Disrobing
Matthew 10:29-31 "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your fathers care. And even the very hairs of your head are numbered. So, do not be afraid; you are worth more than sparrows.
I have the strong sense that my days of growing darkness are numbered, as are my days of shrinking away leaving me just a shadow in the light as it shines on me. As God speaks to me he confirms that it is time for me to step out into the light and allow myself to take up space and to shine. Just as he has numbered the hairs on my head so has he numbered the days of my darkness.
I left my last therapy session feeling hopeless, defeated, and though not intended, like a faceless being as she read her notes from the last session to me. I got in the car and allowed my tears to flow as I asked God "What now?" There is something I am missing, or that she isn't getting. Then, as I was driving down the road I had a clear vision of God coming into the car and hearing the sound of a zipper, and it was in that moment that I knew I no longer was holding onto the hate and self loathing that I had carried around for most my life. It was if I physically shed a cloak that I was never meant to wear. By disrobing this cloak from by body I could feel God's love for me like I had never felt it before. I even feel this new sense of love of me, who I am, who I was meant to be, and who I am yet to become. My brutal emotional and physical self inflicted wounds seemed to fade like images in my rear view mirror. I had a swelling desire to live the abundant life I was meant to live.
I begin to pray for God to allow myself to see my physical body more accurately and he began to reveal it little by little to me over the past few weeks. It is in a picture from Mitchell's senior day that I see that I am still shapeless beneath the baggy sweater and jeans that once fit me like they were made for my once "perfect ass'. Those aren't my own words, but those of friends and fellow gym rats. Trust me I never thought of any part if me as perfect, but I have to admit it wasn't too hard on the eyes. Then I see my reflection as I walked, ironically, through the buffet line at a recent benefit for St. Rita's School for the deaf surrounded by mirrors. Wait, God is that really me? What happened to my perfect 34 B cup breasts that still stood upright on their own? I see that I am not scary skinny as I was 2 years ago, but I am much smaller than the body I remembered and was pleased with at one time. I ask for just some confirmation that this image staring back at me is what I really look like? I walk into church the next day after the benefit and Tree looked at me and asked me if I was okay. "You have just been on my heart. You look so thin." It was as if this is some form of confirming that the image staring back at me is accurate and slow coming into focus.
He even allows me to become aware of the way my bones especially my ribs are felt even through my clothes. Only the Lord would give me more than I asked for. I only asked to see, but he allows me to feel it.
Somehow I make it through the benefit without purging. Surprisingly it doesn't even cross my mind until I get home and realize I ate pecan pie with ice cream. Was it just that I was enjoying myself, or that somewhere inside I felt that if these children struggled everyday to make it in our hearing world not by their own choice and I essentially choose to hurt myself, and then I found myself thinking "what the Fuck was I thinking?" It was too late to purge. I just had to sit with it and surprisingly I lived to tell about it; my jeans still fitting just as they did the day before.
My week passed by in a blur as I continued to eat by faith, even as my gut still ached at times and I was exhausted from long days of work, classes, and meetings. I was doing it all one day at a time and there was a shift inside that I still can't put into words, but my pastor notices it right away. "There is a lightness about you that I haven't seen before." He tells me. And he isn't talking about my physical presence! I tell him about my preceding days, and the shedding of my cloak of self hatred and loathsomeness.
Then as easily as I don't purge the past weekend this weekend I purge, and I think I can even connect the dots on this one. I start to feel the disappointment and shame rise once again. I am sure I wear it like the cloak I have just shed, but then I hear God speak through his words. Psalm 34:5 "Those who look to him are radiant; Their faces never covered in shame." God doesn't want me to cover my face in shame even when I mis-step with my food or purge as I did last night. Yet, he doesn't want this for me either. He wants me free from it; all of it. So, yes I am disappointed in my self, but shame? Shame would pull me back down into the depth of the eating disorder. Shame would tell me you'll never be free. Shame would tell me to surrender to the eating disorder instead of God. Shame would tell me I am weak, a loser, but God tells me "oh no, you are my child, and you are radiant as you keep seeking me. I will bring you out into the spacious place in my timing because I delight in you, and in your weakness I am strong and using all of this to bring you from glory to glory. So, get up, hold your head up and thank me, worship me and bring me your praises as you rest and refuel in me. Your brothers and sisters in Christ are waiting for you to join them in worship. Do not stay away from church today because Satan would have you believe you failed and are filled with that shame. By my blood you are my daughter. You are redeemed. I love you!"
Monday, November 25, 2013
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Radiant
Radiant
Psalm 34:5 "Those who look to him are radiant; their faces never covered with shame"
God again uses the image of light to reach out and comfort me. So not only does he delight in me, he now sees me as radiant. I believe he wants me to see past the shame I have carried that feeds the eating disorder, as well as the unique shame that comes with the eating disorder itself. It is a viscous cycle that I want out of, but just can't quite figure out how extricate myself from the behaviors that, as I have said before, seems hard wired into my brain. It is like skiing a black diamond from top to bottom. My heart races, not from the physical exertion, but from the adrenaline and dopamine flooding through my body. I am going way too fast on a slope that is way to steep, but somehow I make it down. My legs quiver from fear and my lungs burn from breathing quickly as if to keep up with the racing of my heart. I take a quick inventory to make sure I am really still standing and in one piece. I am frightened, I am tired and know I was lucky to escape unharmed, yet I get back in the lift line, knowing that I am pushing my limits.
That is what the eating disorder is beginning to feel like. It is scary, dangerous, and I am lucky to survive, but I keep going back to it again and again even though I know that it is always that one last run that takes you out. Last year at this time I could have cared less if I died on the steep slope of the eating disorder. I didn't care if it hurt me or I hurt myself, but I am shifting as God reveals more and more of himself to me, and that he loves me, delights in me and now I am radiant! My pastor asks me to look myself in the eyes everyday and say "I love you Liz" "Really? I am not sure if I can do that. It feels, well, contrived and unnatural. I know that God wants me to love myself as he loves me, but I am not sure I can do this. I am not sure I believe it," I say back to him. It is easy for me to look in the mirror and pick myself apart and tell the woman staring back how much I hate her, but tell her I love her; I am not so sure. He encourages me to just try it. If I could scream the lies that Satan would have me believe, how much more would I be able to believe the truth about the woman God loves and delights in if only I would speak it to her. I agree to give it a try and find that each time I do the haze that I see myself through is starting to lift like the fog off the mountains that take my breath away.
I have used my dad's death as an excuse to flirt with the eating disorder. At least that is what I thought I was doing since I had been feeling so much better and stronger. I believe I am in recovery. I just don't feel "sick" anymore, and really don't think I look anorexic or too thin. My therapist disagrees. She spends much of the session pointing out each piece of the eating disorder that is still alive. She pulls out her notes from my last appontment and reads them to me. I am not sure if it is to make me feel better or worse, but I feel worse. I am not sure if it is what she reads or the clinical way that the notes are written. It was like listening to someone describe the results of working with a chimpanzee for research. I felt hidden behind the illness even as I believe I am starting to emerge. I feel the tears beginning to well up, but it is almost time for me to go so I draw in a long breath allowing God to hold them again. This felt safer since he has no time limit. I think she sees the despair on my face. She hugs me and says "The eating disorder is BIG, but you are doing great, you really are!" I leave feeling defeated, hopeless, and too weak to keep pressing into God and recovery.
I felt old and childlike at the same time. That familiar feeling of shame starts to rise like bile in my throat, and that is when God reminds me that as long as I keep looking to him I am radiant and released of my shame.
Psalm 34:5 "Those who look to him are radiant; their faces never covered with shame"
God again uses the image of light to reach out and comfort me. So not only does he delight in me, he now sees me as radiant. I believe he wants me to see past the shame I have carried that feeds the eating disorder, as well as the unique shame that comes with the eating disorder itself. It is a viscous cycle that I want out of, but just can't quite figure out how extricate myself from the behaviors that, as I have said before, seems hard wired into my brain. It is like skiing a black diamond from top to bottom. My heart races, not from the physical exertion, but from the adrenaline and dopamine flooding through my body. I am going way too fast on a slope that is way to steep, but somehow I make it down. My legs quiver from fear and my lungs burn from breathing quickly as if to keep up with the racing of my heart. I take a quick inventory to make sure I am really still standing and in one piece. I am frightened, I am tired and know I was lucky to escape unharmed, yet I get back in the lift line, knowing that I am pushing my limits.
That is what the eating disorder is beginning to feel like. It is scary, dangerous, and I am lucky to survive, but I keep going back to it again and again even though I know that it is always that one last run that takes you out. Last year at this time I could have cared less if I died on the steep slope of the eating disorder. I didn't care if it hurt me or I hurt myself, but I am shifting as God reveals more and more of himself to me, and that he loves me, delights in me and now I am radiant! My pastor asks me to look myself in the eyes everyday and say "I love you Liz" "Really? I am not sure if I can do that. It feels, well, contrived and unnatural. I know that God wants me to love myself as he loves me, but I am not sure I can do this. I am not sure I believe it," I say back to him. It is easy for me to look in the mirror and pick myself apart and tell the woman staring back how much I hate her, but tell her I love her; I am not so sure. He encourages me to just try it. If I could scream the lies that Satan would have me believe, how much more would I be able to believe the truth about the woman God loves and delights in if only I would speak it to her. I agree to give it a try and find that each time I do the haze that I see myself through is starting to lift like the fog off the mountains that take my breath away.
I have used my dad's death as an excuse to flirt with the eating disorder. At least that is what I thought I was doing since I had been feeling so much better and stronger. I believe I am in recovery. I just don't feel "sick" anymore, and really don't think I look anorexic or too thin. My therapist disagrees. She spends much of the session pointing out each piece of the eating disorder that is still alive. She pulls out her notes from my last appontment and reads them to me. I am not sure if it is to make me feel better or worse, but I feel worse. I am not sure if it is what she reads or the clinical way that the notes are written. It was like listening to someone describe the results of working with a chimpanzee for research. I felt hidden behind the illness even as I believe I am starting to emerge. I feel the tears beginning to well up, but it is almost time for me to go so I draw in a long breath allowing God to hold them again. This felt safer since he has no time limit. I think she sees the despair on my face. She hugs me and says "The eating disorder is BIG, but you are doing great, you really are!" I leave feeling defeated, hopeless, and too weak to keep pressing into God and recovery.
I felt old and childlike at the same time. That familiar feeling of shame starts to rise like bile in my throat, and that is when God reminds me that as long as I keep looking to him I am radiant and released of my shame.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Light
LIGHT
Psalm 18:17-19 "He rescued me from my powerful enemy; From my Foes that were too strong for me; They confronted my in the day of my disaster; But the Lord was my support; He brought me out into a spacious place;(Get This)Because He delighted in me.
28 You Lord keep my lamp burning; My God turns darkness into light.
Ephesians 1:18 I pray that you hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope he has given to those he called his holy people who are his rich and glorious inheritance.
1Peter 2:9 (NLT)"But you were not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God's very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
There is a common word running through these three scriptures that I happened on this past week; Light. God is trying to speak to me through His word, and I begin to wonder how this ties into the question or answer for that matter: Who am I, and what about me causes Him to "delight in me" What is it that causes others to "delight in me" when I find it so difficult to delight in my self. Is it possible that God and those outside of my own body and definitely those outside of my own head see someone entirely different than I see my self? Could they possibly see light piercing threw the darkness of the eating disorder, with each ray bringing me out of the dark places of the last few years into his wonderful light?
God uses light to expose our strengths, but also our weakness. It is both my strengths and weakness that he is showing me and reminding me that he has a plan and a way out for me. As I read the above scriptures I know that he wants me to turn to him, yet I keep getting sucked back into the habits and rituals of the eating disorder. I use my dads death as an excuse. I get to flirt with the eating disorder again because I am grieving. God is coming to rescue me and I turn away. This weekend was just like the last. I ate well on Friday night and though my desire to purge was pulling at me and calling me like a siren's song, I stopped and tried to focus on God and his promise that he will lead me out of this darkness. I hear him whisper in my ear that I will be okay. I wake on the Saturdays and I am okay. It is just as he has promised. I am rested I am strong. I run for miles soaking in warm sun, followed by a gentle cooling breeze. "You are doing it'' I hear him say. " You are growing stronger from the inside out."
Yet it is in those moments of growing and strength that I panic. Who am I without the disorder. It is as if I wear eating disorder as who I am. Then I falter. Then I purge. Recently I have fallen back into the rituals that accompanied me for the past two years. I think that some of it rises out of comfort, and some of it out of needing take some sort of inventory of body since I have agreed to stay off the scale. So, I only get to know my weight every 2 weeks when I meet with my nutritionist.
I find I am beginning some days now with the same anorexic rituals that I retrieved from my adolescents two years ago. As I wake to the strum and vibration of my cell phone, I begin to take inventory of my body. It as if I think that in the darkness of the night I have morphed into the fat ugly body that I fear.
I curl tightly into a ball, like an infant curling into it's familiar fetal position, and slowly run my hands along my legs as they unfurl. I check to feel for the muscles and bones just under the surface of my skin unobstructed by some potential new layer of fat. Are the veins that that scared me, yet somehow mesmerized me still protruding? Are they still palpable? I point and flex my toes causing calves to grow taut, and I feel for the firm ball of tissue as it contracts and relaxes under my fingers. I need to know they can be felt and seen,
I stretch out supine under the weight of the covers. My hands wander the length of my thighs as I feel for the 4 definite muscles that form my quads. Can I feel each one, or have my legs become a glob of fat and other useless tissue? I feel for the line of definition along the side of my thighs, and then confirm the existence of my "dancer's hollow" I let out the breath I had been holding.
My hands wander up over my hipbones fearing they will no longer rise above by belly, but they do.
I let out another breath that sounds more like a sigh of relief as I realize my belly sinks leaving a space between the waistband of my pajama bottoms and the surface of my skin. How much longer until the two will meet? Should they meet? Will they meet if I gain the 5-6 pounds that would please everyone, but possibly me. They have never met before even when I was 10 pounds heavier than I am now.
The assessment continues. I palpate my body like I would a patient in the squad, but instead of looking for injuries, I am checking for flaws. I need to feel the segments of my rectus I draw my finger around each segment hoping there is no new layer of sub-cutaneous fat. Then I run my finger along the mid-line of the rectus until it lands on the ridge of the vertical internal scar from my hysterectomy. I have felt the emotional scar of the procedure for years, but it is only now that I feel the physical scar. So, now it is because of my weight and the eating disorder that physical and emotional scars are revealed
Next I feel for my ribs through my back and even through my breasts, noting the scar from the biopsy a year ago. I think for a moment, maybe cancer would be easier than this. The treatment either works or it doesn't. There is a beginning and an end.
I run my hands down one arm then the other, stopping along the way, and finally wrapping one hand around each wrist insuring my fingers still touch each-other as they encircle the bones. I turn to my right and then to my left seeing if my belly still looks flat and intact. And slowly get out of bed.
I know this seems like a long drawn out process, but like the eating disorder itself, it is hardwired somewhere in my brain. I can process how my body feels, as fast as you can google eating disorders on your high speed internet.
I then go to get dressed and stand in front of the mirror as I shower and dry off for the day. I allow my eyes to yes, survey my body, but then I allow my eyes to wander to my face. I hear God speaking to me "Liz there is a beautiful face attached to that body. Look her in the eyes. Who do you see? No don't turn away in shame. Look carefully you are not just a body, you are my daughter and I delight in you. I delight in your transparency, your tenacity, your sensitivity, how you love me, you step away, but you love me and you keep coming back to curl up on my lap listening to me intently seeking my heart and seeking to know me. These are just a few of the qualities that make you who you are, and remember that each time you falter and are broken, I am collecting the pieces and just wait until you see the beautiful stained glass mosaic I am creating. It will leave you speechless!"
Psalm 18:17-19 "He rescued me from my powerful enemy; From my Foes that were too strong for me; They confronted my in the day of my disaster; But the Lord was my support; He brought me out into a spacious place;(Get This)Because He delighted in me.
28 You Lord keep my lamp burning; My God turns darkness into light.
Ephesians 1:18 I pray that you hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope he has given to those he called his holy people who are his rich and glorious inheritance.
1Peter 2:9 (NLT)"But you were not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God's very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
There is a common word running through these three scriptures that I happened on this past week; Light. God is trying to speak to me through His word, and I begin to wonder how this ties into the question or answer for that matter: Who am I, and what about me causes Him to "delight in me" What is it that causes others to "delight in me" when I find it so difficult to delight in my self. Is it possible that God and those outside of my own body and definitely those outside of my own head see someone entirely different than I see my self? Could they possibly see light piercing threw the darkness of the eating disorder, with each ray bringing me out of the dark places of the last few years into his wonderful light?
God uses light to expose our strengths, but also our weakness. It is both my strengths and weakness that he is showing me and reminding me that he has a plan and a way out for me. As I read the above scriptures I know that he wants me to turn to him, yet I keep getting sucked back into the habits and rituals of the eating disorder. I use my dads death as an excuse. I get to flirt with the eating disorder again because I am grieving. God is coming to rescue me and I turn away. This weekend was just like the last. I ate well on Friday night and though my desire to purge was pulling at me and calling me like a siren's song, I stopped and tried to focus on God and his promise that he will lead me out of this darkness. I hear him whisper in my ear that I will be okay. I wake on the Saturdays and I am okay. It is just as he has promised. I am rested I am strong. I run for miles soaking in warm sun, followed by a gentle cooling breeze. "You are doing it'' I hear him say. " You are growing stronger from the inside out."
Yet it is in those moments of growing and strength that I panic. Who am I without the disorder. It is as if I wear eating disorder as who I am. Then I falter. Then I purge. Recently I have fallen back into the rituals that accompanied me for the past two years. I think that some of it rises out of comfort, and some of it out of needing take some sort of inventory of body since I have agreed to stay off the scale. So, I only get to know my weight every 2 weeks when I meet with my nutritionist.
I find I am beginning some days now with the same anorexic rituals that I retrieved from my adolescents two years ago. As I wake to the strum and vibration of my cell phone, I begin to take inventory of my body. It as if I think that in the darkness of the night I have morphed into the fat ugly body that I fear.
I curl tightly into a ball, like an infant curling into it's familiar fetal position, and slowly run my hands along my legs as they unfurl. I check to feel for the muscles and bones just under the surface of my skin unobstructed by some potential new layer of fat. Are the veins that that scared me, yet somehow mesmerized me still protruding? Are they still palpable? I point and flex my toes causing calves to grow taut, and I feel for the firm ball of tissue as it contracts and relaxes under my fingers. I need to know they can be felt and seen,
I stretch out supine under the weight of the covers. My hands wander the length of my thighs as I feel for the 4 definite muscles that form my quads. Can I feel each one, or have my legs become a glob of fat and other useless tissue? I feel for the line of definition along the side of my thighs, and then confirm the existence of my "dancer's hollow" I let out the breath I had been holding.
My hands wander up over my hipbones fearing they will no longer rise above by belly, but they do.
I let out another breath that sounds more like a sigh of relief as I realize my belly sinks leaving a space between the waistband of my pajama bottoms and the surface of my skin. How much longer until the two will meet? Should they meet? Will they meet if I gain the 5-6 pounds that would please everyone, but possibly me. They have never met before even when I was 10 pounds heavier than I am now.
The assessment continues. I palpate my body like I would a patient in the squad, but instead of looking for injuries, I am checking for flaws. I need to feel the segments of my rectus I draw my finger around each segment hoping there is no new layer of sub-cutaneous fat. Then I run my finger along the mid-line of the rectus until it lands on the ridge of the vertical internal scar from my hysterectomy. I have felt the emotional scar of the procedure for years, but it is only now that I feel the physical scar. So, now it is because of my weight and the eating disorder that physical and emotional scars are revealed
Next I feel for my ribs through my back and even through my breasts, noting the scar from the biopsy a year ago. I think for a moment, maybe cancer would be easier than this. The treatment either works or it doesn't. There is a beginning and an end.
I run my hands down one arm then the other, stopping along the way, and finally wrapping one hand around each wrist insuring my fingers still touch each-other as they encircle the bones. I turn to my right and then to my left seeing if my belly still looks flat and intact. And slowly get out of bed.
I know this seems like a long drawn out process, but like the eating disorder itself, it is hardwired somewhere in my brain. I can process how my body feels, as fast as you can google eating disorders on your high speed internet.
I then go to get dressed and stand in front of the mirror as I shower and dry off for the day. I allow my eyes to yes, survey my body, but then I allow my eyes to wander to my face. I hear God speaking to me "Liz there is a beautiful face attached to that body. Look her in the eyes. Who do you see? No don't turn away in shame. Look carefully you are not just a body, you are my daughter and I delight in you. I delight in your transparency, your tenacity, your sensitivity, how you love me, you step away, but you love me and you keep coming back to curl up on my lap listening to me intently seeking my heart and seeking to know me. These are just a few of the qualities that make you who you are, and remember that each time you falter and are broken, I am collecting the pieces and just wait until you see the beautiful stained glass mosaic I am creating. It will leave you speechless!"
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