Deuteronomy 30:15 ( NLT ) " Now listen! Today I am giving you a choice between life and death, between prosperity and disaster."
Each day I wake I am choosing between life and death. Taking up space or fading away, or staying somewhere in the middle. I am waiting for God to reach down and transform my mind so that I k ow longer fear the very thing that sustains me or the weight that comes along with it. Faith Liz, where is your faith? Each day I chose to walk in the eating disorder instead of His truth, I am choosing the eating disorder over him. I am saying this is what makes me feel safe. This is what makes me powerful ( while becoming weak ). I am tired of fighting the battle to eat by faith even though my body responds to the food with pain and discomfort. So, yes I am angry with God! If I am to eat why then are you making it so difficult to eat. I am so frustrated, I am depressed and I go through a period of questioning not just God, but is he even who he says he is? Even he even there?
I panicked! If he isn't there, then I am out here fighting this alone. I made calls to my pastor daily, and began to re-read apologetic literature, historical references, and yes the Bible. What I needed was evidence that He was there, because I couldn't imagine a Loving God allowing me to suffer so emotionally or physically. I see now that he was using this crisis of faith to grow, me and prepare me to be filled with the Holy Spirit, and hear his still small voice over the booming voice of my past telling me I was never enough and would never be enough.
During this time my weight went up, it went down, never lower than 112 lb's, never higher than 117 lb's and my body fat hovered around 10-12 %. Okay God, " I need my tangible evidence. I need my equivalent to Moses' burning bush. I need it now before I go off to Belize to be your servant." This was my plea over and over again.
God showed me his face as I, despite my questions, continued to seek it. Through words spoken directly to me through my own writing, and through baptism in the Holy Spirit, and receiving the gift of praying in Tongues. I went to Belize, not only as a believer in Christ, but spirit filled as well.
I hoped this this would be the final piece of my healing puzzle, but God had more to do with me, and I suppose I had more to do with Him because I was not suddenly healed. I felt great while on the mission trip, but as soon as the plane landed back in Cincinnati the pain the gas, the bloating the anguish over eating.......was rearing its' head with a vengeance.
And so the battle raged on. I was in a spiritual battle, and a battle against my own body and mind. I also found my self battling my therapist as I believed, and still do believe God can completely heal this.
Acts 3:16 "By faith in the name of Jesus, this man whom you see and know was made strong. It is Jesus name and the faith that comes through Him that has Completely healed him as you can see."(NIV) I chose this version because of the word COMPLETELY. Jesus can completely heal by faith even Anorexia which has the highest mortality rate of ANY psychiatric disorder and limited recovery rate.
God, like I said, speaks at times through my writing, through listening for his voice. Each time I chose the eating disorder over him, I hear him telling me "Liz, stop undoing what I am trying to do!" Have faith in me not the purging, not the restricting.
I find myself struggling some days to eat because of the discomfort, and on the good days fighting the urge to purge fearing that I have taken too much in. Yet I believe that despite the fact the anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder and limited recovery rate that Jesus will heal me completely, despite the fact that even as I write this I have purged a little today. I am disappointed that I fall to this as God has been so good to me on this trip and my gut has handles a great variety of foods. Today I enjoyed a grilled sandwich for lunch, and a large cookie from the bread store. I really didn't think about it. I just ate it and enjoyed it. So, it wasn't until dinner and it was a safe and heathy meal that I feel like I need to get rid of just enough...... I want to cry, I want to take it back. I don't need this any more. I still believe in his promise of Acts 3:16
I see it coming, but I hear God telling me that I still have work to do, it isn't work to earn grace or healing, but stepping out in faith. 121...I keep seeing and hearing this number. I sense that this is my goal weight. If I get there then my healing will become complete. God speaks to me " So for now, rejoice in your suffering. I've got this in MY hands, leave your hands off your body. Eat by faith, even when you don't feel like it. Keep seeking, keep thanking, come to me on prayer when it gets too much. I will carry you through it all. Trust, trust, trust. I promise I will not forsake you. This pain will be used for me glory. Wait and see. If I had healed you completely when you begged me and I told you patience, the time isn't right, would you know me more and have been reunited with your pastor and baptized in my spirit? There will be healing and revelation, but you my precious one must do some of the work. Again, not for grace, love and mercy (you already have that) but as an act of faith and trust. I love you Liz, I really do, trust me"
I fear letting Kurt, my pastor or my therapist know that I have struggled these past few weeks with purging. It is small and just a little pressure release, but I know it isn't ok, and I feel guilty and remorseful (as I always do). I remind myself there is no condemnation in Christ. I am human and I will slip and fall, but he is there to pick me up and let me lay it all down at his feet. I am starting to see that I may break down, but I am not broken, but made whole my Lord.
So, now you are pretty much up to date with my past year. Oh and it wasn't all bad. My son was married a few weeks ago. God showed me that I can have fun again and experience joy! It was a weekend filled with joy, blessings, and being with those I love and those that love me. I soaked it like a sponge filling every nook and cranny of my heart and soul. I plan to savor it, and experience it again and again as I trust and and let God fill the space that is left as I evict the eating disorder one day at a time. Today I chose to let the eating disorder in the door, tomorrow I can hear its knocking, but chose to not answer the door.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Unbelief/Disbelief
"What do you mean, if I can?" Jesus asked, "anything is possible if a person believes."
The father instantly cried out, "I do believe, but help be overcome my unbelief" Mark 9:23-24 ( NLT )
It really isn't too difficult to catch you up on my story because basically I survived one miserable day after another. Each day I would open my eyes hoping this would be the day of my healing from the gut issues and then the eating disorder could be addressed as my system could actually tolerate food. It didn't happen, although my pastor keeps telling me that I really am going to be ok, and that God is working a deeper understanding in me of who he is and his great love for me. I remained angry with God, and my self more days than not. " Really, really God? This is how you are showing me how much you love me???" I felt more like he was mocking me. Yet I did stay in the word, and continued to learn from my pastor more and more about God's character and the love that he has for me. I have to be honest my head knowledge of his love for me was far ahead of my heart knowledge. I also had a hard time believing that My Pastor and his wife truly loved me and wanted to spend time with me. How could they want to spend time with me? I was angry, bitter, and depressed. How could they possibly desire a relationship with me? Heck I didn't even want to be with me.
It was also at this time that I really began to miss my dad. He never called to see how I was, and our lunch dates became few and far between. I was so disappointed that he had time to be with his secretary, and help her out with her new baby while his own baby was slipping away to the Eating Disorder and the daily pain in my gut. Speaking of gut....my gut instincts told me he was involved with something inappropriate, but at the time wasn't quite sure what. I felt compelled to call him and I needed him to ask for my forgiveness for not protecting me as a child. He said"you have no idea the things that I need forgiveness for and I don't deserve it" Still I persisted, and he eventually ask for it and I gave it to him. I also told him what I needed from him. It wasn't much. A phone call, stopping by for coffee, maybe lunch. I told him how close I'd come to the hospital because of both the eating disorder, and the cloud of depression that threatened my life. He didn't call. We had lunch only if I called him. I saw him Thanksgiving Day, because I hosted. I dind't hear from him again until December. He needed to borrow 8,000.00 dollars. I was crushed. I told him, "no! I would feel like I was prostituting myself by giving you the money when all I wanted was a phone call!" Now I was convinced he was involved in something illegal, inappropriate, or immoral.
By December the doctor treated for a possible parasite I may have picked up in Belize, then a small bowel overgrowth, and finally said IBS learn to live with it. Oh and I also cut out gluten, dairy, eggs and peanuts from my diet. Nothing seemed to help. I pleaded to God to heal me or take me home. God had already given me more than I could handle of that I was sure. And now, my hero my dad had forsaken and abandoned me when I needed him most. God answered my plea, but not with any sudden healing, but a simple message. "Liz, take refuge in my arms, in my house, with me people. I love you, my people love you. You are mine. Remember though your parents have forsaken you, you my precious one belong to me. Let me be the one to hold you. You will be okay this I promise you. I am your father, and this daddy has never will never forget you are his baby, his darling little girl" I took solace in this message for a period of time, then as my symptoms persisted I fell apart behaving like a little girl throwing a temper tantrum. Challenging God, "Do you love me now"
We were scheduled to go on a cruise with the kids and friends. I sat on the floor the night before rocking in pain and frustration. Kurt was reaching his limits and said we should just cancel. I couldn't do that to the others going. No, I can feel like crap on a boat as easily as my home. I prayed and woke in the morning the first words out of my mouth were "ok God show me your glory" and although not perfect of normal, he did. I had fun, felt ok and was hoping I was turning a corner. Then I panicked as I realized if my gut gets better, I have to meet the eating did order head on.
My mind jumps to the present and I wonder if my subconscious is that strong causing my symptoms and giving the excuse I need to restrict? I have some more good days. Days that feel almost normal, but then I'll have some horrible days. How is my fear of weight, connected to my symptoms. Give me revelation my Lord!
Some time between Christmas and Belize, I began to let go of my anger with God because I was beginning to not only doubt him, but if he was even real. So now I was facing unbelief and as I discovered more about my dad, disbelief. How could he do this to me, to our family, to himself?
The father instantly cried out, "I do believe, but help be overcome my unbelief" Mark 9:23-24 ( NLT )
It really isn't too difficult to catch you up on my story because basically I survived one miserable day after another. Each day I would open my eyes hoping this would be the day of my healing from the gut issues and then the eating disorder could be addressed as my system could actually tolerate food. It didn't happen, although my pastor keeps telling me that I really am going to be ok, and that God is working a deeper understanding in me of who he is and his great love for me. I remained angry with God, and my self more days than not. " Really, really God? This is how you are showing me how much you love me???" I felt more like he was mocking me. Yet I did stay in the word, and continued to learn from my pastor more and more about God's character and the love that he has for me. I have to be honest my head knowledge of his love for me was far ahead of my heart knowledge. I also had a hard time believing that My Pastor and his wife truly loved me and wanted to spend time with me. How could they want to spend time with me? I was angry, bitter, and depressed. How could they possibly desire a relationship with me? Heck I didn't even want to be with me.
It was also at this time that I really began to miss my dad. He never called to see how I was, and our lunch dates became few and far between. I was so disappointed that he had time to be with his secretary, and help her out with her new baby while his own baby was slipping away to the Eating Disorder and the daily pain in my gut. Speaking of gut....my gut instincts told me he was involved with something inappropriate, but at the time wasn't quite sure what. I felt compelled to call him and I needed him to ask for my forgiveness for not protecting me as a child. He said"you have no idea the things that I need forgiveness for and I don't deserve it" Still I persisted, and he eventually ask for it and I gave it to him. I also told him what I needed from him. It wasn't much. A phone call, stopping by for coffee, maybe lunch. I told him how close I'd come to the hospital because of both the eating disorder, and the cloud of depression that threatened my life. He didn't call. We had lunch only if I called him. I saw him Thanksgiving Day, because I hosted. I dind't hear from him again until December. He needed to borrow 8,000.00 dollars. I was crushed. I told him, "no! I would feel like I was prostituting myself by giving you the money when all I wanted was a phone call!" Now I was convinced he was involved in something illegal, inappropriate, or immoral.
By December the doctor treated for a possible parasite I may have picked up in Belize, then a small bowel overgrowth, and finally said IBS learn to live with it. Oh and I also cut out gluten, dairy, eggs and peanuts from my diet. Nothing seemed to help. I pleaded to God to heal me or take me home. God had already given me more than I could handle of that I was sure. And now, my hero my dad had forsaken and abandoned me when I needed him most. God answered my plea, but not with any sudden healing, but a simple message. "Liz, take refuge in my arms, in my house, with me people. I love you, my people love you. You are mine. Remember though your parents have forsaken you, you my precious one belong to me. Let me be the one to hold you. You will be okay this I promise you. I am your father, and this daddy has never will never forget you are his baby, his darling little girl" I took solace in this message for a period of time, then as my symptoms persisted I fell apart behaving like a little girl throwing a temper tantrum. Challenging God, "Do you love me now"
We were scheduled to go on a cruise with the kids and friends. I sat on the floor the night before rocking in pain and frustration. Kurt was reaching his limits and said we should just cancel. I couldn't do that to the others going. No, I can feel like crap on a boat as easily as my home. I prayed and woke in the morning the first words out of my mouth were "ok God show me your glory" and although not perfect of normal, he did. I had fun, felt ok and was hoping I was turning a corner. Then I panicked as I realized if my gut gets better, I have to meet the eating did order head on.
My mind jumps to the present and I wonder if my subconscious is that strong causing my symptoms and giving the excuse I need to restrict? I have some more good days. Days that feel almost normal, but then I'll have some horrible days. How is my fear of weight, connected to my symptoms. Give me revelation my Lord!
Some time between Christmas and Belize, I began to let go of my anger with God because I was beginning to not only doubt him, but if he was even real. So now I was facing unbelief and as I discovered more about my dad, disbelief. How could he do this to me, to our family, to himself?
Friday, July 12, 2013
With Me
Mark 5:30 " Jesus realized at once that the healing power had gone from him, so he turned around in the crowd and asked ' who touched my robe?' "( NLT )
With Me
It goes with me wherever I go
Following like a haunting fragrance of the past
Or before me like my shadow
It is hidden
It is visible
Yet, it goes with me wherever I go
I can push it away
For a moment
For a day
Still, it goes with me wherever I go
I can swat it like
A buzzing bee
Only to miss
And feel its' sting
It wounds me as it goes with me wherever I go
It calls for me
It wants to be heard
I tune out
By tuning it in
It beckons me as it goes with me wherever I go
I bury it deep
In the cracks of my mind
And the crevices of my soul
It digs and it digs
Clawing its' way to the surface
Gasping for air
wanting to thrive
Over and over again
It is persistent as it goes with me wherever I go
When I don't run back to catch it
Somehow it catches up with me
It is sneaky as it goes with me wherever I go
It is time to send it on its' way
Far enough that it can't go with me wherever I go
Like a security blanket
I can't part with it
so I tuck it away
I need to know where it is
If it is not going with me wherever I go
I may need to find it
Run my fingers along the edges that are frayed
Allowing it to comfort me again
Or...It can remind me that I have grown
By simply touching his robe.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Fear and Desperation
I sit watching the sun continue to rise over walloon, knowing that I will return home for a week or two before I will see the splendor of God's gift of this place once again. I was hoping to catch up more on my blog so that I could start writing in the present. The real miracle is that I am here at all.
I had hit the point of utter despair as each and every day I expected to feel better, but did not. I began to really question God. I was a woman of faith that was quickly losing her faith and basically losing it all together. Had God abandoned me? Was he punishing me? Was this my own doing by stepping back into the eating disorder? Maybe the physical symptoms were a result of starving and asking to much of my body? Was my mind causing my symptoms because hidden deep in my psyche was the fear of the weight and recovering? Somehow I made it through day after day wanting to just curl up, go to sleep and never wake up. By the end of September I was able to pull off my teaching in both the classroom and the gym, but behind my closed doors, I was falling deeper in to the depression, anger at God and myself, and my therapist insisted that enough was enough. She asked me to please go on meds, and if I was suicidal. " No" I told her "I really don't think I could take my own life, but was ready go home to God if he would take me." I am not sure how convinced she was? I agreed to try the meds again.
I just wanted to feel well, feel normal, eat without fear of the discomfort, and with out the fear food because of the eating disorder. I felt like I was in a place that I wanted to be done with the eating disorder, and now it physically hurt to eat. Then as I was shaking my fist at God, it dawned on me that Satan is real and he wants to throw stumbling blocks in our paths. In my case it felt like boulders of granite, not mere blocks. But I had no idea how to fight this physically, emotionally, or spiritually.
It was around the end of October that, as I was reaching the end of my rope. The Wellbutrin was taking the desperation down to despair, but the meds prescribed to take the edge off of what they were now calling irritable bowel syndrome, or IBS, made me feel like I was in a drug induced stupor trying to fake my way through the day. Needless to say, I went off the drug. I'd rather be curled up in pain than live disconnected from myself and the rest of humanity. I seriously felt like driving into a wall, or calling the squad to come get me before I hurt my self. Yet, the slow death of the eating disorder was somehow okay? Although it wasn't like putting a gun to me head, or slitting my wrists, the end result if not physical death, is hardly living!
I was starting to see that this was not just a physical battle but a spiritual battle. I needed help beyond cognitive therapy, or medication. I needed and advocate to show me how to fight my life long demons and lies I believed about myself. I began sharing with a friend a the club. I knew she was a believer, and I knew he husband pastored a church, and had lead Young Life with my father when I was a child.
She suggested I sit and have them pray for me. I expected a simple prayer of healing and I would be on my way. What I received was a safe loving couple that cared for me and began to show be that God was in this from the day I was conceived. He loved me and would work this for the good. I was, of course skeptical. I had been a Christian for years, but my view of who he was, was tainted by the way my parents had treated me. How Could the God of all the universe love and care about me, when my own parents didn't seem to love and cherish me.
I felt abandoned and punished. Yet, I didn't know why. I told my pastor and his wife words that I felt God had given me as I cried one morning begging for God to heal me or take me home. Keep in mind, that I wanted to physically and emotionally be healed, but wanted to hold on to my frailty. "Patience my child. I will take care of this. The time isn't right. There is a reason it is still and deep. Trust me. Just be. When you are stronger."
"Liz, look at he Petoskey stone I sent you. It is my promise that you will be okay." Said the Lord.
I answered, ''Lord, it would be such a relief to just trust you, to just be......I look at he Petoskey stone you sent me. I love that it is oddly shaped, but somehow reminds me of a throne and its' edges are jagged. It is not perfect, or polished like the ones for sale in the stores. No, it is like me; incompletely formed. Its' design only seen when moistened with water, like you life giving rivers of water. John 7:38 "Whoever believes in me, as scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them" It is the Lord's river of living water that flows through me revealing my intricate design, and my purpose. "Believe this Liz!' And by the way, you are more solid thane you think. Look at the stone, feel the weight of it, hold it in your hand. See and feel it. That is you. And even though the base is uneven, see how it sits and doesn't tumble. Notice that it wobbles. but only in one direction. It doesn't move from the other side, Which direction are you focusing on, the weak or the strong?"
So, I began meeting with My pastor and his wife at least once a week. They began to love me and think of me as one of their own. Both also felt(feel) that god will completely heal me. I worry that I won't live to see the healing of the eating disorder, the depression, of the IBS. I can't count how man times would call him in tears fearing I was not going to make it. If God didn't take me home.......
well?????
I was afraid, Kurt was afraid that I would implode and not purposely take my own life, but in one of my melt downs of despair hurt myself beyond repair. We spent most of the fall and winter walking a thin line between life and death. If the eating disorder itself didn't take me out, my reaction to my physical discomfort would. I was counting on God to heal me, or to take me home.
Every day was a struggle to eat by faith even when I was fearful and in pain, but I fel that this what God was asking of me.
I had hit the point of utter despair as each and every day I expected to feel better, but did not. I began to really question God. I was a woman of faith that was quickly losing her faith and basically losing it all together. Had God abandoned me? Was he punishing me? Was this my own doing by stepping back into the eating disorder? Maybe the physical symptoms were a result of starving and asking to much of my body? Was my mind causing my symptoms because hidden deep in my psyche was the fear of the weight and recovering? Somehow I made it through day after day wanting to just curl up, go to sleep and never wake up. By the end of September I was able to pull off my teaching in both the classroom and the gym, but behind my closed doors, I was falling deeper in to the depression, anger at God and myself, and my therapist insisted that enough was enough. She asked me to please go on meds, and if I was suicidal. " No" I told her "I really don't think I could take my own life, but was ready go home to God if he would take me." I am not sure how convinced she was? I agreed to try the meds again.
I just wanted to feel well, feel normal, eat without fear of the discomfort, and with out the fear food because of the eating disorder. I felt like I was in a place that I wanted to be done with the eating disorder, and now it physically hurt to eat. Then as I was shaking my fist at God, it dawned on me that Satan is real and he wants to throw stumbling blocks in our paths. In my case it felt like boulders of granite, not mere blocks. But I had no idea how to fight this physically, emotionally, or spiritually.
It was around the end of October that, as I was reaching the end of my rope. The Wellbutrin was taking the desperation down to despair, but the meds prescribed to take the edge off of what they were now calling irritable bowel syndrome, or IBS, made me feel like I was in a drug induced stupor trying to fake my way through the day. Needless to say, I went off the drug. I'd rather be curled up in pain than live disconnected from myself and the rest of humanity. I seriously felt like driving into a wall, or calling the squad to come get me before I hurt my self. Yet, the slow death of the eating disorder was somehow okay? Although it wasn't like putting a gun to me head, or slitting my wrists, the end result if not physical death, is hardly living!
I was starting to see that this was not just a physical battle but a spiritual battle. I needed help beyond cognitive therapy, or medication. I needed and advocate to show me how to fight my life long demons and lies I believed about myself. I began sharing with a friend a the club. I knew she was a believer, and I knew he husband pastored a church, and had lead Young Life with my father when I was a child.
She suggested I sit and have them pray for me. I expected a simple prayer of healing and I would be on my way. What I received was a safe loving couple that cared for me and began to show be that God was in this from the day I was conceived. He loved me and would work this for the good. I was, of course skeptical. I had been a Christian for years, but my view of who he was, was tainted by the way my parents had treated me. How Could the God of all the universe love and care about me, when my own parents didn't seem to love and cherish me.
I felt abandoned and punished. Yet, I didn't know why. I told my pastor and his wife words that I felt God had given me as I cried one morning begging for God to heal me or take me home. Keep in mind, that I wanted to physically and emotionally be healed, but wanted to hold on to my frailty. "Patience my child. I will take care of this. The time isn't right. There is a reason it is still and deep. Trust me. Just be. When you are stronger."
"Liz, look at he Petoskey stone I sent you. It is my promise that you will be okay." Said the Lord.
I answered, ''Lord, it would be such a relief to just trust you, to just be......I look at he Petoskey stone you sent me. I love that it is oddly shaped, but somehow reminds me of a throne and its' edges are jagged. It is not perfect, or polished like the ones for sale in the stores. No, it is like me; incompletely formed. Its' design only seen when moistened with water, like you life giving rivers of water. John 7:38 "Whoever believes in me, as scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them" It is the Lord's river of living water that flows through me revealing my intricate design, and my purpose. "Believe this Liz!' And by the way, you are more solid thane you think. Look at the stone, feel the weight of it, hold it in your hand. See and feel it. That is you. And even though the base is uneven, see how it sits and doesn't tumble. Notice that it wobbles. but only in one direction. It doesn't move from the other side, Which direction are you focusing on, the weak or the strong?"
So, I began meeting with My pastor and his wife at least once a week. They began to love me and think of me as one of their own. Both also felt(feel) that god will completely heal me. I worry that I won't live to see the healing of the eating disorder, the depression, of the IBS. I can't count how man times would call him in tears fearing I was not going to make it. If God didn't take me home.......
well?????
I was afraid, Kurt was afraid that I would implode and not purposely take my own life, but in one of my melt downs of despair hurt myself beyond repair. We spent most of the fall and winter walking a thin line between life and death. If the eating disorder itself didn't take me out, my reaction to my physical discomfort would. I was counting on God to heal me, or to take me home.
Every day was a struggle to eat by faith even when I was fearful and in pain, but I fel that this what God was asking of me.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Pain and scars
So, as I sit her today and write I have come so far, yet have so far to go. I have ventured out of my comfort zone professionally, socially, with my rituals, food, and, faith but not quite so much with my body.
I spent the last school year working in the Junior High schools and Senior High schools on the surrounding suburban schools of Cincinnati. I work for a non-profit teaching teens a three day abstinence based sex education class. I love working with the young people and I love that I am basically getting paid to do God's work. I truly believe from, not only a moral point of view, but for physical and emotional reasons this is the healthiest, and wisest choice. God has also used it to challenge my belief that I am too far entrenched in this eating disorder to ever change. I have read so much about the plasticity of the brain, and how it is moldable well into adulthood, even into advanced middle age. It gives me a sense of hope that my brain can move beyond the trauma of my childhood and the lies that I have believed about myself all these years. I also think that I owed it not only to myself, but to my students to present myself as a healthy role model by keeping my weight stable. I wish I could say that I reached the magic goal weight of 121lbs, but I was proud that I wasn't losing.
Not losing became harder than even I could have imagined. Some time in August my body once again began to betray me. Every time I ate I became so uncomfortable with bloating, gas, and pain. ( I will spare you the details), but this impacted everything I did from eating to going out, and even my work.
Once again I became so angry with God. What are you doing to me Lord? I am willing to eat. I want to recover and now my body rebels against almost every thing I put in it. So, began the rounds to doctors, naturopaths, acupuncture, energy work, and now psychiatrist to treat the depression that grew bigger and bigger each day as my body betrayed me.
I couldn't take the bloating and began to loathe my body more than ever before. I would try to live with the discomfort thinking that each day it would subside. Each day my hope quickly dissolved into despair. I could only take so much before I would implode. it usually started with pressing on my abdomen to press the bloat away. The I would grow angry that my body, once again couldn't do the most primal task of eating. I would sadly begin to punch at my gut hoping that like punching bubble wrap it would eventually pop. When that didn't work, I would claw at my gut begging God to take it away, or take me away. I would eventually dissolve into tears rocking, shaking and crying out to God "I can't do this anymore, I can't do this any more, I can't do this anymore, over and over again. Kurt, both my therapists and others feared I would take my life. I don't think I was suicidal because as much as I hated myself, my body, I loved my family. Yet, if he chose to take me home, then I was ready to go. I just wanted the pain and discomfort to stop, and when it didn't I could distract myself by hurting my self. To my own horror, I today bear the scars from my own hands. And I was losing faith in myself and my God.
I spent the last school year working in the Junior High schools and Senior High schools on the surrounding suburban schools of Cincinnati. I work for a non-profit teaching teens a three day abstinence based sex education class. I love working with the young people and I love that I am basically getting paid to do God's work. I truly believe from, not only a moral point of view, but for physical and emotional reasons this is the healthiest, and wisest choice. God has also used it to challenge my belief that I am too far entrenched in this eating disorder to ever change. I have read so much about the plasticity of the brain, and how it is moldable well into adulthood, even into advanced middle age. It gives me a sense of hope that my brain can move beyond the trauma of my childhood and the lies that I have believed about myself all these years. I also think that I owed it not only to myself, but to my students to present myself as a healthy role model by keeping my weight stable. I wish I could say that I reached the magic goal weight of 121lbs, but I was proud that I wasn't losing.
Not losing became harder than even I could have imagined. Some time in August my body once again began to betray me. Every time I ate I became so uncomfortable with bloating, gas, and pain. ( I will spare you the details), but this impacted everything I did from eating to going out, and even my work.
Once again I became so angry with God. What are you doing to me Lord? I am willing to eat. I want to recover and now my body rebels against almost every thing I put in it. So, began the rounds to doctors, naturopaths, acupuncture, energy work, and now psychiatrist to treat the depression that grew bigger and bigger each day as my body betrayed me.
I couldn't take the bloating and began to loathe my body more than ever before. I would try to live with the discomfort thinking that each day it would subside. Each day my hope quickly dissolved into despair. I could only take so much before I would implode. it usually started with pressing on my abdomen to press the bloat away. The I would grow angry that my body, once again couldn't do the most primal task of eating. I would sadly begin to punch at my gut hoping that like punching bubble wrap it would eventually pop. When that didn't work, I would claw at my gut begging God to take it away, or take me away. I would eventually dissolve into tears rocking, shaking and crying out to God "I can't do this anymore, I can't do this any more, I can't do this anymore, over and over again. Kurt, both my therapists and others feared I would take my life. I don't think I was suicidal because as much as I hated myself, my body, I loved my family. Yet, if he chose to take me home, then I was ready to go. I just wanted the pain and discomfort to stop, and when it didn't I could distract myself by hurting my self. To my own horror, I today bear the scars from my own hands. And I was losing faith in myself and my God.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Acknowledgement
I find it hard to believe that it has been close to a year that I have posted on my blog. It isn't that I have had nothing to say or report on my journey to some kind of recovery from the eating disorder, but that my years has been one of distress and pain both emotional and physical. I wasn't sure at the time that I could actually share with people the reality of my life anymore, or the pain I was inflicting on my family as well as my self.
I spent most of the summer of 2012 fighting to feel a sense of normalcy return to my mind and body. Frankly, I was struggling with a depression that I wasn't sure I was going to make it through with or without medication. It was different than the summer before when I actually walked willingly back into the Anorexia/Bulimia( I am still not sure which label I fall under ). Then, I was withdrawn, numb, in denial, and using all my energy to hide my secret and to play the role of the happy wife, mother, and etc. I didn't feel the depression back then. I just didn't feel. The Anorexia was doing its' job. by mid summer 2012 I felt it, I heard it, I could no longer deny it to myself, my family, or my therapist. The depression was huge! It was real, although despite the reality of it, I somehow felt more alive and more connected just by acknowledging it. So now the depression and eating disorder on the same page.
It wasn't just the depression that was huge, so was the eating disorder. I still managed my food, weight, and exercise with a vengeance all the while trying to convince myself, family,therapists,and doctors that because my weight had stabilized at 113lbs -117lbs. I was fine because I no longer looked frail and weak. My therapist and I would go around and around on this one. Oh, and the 117lbs scared me so much that I quickly dropped back to 112lbs. I was much more comfortable to hover at 112-115. Yet most the time I felt safe at the lower end of the range, and most thought I appeared so much better than the early months of 2012. I find such humor and confusion that the same people that were horrified by my 113lb frame when I came home from Michigan 2 years ago now think I look fine. So, I must be fine right? Not exactly.
Through out the summer of 2012 I struggled with numerous anxiety provoked health problems. Some insomnia, eye twitching, and Burning Mouth Syndrome. The hardest part through all this was believing that God had abandoned me because I had deliberately walked back into the eating disorder; therefore demonstrating disobedience, and a lack of faith.
I review my journals and find a common theme of hating my body woven throughout the text. I hated that it constantly seemed to betray, not just in the present, but through my past. It never did enough for me. It wasn't fast enough, strong enough, tall enough, smart enough, kind enough, faithful enough, thin enough, pretty enough. What was enough? I wasn't sure. I just knew in some way I wasn't enough and my body was the enemy, and if I could somehow at least be thin enough, the rest would fall into place.
So began my first battle with Anorexia and with my body. One that went untreated and became disguised by the fact that my family and friends saw me eat. What they didn't see me do was purge any meal the observed and pick my way through food the rest of the day. I had settled into believing that because I WAS eating, I wasn't sick. My parents, not wanting to look at how unhappy I was, or at themselves, lived contently in my denial. I was happy to let them.
I was also happy to let Kurt believe this as our friendship and dating lead to love and marriage. However, knowing I wanted children, and tired of living a lie, I confessed my struggle. This was so painful for me to acknowledge to myself as well as Kurt. So, began 10 years of working towards recovery.
Then the ultimate failure of losing 3 babies to miscarriage or ectopic pregnancies sealed the deal. My body couldn't do the most primal task of having babies. I felt like I was being punished by God and spent much of my time angry with him and my body. Somehow forgetting the blessings of the two boys I did have. (The oldest is 24 today.) Not that I for one second didn't love them and care for them with every ounce of my being, but forgot that God hadn't forsaken me, but blessed me beyond measure. Somehow through it all I was recovered and stable. I became comfortable with my body and my life for the next fifteen years. Or so I thought?
I spent most of the summer of 2012 fighting to feel a sense of normalcy return to my mind and body. Frankly, I was struggling with a depression that I wasn't sure I was going to make it through with or without medication. It was different than the summer before when I actually walked willingly back into the Anorexia/Bulimia( I am still not sure which label I fall under ). Then, I was withdrawn, numb, in denial, and using all my energy to hide my secret and to play the role of the happy wife, mother, and etc. I didn't feel the depression back then. I just didn't feel. The Anorexia was doing its' job. by mid summer 2012 I felt it, I heard it, I could no longer deny it to myself, my family, or my therapist. The depression was huge! It was real, although despite the reality of it, I somehow felt more alive and more connected just by acknowledging it. So now the depression and eating disorder on the same page.
It wasn't just the depression that was huge, so was the eating disorder. I still managed my food, weight, and exercise with a vengeance all the while trying to convince myself, family,therapists,and doctors that because my weight had stabilized at 113lbs -117lbs. I was fine because I no longer looked frail and weak. My therapist and I would go around and around on this one. Oh, and the 117lbs scared me so much that I quickly dropped back to 112lbs. I was much more comfortable to hover at 112-115. Yet most the time I felt safe at the lower end of the range, and most thought I appeared so much better than the early months of 2012. I find such humor and confusion that the same people that were horrified by my 113lb frame when I came home from Michigan 2 years ago now think I look fine. So, I must be fine right? Not exactly.
Through out the summer of 2012 I struggled with numerous anxiety provoked health problems. Some insomnia, eye twitching, and Burning Mouth Syndrome. The hardest part through all this was believing that God had abandoned me because I had deliberately walked back into the eating disorder; therefore demonstrating disobedience, and a lack of faith.
I review my journals and find a common theme of hating my body woven throughout the text. I hated that it constantly seemed to betray, not just in the present, but through my past. It never did enough for me. It wasn't fast enough, strong enough, tall enough, smart enough, kind enough, faithful enough, thin enough, pretty enough. What was enough? I wasn't sure. I just knew in some way I wasn't enough and my body was the enemy, and if I could somehow at least be thin enough, the rest would fall into place.
So began my first battle with Anorexia and with my body. One that went untreated and became disguised by the fact that my family and friends saw me eat. What they didn't see me do was purge any meal the observed and pick my way through food the rest of the day. I had settled into believing that because I WAS eating, I wasn't sick. My parents, not wanting to look at how unhappy I was, or at themselves, lived contently in my denial. I was happy to let them.
I was also happy to let Kurt believe this as our friendship and dating lead to love and marriage. However, knowing I wanted children, and tired of living a lie, I confessed my struggle. This was so painful for me to acknowledge to myself as well as Kurt. So, began 10 years of working towards recovery.
Then the ultimate failure of losing 3 babies to miscarriage or ectopic pregnancies sealed the deal. My body couldn't do the most primal task of having babies. I felt like I was being punished by God and spent much of my time angry with him and my body. Somehow forgetting the blessings of the two boys I did have. (The oldest is 24 today.) Not that I for one second didn't love them and care for them with every ounce of my being, but forgot that God hadn't forsaken me, but blessed me beyond measure. Somehow through it all I was recovered and stable. I became comfortable with my body and my life for the next fifteen years. Or so I thought?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)