my fear of food, taking too much in, and keeping it in, I have forgotten that food can taste and feel phenomenal.  It was meant for us to enjoy.  Just as his word was meant for us to feast on and savor as it nourishes our soul.  Now as I fight to eat and stay alive, I realize that I am just going through the motions.  I am just taking it in as a means of survival.
I just kind of put it in and hope that it is enough to nourish my body. I am not savoring the food.  I have forgotten, or fear tasting it. I am not permitted to experience pleasure, only pain. So, I don't pay attention to the texture, the flavor, the richness, the sweet, the salty, even the spice.  For now I am only aware of how hard it is to take it in.  Am I allowed to enjoy this simple experience once again?  DO I even remember what I like?

I walk through the market, which at sometimes feels like torture, trying to find something "safe" that I can eat, but that Kurt will enjoy.  Then I hear a whisper from my within me.  Liz "what would you enjoy if you weren't afraid?" I know almost immediately what I want.  I want a cheese burger.  A real burger with sharp cheddar cheese, ketchup and mayo.  I talk back to my self, but not audibly.( I am not quite that crazy). " No way!  I can't do that.  Not today as I didn't even workout. Come on Liz just give it a try.  Maybe it will be ok?   You won't know until you try it."

So what seems so simple for most.  I have a burger.  This is no easy task.  I want to just get it in, but then somewhere after the first bite I begin to not just eat it, but experience it.  I notice, the flavors.  The meat is tender, sweet, and rich.  The melted cheese coats the burger with a sharp and salty dimension.  The ketchup and Mayo (light), finish off.  And I put aside the pain of getting it in and allow myself to just enjoy each bite.  Bread and all.  Today I manage to take it in and enjoy it.  Tomorrow I may panic and wonder what I was thinking, but tonight I am ok.  I am proud of doing, for me, what seemed impossible on so many levels.

 Isn't that what we all do at times with our relationship with the Lord?  We go through the motions of quiet time, reading The Word, and praying.  We forget to "Taste" and savor our time with Him. We need to enjoy each word like a bite of a burger, then sit back and lick the remaining goodness off our fingers.  Full, but still looking forward to the next meal.

Homecoming

It is always difficult coming home in the fall.  There is a certain pain that rises in me when I realize another summer has come and gone.  I am particularly melancholy as I realize, with last glance at the cottage, how much I missed because of the eating disorder reclaiming my life.  Twenty years of recovery, and yet now I have become literally and figuratively  a shadow of myself.

I had come so far.  I had tackled this insidious beast.  I had beat it.  Then somehow, my fears, my doubts, my lack of faith, breathed life into what I thought I had slain.  Was the recovery real?  Was it all just "smoke and mirrors" distorting the eating disorder to just appear defeated?  Sometimes I feel like I am just all "smoke and mirrors"  never seeing who I really am, or allowing myself to truly be seen.  Fearing being just as I am may not be enough.

Coming home is hard because I am obviously thinner.  I can't hide that I am fading quickly into the eating disorder.  I have tried to hide it from my husband, my family, and my visitors.  I even tried to hide it from my closest friend that spent much of my summer with me.  She knows me too well, and knows that I won't lie to her of all people.  She asks me if I am restricting and/or purging.  My secret is out.  I tell her everything, from the restricting, to the endless hours of exercise often disguised as play.  I even let her in on the raw details of the purging.  My God, it was so easy to do because no one even suspected I had gone there again, and when I thought I would be found out; there was always the woods.  That is how ugly and powerful this becomes. I Knew I could always walk the dogs in the woods, purge come home and no one would be the wiser.  How classy?  How humiliating? How desperate had I become?  I wouldn't lie to her, but I asked her to keep my secret. That is how powerful the illness can become in such a short amount of time.

Still my husband says nothing.  There is no way he hasn't noticed.  How could he not wonder what was going on?  I think that he was afraid that acknowledging  it would give the disorder more power.  It would be real.  It would and did become an uninvited  menace in our marriage.  So I am forced to confess my sins of my summer.  I ashamed, and so disappointed in myself.  I broach the topic slowly.  I kind eased my way into it, yet I spare him the gory details of my repulsive behavior.  He isn't angry like I thought he would be.  He has faith in me and the fact that I have great faith in my new therapist.  His anger with me comes along later.

Coming home for both of us means coming home to our parents.  My mother is now actually sick.  I mean she always has one "ailment" or another, but this time it s real.  Dad has thyroid cancer in addition to the heart failure.  Kurt's dad is dying, and actually passes away shortly after we come home.
Today as I write this, I am heartbroken and ashamed that the eating disorder had consumed so much of my mind and soul, that I wasn't really present or available to comfort my grieving husband.

Coming home also means facing my therapist who is relatively new.  I had just started to see her in May to touch base every "once in a while".  One look at me and she would know that somewhere over the summer I had crossed the line.

Coming home meant facing the reality that I had let the eating disorder not only in the door, but allowed it to make itself at home.

Psalm 27:10

I love it when the Lord has a word just for me!  I spoke in my last post of my pain, stress and disappointment around my relationship with my parents.  Where is God and all this as I fight through this eating disorder once again.   Here is his reminder that I am not alone.  I have not been forsaken.  Psalm 27:10 " Though my mother and father forsake me, the Lord will receive me."  This was his gift to me today through my daily devotional reading.

I don't need to continue  to fade away from my parents to have them either leave me alone, or God forbid notice me.  He will receive me just as I am. Scared, lonely, sleepless, and, at this point nothing more than skin and bones.  But he knows who I am.  He knows what I was and what I can be again.  I am his.  And I know that I know that He will use my journey.  He will use my disappointments in my parents and in my self as a blessing.

Sacred Summers

My summers at the lake are always special. Dare I  say sacred.  It is the place I go to refresh my soul and connect with those  love most.  I didn't plan well and it became  an endless stream of people in the door then out.  I was constantly changing beds, cleaning, and preparing for the next round of visitors.  It wasn't so much the physical preparation of the cottage as the mental preparation for all the different personalities staying under our roof!

The hardest personalities, of course being my parents.  I find it hard to figure out why they even want to come up.  My mother sits in a chair and wait for someone to wait on her.  She hassles the kids constantly, but denies this even when confronted directly about it.  Dad just isn't well and probably shouldn't be traveling.  My brother and his family are disappointed that they have to share their time with my parents.  And then there is the complaining.  Nothing seems good enough for any of them, except Leslie and her family.  I feel taken for granted and unappreciated in my own home.

I didn't realize how much I was dreading my parents descending upon me. Until they decided not to come.  I realize now that I was hoping by the time they arrived I my weight loss would scare them into behaving; into being nice to me and the children.  I was unconsciously hoping that my body could say what I had been trying to say for years.  "you are too much for me.  I can't fix you, your finances, I can't make you happy.  Dear God I can't jump through anymore of your hoops.  I am exhausted.  I am done. I have allowed you to suck the joy and life out of me, and now I am left having to revive myself."

You see, even though they didn't come, I had gone too far.  My eyes are empty, lifeless and void.  I am restless and sleep eludes me night after night.  I had stepped over that thin line.

I have stayed in this place a little, turns out a lot, longer than I usually do before I turn things back around.  Why does something so potentially harmful feel so quieting and oddly comforting.  I feel as though I am retreating deep into myself while disconnecting with those around me.  I have missed out on so much joy, connecting and  living these past eight months.  It break my heart to think of the moments that have been lost to the haze of the eating disorder.  The good, the sad, the bad are all covered in this haze.  It is lonely, yet engaging at the same time.  I know it really isn't about my food, or my body.  Hell, I don't even really see how thin I truly have become.  It is about power, control, and some how punitive.   What am I worthy of?

 Oh, it wasn't all bad.  I did have some good times.  At times I was sure I was beginning to snap back to life, but then I would stumble right back into the snare. I find it amazing that as I continued to fade away, no one said anything.  Maybe that is why I kept stumbling.  Did they not see it?  Did they not care enough to stop me?  And where is God in all this?  Ah yes, I am the one who walked away and lacked the faith that He would carry me.  So summer came and went and I continued to fade away like the sun dropping beneath the horizon;  the light giving way to darkness.