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.