No Rest

No Rest


"Then Jesus said,'Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yolk upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and a gentle heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Matthew 11:28-29 (NLT)



As I sit in the airport waiting to return to San Francisco for a week of treatment on my nerve, I am doing my best to fight back tears.  I can't believe I am subjecting myself once again to the violating treatment for a condition that I had no clue even existed.  I have had a long month and I believe some of the tears are like those of a child in desperate need for a nap.  I had the flu over Christmas and the eating disordered voice kept rising up in me compelling me to keep right on moving, and not just moving to get through the holidays, but run, ski, and hike in the snow.   How can I skip working out and moving this body as I am faced with unsafe foods, and plenty of extra wine.  Yes I still found it in me to drink some wine and eat as it was the real flu not a stomach bug.

 I recognize that this is obsessive and compulsive.  My body with its raging fever  calls for rest, the Eating disorder calls for action and movement.  Rest is something for the weak and sloth like. So I look at this as a challenge to get up and keep moving. I still hear the familiar tape "you aren't going to just hang out in your pajamas all day"  I can push my body through long runs, swims and triathlons, this to me is just another way to prove to myself that I am going to control what I can about MY body.  I can't control my neuralgia, I can't control the flu, but I can push through it.  I have become very accomplished  at pushing through all kinds of pain and discomfort these past four years. I have fought the good fight against the relapse, the neuralgia, and more emotional pain than I care to acknowledge.  The flu, is merely a nuisance that can't keep me down.  Part of me, the eating disordered part, believes that I can sweat it out, driving the virus from my beleaguered  system.  The medically educated me, and the compassionate part of me, wants me, to rest.  Unfortunately,  the compassionate part of me is still figuring out how to crank up the volume on her newly discovered  voice of compassion and self-care,  so it is  drowned out by fine tuned maximum volume of the Eating Disorder and a little bit of denial.  I may develop Eating Disorders, injuries, or unexplained neuralgia, but I don't get sick.  No, really, I seldom get sick, or maybe I am just used to denying it?  Does it surprise anyone that I received the "Perfect Attendance" award in grade school.  Anyone can get straight A's, (with enough effort) but I can do almost anything while sick!

 I am not alone in this almost obsessive drive to move instead of rest.  I read today a post on Eating Disorder Hope by Jacquelyn Ekern, MS, LPC President and Founder of Eating Disorder Hope Always on The Run with Anorexia....."Many anorexia sufferers are in perpetual motion.  It can seem as though they are hyper active as we watch them pace, shake their foot while sitting or go on yet another long walk or run.  High levels of physical activity is the norm in anorexia nervosa(1)"
The Commonality of Obsessive Physical Activity
"Many who struggle with with anorexia find themselves engaging in obsessive physical activity.  t does seem to quell some unrest for these folks. Interestingly, researchers have also found that when rats are placed on highly restrictive diets with resulting weight loss, these rats will run excessively on an exercise wheel.  In fact, if given unrestricted access, these rats will run until they die(2).
The Brain Chemicals Behind Obsessive Exercise
Research indicates that those with anorexia have abnormal levels of dopamine and 5-HT and noradrenaline neurotransmission.  So, how interesting the noradrenaline, a brain chemical associated with stress and anxiety, was more normalized in rats who exercised excessively(3).

The holidays have stressed my body allowing it to fall victim to the non-discriminating flu, further increasing my stress causing me to hear the louder of the two voices: I run, ski, and hike, but the eating disorder's volume is slowly being dialed down and even though I must exercise every day,  I allow myself to then take some time to rest. Here is the fabulous thing about resting, not only do I hear my own quiet voice saying "rest", I hear  God's voice saying,  "It is okay to rest my dear one.  You have worked so very hard to survive the eating disorder, painful nerve blocks, and create a beautiful family Christmas.  I came that you would have peace.  Even I, rested, after creation and through the storm on the boat.  Trust me to calm the storm of your anxiety.  I want to give you this rest for your body and your soul."  I love that I hear his voice in the stillness; those times when  just breath Him in and out.  I am not so adept at turning down the volume of the eating disorder, but he is.  He doesn't just turn down the volume, he puts it on mute.

Now hearing God and listening to him are two different things.  This is why I ended up sick with an infection two weeks later.  The eating disorder and I panic in the doctors office as the doctors tells me to take three days off, and then half the distance, half the effort for the week.  "So,"  I said "what about my ten miler tomorrow?"  He looks me in the eyes "What part of YOU ARE SICK! do you not get?"  All of it, but I take off two days, and then try my best to dial it back.  Could it be that God is using each of these small forced periods of rest to re-wire my brain, and adjust my brain chemicals?

I am given a 4-5 injection nerve block on the last day of my stay in San Francisco and orders to rest for three days.  "Not again!"  I think "I have just started training again!"  The anxiety rises as I worry about my weight rising rapidly with each day I rest.  Then, in my stillness, I have time to reflect.  My body didn't change when I rested for the infection.  It stayed the same and I began to heal.  The volume of the eating disordered panic grew quieter.  "He is doing it," I think allowed.  "He is changing my brain just as he promised, as I trust him and who I am in him."  Romans 12:2 (NLT)"Do not copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think.  Then you will know god's will for you, which is good pleasing and perfect."  I know the God is always at work in my life and in your, but if  we don't take the time to be still in his presence chances are we will miss the evidence he sets before us.



1.  Sternheim, L., Danner, u., Adan, R. and van Elburg, A. (2015), Drive for patients with anorexia nervosa. Int. J. Eat Disord., 48: 42-45, dol:10.1002/eat.22272
2. Gutierrez, E. (2013), A rat in the labyrinth of anorexia nervosa: Contributions of the activity-based anorexia rodent model to the understanding of anorexia nervosa. Int. J. Eat. Disord., 46: 289-301: 10.1002/eat.22095
3.Van Gestel, M. A., Kostrzewa, E., Aden, R.H.A. and Janhunene, S. k. (2014, Pharmacological manipulations in animal models of anorexia and binge eating in reltion to humans.  British Journal of Oharmacoogy, 171: 4767. doi: 10.1111?bph.12789

Daily Bread

Daily Bread

“Then Jesus declared ‘I am the bread of life, whoever comes to me will never go hungry and whoever believes in me will not thirsty” John 6:35 (NLT)

While Jesus was actually referring to feeding our spirit, I truly believe, as I struggle to understand, acknowledge and accept my physical hunger, he is speaking to me about surrendering my physical hunger to him.  He wants me to know that because of who he is and who I am in him I should never have to go hungry again.  He will be my portion, but I have to trust him.

I wake at the cottage and open the blinds to see the clouds moving quickly across the sky.  They are dark and heavy with the expectation of snow.  I stare out the window watching God's power in the wind as the pregnant clouds move as though they were softer summer clouds.  Even the dark storm clouds testify to his majesty, creativity, and power.  As I marvel at this, I wonder how he created all I see before me with the power of his word.  I know that by simply speaking to these diseases, I could be healed. Matthew 8:6-10 ‘’Lord, my young servant lies in bed paralyzed and in terrible pain”.

7 Jesus said, “ I will come and heal him.”

8 But the officer said, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come into my home.  Just say the word from where you are, and my servant will be healed.  9 I know this because I am under the authority of my superior officers, and I have authority over my soldiers.  I only need to say ‘Go,’ and they go, or ‘Come,’ and they come.  And if I say to my slaves, ‘Do this,’ they do it.”

10 “When Jesus heard this, he was amazed.  Turning to those who were following him, he said, ‘I haven’t seen faith like this in all Israel!’

13 Then Jesus said to the Roman officer, “Go back home.  Because you believed, it has happened.’ And the young servant was healed at that same hour.

There is so much power in his word and he speaks to me, but not to my afflictions, and I am once again lacking the very thing I need to be healed, the faith of the Roman officer.

The phone rings, pulling away from my marveling and wondering.  I had scheduled a phone appointment with my therapist fearing that after the holiday and my mother’s pre-Thanksgiving phone call that I may need to touch base. (God, I hate being dependent).  After the phone session, I am determined that this is the last moment the Eating Disorder and its voice shaming me into restricting, working out, or purging will infringe on my weekend.  I can do this and I do (almost!)  We spend the morning sipping warm coffee in front of the fire then working a little; me on my writing, Kurt on e-mails.

We find joy and laughter in the simple and mundane tasks of waiting for furniture, arranging it, unpacking boxes, re-arranging the furniture, then laughing as we moved it all back to its original places.  After almost thirty years together, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, this surprises neither of us, and I realize there is a beautiful familiar rhythm to our life together, one that has been made richer through my afflictions.  And the eating disorder maybe knocking gently, but today I am going to do my best to resist answering the door and letting it in.  I am finding so much joy inside these four walls without the eating disorder, I am almost afraid to leave to purchase more rugs, furniture and lunch. Here I am safe, out there I have to face lunch!  Ah…there it is trying to sneak into my day as it whispers to me about lunch without working out. “Do you really need to follow your meal plan if you aren’t going to run?   I feel like it is a lose, lose situation for me.  If I stay in and ignore my hunger nudging me towards the door, the eating disorder wins, if I go out and eat I feel a sense of defeat.  “This is bull shit!”  I speak to the eating disorder.  “Shut up and leave me alone.  You are not the boss of me, I am. If I open this door keeping in mind, I am letting myself out, not you in, and when I eat my lunch it isn’t a mark in your win column, but mine.”

I allow myself half a deli sandwich and some chips.  It is over half way through the day and I am still okay.  I busy myself with the tasks at hand.  I begin to roll out carpets, bring in furniture, and place a few nick knacks in their rightful spots.  I feel myself becoming excited as the kitchen and great room come together, looking wonderful, but not remotely what I had envisioned.  It reminds me that life rarely turns out as we envision it.  I would never have predicted a relapse into Anorexia, my dad’s indiscretions, or the horrendous neuralgia I endure daily, yet they are all a part of my life.  I also never dreamt that I would be blessed with two awesome boys (men), a wonderful daughter in law, or that I would decorating my home in pink and white camouflage to celebrate my granddaughters first birthday.  After having boys, I love that my house looked like a pink Easter Peep had exploded.  If only the gifts of my passing years would begin to over take the sorrow of the suffering.  I ask that the Lord would continue remind me of the gifts, growth and strength I have found in the suffering.  I think this is universal to all of us, and if we look beneath the smoldering surface of our lives there is always some beauty that rises out of the ashes.

This cottage is different from my other homes, and my life.  I really don’t have a plan for it. I figure, why bother? I tried to plan my life, and while parts fell into place, there were many unplanned detours along the way, and just as many days that I felt completely lost.  I am wondering what side of me will be revealed as I bring this place to life?  It is mystery waiting to be solved. I have great confidence in solving this mystery.  Now, if only I could solve the mystery of my life.  I guess this is where I must place my confidence in the Lord who knows the end of my story.

My other homes all reveal a different side of me.  The safe classic me is reflected in our actual residence in Terrace Park.  The winsome, colorful, child like part of me is reflected in the waterfront purple, yes purple, cottage.  It is bright and light and makes me happy.  I have a feeling this house will fall somewhere in between. I am starting to see classic craftsman, with a few quirky touches, plenty of color and rooms with themes, like fish, lighthouses, or boats.  I love theme rooms!  I am feeling a bit like a kid in a candy shop! 

Candy? Do I even remember feeling like “a kid in a candy shop,” eating my favorite treat with out fear and shame? I try to remember what it is like to enjoy my food, and that it is safe and there is no shame in dong so.  We have worked hard all day long and by the time we head to dinner I am hungry, but not starving, thanks to my lunchtime victory.  I am comfortably hungry and think I have left the eating disorder out side the restaurant, but somehow it sneaks in and catches up with me, and I purge.  Dang it!  Once it catches up with me, I feel like a criminal trying to shake the police.  I know I am going to get caught, and I do.  I get caught in a vicious cycle that I have not been in since my first period of recovery.  Not even in this relapse have I fallen back into this terrifying cycle.

I purged at the restaurant, then wonder why I am starving a few hours later?  I make some crackers and almond butter and a handful of Chex Mix, hardly a binge, but I have to get rid of it.  Then I feel guilty for depleting myself and eat part of an energy bar.  I begin to feel the urge to purge again, but stop it there. 

Fuck, I am exhausted by now.  This feeling hungry stuff is so foreign and scary to me.  What happens if I can’t control it?  I think of a loved one who suffers more from bulimia and I imagine how terrifying binging and purging must be for her.  I am scared for her. I am scared for me.

I go to God.  “I am sorry God, forgive me!”  He speaks back to me as I write  “Liz, you have got to stop and think.  I am not going to hurt you, but you hurt yourself.  Why don’t you trust me?  Pray before you eat, before you purge.  Let me hold you and surprise you with my comfort and strength.  Surrender, surrender, surrender.  We are a team, but you have got to join me in this and be a team player.  Think of me as your quarterback.  I am the leader of our team.  Trust me!  You want recovery, but you don’t.   Let go!  What would have been different about your day if you had come to me and not the toilet or sink?  Just think about that today!!!”