What a difference a year makes

Review

How did I get here,

Where did I go wrong?

Now there is weakness

Where once I was strong.

Fear fills the space 

Where courage once thrived

Now, I just hope this day to survive.

I feel my heart as it beats in my chest

The pounding seems loudest when I need to rest

I am aware of each heart beat as I try to sleep

While wiping the tears that fall on my sheets

Fear overwhelms me as like the ocean's waves swell

And I wonder to myself

Will I ever be well?

Happy Birthday to me!  Well, at least I survived the year.  Oh what I wouldn't give to back and have a do over for the past year.  Yet, I do not get a do over on this one. My mind, soul, and my body pay the consequences of stepping back into the eating disorder.  I fear every day that I have harmed my body beyond repair.  Although I say I feel ok, many days I do not, but to admit that to anyone, even my therapists feels like admitting defeat.  It would mean acknowledging that I am truly am sick, and that I need to allow my body to be nourished by more than I am taking in.  It means facing the fear of  letting go of the eating disorder and discovering what I am without it.  It means allowing myself to take up physical space.  It means reclaiming my body, mind, and soul.  Yet, I am not quite sure how to do it, as I am scared to death and scared of death at the same time.

I am haunted by a picture that was taken of me on the beach in Belize.  There is no denial now that I am very thin.  There it is on film, and I finally see what others see.  I look sick.  I look anorexic.  How did I let this happen?  How could I not really see my self fading away?

I was so deceived by it this time.  It was so easy.  I try to find the words to describe how the 47 year old anorexic, feels so much different than the 20 year old anorexic.  I don't fight hunger, I am just not hungry.  I don't make myself exercise, I HAVE to exercise.  I don't over eat and purge.  I just purge.  The disorder deceives me that I am not starving, but that I am just giving up "mindless eating".  I am rarely uncomfortable due to hunger, but am uncomfortable when I eat.  The problem is that I am uncomfortable in my own skin and afraid of who I really am.

Now, with the picture burned into my mind, I am scared.  I am in trouble, and it is time for me to stop working so hard in therapy to be mentally healthy, while going through the motions of physically taking care of myself.  What I really need to do is crawl out from under this false security blanket and allow God to show me who I am in Him.  I look back at how he used me to serve his people in Belize.  If he could use me in such a weakened  and flawed state, how much more could he use me healthy and well?  I marvel at how he mercifully opened my eyes to see myself, so that I could see him more clearly.