John 1:12 "But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God"
John 15:15-16 "I no longer call you slaves, because a master doesn't confide in slaves. Now you are my friends, since I have told you everything the father told me. 16 I chose you. I appointed you to go and produce lasting fruit, so that the father will give you whatever you ask for, using my name.
I am generous and sensitive
I wonder how nature and nurture
Intersect
I hear ghost of laughter
Echo off the hills
I see faded memories come to life
I want my life to glorify God
I am generous and sensitive
I pretend to be confident
I feel my grandmother's hands
Playing "Run About"
Upon my youthful back
I touch hope like fire
I worry that I will feel
Too much
I cry at the time lost to eating disorders, neuralgia
And beer commercials
I am generous and sensitive
I understand that I belong to God and not myself
Nor eating disorders or pain
I say to my children "just be enough for yourselves
The rest will rise out of your truth"
I dream my voice will glorify God
I try to do the next right thing
I hope to share my journey; That my life will matter
I am generous and sensitive
1Corinthians 15:10 (NIV) "but by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them-yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me."
Friday, February 27, 2015
Monday, January 26, 2015
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
"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
Monday, January 12, 2015
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!!!”
Monday, December 29, 2014
Remain In Me
Luke 8:13 " The seeds on the rocky soil represent those who hear the message and receive it with joy. But since they don't have deep roots, they will believe for a while, then they fall away when they face temptation.
John 15:5 "I am the vine you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. This is to my father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples"
My Lord continues to challenge me to consider my roots. I feel he has a purpose in bringing these verses to my attention. Although rooted in my faith are my roots really rooted in Jesus and his unconditional love for me. Do I trust him enough with my life to surrender the eating disorder fully into his hands? I want to to surrender it I really do, but with my roots in the lies still deeper than his truth, I find myself falling away and back into the siren's call of the eating disorder. This is really just my way of saying, "God I am scared of who I am without it. I don't trust you with my future in those moments I fall away. I don't trust you with my weight, my food, or trust you to comfort me." I am starting to see that what was originally my "Fuck you!" to my family, whoever, is probably how God see's it as well. He died for me on the cross for me and I am deliberately rebellious. I sin against God and sin against myself. The reality of this breaks my heart, even though I firmly believe this is an illness, I know the remedy and it includes trusting the Lord. I believe Jesus took my sins to the cross and that I am forgiven through confession, PERIOD! What I want is not just to be forgiven, but to show his glory and bear much fruit.
I have taken so many steps toward recovery and trusting the Lord and like a loving parent I believe he knows that we can tackle this together because he is beginning to stretch my faith and my comfort level with my weight, my food, and my hunger. I roll over in my cottage bed and look out at the
remaining few inches of snow coating the hillside. I am so grateful for my place of refuge after my last few days of entertaining and cleaning up the aftermath of our Thanksgiving feast. A feast that I did not purge! I want to just sit in my chair, write read God's word and sip on warm cups of coffee, and write. I am ok for an hour or so then my eating disorder starts in on me. "You need to get up and go to the gym. Your weight is already up. Here is your choice run or restrict!" I talk back to it. "Why do I have to chose? Why can't I just sit in my jammies all day drink coffee and write?" It answers sounding a bit like my mother "Get up and do something productive. You aren't going to just sit around the house in your jammies all day." I keep trying to write and read. The eating disorder gets louder and louder, and I realize (from past experience) it will start off as a whisper then grow into a deafening scream taunting me for not running calling me fat, lazy, and undisciplined. I know that in order for me to really enjoy being with my husband, decorating the cottage and even eating without purging I must get out of my cozy cocoon and head to the gym. I hate the eating disorder's voice, but I know that by working out I can quiet it, and manage it. I also hope that one day I won't have to workout, but just turn to it like my second grade teacher would do to me and say "Ssh! You are a nothing more than a nuisance. Now go sit down I have work to do." In this case the work I have to do is life and bearing God's fruit.
Yet, I am not quite ready to just tell it to shut up and sit down, besides I wake up today starving, and it scares me. I am not used to feeling the physical hunger from my belly. What is this strange sensation rising from my gut? I realize that I probably hadn't eaten much on the road yesterday. I had some apples, a banana, some nuts, and picked at a fast food salad. Ok, so maybe that is where this intrusive hunger is coming from? I don't like it all, and feel nervous as I realize my hunger and the eating disorder are now doing battle for the first time in years. The restricting was easy as I literally felt no hunger, but now..... I feel it. It is unpleasant, and annoying. I can no longer say I honestly forgot to eat, but that I chose not to eat. Small steps are still steps, I remind myself as I give into working out, but I grab a protein bar and sports drink as I head out the door. The nourishment is what my body craved, and what my soul needed. Despite the fuel, I am feeling spent and nauseated as I finish my run. The eating disorder begins to speak to me again "how can you still be hungry? How can you need more? Look at your tri-athlete friends on Facebook they make you look like a beast!" "Ok, I hear you. I have had enough food for this morning. I will go home, shower and head out to furnish the cottage." Really, I am so sick and tired of all the moments of my life that this internal dialogue intrudes upon.
I shower and dress, trying on my jeans of course, fighting the hunger I feel once again coming out of nowhere. Why can't it just leave me alone like it has done for the past few years? Doesn't it realize how I am terrified by its presence? I try to ignore it as we begin to power shop to furnish our home, but by the time we get through the first stop, my hunger moves through me in waves a nausea that feel as powerful as the ones crashing into the pier I can see from the car window. Admitting I am hungry feels like admitting defeat, so I wait for Kurt to mention lunch. He is engrossed in our mission, and I am irritated that my hunger continues to swell and crash, swell and crash, threatening to knock me over by its sudden furry. I feel now like I am going to pass out. What the fuck, why now? Where has it been hiding the past few years? I touch Kurt gently on his knee because that is about all the energy I have left to do, and say "Should we get lunch? Have you eaten?" I ask him. For some reason I want this to be about his hunger and not mine. "Cookies," He says. "In other words you haven't really eaten," I respond with a joke and a smile. "is it okay if we stop to eat? I am kind of, well a little, ok really really hungry." I say it in almost a stuttering whisper like a child confessing something covered in shame. Those of us with eating disorders understand this conundrum. Admitting to hunger is tantamount to admitting defeat, just as being told you look good means to us, you've gained weight.
I hear God saying "remain in me and you will be ok. Listen to your body pay attention to it nourish it." I decide I can, no need to nourish it at this point, but can I give myself what I want or just something safe that it needs. I ask myself what if what I want and need could be the same thing. Would that be ok? So, just like the pizza, I decide to trust God to hold my hand as I walk on the edge of my comfort zone. I order the luscious velvet textured tomato bisque, and the salty sweet ham and swiss cheese grilled sandwich slathered in honey mustard. I eat it consciously and slowly savoring each bite because I am not sure when and if I can do this again, but for this moment I listen to my want and need and tell the eating disorder to shush and take a seat.
John 15:5 "I am the vine you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. This is to my father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples"
My Lord continues to challenge me to consider my roots. I feel he has a purpose in bringing these verses to my attention. Although rooted in my faith are my roots really rooted in Jesus and his unconditional love for me. Do I trust him enough with my life to surrender the eating disorder fully into his hands? I want to to surrender it I really do, but with my roots in the lies still deeper than his truth, I find myself falling away and back into the siren's call of the eating disorder. This is really just my way of saying, "God I am scared of who I am without it. I don't trust you with my future in those moments I fall away. I don't trust you with my weight, my food, or trust you to comfort me." I am starting to see that what was originally my "Fuck you!" to my family, whoever, is probably how God see's it as well. He died for me on the cross for me and I am deliberately rebellious. I sin against God and sin against myself. The reality of this breaks my heart, even though I firmly believe this is an illness, I know the remedy and it includes trusting the Lord. I believe Jesus took my sins to the cross and that I am forgiven through confession, PERIOD! What I want is not just to be forgiven, but to show his glory and bear much fruit.
I have taken so many steps toward recovery and trusting the Lord and like a loving parent I believe he knows that we can tackle this together because he is beginning to stretch my faith and my comfort level with my weight, my food, and my hunger. I roll over in my cottage bed and look out at the
remaining few inches of snow coating the hillside. I am so grateful for my place of refuge after my last few days of entertaining and cleaning up the aftermath of our Thanksgiving feast. A feast that I did not purge! I want to just sit in my chair, write read God's word and sip on warm cups of coffee, and write. I am ok for an hour or so then my eating disorder starts in on me. "You need to get up and go to the gym. Your weight is already up. Here is your choice run or restrict!" I talk back to it. "Why do I have to chose? Why can't I just sit in my jammies all day drink coffee and write?" It answers sounding a bit like my mother "Get up and do something productive. You aren't going to just sit around the house in your jammies all day." I keep trying to write and read. The eating disorder gets louder and louder, and I realize (from past experience) it will start off as a whisper then grow into a deafening scream taunting me for not running calling me fat, lazy, and undisciplined. I know that in order for me to really enjoy being with my husband, decorating the cottage and even eating without purging I must get out of my cozy cocoon and head to the gym. I hate the eating disorder's voice, but I know that by working out I can quiet it, and manage it. I also hope that one day I won't have to workout, but just turn to it like my second grade teacher would do to me and say "Ssh! You are a nothing more than a nuisance. Now go sit down I have work to do." In this case the work I have to do is life and bearing God's fruit.
Yet, I am not quite ready to just tell it to shut up and sit down, besides I wake up today starving, and it scares me. I am not used to feeling the physical hunger from my belly. What is this strange sensation rising from my gut? I realize that I probably hadn't eaten much on the road yesterday. I had some apples, a banana, some nuts, and picked at a fast food salad. Ok, so maybe that is where this intrusive hunger is coming from? I don't like it all, and feel nervous as I realize my hunger and the eating disorder are now doing battle for the first time in years. The restricting was easy as I literally felt no hunger, but now..... I feel it. It is unpleasant, and annoying. I can no longer say I honestly forgot to eat, but that I chose not to eat. Small steps are still steps, I remind myself as I give into working out, but I grab a protein bar and sports drink as I head out the door. The nourishment is what my body craved, and what my soul needed. Despite the fuel, I am feeling spent and nauseated as I finish my run. The eating disorder begins to speak to me again "how can you still be hungry? How can you need more? Look at your tri-athlete friends on Facebook they make you look like a beast!" "Ok, I hear you. I have had enough food for this morning. I will go home, shower and head out to furnish the cottage." Really, I am so sick and tired of all the moments of my life that this internal dialogue intrudes upon.
I shower and dress, trying on my jeans of course, fighting the hunger I feel once again coming out of nowhere. Why can't it just leave me alone like it has done for the past few years? Doesn't it realize how I am terrified by its presence? I try to ignore it as we begin to power shop to furnish our home, but by the time we get through the first stop, my hunger moves through me in waves a nausea that feel as powerful as the ones crashing into the pier I can see from the car window. Admitting I am hungry feels like admitting defeat, so I wait for Kurt to mention lunch. He is engrossed in our mission, and I am irritated that my hunger continues to swell and crash, swell and crash, threatening to knock me over by its sudden furry. I feel now like I am going to pass out. What the fuck, why now? Where has it been hiding the past few years? I touch Kurt gently on his knee because that is about all the energy I have left to do, and say "Should we get lunch? Have you eaten?" I ask him. For some reason I want this to be about his hunger and not mine. "Cookies," He says. "In other words you haven't really eaten," I respond with a joke and a smile. "is it okay if we stop to eat? I am kind of, well a little, ok really really hungry." I say it in almost a stuttering whisper like a child confessing something covered in shame. Those of us with eating disorders understand this conundrum. Admitting to hunger is tantamount to admitting defeat, just as being told you look good means to us, you've gained weight.
I hear God saying "remain in me and you will be ok. Listen to your body pay attention to it nourish it." I decide I can, no need to nourish it at this point, but can I give myself what I want or just something safe that it needs. I ask myself what if what I want and need could be the same thing. Would that be ok? So, just like the pizza, I decide to trust God to hold my hand as I walk on the edge of my comfort zone. I order the luscious velvet textured tomato bisque, and the salty sweet ham and swiss cheese grilled sandwich slathered in honey mustard. I eat it consciously and slowly savoring each bite because I am not sure when and if I can do this again, but for this moment I listen to my want and need and tell the eating disorder to shush and take a seat.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Roots
Colossians 2:7 (NLT) "Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness."
God seems to be speaking to me about being rooted in him, his the love, and his truth about who I am in him. He wants me to put my faith in him and not the eating disorder which grew out the lies about who I was, or wasn't, and the chaos of my youth. Those roots are strong, deep and difficult unearth. It is like weeding my garden. I often think the weed is gone, but it eventually grows back because I didn't get it by the root. It doesn't help that the weeds of lies and God's truth are fighting for the same fertile soil. Even as I enter into this season of thanks for my abundant blessings and Jesus' birth, I realize how quickly God's truth can be choked out by the lies sprouting through the surface eager to stop me from growing in him.
As my mom calls me the day before Thanksgiving to try to manipulate me into not writing about my eating disorder because it will expose her, I find myself getting pulled back and believing that if I had been a better daughter, she wouldn't have had to smack me. If I had been brighter she wouldn't have had to go to conferences with teachers. If I had been less selfish, she wouldn't be living in a nursing home. A good daughter would invite her mother to live with her. If, if, if, the list could go on and on. Although she tells me that the problem was really with her and not me, my roots grew deep down into the soil of the lies that were taught to me as truth. I say to her, with tears spilling down my cheeks "tell that to the three year old toddler, six year old little girl, and twelve year old adolescent already buried in guilt and shame that it wasn't her fault!" "Tell that to the young woman trying to raise her boys while you told her she wasn't a good mom." "Tell that to me today as you still strike at me with your words instead of your hands." I can almost hear the roots of my soul and spirit reaching and stretching into the mucky soil of lies, instead of the nourishing fertile soil the truth of who I am in God.
I tell her I wished I had died in the eating disorder taking her shame and guilt to
my grave. "Please don't say that," she says. "Why not?" I reply, "then you would have nothing to worry about, not a book, not my illness, not my life." "Because I do love you and it would crush me to have something happen to you." All I can think of is the freedom that could come of not carrying the crushing burdens I was never meant to carry. It is this freedom that caused me contemplate life and death.
She is worried that she will be prosecuted for child abuse and thrown in jail. I have no desire to prosecute her or seek revenge through my writing. I really believe that as teen parents, they did the best they could raising twins. My goal is to tell the story of my eating disordered life, one that took me to the brink of death more than once. Unfortunately, it is rooted in my childhood and the lies I believed was my truth. I am finished lying and being lied to about who I am. It is so very strenuous to reach down deep beneath the surface of my soul and spirit to kill off the roots of the lies and allow new roots to form deep into God's soil of truth that can allow me to bloom and grow instead of fade away. How do I kill off something that is continually being planted and replanted?
I am beginning to trust that the only way to do this is to keep turning to God, knowing him and knowing who I am in him and him alone. I must turn away from the one the sows the seeds of lies. With out seeds there can be no more roots. I must turn back to the one who sows the seeds of truth, back to the Lord. He is the one that can take my faith, which at times is the size of a tiny mustard seed, and sow it in the fertile soil of truth and love and allow these roots to grow down deep into him the I can bloom into the daughter he created. A daughter with strong roots and many branches that reach to the sky in praise regardless of my circumstance, producing fruit. Jeremiah 17:8 "They are like trees planted along the riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit." A daughter that knows he will never leave me or forsake me
It was never my desire to have a broken relationship with my mother. I remind myself that I am not the one who broke it, but it was in her breaking of my spirit that the relationship began to fray like a rope being exposed to the push and pull of friction. As a child, their was an anchor at the end of that fraying rope never holding me safe, secure, and steady. It would hold, sometimes for a period of time, but I never knew when it would break free. I always felt like I was adrift all alone and somehow I was responsible for the anchor breaking free. If only I were stronger, better, not so sensitive.... Survival took precedent over producing fruit, or in my case eating fruit. My eating disorder became my life raft in which I could float away from the storms of my so called life. And just like one can get lost at sea even in a life raft, I became lost in the eating disorder not once, but twice.
As I enter this Christmas season, I remind myself daily that I do not need to remain lost and rooted in the lies of my youth, but found in his truth. My identity is not rooted in my eating disorder, but in His truth and His great love for me. Jesus was born to die....for me! Romans 5:8 "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners Christ died for us" (NIV)
God seems to be speaking to me about being rooted in him, his the love, and his truth about who I am in him. He wants me to put my faith in him and not the eating disorder which grew out the lies about who I was, or wasn't, and the chaos of my youth. Those roots are strong, deep and difficult unearth. It is like weeding my garden. I often think the weed is gone, but it eventually grows back because I didn't get it by the root. It doesn't help that the weeds of lies and God's truth are fighting for the same fertile soil. Even as I enter into this season of thanks for my abundant blessings and Jesus' birth, I realize how quickly God's truth can be choked out by the lies sprouting through the surface eager to stop me from growing in him.
As my mom calls me the day before Thanksgiving to try to manipulate me into not writing about my eating disorder because it will expose her, I find myself getting pulled back and believing that if I had been a better daughter, she wouldn't have had to smack me. If I had been brighter she wouldn't have had to go to conferences with teachers. If I had been less selfish, she wouldn't be living in a nursing home. A good daughter would invite her mother to live with her. If, if, if, the list could go on and on. Although she tells me that the problem was really with her and not me, my roots grew deep down into the soil of the lies that were taught to me as truth. I say to her, with tears spilling down my cheeks "tell that to the three year old toddler, six year old little girl, and twelve year old adolescent already buried in guilt and shame that it wasn't her fault!" "Tell that to the young woman trying to raise her boys while you told her she wasn't a good mom." "Tell that to me today as you still strike at me with your words instead of your hands." I can almost hear the roots of my soul and spirit reaching and stretching into the mucky soil of lies, instead of the nourishing fertile soil the truth of who I am in God.
I tell her I wished I had died in the eating disorder taking her shame and guilt to
my grave. "Please don't say that," she says. "Why not?" I reply, "then you would have nothing to worry about, not a book, not my illness, not my life." "Because I do love you and it would crush me to have something happen to you." All I can think of is the freedom that could come of not carrying the crushing burdens I was never meant to carry. It is this freedom that caused me contemplate life and death.
She is worried that she will be prosecuted for child abuse and thrown in jail. I have no desire to prosecute her or seek revenge through my writing. I really believe that as teen parents, they did the best they could raising twins. My goal is to tell the story of my eating disordered life, one that took me to the brink of death more than once. Unfortunately, it is rooted in my childhood and the lies I believed was my truth. I am finished lying and being lied to about who I am. It is so very strenuous to reach down deep beneath the surface of my soul and spirit to kill off the roots of the lies and allow new roots to form deep into God's soil of truth that can allow me to bloom and grow instead of fade away. How do I kill off something that is continually being planted and replanted?
I am beginning to trust that the only way to do this is to keep turning to God, knowing him and knowing who I am in him and him alone. I must turn away from the one the sows the seeds of lies. With out seeds there can be no more roots. I must turn back to the one who sows the seeds of truth, back to the Lord. He is the one that can take my faith, which at times is the size of a tiny mustard seed, and sow it in the fertile soil of truth and love and allow these roots to grow down deep into him the I can bloom into the daughter he created. A daughter with strong roots and many branches that reach to the sky in praise regardless of my circumstance, producing fruit. Jeremiah 17:8 "They are like trees planted along the riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit." A daughter that knows he will never leave me or forsake me
It was never my desire to have a broken relationship with my mother. I remind myself that I am not the one who broke it, but it was in her breaking of my spirit that the relationship began to fray like a rope being exposed to the push and pull of friction. As a child, their was an anchor at the end of that fraying rope never holding me safe, secure, and steady. It would hold, sometimes for a period of time, but I never knew when it would break free. I always felt like I was adrift all alone and somehow I was responsible for the anchor breaking free. If only I were stronger, better, not so sensitive.... Survival took precedent over producing fruit, or in my case eating fruit. My eating disorder became my life raft in which I could float away from the storms of my so called life. And just like one can get lost at sea even in a life raft, I became lost in the eating disorder not once, but twice.
As I enter this Christmas season, I remind myself daily that I do not need to remain lost and rooted in the lies of my youth, but found in his truth. My identity is not rooted in my eating disorder, but in His truth and His great love for me. Jesus was born to die....for me! Romans 5:8 "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners Christ died for us" (NIV)
Monday, November 10, 2014
Pizza
Pizza
11/10/14
Psalms 71:7 "My life is an example to many, because you have been my strength and protection" (NLT)
Last weekend I entered into the hamster wheel of my internal dialogue of eat or don't eat. Well, as it often is, it isn't actually whether to eat or not, but what to eat, and where to eat. I just don't feel like cooking, but I don't feel like making a decision either.
I ran in the morning. I didn't run that far, maybe five or so miles, but ran hard and fast because I had so much to do, and my competitive streak wants me to stay in front of the women behind me. I knew I couldn't spend the whole day working out. I thought I had done enough to not think this meal through without such scrutiny, but I guess I wasn't convinced. I had eaten okay, but not actually fulfilling my new menu plans. I had yogurt, granola and endura before I ran. Lunch was a sandwich, a few chips, grapes, and a small cookie. I continue to run through what I had eaten in my mind like the hamster runs in the wheel. My mind is racing, but not really going any where.
We decide to go to Pizellis because Kelsey is working and I want to see her before I head out of town on her birthday. I know I can get a "safe" salad there, but here is the thing, I don't want just a salad! I want pizza! God how I love pizza, but it is so unsafe and risky. It is riskier than most foods because because if I should want (need) to purge, it can be pretty difficult to bring back up. I would then be stuck with it. Spin, spin, spin, spin, my brain, like a hamster wheel is starting to squeak as it runs in circles trying to decide whether to eat pizza or not. How many people think this long and hard about pizza? The 20 million of us that will struggle with an eating disorder at one time in our lives(NEDA), that is who, while the rest of you just order the fucking pizza. Oh, and freely enjoy eating it.
It is crowded in the restaurant so I have some more time to think....squeak, squeak, squeak. I begin to do the math in my head, "You will be okay and the pizza is what you really want. Your skinny jeans and 25's fit fine this morning" The thoughts seem so loud in my mind I wonder if those around me can hear the squeak of my thoughts running like the hamster in a wheel?" I am next in line......squeak, squeak, squeak, I take a deep breath and order my individual pizza just the way I like it in addition to the safe garden salad.
The salad arrives first. It is huge, and I wonder why the fuck they would make a side salad this big? There is no way to eat this and the pizza, but I am starving and take a couple bites hoping this will take up space leaving less room for the decadent pizza the arrives in front of me. I sit and stare at it, smell it, but feel frozen and unable to reach out and just grab a slice. I hear God's words again "Be courageous, do the work: Here, hold my hand. Remember that I am strong and soft at the same time." I picture His strength allowing me to eat it, and His softness allowing me to enjoy it. Can I be strong and soft at the same time? Can I eat it, and enjoy it? Squeak, squeak, squeak.....Can Kurt hear my wheels turning (probably not), but I am sure he is wondering if I will keep it in. It has been a long time since he has seen me eat (not pick) at pizza. He is through his first 2 slices and still hasn't seen me eat pizza.
I spin the wheel of pizza slowly around in front of me as I look for the perfect slice. It must be perfect since it is probably the only slice I will allow myself to have. They are small slices. I need that to be known in case I should have more than one. I don't want to appear gluttonous, or over indulgent. It is as if I feel a need to explain my hunger or apologize for it. Who has to justify or apologize for their hunger? Those of us that live in the grip of an eating disorder or even those of us in a new fragile state of recovery often feel this need; that's who!
After a couple of slow rotations of the pizza, I reach out and take one piece of artichoke and move it slowly to my mouth. There, now this piece of pizza is perfectly balanced and ready to be separated from the imperfect circle of the hand tossed pizza. I lift it to my plate like a pro, supporting the point so the melted cheese doesn't slide off. " I remember how to do this, " I think " it is just like riding a bike!"
Now do I cut it and eat it with a fork and knife? This seems more civilized, but also more eating disordered, so I decide to pick it up with my hands and eat it like the majority of the people sitting in the restaurant. This is how I remember eating pizza pre-eating disorder, or in recovery. The trick for me when using my hands will be to eat it, and not merely pick at the toppings appearing to eat. Kurt is on his third slice as I finally allow myself to to eat and taste my self-created pizza. I take that first gooey, crunchy bite aware that the soft and firm are existing exquisitely together. Oh my goodness! It is delicious. It has been so long since I have had a slice of pizza, that I am not sure if this pizza is superior to others, or that I was so hungry for pizza. I finish the (small) piece of pizza followed by a sip of wine and a nibble of salad. I begin to pick at the toppings of the almost whole pizza still in front of me and realize that I am still hungry. I stop and think for a moment; am I still hungry or do I just want more because it was so flipping delicious and satisfying? Is it okay to want it if I don't need it? How is this different than wanting and buying a new pair of jeans that God knows, I don't need?
If I eat it and don't need it and end up feeling the fullness, it may be more than I can tolerate. This would then ruin the pleasure of the experience, but if I don't try it then how will I know if I wanted it or needed it? How will I know what is too much or too little? It is a fine line I am walking. I take in too much and beat myself up for consuming it, or I end up getting rid of it and beating myself up for purging. Squeak, squeak, squeak....I have a choice to make. I decide, as I remember picking at jacks homemade pie, to take the second slice and enjoy it. In the moment I was okay and realized that I was still, indeed, hungry. I both wanted and needed this second piece. I start to reach for for the third piece, (almost) with out thinking, but I know that I have taken enough risk for today. As I pick at the toppings on that third piece I tell Kurt, who has finished his pizza, that I am sorry that I can't finish the pizza. I let him know that anymore and I would feel uncomfortable. He knows what this really means: anymore and I would purge. Before I can say another word, he calls for a box and I feel safe in the moment. You Lord strengthen me and Kurt steps in as the your servant to protect me from myself.
11/10/14
Psalms 71:7 "My life is an example to many, because you have been my strength and protection" (NLT)
Last weekend I entered into the hamster wheel of my internal dialogue of eat or don't eat. Well, as it often is, it isn't actually whether to eat or not, but what to eat, and where to eat. I just don't feel like cooking, but I don't feel like making a decision either.
I ran in the morning. I didn't run that far, maybe five or so miles, but ran hard and fast because I had so much to do, and my competitive streak wants me to stay in front of the women behind me. I knew I couldn't spend the whole day working out. I thought I had done enough to not think this meal through without such scrutiny, but I guess I wasn't convinced. I had eaten okay, but not actually fulfilling my new menu plans. I had yogurt, granola and endura before I ran. Lunch was a sandwich, a few chips, grapes, and a small cookie. I continue to run through what I had eaten in my mind like the hamster runs in the wheel. My mind is racing, but not really going any where.
We decide to go to Pizellis because Kelsey is working and I want to see her before I head out of town on her birthday. I know I can get a "safe" salad there, but here is the thing, I don't want just a salad! I want pizza! God how I love pizza, but it is so unsafe and risky. It is riskier than most foods because because if I should want (need) to purge, it can be pretty difficult to bring back up. I would then be stuck with it. Spin, spin, spin, spin, my brain, like a hamster wheel is starting to squeak as it runs in circles trying to decide whether to eat pizza or not. How many people think this long and hard about pizza? The 20 million of us that will struggle with an eating disorder at one time in our lives(NEDA), that is who, while the rest of you just order the fucking pizza. Oh, and freely enjoy eating it.
It is crowded in the restaurant so I have some more time to think....squeak, squeak, squeak. I begin to do the math in my head, "You will be okay and the pizza is what you really want. Your skinny jeans and 25's fit fine this morning" The thoughts seem so loud in my mind I wonder if those around me can hear the squeak of my thoughts running like the hamster in a wheel?" I am next in line......squeak, squeak, squeak, I take a deep breath and order my individual pizza just the way I like it in addition to the safe garden salad.
The salad arrives first. It is huge, and I wonder why the fuck they would make a side salad this big? There is no way to eat this and the pizza, but I am starving and take a couple bites hoping this will take up space leaving less room for the decadent pizza the arrives in front of me. I sit and stare at it, smell it, but feel frozen and unable to reach out and just grab a slice. I hear God's words again "Be courageous, do the work: Here, hold my hand. Remember that I am strong and soft at the same time." I picture His strength allowing me to eat it, and His softness allowing me to enjoy it. Can I be strong and soft at the same time? Can I eat it, and enjoy it? Squeak, squeak, squeak.....Can Kurt hear my wheels turning (probably not), but I am sure he is wondering if I will keep it in. It has been a long time since he has seen me eat (not pick) at pizza. He is through his first 2 slices and still hasn't seen me eat pizza.
I spin the wheel of pizza slowly around in front of me as I look for the perfect slice. It must be perfect since it is probably the only slice I will allow myself to have. They are small slices. I need that to be known in case I should have more than one. I don't want to appear gluttonous, or over indulgent. It is as if I feel a need to explain my hunger or apologize for it. Who has to justify or apologize for their hunger? Those of us that live in the grip of an eating disorder or even those of us in a new fragile state of recovery often feel this need; that's who!
After a couple of slow rotations of the pizza, I reach out and take one piece of artichoke and move it slowly to my mouth. There, now this piece of pizza is perfectly balanced and ready to be separated from the imperfect circle of the hand tossed pizza. I lift it to my plate like a pro, supporting the point so the melted cheese doesn't slide off. " I remember how to do this, " I think " it is just like riding a bike!"
Now do I cut it and eat it with a fork and knife? This seems more civilized, but also more eating disordered, so I decide to pick it up with my hands and eat it like the majority of the people sitting in the restaurant. This is how I remember eating pizza pre-eating disorder, or in recovery. The trick for me when using my hands will be to eat it, and not merely pick at the toppings appearing to eat. Kurt is on his third slice as I finally allow myself to to eat and taste my self-created pizza. I take that first gooey, crunchy bite aware that the soft and firm are existing exquisitely together. Oh my goodness! It is delicious. It has been so long since I have had a slice of pizza, that I am not sure if this pizza is superior to others, or that I was so hungry for pizza. I finish the (small) piece of pizza followed by a sip of wine and a nibble of salad. I begin to pick at the toppings of the almost whole pizza still in front of me and realize that I am still hungry. I stop and think for a moment; am I still hungry or do I just want more because it was so flipping delicious and satisfying? Is it okay to want it if I don't need it? How is this different than wanting and buying a new pair of jeans that God knows, I don't need?
If I eat it and don't need it and end up feeling the fullness, it may be more than I can tolerate. This would then ruin the pleasure of the experience, but if I don't try it then how will I know if I wanted it or needed it? How will I know what is too much or too little? It is a fine line I am walking. I take in too much and beat myself up for consuming it, or I end up getting rid of it and beating myself up for purging. Squeak, squeak, squeak....I have a choice to make. I decide, as I remember picking at jacks homemade pie, to take the second slice and enjoy it. In the moment I was okay and realized that I was still, indeed, hungry. I both wanted and needed this second piece. I start to reach for for the third piece, (almost) with out thinking, but I know that I have taken enough risk for today. As I pick at the toppings on that third piece I tell Kurt, who has finished his pizza, that I am sorry that I can't finish the pizza. I let him know that anymore and I would feel uncomfortable. He knows what this really means: anymore and I would purge. Before I can say another word, he calls for a box and I feel safe in the moment. You Lord strengthen me and Kurt steps in as the your servant to protect me from myself.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Hope Continues
Hope Continues
10/26/14
Lamentations 3:21-26 (NLT)
21 " Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this:
22 The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
23 Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
24 I say to myself, 'the lord is my inheritance
Therefore, I will hope in him!'
25 The lord is good to those who
depend on him
to those who search him.
26 So it is good to wait quietly
for salvation from the Lord."
I was up this week to pick the scripture and share it and my thoughts with the people. It is lovely how it spoke to me differently from the day I felt called to use it and then today. Today my eyes fell on the 23rd verse "Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning." For this I am grateful because I wake this morning, after a night of purging, not feeling very hopeful for my recovery from the eating disorder, nerve, and even my recent resurgence of some gut issues. My guilt manifests into true physical pain in the form of a head ache and the discomfort of my belly and even my chest flutters with some PVC's. Today I don't have to beat myself up because I feel beaten up. I won't back down from this task, even though I feel less than worthy of reading the scripture, because in my heart I know this would serve Satan instead of God.
I read over my thoughts I have prepared for the service, and realize they speak to me even more today than when I wrote them. Did God know about my purge before I did it? OF course he did. My thoughts. I look out into the congregation and I see people that love the Lord, but I also see people like myself that are broken, sick, or facing a struggle or two or three......Maybe some of you aren't in those shoes right now and I praise Jesus for your healing and redemption in your lives. While at the same time feeling a little slighted that I am still waiting. So I, like most of you find myself still desiring healing, recovery, and complete restoration. The world tells me I will possibly manage my symptoms and or struggles, but never be really free of them. Maybe you have experienced the same thing from well meaning people, counselors, or physicians in your lives? I find myself thinking again, is there such a thing as a full recovery and totally arrested symptoms for what ails me or what ails you? Once again, I have no clue what God has in store for you, for me, but I try not to get too discouraged because I know my God loves me and you. He is with us! I NEED to believe in a full recovery for me and for you, or this battle we fight every day would be futile......without hope. This is just what Satan wants us to feel; hopeless! But I know this isn't God's will for you or for me.
When I am tired and weary I remind myself to turn to God the Father and still "dare to hope." I also try to remember that sometimes we don't need to take some giant leap of faith, but just walk in faith and hope one small step at a time.
"His mercies never cease" I cling to this today and wonder if I can except His mercy and grace for me: That same mercy and grace that I stand and encourage the congregation to accept. It is easier for me to extend this invitation to the congregation, than accept it for myself. Yes, I blew it again, but "his mercies begin afresh each morning." I hear God speak to me "Hope Liz, you must continue to hope. Meditate on this scripture. I will be good to you as you continue to search for me. I will be merciful with you each new day. Show others mercy, but accept mine and show yourself mercy and wait on me."
And if a personal word isn't enough God seems to send me a confirmation of his words in a song, Crave by King and Country.
I won't turn to dust now
Let these tears rust now
On my face
Give me the spark now
To believe, to see
Hope is what we crave
And that will never change
So I stand and wait
I need a drop of grace
To carry me today
A simple song to say
It's written on my soul:
Hope's what we crave
So today I will wait and I will dare to hope for my spark of healing even through my tears.
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