Broken

Broken


Psalm 51:12 "Restore me to the joy of your salvation and grant me the wiling spirit to sustain me" 17"My sacrifice is a broken spirit; a broken spirit a contrite heart you, God will not despise"

My sacrifice is one of a broken spirit one that was broken in my youth and has continued to break apart as I allow the eating disorder to chip away little pieces of it. It still serves a purpose in my life.   God is still at work using my brokenness to form his masterpiece.  Just as an sculpture sees his masterpiece in a misshapen piece of marble, God sees me, his masterpiece, in the chunk of gunk I call my life.  Where God allowed the eating disorder to initially carve away big chunks of my spirit, now it is just chipping away at me a little here and a little there.  Like the artist begins to break off big pieces of marble to rough out what he sees in his minds eye, so God has done through the eating disorder and I like to think that now is the time for him, like the artist, to continue to allow the eating disorder to chip away small pieces of me, not to shame me or destroy me, but to refine me. Isaiah 48:10 "See, I have refined you, though not as silver; I have tested you in the furnace of affliction" (NIV) Isaiah 48:11"I will rescue you for my own sake, yes for my own sake! I will not let my reputation be tarnished and I will not share my glory with idols!"

As I entered the Holidays the seductive call of the eating disorder started as whisper in my ear "it would be ok to just purge a little, after all you probably have taken in more food and drink than you need. So, releasing some of it what be ok."  I came back at it with my new mantra "PURGING ISN"T AN OPTION!" "Oh yes it is."  The eating disorder spoke back to me, only this time it spoke louder, then louder still, until it began to drown out my new mantra.  I listened for the mantra, but I could no longer hear it over the crescendo of the eating disorder.  I asked for Jesus Christ to strengthen me, but I am not still enough or quiet enough to hear him.  So, despite long runs and eating modestly, my body felt thick, disgusting and foreign to me.  I see that it reflects how I feel in my family.  I feel like a foreigner among my extended family, and the darkness of my mother begins to weigh on me.  It would all be ok if I would just fall into the role I have played in my family before I began to change and evolve into the person that God is creating me to be.  I kind of like who I am becoming so I don't want to play the role anymore, but the pain and darkness that surrounds me becomes more than I can tolerate and I purge. 

Ah! Back to the familiar once again. It isn't just the little purge I had planned like letting off a little steam from a pressure cooker.  No, it is a full-blown purge expelling not just the food and drink that I have swallowed, but the grief, pain, and darkness I have choked down.   All of it was sitting in the center of my gut and soul churning like a bitter potion I had been forced to swallow and the only way to not be poisoned by it was to get it out; ALL OF  IT!  Although I had purged numerous time since my father's death, it had been a very long time since I had purged with such desperation, vengeance, and completely.  Some how watching the dark remnants of my food and drink swirling in the vortex of the basin as I flushed did just as I had hoped, and momentarily stopped the swirling of my emotions.  I should have been sorrowful or remorseful at the time, but somehow I felt that by emptying out the darkness, I had made some room to take in the light and energy of the family I, along with Kurt, had created.  I was elated!

The elation was, as it always is, short lived, and by the time my own beautiful family dispersed for the day,  I felt the shame and guilt begin to rise as I knew I had blown it once again.  I had let myself down.  I was sure I had let Rich and Laura down, and if my family knew they to would be disappointed.  My greatest sorrow was that I had let God and myself down by turning to the eating disorder instead of him.

I drag myself to the gym hoping that a hard pounding run would raise my serotonin enough to make it through the day.  Kurt and I are both as emotionally and physically spent as we had been when my father died.  We made it through the remainder of the day emotionally holding each other, and literally, physically holding each other up.  Thank God for my husband and his willingness to stay on this sordid ride with me.