James 5:15 & 18 15"Such a prayer offered in faith will heal the sick, and the Lord will make you well. And if you have committed sins, you will be forgiven. 18"Then he ( Elijah) prayed again, the sky sent down rain and the earth began to yield its crops" Parentheses added (NLT)
I still believe that God is my healer even though I have no clue why the illnesses I have endured persist. So, like the persistent widow, I will keep praying until the day of healing and victory. It is hard to stay persistent when I quite frankly, I don't feel like it. I have spent the last week alone in San Francisco receiving two hours of treatment daily and finally the ever pleasant nerve block. I worry that the treatment has caused me to flare up the symptoms a little. I try to not freak out about it and trust that God has it all figured out. I believe that he is sovereign and there is a lesson to be learned in all of this and I hope to find out sooner than later.
I am feeling so very low as I wait for the jet that will take me home. I hope that this will bringing out of the depression sneaking up on me. The symptoms of the eating disorder also flare despite my effort to eat as a normal person with out an eating disorder would eat. Again, not actually knowing what this looks like, I end up failing and purge. The first night, I do not beat myself up, but try to use it as an opportunity to figure out what triggered the event. I met a good friend that I hadn't seen in over a year for dinner. What are the chances of us being in San Francisco at the same time. It felt so good to see a familiar face in a strange city and to feel her embrace. Was it an issue of sabotaging the good times of my life once again? I think I often lose track of my food when I am present and engaged with people, then once alone, I panic. I have been feeling so thick and uncomfortable in my body lately that the panic, that I have been able to keep to an annoying drip like that of a leaky faucet, began to flow from a stream, to a river, to a cascading waterfall. Once It began there was no holding the food in. Where as sometimes I start the process and can hold it in check like turning on the faucet allowing a little to escape then I quickly turn it off. This time, maybe it was the isolation I felt in the lonely hotel room, as well as the opportunity of being alone, I didn't even attempt to shut it down. I opened up my gut and watched my food pour out of me. Empty! My body felt felt not only empty, but depleted and it seemed to void the beauty of the reunion. How Could I forget that the shame of the purge is so much worse than the discomfort of being full?
Maybe it was needing something to control as I have no control over my nerve disorder. Or maybe it was a release of grief over all that I have lost to the nerve malfunction. It was wonderful to her about my friends triathlons and her success. She is really an elite athlete so I don't compete with her, but I was painfully aware of how much I missed training and competing. As I sat and listened to her, I found myself repeating with my internal voice "you can still run, you can still swim, you can still run, you can still swim!" This is true, but will I ever really compete again? I may, I may not, but I trust for Him to strengthen me to live, for now, in the "GRAY"
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Wondering
Proverbs 29:25 (MSG) "The fear of human opinion disables; Trusting in God protects you from that."
Hebrews 10:32,35-36 Remember those earlier days after you received the light, when you stood your ground in a great contest in the face of suffering...So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.
I have spent the last week or so wondering what would my life be like if I were entirely healed? What if the fear of my mother hadn't disabled me? I find it difficult to imagine leading my life without the eating disorder floating above me or vestiges of it hiding in the corners of my mind. I still wake each day and do a quick scan of my body and heed the call of my full length mirror. It is work to chose relationships with real people instead of my workouts, but I find myself picking relationships over the workouts more and more. Sometimes the mental workout I put myself through to make this decision feels like a workout itself, but once made, it is always worth it. However, I still think about the calories burned or not burned through the day, then wake the next morning and scan my body and realize I am still okay. It is also work to resist the urge to purge, but little by little, I am finding easier to tolerate the "extra" food, more than the guilt and shame of purging.
I am moving forward, but it isn't easy. I am very uncomfortable in my body right now. I lived, as best as I could, for the past month as what I imagine someone that has never had an eating disorder lives like. Of course this isn't fully possible because I do have an eating disorder. None the less, I shook my fist at the eating disorder "not this summer eating disorder! You can't have it, this is mine to claim, enjoy, and savor:" I was as strong in my resolve to re-claim my summer as I was three years ago to restrict, purge, and fade away. And when I felt weak, I called on God's promises and remained confident as I stood my ground and he held my other hand tightly in his fist.
I reached out for my summer, and snatched it out of the hands of the eating disorder, as well as the hands of my ever present neuralgia. I still worked out, but allowed myself to really soak in the majesty of my surroundings, runs by the bay, walks in the woods, open water swims, skiing, and paddle-boarding. Something felt different as I did all these same things that I do every summer. That is it! I felt! I didn't go numb in the working out, but became connected to the creator and all his creation, including people. I laughed, slept, read, wrote, relaxed, and played. I sat and stared at my hydrangeas for no other reason than I was awed by there fullness and beauty. They seemed to bloom before my eyes growing heavier, and more luscious with each passing day.
I allow that disabled child hidden within me rise to the surface, like the nymph of the dragon flies crawling out of the water and then breaking free of the cocoon to fly, explore and play. Forgetting the freezing cold water, I jumped right in to swing my nephews around, or dump them off the raft knowing darn well that I would be dumped in return. I "bathed" in the lake using the suds in my hair to make it stick up in all kinds of funny ways just to see the boys crack up, then dove into the clear cool water to rinse it all away. I float back to the surface feeling free to be me, and I little more aware of who I really am. I think to myself I need to start playing more. I have A LOT of catching up to do.
I am uncomfortable in my body, and terrified to step on a scale because at the same time I kind of like how I look right now....I think? My therapist shakes her head and tells me to stay off the scale. Part of me wants to say "Really? You are not the boss of me!!" Then I remember that not only is she the professional, but I pray daily for her wisdom in treating me. I may or may not step on the sacred scale, but I take back the sarcasm and put on my grown up hat and say "thank you for your wisdom." And, I am still terrified to step on the scale, and immeasurably uncomfortable with my body. I feel like over night the area just above my hip bones on my back has swollen with undesired flesh and I feel like my belly flops onto the crisp cotton sheets of my bed as I lie on my side. I can almost swear I hear it scrape across the surface of the sheets as I move. I am consumed with with checking out my body.
I find myself dressing and undressing in front of the mirror or at least lifting up my shirt to survey the flesh rising above my hips and circling my waist. My skinny jeans? Where are they? Ah, relief as I dig them out of my suit case, pull them on and they still fit. This is still not reassuring as I try to remember how they used to fit, or if they had just been washed and dried. Are they stretched out from wearing them or are they snug from the drier? Does it matter? Does it change who I am? Yes it matters even though I know it doesn't change who I am, and I have a better sense of who I am these days. Seriously, I stand in front of the mirror and hear the the theme song from Frozen play in my head "let it go, let it go...."
Reading an article on body image, I am challenged to think about what image I want to project with my body. Do I want to appear to be fit, toned and muscled, or frail, sick, and weak? My initial response is strong, despite being frail. I look back on pictures of me when I was very "scary" thin. I actually miss that body. The one with the hollow belly, hollow cheeks and veins protruding where they shouldn't. I know I was sick, but there was something about pressing on through physical tasks despite my frailty that made me feel strong. Maybe it was my way of "proving" to others that I wasn't as sick as they deemed me, or maybe convincing myself that I wasn't sick.
Then I look further back and miss my perfect B cup breasts and more muscled yet softly feminine body.
Ugh!! I am so confused. My body, right now, I am guessing is somewhere in between. One minute I am liking the fullness of my breasts thinking that they are full and luscious like the pink blooms of my hydrangeas. The next minute I think they are just heavy, and ready to go like the flowers I dead head and discard as they have lost their beauty as they fall, touch the ground and begin to die. My flank, I will probably always feel thick and unattractive as I remember my mother fingers poking me. "You better watch it, you are getting a little thick in the waist." I sing to myself again "let it go, let it go", but it still haunts me. I try to turn back to what God says about me. "I am fearfully and wonderfully made" Psalm 139:14(NIV) My shape is unique, and it is the sum of all of me that God has made, not just my body!
Hebrews 10:32,35-36 Remember those earlier days after you received the light, when you stood your ground in a great contest in the face of suffering...So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.
I have spent the last week or so wondering what would my life be like if I were entirely healed? What if the fear of my mother hadn't disabled me? I find it difficult to imagine leading my life without the eating disorder floating above me or vestiges of it hiding in the corners of my mind. I still wake each day and do a quick scan of my body and heed the call of my full length mirror. It is work to chose relationships with real people instead of my workouts, but I find myself picking relationships over the workouts more and more. Sometimes the mental workout I put myself through to make this decision feels like a workout itself, but once made, it is always worth it. However, I still think about the calories burned or not burned through the day, then wake the next morning and scan my body and realize I am still okay. It is also work to resist the urge to purge, but little by little, I am finding easier to tolerate the "extra" food, more than the guilt and shame of purging.
I am moving forward, but it isn't easy. I am very uncomfortable in my body right now. I lived, as best as I could, for the past month as what I imagine someone that has never had an eating disorder lives like. Of course this isn't fully possible because I do have an eating disorder. None the less, I shook my fist at the eating disorder "not this summer eating disorder! You can't have it, this is mine to claim, enjoy, and savor:" I was as strong in my resolve to re-claim my summer as I was three years ago to restrict, purge, and fade away. And when I felt weak, I called on God's promises and remained confident as I stood my ground and he held my other hand tightly in his fist.
I reached out for my summer, and snatched it out of the hands of the eating disorder, as well as the hands of my ever present neuralgia. I still worked out, but allowed myself to really soak in the majesty of my surroundings, runs by the bay, walks in the woods, open water swims, skiing, and paddle-boarding. Something felt different as I did all these same things that I do every summer. That is it! I felt! I didn't go numb in the working out, but became connected to the creator and all his creation, including people. I laughed, slept, read, wrote, relaxed, and played. I sat and stared at my hydrangeas for no other reason than I was awed by there fullness and beauty. They seemed to bloom before my eyes growing heavier, and more luscious with each passing day.
I allow that disabled child hidden within me rise to the surface, like the nymph of the dragon flies crawling out of the water and then breaking free of the cocoon to fly, explore and play. Forgetting the freezing cold water, I jumped right in to swing my nephews around, or dump them off the raft knowing darn well that I would be dumped in return. I "bathed" in the lake using the suds in my hair to make it stick up in all kinds of funny ways just to see the boys crack up, then dove into the clear cool water to rinse it all away. I float back to the surface feeling free to be me, and I little more aware of who I really am. I think to myself I need to start playing more. I have A LOT of catching up to do.
I am uncomfortable in my body, and terrified to step on a scale because at the same time I kind of like how I look right now....I think? My therapist shakes her head and tells me to stay off the scale. Part of me wants to say "Really? You are not the boss of me!!" Then I remember that not only is she the professional, but I pray daily for her wisdom in treating me. I may or may not step on the sacred scale, but I take back the sarcasm and put on my grown up hat and say "thank you for your wisdom." And, I am still terrified to step on the scale, and immeasurably uncomfortable with my body. I feel like over night the area just above my hip bones on my back has swollen with undesired flesh and I feel like my belly flops onto the crisp cotton sheets of my bed as I lie on my side. I can almost swear I hear it scrape across the surface of the sheets as I move. I am consumed with with checking out my body.
I find myself dressing and undressing in front of the mirror or at least lifting up my shirt to survey the flesh rising above my hips and circling my waist. My skinny jeans? Where are they? Ah, relief as I dig them out of my suit case, pull them on and they still fit. This is still not reassuring as I try to remember how they used to fit, or if they had just been washed and dried. Are they stretched out from wearing them or are they snug from the drier? Does it matter? Does it change who I am? Yes it matters even though I know it doesn't change who I am, and I have a better sense of who I am these days. Seriously, I stand in front of the mirror and hear the the theme song from Frozen play in my head "let it go, let it go...."
Reading an article on body image, I am challenged to think about what image I want to project with my body. Do I want to appear to be fit, toned and muscled, or frail, sick, and weak? My initial response is strong, despite being frail. I look back on pictures of me when I was very "scary" thin. I actually miss that body. The one with the hollow belly, hollow cheeks and veins protruding where they shouldn't. I know I was sick, but there was something about pressing on through physical tasks despite my frailty that made me feel strong. Maybe it was my way of "proving" to others that I wasn't as sick as they deemed me, or maybe convincing myself that I wasn't sick.
Then I look further back and miss my perfect B cup breasts and more muscled yet softly feminine body.
Ugh!! I am so confused. My body, right now, I am guessing is somewhere in between. One minute I am liking the fullness of my breasts thinking that they are full and luscious like the pink blooms of my hydrangeas. The next minute I think they are just heavy, and ready to go like the flowers I dead head and discard as they have lost their beauty as they fall, touch the ground and begin to die. My flank, I will probably always feel thick and unattractive as I remember my mother fingers poking me. "You better watch it, you are getting a little thick in the waist." I sing to myself again "let it go, let it go", but it still haunts me. I try to turn back to what God says about me. "I am fearfully and wonderfully made" Psalm 139:14(NIV) My shape is unique, and it is the sum of all of me that God has made, not just my body!
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