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.
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