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?
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, April 23, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, April 13, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, April 6, 2012
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.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
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.
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.
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