Scaling Walls
Psalm 18:29 "In your strength I can crush an army, with my God I can scale any wall." (NLT)
1 Peter 5:10 "In his kindness God called you to share in his eternal glory by means of Christ Jesus. So after a little while he will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation"
I have often described my eating disorder as a very large hole that I have dug for myself, and now I am left to scale the very deep sides to live in the light and fresh air instead of the cold stale air, and darkness of the hole. I sit on the ski lift escorting me from the bottom of the steep slope to the top and wish that I had a chairlift to carry me up the steep walls of the eating disorder. As I read the above scripture, I realize that, in a sense I do have a chairlift to carry me, his name is Jesus. All I have to do is sit in his lap and let me ride my way to the top, but for some reason I keep jumping off just before I reach the top. Other times I arrive at the top, but fear keeps me from getting off so I ride it back down to the bottom of the steep icy slope. Either way, I miss the spectacular view from the top, or the chance to stand on my own two feet and pick the marked paths that lead to exhilarating rides instead of the ones that lead to hidden holes.
I am beginning to think I fear being well, as much as being sick. All those feelings, good and bad that the eating disorder numbed me to, seem a bit daunting and scary. What does being well feel like? Does it feel good, happy, sad, painful, or all of these wrapped up in one oddly shaped package ? I am not sure I am ready for this? I keep saying that all I want is to be normal and free from Eating disorders, Neuralgia, and feeling like I need to measure up to some arbitrary physical, intellectual, and emotional bar I have set for myself. The irony is that I have not set this bar, but it is my mother's and society's bar that I try to reach. Yet, I still shoot for it. Today I find myself feeling as close to normal as I guess I can as set out to ski wit my husband and son.
My nerve is tweaky as it flares from eight hours of sitting in the car, I vow that I will rely on God's grace and strength so this doesn't ruin my day on the slopes. The sky is blue and the air carries the fragrance of the impending spring on its breath. I slip into my ski pants. They feel, to my relief, loose and comfy. Then before I can go, I NEED to try on my skinny jeans. They are fine, at least I think they are okay? I take them off quickly so that the eating disorder can't rest on me like the dark clouds that have just lifted of the lake. I decide I will go back to the jeans later.
Today as we were all having a great time skiing, I found myself once again hoping for Kurt or Mitch to cry out "I am hungry! Let's eat!" Before I had to admit I was starving. Yes, I was starving and aware of it. Neither seemed like they were ready to stop, and I had used up my morning fuel of granola and yogurt. So, instead of admitting hunger, I played the PEE card! I know that they will wander inside with me instead of waiting outside. Once inside they will smell the burgers on the grill, see the fresh baked cookies, and decide we may as well eat while we are there. This is exactly what happens. "Ahh! Well played," I think in total relief as I get to use the restroom and eat without confessing my hunger. Why is it okay to admit my bladder is full, but not that my belly is empty? Isn't that how God created our bodies to work? There is no out put without input! I initially feel very clever and smug using my guile to trick them into thinking eating was their idea. Then I become angry (or is it sad), that something holds me back from acknowledging the primal need for food. "Damn it!!" I say under my breath, "would you just leave me alone for the day?" I wish I could send the eating disorder off an unmarked trail where it would get lost in a hole....forever!
Okay, now the second challenge of the day (I am really tired of this), what do I eat? Seriously, if you are not a skier, you need to know that there is an abundance of food to choose from, and I am as overwhelmed as I am hungry. And, even though I don't dare to speak it, I am STARVING! As soon as I enter the cafeteria, my senses are assaulted with wonderful aromas of burgers, fries, fresh baked breads, cookie, brownies, pizza, wings and rings. The steam from the four different soups wafts towards me delighting my nose. The salad bar is calling me with brilliant colors of greens, golds, and reds. The fruit is ripe and luscious. I touch a pear that feels perfect. There are cases filled with yogurt next to shelves of homemade granola. So many choices; the good, the acceptable, the bad, and the down right ugly (decadent). These are all hard choices for anyone to make, but add a crappy body image day to an eating disorder that is just beginning to ebb, and I am screwed. What do I want? No, wait what do I need. Umm, what is okay? What isn't? I tell Kurt and Mitch to go ahead and pay. "I'll catch up." I say as light heartedly as I can. I circle the cafeteria for what feels like the hundredth time. I go back to my new "mantra" "What if what I want is just what I need?"
I want a sandwich, but they are huge, and not just to those of us that have food issues. They really are HUGE, but I want the southwestern Panini; turkey, chipoltle mayo, avocado, lettuce and tomato. I turn my back on the yogurt and fruit. Mitch decides he will share it with me. I am getting the mayo, so I say no to the cheese. I want both, but decide I don't need both. "No, wait," I say to the cook as I watch the other sandwiches' velvety cheese ooze out their sides "I will have the cheese."
I try to justify this decision in my mind by reminding myself that I have skied all morning. I am pissed that I have to justify it. I have a difficult time discerning between, normal, indulgent and gluttony. I pray that good will stop my brain from spinning and give me the firm foundation of normalcy for the moment. I steady my self and take the first bite of the sandwich. It is even better than I thought it would be. I eat my half of the sandwich, my diet coke, and my share of the communal cookie. I find as I connect with my food, I am free to connect with Kurt and Mitch. I am briefly able to savor both at the same time.
After skiing I was pretty useless. I showered, said goodbye to my son and took a nice long nap. I get up and go back to the jeans and decide they are more snug than I would like them to be. I do a body scan in the mirror and am anxious that it doesn't sooth me as much as my full length mirror at home. How can my body image change so quickly from thin in my ski clothes, to fat in my jeans? I remind myself that they are fresh out of the drier, and that regardless of my jeans I am Okay. Nothing about who I am in Christ has changed. I am so tired of thinking about this. "here God why don't you worry about it for now" I am tired of my inner critical voice telling me what I should look like, eat or not eat. Now all I hear is the eating disorder say " See, are you sure you NEEDED the sandwich?" "No, I am not sure I needed it, but I don't need you right now either! Just leave me alone."
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Silent Finger Prints
"Truth is found in silence" Patricia Fargnoli
Job 34:29 "If God is silent, what is that to you? If he turns his face away, what can you do about it? But whether silent or hidden he's there ruling." (MSG)
God seems to speak to me both from his words and the simple line from Winter's Grace, about silence; his silence. His truth is often revealed by his silence, in silence. It is only when I quiet my surroundings and my mind that God can reveal his truths to me, even the truth about his silence. Undistracted by the noise in my head or the clamor of the world, it is easier to hear him; hence actually listen to him. I am aware that for most of us, myself included, this is no simple act. Let's face it silence is uncomfortable and we want to fill the void with empty words. So, in prayer I often drone on like some caffeinated valley girl, or with sophisticated words like thee, and thou. Sometimes in my prayerful monologue I do hear God raise his voice to me. "Will you just shut up and listen or sit in my silence?" And when I go silent I can catch a glimpse of truth rising out of the ashes of my life.
What about God's silence? What truth does it reveal about him? The tougher question is what truth does it reveal about me? I am not sure that God is ever truly silent. He may be appear to be silent when a specific prayer goes unanswered for season after season. It is in those seasons that I wonder where is God, and why has he apparently gone mute; refusing to answer me? So, as I contemplate this silence, I am aware that it does reveal the truth of my faith. Can I trust him in the silence of unanswered prayer for healing, for recovery?
When I am silent I am able to take a step deeper into my being and survey all the seasons of my life. In doing this I realize that He is never silent or idle. I see his fingerprints on my life as clearly as the ones constantly wipe off my IPhone, but His I never want to erase. I see his finger prints even in the painful moments of my life, the times when his silence seemed more like abandonment, or neglect. I now recognize that these prints were left by his hands holding me up through the suffering and I did not perish in his silence.
So, I invite you to sit in your silence, and see what truths God will reveal about himself, and yourself. He may remain silent, or possibly not saying what you want to hear in this season of your life, but what you need to hear. In this silence, I continue to come to him and seek him. Maybe this is what he really wants is just to spend time with me. He uses this time to love on me, comfort me, and he uses this silence like a bit in a horses mouth to steer me back onto his path. He is in the saddle and he holds the reins. He resores my faith by simply showing up in The word, a hug from a friend, a smile from a stranger, or the phone call that brings me back to life.
I rise in the morning feeling alone and weighed down by the burden of my recovery from the eating disorder and the unpredictable searing unseen pain of the neuralgia. "Where are you God?" I find myself asking. "I am all around you!" I hear him say. I feel called to the frosty windows and I see him in the sun rising over the hill glistening off the icy water, and the hard packed snow covering the ground. It is a spectacular, almost blinding sight. The birds are singing despite the cold crisp air, foretelling of the blooms of spring. The ground will soon be exposed with the crocus pushing their way through the sun softened snow. So it is in this cold winter season of my life that I look and listen for the subtle signs of his presence. I listen for singing of the birds, the thawing of the ice that will remind me that seasons change; this is just a season of my life. Like the snow covered ground, I will not remain frozen and hidden, but push through and bloom.
I am reminded that even in his silence he is always present as I ask for the strength and grace to survive each day. It isn't always easy as I surrender and take it all to the cross of my seemingly silent God. Yet he is still faithful as he supplies the strength and grace I need minute by minute, day my day, and he is okay that I don't always do it gracefully.
Job 34:29 "If God is silent, what is that to you? If he turns his face away, what can you do about it? But whether silent or hidden he's there ruling." (MSG)
God seems to speak to me both from his words and the simple line from Winter's Grace, about silence; his silence. His truth is often revealed by his silence, in silence. It is only when I quiet my surroundings and my mind that God can reveal his truths to me, even the truth about his silence. Undistracted by the noise in my head or the clamor of the world, it is easier to hear him; hence actually listen to him. I am aware that for most of us, myself included, this is no simple act. Let's face it silence is uncomfortable and we want to fill the void with empty words. So, in prayer I often drone on like some caffeinated valley girl, or with sophisticated words like thee, and thou. Sometimes in my prayerful monologue I do hear God raise his voice to me. "Will you just shut up and listen or sit in my silence?" And when I go silent I can catch a glimpse of truth rising out of the ashes of my life.
What about God's silence? What truth does it reveal about him? The tougher question is what truth does it reveal about me? I am not sure that God is ever truly silent. He may be appear to be silent when a specific prayer goes unanswered for season after season. It is in those seasons that I wonder where is God, and why has he apparently gone mute; refusing to answer me? So, as I contemplate this silence, I am aware that it does reveal the truth of my faith. Can I trust him in the silence of unanswered prayer for healing, for recovery?
When I am silent I am able to take a step deeper into my being and survey all the seasons of my life. In doing this I realize that He is never silent or idle. I see his fingerprints on my life as clearly as the ones constantly wipe off my IPhone, but His I never want to erase. I see his finger prints even in the painful moments of my life, the times when his silence seemed more like abandonment, or neglect. I now recognize that these prints were left by his hands holding me up through the suffering and I did not perish in his silence.
So, I invite you to sit in your silence, and see what truths God will reveal about himself, and yourself. He may remain silent, or possibly not saying what you want to hear in this season of your life, but what you need to hear. In this silence, I continue to come to him and seek him. Maybe this is what he really wants is just to spend time with me. He uses this time to love on me, comfort me, and he uses this silence like a bit in a horses mouth to steer me back onto his path. He is in the saddle and he holds the reins. He resores my faith by simply showing up in The word, a hug from a friend, a smile from a stranger, or the phone call that brings me back to life.
I rise in the morning feeling alone and weighed down by the burden of my recovery from the eating disorder and the unpredictable searing unseen pain of the neuralgia. "Where are you God?" I find myself asking. "I am all around you!" I hear him say. I feel called to the frosty windows and I see him in the sun rising over the hill glistening off the icy water, and the hard packed snow covering the ground. It is a spectacular, almost blinding sight. The birds are singing despite the cold crisp air, foretelling of the blooms of spring. The ground will soon be exposed with the crocus pushing their way through the sun softened snow. So it is in this cold winter season of my life that I look and listen for the subtle signs of his presence. I listen for singing of the birds, the thawing of the ice that will remind me that seasons change; this is just a season of my life. Like the snow covered ground, I will not remain frozen and hidden, but push through and bloom.
I am reminded that even in his silence he is always present as I ask for the strength and grace to survive each day. It isn't always easy as I surrender and take it all to the cross of my seemingly silent God. Yet he is still faithful as he supplies the strength and grace I need minute by minute, day my day, and he is okay that I don't always do it gracefully.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
What if.....
Ephesians 2:10 "for we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago"
I stand naked before the mirror trying to decide if I like the way I look today, or not. How am I measuring up to the unrealistic standards I have set for my 50 year old body. I begin my usual ritualistic slow turn and wonder how much longer am I going to put myself though this daily torture? Why have I held on so tightly to these standards? I stare at the naked body reflecting off the bathroom mirror shrouded in the soft light of the rising sun filtering through half opened shades. My mind drifts back to the early days of my eating disorder as a teen. I was a sad lonely adolescent that felt as big and the void as the shadow of my body that walked silently before me each day to school. The angle of the sun creating a distorted image of the mass and and size of my body. "Even my shadow is big, dark, and without a face." I felt like a person who's face was always lost in the crowd. I had no sparkle in my eye and seldom and genuine smile on my face.
With the past week being Eating Disorders Awareness Week, there has been much discussion about the medias contribution to the development of eating disorders due to the ultra thin models celebrities, etc. As I stand naked scanning my body I am keenly aware of how very different the onset of my illness was as a teen versus the middle aged woman staring back at me. My struggle with anorexia as a teen began when I thought "If I could just look like those skinny models on the glossy covers of Teen, Seventeen, and Glamour, then I could be as happy as their sparkling eyes and smiles suggested they were? I had no idea that a simple diet to lose a few pounds would take me down a road I had never intended nor desired to travel. My abusive, emotionally neglectful, home, genetics, and biology set me up for this mental illness that would bloom out of control. So, did the media cause it? Probably not, but it did plant the seed and water it allowing it flourish. At the age of 47, my relapse had nothing to do with the media, delaying my natural aging process. or looking like Barbie. It did, however have everything to do with the resurgence of the same abusive emotional upheaval of my youth. My parents stopped listening to me. Once again, I lost my voice and used my body to say what they wouldn't or couldn't hear. So, with my beloved father now dead, and my mother being cared for in a nursing facility, why do I still hold tightly to the body image issues? I can't say it is to speak to my parents anymore, but there is still some safety in the frailty of this body. Like so many of us with eating disorders, we can allow ourselves to become our illness. If we believe we are our illness, than who are we without it?
I re-read the scripture above and wonder, what if I saw myself as God's masterpiece, anew in Jesus Christ full of unleashed potential? What if my identity reflected Jesus instead of flesh and bones? What if I recognized the masterpiece he created as....me? What if I discovered I may actually like myself, if I weren't afraid to like myself?
I close my eyes drawing in a deep cleansing breath, wrapping a towel tightly around my waist and tuck in the edge, holding it secure, and slip on a sweatshirt hanging on the doorknob as my body slips to the floor and rest along the wall. With my eyes still close I exhale releasing my spirit, allowing it to rise up to meet with God. I see him, not on some big fancy throne gilded in gold, but a simple bench made of wood much like that of the manger Mary laid him in as a baby. He gently beckons me to come to him like the loving father that he is. I am timid at first as this feels like I am entering into foreign territory. I am not sure how to receive this loving gesture. I point to my self saying "me?" "Yes, you my precious child,"He replies with a sparkle in his voice as if he is excited to see me. "Have a seat," he says as a gently pats the spot to the right of him. "Please just sit here with me, I want you to see something, or rather someone amazing. I created her to love and be loved by me!" "Why is she so amazing?" I ask "Because I created her, I loved her so much I sent my son to die for her." Just sit here and watch her. I know you will like her she loves me with all her heart, and being that she is you, I want you to love her with all your heart. She is my masterpiece, and you know masterpieces don't happen overnight? They are somehow always a work in progress, but a masterpiece none the less. You are my masterpiece
So it is in being mindful of how God sees me, I go about surveying, or observing my self. I approach this as I did observing my body a few weeks back. There are no negatives allowed; no "yes buts" Wow, this is difficult for me! I believe it is hard for most women today to like themselves, or at least admit they like themselves. We fear our confidence comes across as arrogance, so we often hesitate to acknowledge and take ownership of our gifts and talents. I know this to be so true for me. Could it be that in doing this we not only deprive ourselves from reaping the benefits of our strengths, but all of humanity as well? I never thought I would quote Hilary Clinton, but here goes...it really does "take a village" We are all unique and have something unique to offer up to the universe, to God, but we can't give away what we don't own, so if we don't own our strengths, then they aren't ours to share. 1 Corinthians 12:7 "A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other" (NLT)
I stand naked before the mirror trying to decide if I like the way I look today, or not. How am I measuring up to the unrealistic standards I have set for my 50 year old body. I begin my usual ritualistic slow turn and wonder how much longer am I going to put myself though this daily torture? Why have I held on so tightly to these standards? I stare at the naked body reflecting off the bathroom mirror shrouded in the soft light of the rising sun filtering through half opened shades. My mind drifts back to the early days of my eating disorder as a teen. I was a sad lonely adolescent that felt as big and the void as the shadow of my body that walked silently before me each day to school. The angle of the sun creating a distorted image of the mass and and size of my body. "Even my shadow is big, dark, and without a face." I felt like a person who's face was always lost in the crowd. I had no sparkle in my eye and seldom and genuine smile on my face.
With the past week being Eating Disorders Awareness Week, there has been much discussion about the medias contribution to the development of eating disorders due to the ultra thin models celebrities, etc. As I stand naked scanning my body I am keenly aware of how very different the onset of my illness was as a teen versus the middle aged woman staring back at me. My struggle with anorexia as a teen began when I thought "If I could just look like those skinny models on the glossy covers of Teen, Seventeen, and Glamour, then I could be as happy as their sparkling eyes and smiles suggested they were? I had no idea that a simple diet to lose a few pounds would take me down a road I had never intended nor desired to travel. My abusive, emotionally neglectful, home, genetics, and biology set me up for this mental illness that would bloom out of control. So, did the media cause it? Probably not, but it did plant the seed and water it allowing it flourish. At the age of 47, my relapse had nothing to do with the media, delaying my natural aging process. or looking like Barbie. It did, however have everything to do with the resurgence of the same abusive emotional upheaval of my youth. My parents stopped listening to me. Once again, I lost my voice and used my body to say what they wouldn't or couldn't hear. So, with my beloved father now dead, and my mother being cared for in a nursing facility, why do I still hold tightly to the body image issues? I can't say it is to speak to my parents anymore, but there is still some safety in the frailty of this body. Like so many of us with eating disorders, we can allow ourselves to become our illness. If we believe we are our illness, than who are we without it?
I re-read the scripture above and wonder, what if I saw myself as God's masterpiece, anew in Jesus Christ full of unleashed potential? What if my identity reflected Jesus instead of flesh and bones? What if I recognized the masterpiece he created as....me? What if I discovered I may actually like myself, if I weren't afraid to like myself?
I close my eyes drawing in a deep cleansing breath, wrapping a towel tightly around my waist and tuck in the edge, holding it secure, and slip on a sweatshirt hanging on the doorknob as my body slips to the floor and rest along the wall. With my eyes still close I exhale releasing my spirit, allowing it to rise up to meet with God. I see him, not on some big fancy throne gilded in gold, but a simple bench made of wood much like that of the manger Mary laid him in as a baby. He gently beckons me to come to him like the loving father that he is. I am timid at first as this feels like I am entering into foreign territory. I am not sure how to receive this loving gesture. I point to my self saying "me?" "Yes, you my precious child,"He replies with a sparkle in his voice as if he is excited to see me. "Have a seat," he says as a gently pats the spot to the right of him. "Please just sit here with me, I want you to see something, or rather someone amazing. I created her to love and be loved by me!" "Why is she so amazing?" I ask "Because I created her, I loved her so much I sent my son to die for her." Just sit here and watch her. I know you will like her she loves me with all her heart, and being that she is you, I want you to love her with all your heart. She is my masterpiece, and you know masterpieces don't happen overnight? They are somehow always a work in progress, but a masterpiece none the less. You are my masterpiece
So it is in being mindful of how God sees me, I go about surveying, or observing my self. I approach this as I did observing my body a few weeks back. There are no negatives allowed; no "yes buts" Wow, this is difficult for me! I believe it is hard for most women today to like themselves, or at least admit they like themselves. We fear our confidence comes across as arrogance, so we often hesitate to acknowledge and take ownership of our gifts and talents. I know this to be so true for me. Could it be that in doing this we not only deprive ourselves from reaping the benefits of our strengths, but all of humanity as well? I never thought I would quote Hilary Clinton, but here goes...it really does "take a village" We are all unique and have something unique to offer up to the universe, to God, but we can't give away what we don't own, so if we don't own our strengths, then they aren't ours to share. 1 Corinthians 12:7 "A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other" (NLT)
Friday, February 27, 2015
I Am....
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."
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."
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)