Quiet Is Not Silence!
Isaiah 18:44 "For the Lord has told me this 'I will watch quietly from my dwelling place - as quietly as heat rises on a summer day, or as the morning dew forms during the harvest" (NLT)
Zechariah 2:6 "for whoever touches you touches the apple of his eye - "
I am home from San Francisco and from my final weekend in Walloon, aka My Happy Place! And I find my self trusting that even though God appears to be silent when it comes to my afflictions, that he is indeed watching quietly from his dwelling place. I sometimes confuse his quiet presence with silence. I am discouraged many days as I still struggle with the nerve damage and the eating disorder, but God has not been silent, he has just been quiet. I find that I need to quiet my self and stay in the moment to hear his voice whispering quietly that I will be okay. I seem to be hearing this when I am still and keeping my focus on him and who he says I am in him. I hear his whisper today as I take the paddle board out on the water. It is quiet, it is peaceful as the sun's reflections mirrors God's radiance back at me, and in the whisper of the wind I hear him speak to me "Liz you are going to be okay, you have always been okay, you are the apple of my eye"
My nerve pain isn't necessarily better than before I traveled to San Francisco this time. I am actually worse for a few days and my symptoms flare like a raging fire. I find myself doubled up on the bathroom floor with pain gripping my body from my waist to my knees. There isn't much I can do, but wait it out and hope it last 5-10 minutes, not 30 minutes. It feels like the contractions that come during the transition stage of labor and all you want is to grab the nurse by the neck demanding an epidural. In my episode of pain, I remember that I AM better than I was 4 months ago and try not to panic. I believe God is watching, growing and strengthening me to be the person in Christ he intends for me to be, but it is painful.
So, what does a person with an eating disorder do when they feel pain, apparently physically as well as emotionally? Well this person turns back to it. I face the fact that my physical pain is emotional because it is in these times that I feel God has gone silent on me and I feel alone. It is the emotional pain of feeling abandoned by my heavenly father that tears at me. So I purge, hurting my body on my own terms once again. When the pain both physical and emotional subside, I turn back to God. I am so grateful that my God is always loving and always forgiving. Is my purge my "fuck you" to God for allowing the pain? Maybe, I have never really though about it that way before. I know that people reading my story are sometimes shocked by my words, after all how can a woman of God use such language. Here is the thing, and I don't pretend to be a great theologian, but whether I write the words or say them out loud, God already knows just what I am thinking and feeling, but He still loves me and I am still the "apple of his eye." He loves me through the pain, and I like to think He appreciates my honesty (maybe not my choice of words.) He can handle my anger. He can handle all of our anger as he watches from his dwelling place waiting for us to calm down and return quietly to him. He rocks!
I wake with a well deserved headache and my heart throwing numerous PVC's from the purging. I admit to myself that it does concern me, just a little, and I wonder how much damage I have really done to my body over the years. The wondering moves like a freight train coming at me, from concern to fear as I attend the funeral of a friend who suffered for years from eating disorders and addictions. Her body, in her mid forties, just more or less gave out. I can't go back and repair what I have already done, but can I stop the train from plunging off the cliff?
The Priest's message, for this almost Pentecostal woman, was simple and beautiful. Here is all I need to say "Help me Jesus and I am sorry" I know that there are earthly consequences for the choices I have made, but he wants to help me and he will forgive me. I broke down sobbing like a child, not just in grief for my old friend and her family that loved her desperately, but tears for myself. Tears for the time I did cry out "Jesus Help Me, I Am Sorry!" I am overwhelmed with thanksgiving as I realize that the times I didn't "feel" his presence, He was still there watching quietly from his dwelling place waiting for the right moment to reach down and "Help Me." How do I know he was watching? The answer is simple; I know this because I am here. Had he abandoned me and gone silent, I would have surely perished either in the eating disorder or my own hands.
Close, I was so close to hurting myself and allowing myself to succumb to the eating disorder as a less "messy" suicide. I now understand how, for some, that life just seems like too much. It can be excruciating, and we don't want to leave our children, families, and friends to grieve, and pick up the pieces, but we don't want to live in the pain the leaves us feeling lifeless either. Such is the dilemma for those who contemplate life and death? I am glad I chose to live because I am not as sick or as in much pain physically or emotionally as I was. What if I hadn't waited it out? What if I hadn't trusted God to watch over me from his dwelling place and strengthen my faith to trust that he himself would lift my beleaguered body to its feet. Daniel 8:18 (NLT) " While he was speaking to me, I was in a deep sleep with my face to the ground. Then He touched me and raised me to my feet."
Had I not chosen life, my glorious summer full of laughter and joy wouldn't have happened. My family's and friends' memorable summer wouldn't have happened. Well, summer would have happened, as time stands still for none of us, but the memorable summer would have been replaced with a memorial, my memorial. So I stand on my feet watching the grieving family members of my friend file slowly down the aisle with tears stained faces, and I hope it is not too late for this body to press on. I also hope that this is something I can look back on when life sucks the life out of me, and remember what if I hadn't pushed through one more day......
Friday, September 5, 2014
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Rain
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"
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"
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!
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Ready
Philippians 1:25 "Knowing this, I am convinced that I will remain alive so I can continue to help all of you grow and experience the joy of your faith"(NLT)
I sometimes, like Moses, wonder how God can possibly use me to help others grow and develop their faith. I am so far from holy and righteous, and just weeks ago death, once again, seemed like a better option than facing the eating disorder, and the other ways my body was letting me down. I have decided that I will NOT let this eating disorder win. God is with me and I am beginning to put my faith in the fact that he has a purpose for me that is far beyond my comprehension. I will continue to run to him for strength when I feel like I can't face one more day. This in turn strengthens my faith. He knows just where I am broken, why he has allowed it, and how to put me back together again so that he can use me. I don't need to be perfect, just willing to follow his lead.
It is not easy to remain hopeful and faithful. Today I woke up with my nerve throbbing, but it has finally settled down to tolerable. I have stopped asking why, and am now asking why not? I have stopped asking the same about the middle aged relapse into the eating disorder as well. It is futile. It just makes me feel crazy, and I am slowly coming to realize that I am not crazy, but human. Everyone has their own "crazy" they deal with so that, if willing, God can use for others going through the same "crazy". Don't be deceived, it isn't easy, and at times the realization that I may always carry parts of my "crazy" with me seems daunting. I just want to be well so badly, but the habits of the eating disorder linger like the Axe, my pre-pubescent nephews have discovered. It isn't necessarily a bad fragrance, but one that can be overpowering and sometimes lingers longer than it should.
I have tried, as best as I know how, to eat normally and act like someone who doesn't have an eating disorder. I realize that I am not even sure what "normal" means. There are times that my therapist say "I am pleased that you are normalizing your food." I really don't even understand what she means by this, and I am not sure that even the best therapist (mine is pretty darn good) understands that food will never be normal for someone that has or has had an eating disorder unless they have been there. I don't know that food and eating will ever be "normal" for me, and that may have to be okay. I will probably always have this internal barometer telling me what food is okay and what isn't; what is too much; what is tolerable, and what is not. My brain has been trained for so long to question food decisions, rely on exercising, scrutinize my body, I do it without much conscious thought. My brain just accepts it as normal behavior.
I have tried in the midst of my other physical afflictions to eat as I assume "normal" people eat. Sometimes that means eating even when I don't "feel" hungry because it is rare that I truly feel my physical hunger from my belly. I have learned to pay attention to other cues my body is sending me. I get light headed, cranky, unfocused, shaky, and anxious long before my belly calls for nourishment. I have to me hyper vigilant to my physical sensations just like I once was hyper vigilant to my mother's wants and needs. Here is the cool part, I can take care of my wants and needs, where as I could never meet her needs as much as I tried. With her, I have just stopped trying, but I am worth the effort, so I press on.
Nourish verses eating makes more sense to me. I am worth nourishing. Maybe because I was never emotionally nourished, it was easy for me to forgo go physical nourishment as well? I was, after all used to feeling so very empty.
I sometimes, like Moses, wonder how God can possibly use me to help others grow and develop their faith. I am so far from holy and righteous, and just weeks ago death, once again, seemed like a better option than facing the eating disorder, and the other ways my body was letting me down. I have decided that I will NOT let this eating disorder win. God is with me and I am beginning to put my faith in the fact that he has a purpose for me that is far beyond my comprehension. I will continue to run to him for strength when I feel like I can't face one more day. This in turn strengthens my faith. He knows just where I am broken, why he has allowed it, and how to put me back together again so that he can use me. I don't need to be perfect, just willing to follow his lead.
It is not easy to remain hopeful and faithful. Today I woke up with my nerve throbbing, but it has finally settled down to tolerable. I have stopped asking why, and am now asking why not? I have stopped asking the same about the middle aged relapse into the eating disorder as well. It is futile. It just makes me feel crazy, and I am slowly coming to realize that I am not crazy, but human. Everyone has their own "crazy" they deal with so that, if willing, God can use for others going through the same "crazy". Don't be deceived, it isn't easy, and at times the realization that I may always carry parts of my "crazy" with me seems daunting. I just want to be well so badly, but the habits of the eating disorder linger like the Axe, my pre-pubescent nephews have discovered. It isn't necessarily a bad fragrance, but one that can be overpowering and sometimes lingers longer than it should.
I have tried, as best as I know how, to eat normally and act like someone who doesn't have an eating disorder. I realize that I am not even sure what "normal" means. There are times that my therapist say "I am pleased that you are normalizing your food." I really don't even understand what she means by this, and I am not sure that even the best therapist (mine is pretty darn good) understands that food will never be normal for someone that has or has had an eating disorder unless they have been there. I don't know that food and eating will ever be "normal" for me, and that may have to be okay. I will probably always have this internal barometer telling me what food is okay and what isn't; what is too much; what is tolerable, and what is not. My brain has been trained for so long to question food decisions, rely on exercising, scrutinize my body, I do it without much conscious thought. My brain just accepts it as normal behavior.
I have tried in the midst of my other physical afflictions to eat as I assume "normal" people eat. Sometimes that means eating even when I don't "feel" hungry because it is rare that I truly feel my physical hunger from my belly. I have learned to pay attention to other cues my body is sending me. I get light headed, cranky, unfocused, shaky, and anxious long before my belly calls for nourishment. I have to me hyper vigilant to my physical sensations just like I once was hyper vigilant to my mother's wants and needs. Here is the cool part, I can take care of my wants and needs, where as I could never meet her needs as much as I tried. With her, I have just stopped trying, but I am worth the effort, so I press on.
Nourish verses eating makes more sense to me. I am worth nourishing. Maybe because I was never emotionally nourished, it was easy for me to forgo go physical nourishment as well? I was, after all used to feeling so very empty.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Confident
Psalm 27:3-6 "Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will not be afraid. Even if I am attacked I will remain confident"
I meditate on this scripture today as I am still fighting so many battles, the eating disorder, the nerve damage, and now I have a large sty on my eyelid that may need surgery. See, I am telling you, I never seem to get a break and it leaves me tired and exhausted body, mind and spirit. Add twelve people and five dogs to the mix in my small summer cottage and my anxiety level sores like the seagulls outside my window. So, I do what I know best to cope and purge the last three days. I justify that it isn't everything I take in, but just enough to feel some control, a release. I have at least decreased the volume of each purge each night, and last night though I try to purge, I physically can't bring it up. I also try to not beat myself up for slipping and try to remain confident not just in who God says I am, but in who He says he is. I believe He Is my healer. This is merely a small uprising of the eating disorder and I am confident that he will guide me through to eventual victory, and heal all my afflictions. I just need to remember to take my anxiety to the throne of my Jesus and not to the porcelain throne.
I also try to remember that recovery is a process that I not only can't do perfectly, I don't have to do it perfectly. I just need to start each day with a breath of knowledge that I am ok here in this moment and not alone. I hear His voice like a gentle whisper "you have me Liz, you don't need the eating disorder. Put your confidence in me. Trust me with all your fears. The eating disorder isn't your friend." Of course he is right. For weeks I was doing well and even in the midst of the nerve pain because I turned to him and not the eating disorder, and felt a sense of peace about everything. I purge and the guilt and shame begin to consume me like the food I have taken in, except I purge the little I have consumed while the guilt and shame binge on me. "Breath, surrender this moment of guilt and shame to me. I forgive you, now forgive yourself" He whispers again and I inhale the fragrance of hope in his word.
I change my focus away from my recent failures and focus on my recent success realizing that really, looking at the big picture, I have more good days accrued than bad. Philippians 3:12,16 (NLT) speaks to not just those of us in recovery, but all of us because we are all works in progress. Philippians 3:12" I don't mean to say that I have achieved these things or that I have already reached perfection. But I press on to possess that perfection for which Christ Jesus possessed for me. Philippians 3:16"But we must hold onto the progress we have already made." I think this is universal to all of who struggle with eating disorders, addictions, trauma, or abuse. Actually, it is universal to all people because we are all human. We slip, we trip, and sometimes we may even fall all the way down on our asses, and it gets easy to beat ourselves up and believe we are failing. The problem is that we forget to remember that we have progressed because we focus on the fall. What if we focused on how high we have already climbed, then we would see that even though we have fallen we are still closer to the summit than the base. Oh, and one more thought, since we are all capable of falling, shouldn't we all stretch out our hands to lift each other up? Thessalonians 5:14 (NLT) "Encourage those who are timid. Take tender care of those who are weak. Be patient with everyone."
I meditate on this scripture today as I am still fighting so many battles, the eating disorder, the nerve damage, and now I have a large sty on my eyelid that may need surgery. See, I am telling you, I never seem to get a break and it leaves me tired and exhausted body, mind and spirit. Add twelve people and five dogs to the mix in my small summer cottage and my anxiety level sores like the seagulls outside my window. So, I do what I know best to cope and purge the last three days. I justify that it isn't everything I take in, but just enough to feel some control, a release. I have at least decreased the volume of each purge each night, and last night though I try to purge, I physically can't bring it up. I also try to not beat myself up for slipping and try to remain confident not just in who God says I am, but in who He says he is. I believe He Is my healer. This is merely a small uprising of the eating disorder and I am confident that he will guide me through to eventual victory, and heal all my afflictions. I just need to remember to take my anxiety to the throne of my Jesus and not to the porcelain throne.
I also try to remember that recovery is a process that I not only can't do perfectly, I don't have to do it perfectly. I just need to start each day with a breath of knowledge that I am ok here in this moment and not alone. I hear His voice like a gentle whisper "you have me Liz, you don't need the eating disorder. Put your confidence in me. Trust me with all your fears. The eating disorder isn't your friend." Of course he is right. For weeks I was doing well and even in the midst of the nerve pain because I turned to him and not the eating disorder, and felt a sense of peace about everything. I purge and the guilt and shame begin to consume me like the food I have taken in, except I purge the little I have consumed while the guilt and shame binge on me. "Breath, surrender this moment of guilt and shame to me. I forgive you, now forgive yourself" He whispers again and I inhale the fragrance of hope in his word.
I change my focus away from my recent failures and focus on my recent success realizing that really, looking at the big picture, I have more good days accrued than bad. Philippians 3:12,16 (NLT) speaks to not just those of us in recovery, but all of us because we are all works in progress. Philippians 3:12" I don't mean to say that I have achieved these things or that I have already reached perfection. But I press on to possess that perfection for which Christ Jesus possessed for me. Philippians 3:16"But we must hold onto the progress we have already made." I think this is universal to all of who struggle with eating disorders, addictions, trauma, or abuse. Actually, it is universal to all people because we are all human. We slip, we trip, and sometimes we may even fall all the way down on our asses, and it gets easy to beat ourselves up and believe we are failing. The problem is that we forget to remember that we have progressed because we focus on the fall. What if we focused on how high we have already climbed, then we would see that even though we have fallen we are still closer to the summit than the base. Oh, and one more thought, since we are all capable of falling, shouldn't we all stretch out our hands to lift each other up? Thessalonians 5:14 (NLT) "Encourage those who are timid. Take tender care of those who are weak. Be patient with everyone."
Monday, July 14, 2014
Gentle
Gentle
Ephesians 4:2 "Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other's faults because of your love" (NLT)
I checked out my face book this morning and my sister had posted a picture of a delightful young woman with a before and after picture of her posted. To my surprise it was not of weight lost, but weight gained. The first was of her starving anorexic self, the second of her curvy recovered self. I found myself scrolling obsessively through numerous other pictures of young women and a few older women like myself, posts of their eating disordered bodies and their recovered bodies. At first I found myself wondering how I measured up compared to these other eating disordered women. Was I thin enough to have been considered sick? Am I heavy enough to be considered well? Then I was struck by the varying degree of thinness the equated sick versus well for each woman. Frankly some that seemed to be fairly normal sized in their illness, were the sickest, starving their naturally curvy bodies just to try to achieve even something close to our warped cultural ideal body. Then their were the others that, like myself, who wore the scars of the eating disorder for all to see. Finally there are those that don't even have the pictures to post because they are suffering behind the bathroom door, puking up all they have taken in, or those hiding behind the protective layers of fat that cause others to be repulsed.
While our cultural obsession may feed the eating disorders or fan their flames, it is really something deeper within us that really feeds the eating disorder. It is the way we cope with hurts, loss, trauma, and our desire to be seen as we fade away, or hide our shame behind closed bathroom doors, or those layers of fat. It is our "no", and distorted means of controlling what we can't control, but just like the swirling of the vomit in the toilet bowl, or the swirling of our undernourished bodies as we try to stand, the shame we try to flush away or starve continues to swirl and swirl and unlike the waters that go still in the toilet bowl or the bodies that eventually steady themselves, there is no stillness in the soul for those of us stuck in the vortex.
Dare I say that I am one of the lucky ones? Although I am now at a much healthier weight, I wore my eating disorder for all to see actually revealing my truth. Maybe that isn't so bad after all. I am exposed as someone who has been hurt and wounded along this journey we call life. The only difference between me and the rest of the world is that you can see from my outside how much I am hurting on the inside. Maybe this reminds you to be gentle with me, but how wonderful would it be if we were all gentle with each other, recognizing that we all carry wounds that are hidden? Some of these wounds lie just beneath the surface of our facades, easily splayed open, while others are buried deep in the soil of our souls where enough digging can cause them to erupt like undiscovered wells. Sadly, some the most painful wounds come from those who are closest to us, and they are the ones that can rip them open repeatedly, yet the one who loves me, and you, above all yearns to heal all my wounds and even FEED me. Isaiah 40:11 "He will feed his flock like a shepherd, He will carry the lambs in his arms, holding them close to his heart. He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young" (NLT). He loves each of us enough to nourish us, and hold us close to his heart. So, even if for a moment I rest in His arms.
Ephesians 4:2 "Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other's faults because of your love" (NLT)
I checked out my face book this morning and my sister had posted a picture of a delightful young woman with a before and after picture of her posted. To my surprise it was not of weight lost, but weight gained. The first was of her starving anorexic self, the second of her curvy recovered self. I found myself scrolling obsessively through numerous other pictures of young women and a few older women like myself, posts of their eating disordered bodies and their recovered bodies. At first I found myself wondering how I measured up compared to these other eating disordered women. Was I thin enough to have been considered sick? Am I heavy enough to be considered well? Then I was struck by the varying degree of thinness the equated sick versus well for each woman. Frankly some that seemed to be fairly normal sized in their illness, were the sickest, starving their naturally curvy bodies just to try to achieve even something close to our warped cultural ideal body. Then their were the others that, like myself, who wore the scars of the eating disorder for all to see. Finally there are those that don't even have the pictures to post because they are suffering behind the bathroom door, puking up all they have taken in, or those hiding behind the protective layers of fat that cause others to be repulsed.
While our cultural obsession may feed the eating disorders or fan their flames, it is really something deeper within us that really feeds the eating disorder. It is the way we cope with hurts, loss, trauma, and our desire to be seen as we fade away, or hide our shame behind closed bathroom doors, or those layers of fat. It is our "no", and distorted means of controlling what we can't control, but just like the swirling of the vomit in the toilet bowl, or the swirling of our undernourished bodies as we try to stand, the shame we try to flush away or starve continues to swirl and swirl and unlike the waters that go still in the toilet bowl or the bodies that eventually steady themselves, there is no stillness in the soul for those of us stuck in the vortex.
Dare I say that I am one of the lucky ones? Although I am now at a much healthier weight, I wore my eating disorder for all to see actually revealing my truth. Maybe that isn't so bad after all. I am exposed as someone who has been hurt and wounded along this journey we call life. The only difference between me and the rest of the world is that you can see from my outside how much I am hurting on the inside. Maybe this reminds you to be gentle with me, but how wonderful would it be if we were all gentle with each other, recognizing that we all carry wounds that are hidden? Some of these wounds lie just beneath the surface of our facades, easily splayed open, while others are buried deep in the soil of our souls where enough digging can cause them to erupt like undiscovered wells. Sadly, some the most painful wounds come from those who are closest to us, and they are the ones that can rip them open repeatedly, yet the one who loves me, and you, above all yearns to heal all my wounds and even FEED me. Isaiah 40:11 "He will feed his flock like a shepherd, He will carry the lambs in his arms, holding them close to his heart. He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young" (NLT). He loves each of us enough to nourish us, and hold us close to his heart. So, even if for a moment I rest in His arms.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Double Portion
Isaiah 61:7 ( NIV ) "Instead of shame you will receive a double portion,
And instead of disgrace
You will rejoice in your inheritance
And so you will inherit a double portion
in your land,
and everlasting joy will be yours
Hebrews 10:35-38 "So do not throw away this confident trust in the Lord. Remember the great reward it brings you. 36 Patient endurance is what you need now, so that you will continue to do God's will. Then you will receive all that he has promised.
37 For in just a little while the coming one will come and not delay
38 and my righteous ones will live by faith
But I will take no pleasure in anyone who turns away"
A double portion? I would settle for a single portion, but as I sit and pray I really do feel like God speaks to me and says "but I want to give you a double portion and it will happen in this lifetime and not in heaven when we are all made complete." I have decided that this will be my focus. I will focus on this promise that God has given me, but I still find myself begging for him to reveal to me when it will happen. As I ask for this revelation I realize he has actually answered me already. Hebrews 37 " for in just a little while the coming one will come and not delay" I am struck by how closely this verse reflects the personal word God gave me just prior to experiencing the neuralgia. At the time, I was sure he was speaking of the eating disorder, but now I wonder if it truly my broken heart he was referring to and the neuralgia is just a test to see if I will turn to him or the eating disorder for comfort and control. So, make the conscious decision to hand over the eating disorder. This time instead of releasing it one finger at a time, I visualize myself walking to the feet of my savior and holding open my hands and placing the eating disorder in his. I let out an audible sigh of relief as he takes it from my hands. I have enough to carry without carrying the eating disorder as well. "will you trust me with this?" He says. And each day I look to him to strengthen me to resist the urge to take it back.
I continue to wait expectantly for God to have mercy on me and either through the doctor in San Francisco or God to supernaturally heal me and spare me from the continued physical pain and discomfort. This child is so tired and ready for her double portion. I sound like a broken record going to God every day begging for healing and telling him that "I can't do this much longer!" I am like the persistent widow in Luke 18:1-8. I will pray and not give up. I take an inventory of my last few weeks and realize that at times I am feeling better, at other times I am not so sure. I take hope in the fact that I am not feeling worse. My Pastor continues to reassure me that the holy spirit continues to give him the sense that I will be healed. I finally am getting the sense that I will, but don't know when. I am not sure if I have the patience to persevere and endure until that day comes. I am emotionally exhausted in addition to physically. I just want to sleep.........forever, but I have a life I would like to live. I press on in hopes of receiving my everlasting joy.
It is difficult for people to understand just how much pain and discomfort I am in when I look fine on the outside and even function normally outside the safety of my four walls. It is behind my closed doors that I crumble. I find that this causes me to pause and consider that I may not be the only person that is crumbling from the inside out where no one can see it. I have learned to be more compassionate, empathetic and less quick to judge. I have learned to discern the difference between compassion and pity. I need what all people need at times in their lives, compassion, not pity. I am hurt, and wounded, but I am not pitiful. I have learned to listen when I REALLY want to give my opinion on what is wrong and how to fix it. Romans 12:15 reminds me "Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep"(NLT). That is all I am called to do, nothing more, nothing less.
Everybody wants to "fix" me or give me there opinion on why I am in such a deeply carved valley in my life. Because I am not comfortable talking about the discomfort I feel people try to fill in the blanks and make a guess at the affliction. I guess I understand this behavior. No one like discomfort be it their own or a loved one's. Here is where I get so pissed off! First of all this is not a result of the eating disorder any more than the arthritis in my hand is from the eating disorder, nor is it a result of me being emotionally weak and unstable. I do believe in a mind body connection for illness, but this is like saying depression caused a broken arm not a trip down the stairs. The suicidal thoughts are a demonstration of just how desperate I am to end the physical pain and discomfort. I also realize that because of the stress even though I have handed the eating disorder back to God, my weight is down and I appear frail. Here is the truth of the matter. I am choosing today at this moment to live.
This means that "I can do all this through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:13 ( NIV ). I am actually pretty fucking strong and amazing to get through each moment, let alone each day of the past four months. I am strong even on the days that I fall apart crying and lashing out at those closest to me as if it were their fault. Lest everyone forget, that for each day I fall apart I manage to put myself back together again and again and again.......That my friends is strength. The weak and frail can't do this time and time again. So, please don't assume that I am weak because I am small. Remember the mustard seed!
I admit that I have no idea how much longer I can remain strong, but I know God does. I also know that right now I am uncomfortable and in pain, but I am ok!
And instead of disgrace
You will rejoice in your inheritance
And so you will inherit a double portion
in your land,
and everlasting joy will be yours
Hebrews 10:35-38 "So do not throw away this confident trust in the Lord. Remember the great reward it brings you. 36 Patient endurance is what you need now, so that you will continue to do God's will. Then you will receive all that he has promised.
37 For in just a little while the coming one will come and not delay
38 and my righteous ones will live by faith
But I will take no pleasure in anyone who turns away"
A double portion? I would settle for a single portion, but as I sit and pray I really do feel like God speaks to me and says "but I want to give you a double portion and it will happen in this lifetime and not in heaven when we are all made complete." I have decided that this will be my focus. I will focus on this promise that God has given me, but I still find myself begging for him to reveal to me when it will happen. As I ask for this revelation I realize he has actually answered me already. Hebrews 37 " for in just a little while the coming one will come and not delay" I am struck by how closely this verse reflects the personal word God gave me just prior to experiencing the neuralgia. At the time, I was sure he was speaking of the eating disorder, but now I wonder if it truly my broken heart he was referring to and the neuralgia is just a test to see if I will turn to him or the eating disorder for comfort and control. So, make the conscious decision to hand over the eating disorder. This time instead of releasing it one finger at a time, I visualize myself walking to the feet of my savior and holding open my hands and placing the eating disorder in his. I let out an audible sigh of relief as he takes it from my hands. I have enough to carry without carrying the eating disorder as well. "will you trust me with this?" He says. And each day I look to him to strengthen me to resist the urge to take it back.
I continue to wait expectantly for God to have mercy on me and either through the doctor in San Francisco or God to supernaturally heal me and spare me from the continued physical pain and discomfort. This child is so tired and ready for her double portion. I sound like a broken record going to God every day begging for healing and telling him that "I can't do this much longer!" I am like the persistent widow in Luke 18:1-8. I will pray and not give up. I take an inventory of my last few weeks and realize that at times I am feeling better, at other times I am not so sure. I take hope in the fact that I am not feeling worse. My Pastor continues to reassure me that the holy spirit continues to give him the sense that I will be healed. I finally am getting the sense that I will, but don't know when. I am not sure if I have the patience to persevere and endure until that day comes. I am emotionally exhausted in addition to physically. I just want to sleep.........forever, but I have a life I would like to live. I press on in hopes of receiving my everlasting joy.
It is difficult for people to understand just how much pain and discomfort I am in when I look fine on the outside and even function normally outside the safety of my four walls. It is behind my closed doors that I crumble. I find that this causes me to pause and consider that I may not be the only person that is crumbling from the inside out where no one can see it. I have learned to be more compassionate, empathetic and less quick to judge. I have learned to discern the difference between compassion and pity. I need what all people need at times in their lives, compassion, not pity. I am hurt, and wounded, but I am not pitiful. I have learned to listen when I REALLY want to give my opinion on what is wrong and how to fix it. Romans 12:15 reminds me "Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep"(NLT). That is all I am called to do, nothing more, nothing less.
Everybody wants to "fix" me or give me there opinion on why I am in such a deeply carved valley in my life. Because I am not comfortable talking about the discomfort I feel people try to fill in the blanks and make a guess at the affliction. I guess I understand this behavior. No one like discomfort be it their own or a loved one's. Here is where I get so pissed off! First of all this is not a result of the eating disorder any more than the arthritis in my hand is from the eating disorder, nor is it a result of me being emotionally weak and unstable. I do believe in a mind body connection for illness, but this is like saying depression caused a broken arm not a trip down the stairs. The suicidal thoughts are a demonstration of just how desperate I am to end the physical pain and discomfort. I also realize that because of the stress even though I have handed the eating disorder back to God, my weight is down and I appear frail. Here is the truth of the matter. I am choosing today at this moment to live.
This means that "I can do all this through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:13 ( NIV ). I am actually pretty fucking strong and amazing to get through each moment, let alone each day of the past four months. I am strong even on the days that I fall apart crying and lashing out at those closest to me as if it were their fault. Lest everyone forget, that for each day I fall apart I manage to put myself back together again and again and again.......That my friends is strength. The weak and frail can't do this time and time again. So, please don't assume that I am weak because I am small. Remember the mustard seed!
I admit that I have no idea how much longer I can remain strong, but I know God does. I also know that right now I am uncomfortable and in pain, but I am ok!
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