Summer 2014

     So...summer break has come and gone. Parents are giddily getting their children supplied with new crayons and fresh notebooks, eagerly anticipating when they can ship their little hooligans off to school. I remember this time of year fondly, back when I worked at Target, and had to put away the MASS amounts of clothing children would try on. Moms would stroll up with shopping carts full of clothes for her daughter or son, then spend hours trying them on, only deciding to buy a few select items leaving me with a pile full of rumpled up clothing I had to disentangle and put away. Now, as I sit reflecting on my '14 summer, I cannot help but feel totally gipped. I had all these plans. Plans to get a rocking tan, go on long camping trips and arduous hikes, study diligently for my GRE, vacation to Oregon, write a book, create world peace, save third world countries, fight the multiplying forest fires, end world hunger and stop all these silly ‘water bucket’ challenges. Needless to say, I didn’t accomplish much on my summer ‘to do’ list. :/ As classes near and my heart races as I think about the upcoming essays, and tests, long hours studying in the library with way too much caffeine dripping through my veins, I don’t know whether to be mad, sad, angry…or just super anxious like I am now…SO instead of dwelling on the things I DIDN’T do, I am going to be positive and thankful for all the things I did get to do! Thus, here is the run down...my compilation of Winter’s summer 2014 shenanigans list:

·         I went to Silverwood for the first time! First roller coaster! Screamed my head off…I have never seen my friends laugh that hard…J

·         Got to be in my first wedding and see my beautiful friend who I cherish so much, Crystal Beavers, get married to her AWESOMELY hilarious husband Patrick in Seattle where I had my 1^st ever shot of tequila!!! J

·         Attended my friend’s bday party as his ‘special guest of honor’ which was too cute and had some of the craziest cake-shaped like a ’14 hands’ wine bottle! OH and learned how to two-step country dance with Crystal, taught by some old dude at the bar we were at! :) I don’t think I have ever had the hick-ups that badly though…:/ #tequila, white Russian, white wine, champagne, beer, shots…TOO MUCH MIXING

·         Applied for nearly a million jobs throughout CDA- ranging from secretary to overseeing the parasail station at the lake! (I actually got the parasailing job…but turned it down!) BECAUSE I got a job at Scratch restaurant as a server/hostess where I was blessed to work at this summer! Catering for weddings, wine tastings, special dinners- It was an awesome experience! Discovered white wine…#1^st time…and brie cheese. Holy batman. I now can now add opening bottles of wine to my skill list…Met some awesome people, and some definite CRANKY people…lol but it was rad and I can’t wait to see them again at Christmas breakJ

·         Set some boundaries with people in my life I needed to. Took care of my health and wellbeing when my initial housing plan didn’t work out. Made grown up decisions. YAY ME

·         Healed up from a nasty hip/leg injury and now can run again! pain free!

·         Went swimming…mmm…maybe four times:/

·         Orange is the New Black

·         Read nothing but status updates on facebook...and fortunes from panda express.

·         Listened to Pandora religiously

·         Missed all the fireworks on fourth of July cause I fell asleep (AKA passed out:/ LOL)

·         Snap chat for two weeks and then forgot I had it.

·         Got to go on someone’s 21 run J

·         Lived off ice cream…like every night…:/ Seriously…Cold stone knew us by heart…#regulars

·         Oh and peanut butter…#fordayz

·         And blended chais and mocha frappachinos. Discovered Mexican mocha fraps and Calypsos…mmmmmtastymmmmm #somuchforeatingmygreensallsummer #oops #sorrynotsorry

·         Used way too many hashtags…

·         My bike got stolen…and then two days later I found it! THANKSGOD!

·         Home brewed beer at someone’s GORGEOUS house. It took six hours. Six. Long. Hours. :/

·         KROC CENTER WAS MY SECOND HOME…besides work

·         Makeup? Nope. Sweats? ALWAYS. And skirts/dresses when sweats were completely out of the question.

·         Befriended the old lady next door…

·         Bought gas twice…grocery shopped 3 times, and didn’t try ANY clothes on…EVER. SCORE.

·         Worked Car d Alene, Ironman, fourth of July, and Art on the Green. Got to see the first Ironman finisher of 2014! AMAZING!

·         Got to see my two amazing friends, Erin and Zach, become Mr. and Mrs. Davis! Quite possibly the cutest wedding #EVER

·         Movies were my solace at the end of a long day when all my words were used up and I could only communicate with Jeremy in grunts…

·         Which leads me to the bestest part of my summer? Getting to see my best friend/boyfriend/love every day…Jeremy. HE put up with me when I started my new job and literally didn’t know how to function for 2 weeks. He fed me coffee and ice cream whenever I needed. And when I didn’t need it. Quizzed me on my GRE terms. Gym partner. Movie date. Drove all the way to Seattle and got HORRIBLY lost just to come see me in the wedding I was in. Bought me Red’s hard cider and mango margaritas. Late night Panda Express runs. 5AM mornings when we were literally incoherent. Back rubs…where lots of puppies died :/ Night time swims in the lake when it was just too bloody hot to sleep. Tickle fights. Cold Spaghettios. Endless giggling at inappropriate Facebook memes. Not judging me for air drying ALL my clothes. Putting up with me fawning over every baby I laid eyes on. SLUG BUG champ. The word ‘ratchet’ being used by me way more times than ever necessary. His poor roommate walking in on me peeing. Sorry Andy…so sorry. Water fights. Not punching me in the face…or running away when things got hard. Letting me be me…with all my weirdness…and being so immensely patient.

 

Overall, though my summer may not have gone how I planned it in my head, it went just as God had wanted it. And that is good enough for meJ Here’s to an amazing summer…to a summer in recovery…with many more to come…to the next phase of my life.

#BRINGITSENIORYEAR

Turn down for what?

ü  Just eat something…

ü  This is all in your head…

ü  You look fine.

ü  You are so skinny! How do you do it?!

ü  If you were a stronger Christian/person, you could just stop doing this.

I have heard it all…

The one I got just recently…”You could never tell you were sick!”

This statement was one of the hardest to swallow…though all are hard for someone with an ED to hear. Just because you don’t look like a skeleton MUST mean you don’t struggle…Just because your weight isn’t exceptionally low obviously means you have it all put together internally, mentally, emotionally. The reality could not be further from the truth. Nothing was more disheartening to me than when I was in treatment for anorexia and a mentally incapacitated person would finally walk through the door in desperate need of help, seeking, begging, searching. And then maybe…after three days, once their weight had “stabilized”, they were booted because some all-knowing insurance companies deemed them medically stable. It makes me so angry.

Why did I deserve treatment and they didn’t based on such a minute marker as a number? Such insignificance. Yet still, in my daily life, I am dictated by numbers. My mood, how much I eat, how long I work out, competing with another woman at the gym based on their outsides, comparing what I eat to the finicky women ordering her dressing on the side. Hold this. None of that. It is everywhere. Everywhere I turn there is some ad for this new fast weight loss product or this new diet trend. Don’t eat this or that. Well hell! I mine as well not eat anything then! That is where my head goes. And lately, my head has been very loud. Calculating. Correcting. Cramming. What I need to do in order to burn it off before I even put the nutrients to my mouth or taste its essence on my lips. LIFE. No longer can look at food as calories, read a label, count carbs. No. Food has to be my medicine. The fuel that drives my body. The electricity that powers my brain. I feel like a very tired fish...swimming upstream, fighting against an ocean of people obsessed with outward appearances. Training for this, swearing off that. Cause if we breathe in too much air now, we will get fat. Where is the logic in that? Tell me, when will it end? When will we think more about what is in our hearts than our plates? Or check our attitudes out rather than body checking in the mirror, calorie counting on our phones, or BMI calculating online? When will we worry more about how much time we spent loving on others than how long we were at the gym for? The amount of compassion we have rather than the size of our backside, thighs, or hip to waist ratio? When will we tune up our outlook on life rather than focusing on solely toning our biceps? Go to church one day…compared to the gym multiple times in a week. Unfortunately, my carnal nature and automatic response is to give it to my body rather than give it to God. To focus on ALL OF THE ABOVE. I feel like I am fighting a losing battle…I fight society and its norms…but mostly I fight myself and my own expectations. And frankly, I am getting tired of fighting. I am letting go. Of numbers, sizes, scales, calories, fat grams, jeans and anything without an elastic waist line, diet plans, structured and rigid meal plans, hours spent with no sleep-empty-alone in quietness I create for myself. Controlled chaos may have been my best friend and loyal lover, but I can no longer seek the approval of those whose opinions will mean nothing in the end. I must fight for those who never had the chance to find their peace, their freedom. ED is a deceptive bastard. This disease is cunning, baffling, and powerful. Just this year, we have lost too many souls to this darkness. Days ago we lost our beloved Robin Williams to depression and addiction. It is all the same-just with a different face. It will consume you. Death is the end result. Or a sad, sick, empty life dedicated to futile efforts of perfection, escape from a reality that is always waiting for you, a cold hard loss. Do not fool yourself into thinking the fleeting pursuit of thinness will result in anything less. It didn’t for those I have lost. And for those in the midst of the battle, I see the same death I saw in my eyes at my worst.

So, just for today- I will forgive myself. Shove my inner critic in the corner, stifle the thoughts that scream I am not worth it, not good enough, or will never amount to anything. I will listen to that one voice that whispers quietly…yet audibly. The voice of health, life, recovery. It is not easy, but it was never promised to us that it would be. “But by the grace of God, there go I.” And as I head back to school in slightly over a week, (Good lord in heaven…:/) I pray that I am overcome by His passion, energy, zeal- to finish this last year of school strong. To take care of myself. To be patient. Positive. Prayer filled. Because on my own strength, I will fail. It takes a village. Because I am one giant mess. But I am His mess. And luckily for me, I find things better within the clutter anyways;)

I know I cannot do this alone. So. I am asking for check ins- texts, phone calls, even letters would be fantastic! However, prayers…prayers are a must. I need them like I need oxygen…and yes. Food.

Thank youJ

Winter Grace

Mealplan

A very dear friend of mine and I were texting to one another the other day...she asked if I would care for a blog post written by her. As a fellow ED survivor and addict, I was more than thrilled to hear her thoughts. What I received was astoundingly painful to read for me. Not only because she is my gumba, my good friend, my strong shoulder. But also because it infuriates me the power of this disease. And how some think it is nothing but a striving to 'look good.' Just last summer, I had an acquaintance email me asking me how I started my "disease."
She just wanted to lose some weight...drop a couple of pounds...shed some winter weight. My friends...this amounts to nothing in comparison with an eating disorder. Whatever spectrum you are on throughout the ED scale, it will only end one way. Death.
This post is dedicated to the further education and awareness of what ED really is like. Cheers~

“Dude, if you make a meal plan, the one you follow, I promise to stick to it to a tee so that I can have a body that is remotely close to as perfect as yours” This was the 2nd text message I got this week along those lines. Me? Make a meal plan? Well, I am a pretty decent nutritionist and extraordinarily knowledgeable about the science behind food. Therefore, I am more than capable of making a successful meal plan. However, my friends asked me for MY meal plan. The truth is, yesterday I ate 2 bites of a pb and j so I didn't pass out again this week. the day before that I had a side kale salad from a vegan bar. Today is Sunday. Those were the two solid "meals" that I’ve had in the past 7 days. The truth is, I’m more than happy that my friends don't “understand” how I "do it". The truth is, "how I do it" is by depriving my body of the vital nutrients that it needs to survive. The truth is, I have the heart of an 80 year old. I have virtually no stomach lining. I have ulcerative colitis and well as chronic bleeding ulcers. I used to have Mallory Weiss tears that have scarred my esophagus, a growth on my vocal chords and have permanently affected my voice. I have Osteopenia, which is the stage before Osteoporosis. I get pneumonia or bronchitis every year because I have no immune system and horrible kidneys. The truth is my medical problems and health is much more than I listed above. The truth is that the average 23 year old does doesn't face a fraction of what I listed above. The truth is while I was texting my friend last night about how I was loving life, the sunshine, teaching yoga and my blossoming art company, I was simultaneously carving the word tainted into my inner thigh with a razor. Sober. The truth is, that merely knowing why I do what I do doesn’t change my powerful disconnect between my head and my heart. The truth is, if you knew the truth, and you still believe that my body is perfect, than you want to walk around with an invisible noose around your neck like I have been for 15 years. There is nothing glamorous about anorexia, bulimia or any eating disorder. Friends, do you still want my meal plan?"

A fantasy world...

Jeremy asked me the other night what I fantasize about. And not in the “whips and chains” context either! But truly the…what do you think about…dream about…aspire for aspect. It caught me off guard…and left me tongue tied. I honestly didn’t even know how to answer the question. When I was young I dreamt about turning 13… 18…and finally 21…years old. Now that those dates have come and gone, I don’t even remember what I was so excited about! I dreamt about marriage and the man I would marry…the children I would once have. After watching my parent’s divorce after 25 years of marriage, my heart is now unsure of that dream, overcome by the fear  and doubt that someone could ever love me forever after. I dreamt of once being a singer, a dancer, an actress, the first white Oprah. And of course, as I grew and matured, realized that would not be happening any time soon. And as I near the beginning of my Senior year of college and contemplate what is next for me (Basically as the big, bad GRE looms ahead) I question if I can get a good score on this thing, get into grad school (let alone pay for it) and what I will do after, where I will live, how I will make something of myself. All of this just makes me anxious. I know the Lord has it all in His plans…that worrying about it will do nothing, but it sure is easy to fall into complacency when faced with studying for the GRE, working on grad school assignments, and getting pumped for school in the fall. When I truly think about it and am honest with myself, my fantasies since I was 12 years old…and still to this day, swarm around my ED. All the time. What to eat, the gym, getting smaller, fitting into smaller sizes, shrinking away into oblivion to where I am in control of my body and contentedly numb. All the anxiety. The sadness. And depression. It all just melts together into one outlet: my eating disorder. Starvation. Endless exercising. Self-harm. Now, that I have a full time job, a loving relationship, and career that I am trying to get into…the time for acting out in my compulsions has been cut down drastically. I know this is a good thing. In fact, today marks exactly a year that I have been home for a year. A year in Recovery. I never thought I would say that, let alone live to see it. But praise the Lord, this last winter, I didn’t make my annual pilgrimage down to Arizona like I had for the last 3 years to visit treatment. I am surviving. But I still feel like I am barely holding on emotionally. I feel trapped inside a body that isn’t mine. Caught inside a body with a mouth that cannot express how alone I feel because no one understands the sick thoughts I have. And if I even tried to verbally pronounce them, I would sound crazy. I feel betrayed by hunger and the inevitable need and desire to eat. And not just lettuce and carrot sticks…but real, life giving food. I feel weak. I feel tired. Because all I fantasize about when I am brutally honest with myself is that sick body. How it felt, looked, how comfortable, safe, and secure it was to reside within a shell of skin and bone.

Jeremy also pointed out that I have seemed cranky lately, not my bubbly silly old self. I have tried to hide that lovely reaity. But I feel as though I am melting inside with how uncomfortable I am with myself and my future and it is beginning to seep out of my soul through my pores, out of my skin, and into reality for everyone to see. Especially those who are close to me and spend a decent amount of time with me. So Jeremy. And the last thing I want to do is affect him and allow him to see that side of me. The not so joyful and depressed side of me. The Winter who is really fucking tired of having a thousand voices yelling at me…the self destructive side telling me I don’t need to eat after work and before the gym….or ever for that matter. The side that says I should because otherwise I will just be light headed and starving afterwards. The sad Winter who hates what she sees in the mirror. The girl who can’t wear the clothes she wants to because of how the fit, how they feel against my new skin. The woman who is literally petrified in her own body, desperate to control it along with the future. The angry Winter who justifies the hurt she feels through others by taking it out on herself. I hate that I have to put on a happy face and yappy smile to keep the customers happy and make good tips to save up money that I don’t even know where it will be materializing from or if it will be even close to enough to keeping me alive through the winter. And then when I come home, I am spent and exhausted and can’t keep that smile on my face for my boyfriend continuously. So he sees the raw side of me I try to hide and hate. I hate that I sit here rambling on and on…yet it feels so good to get this shit out and let the poisonous worry seep out to where I am heard. Instead of sitting in silence. The black turmoil ruminating around in my brain like a freaking tornado. The dream I keep having, of a tornado swirling around me and shattering everything. It keeps happening in my dreams now. I am haunted by my conscious mind even in my unconscious state. So that even when I can shut my brain off and miraculously fall alseep, I am still tormented by the depression, the worry, the ED thoughts and desires. I feel exhausted. I thought it would be easier a year out in Recovery. Maybe it will become easier. But it sure feels hard right now. And I know that it is me that makes it hard. I know that people believe or think I can just ‘let it go’ (cue overused Frozen music) Oh, how I wish it were that simple. How I wish I had an on/off switch to do just that. I have lived for ten years in this turmoil. And I know that it will take time for a new normal to feel natural. But why can’t it happen NOW? In like 21 days, just like any other habit! Because this is a disease. And it is one that kills. I have lost four alumni of Rosewood Ranch this last year to this f-ed up disease. And those won’t be the last. And as peaceful as death sounds on a lot of days…I can’t let that become an option. No matter how loud or dark or lonely it gets. There is always tomorrow. God, give me the strength…to wait till tomorrow.

It comes down to wants and needs. And lately, trying to save as much money as I can, has truly pointed out to me where my wants and needs truly lie. I want to have MY set routine, where work and school don’t get in the way of my running, my starving, my calculating, and perfecting of MY beloved anorexia. But what I NEED is to move the F forward, to not become a statistic, and to keep challenging the thoughts in my head. One day at a time. What I need to do is to cry, to scream, to dance it out (preferably to some cray cray Lady Gaga music) and not to use food, exercise, alcohol, or any other substance to numb out the feelings I have. I need to nourish myself when I want to go back to the pre-pubescent looking child I once was, caught in the day to day life of a prisoner, a slave. I am a survivor. And for this I am thankful. I am thankful for the blessings my Savior has given me, for the life I have now, for my boyfriend who I met a year ago now, and for the ability to type what I need to so desperately get out of my heart. And for you friends out there who must have prayed for me continuously. I would be dead without the Lord hearing your Holy interventions on behalf of my withered soul. For I am what I am. It is what it is. And I cannot control a thing. Just like I can’t control the weather, the customers who walk through our door, my family’s feelings, or what will happen tomorrow. I can ‘create my own routine’ as my boyfriend so perfectly put it. And it all begins with being grateful. For what if we were to wake up tomorrow with only the things we were thankful for today? I wouldn’t have a whole lot, now would I? And that my friends, is a future I don’t want to fantasize about…

 

Musings of a 22 year old insomniac...

OK so….I'm super tired and super sick…aaaaand I can’t sleep for the life of me…Awesome…So I instead…will write~

I have been thinking a lot about my friend who called me the other night searching for support. She also struggles with an eating disorder and told me how the other day at work, some woman came up to her and said one word, “Congrats!”

Confused, my friend looked at her and replied, “Ummmmm….for what?!” The woman then stated, “You are pregnant, right?! CONGRATS!”

My friend is NOT pregnant. Nor is she even close to looking like she would be even CAPABLE of carrying a child. She was devastated. And I was furious. My heart broke and my mouth gaped open when she told me this story. I have been there. In fact, my mom and I were talking eons ago about defining moments in our lives that really triggered the spirals of our eating disorders…comments that not only left lasting impacts in our memories and heart, but our bodies as well, as we both struggle with anorexia.

“You have a big butt!” Was a comment I heard from a boy I grew up with and had an epic childhood crush on!

“You are fat!” were the rebuttals my two brothers would scream back at me during our sister/brother fights.

“If you lost x amount of pounds, you would be a ten,” was the suggestion my mother was given in high school by her crush.

While eating disorders are a conglomeration of much more than just comments like these, beware that words really do affect people and the view they have of themselves. But it was just extra toppings added to the perfect storm…

As I listened to my friend and struggled to find the answers for her…the right advice…the perfect thing to say…I realized I didn’t even know how to respond. Because I feel like anything I could say would be dripping with hypocrisy. I didn’t know how to handle it. How is she supposed to? Besides keeping in mind that she is among good company: Beyonce and Kim Kardashian are always gracing the tabloids rumoring to be 'preggers' with their baby bumps, which in all reality is just gas!!!! Or a weird fitting shirt!!! Or….maybe...just perhaps a friggin' food baby! So why does what other people say affect us so much? Or do we just allow it to?

This has been something I have been mulling on lately…an issue I feel God has been placing concretely on my heart and showing me is an area that needs some work in my life~ People pleasing, care-taking, the desperate search for outside approval, and how much my self-worth is based on what others think of me.  

Yesterday morning I went to church and was told by my small group leader that that specific Sunday morning it was our small group’s turn to step out during the sermon and pray specifically for the message that was being given. Immediately, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish and listen to the sermon! But I didn’t want to upset my leader so I decided to go and pray with her…we prayed for the worship team, the pastor, the church, and the newcomers walking through the door. And we prayed for us as Christians to be open and welcoming, with our hearts to be in the right place and for our spirits to be focused on bringing glory to God…and not ourselves. Bringing glory to the Father…and not myself. I was struck by this. How often do I participate in things for the mere purpose of wanting to please others or make myself look like a ‘good’ person? Which led me to a slew of self-probing questions~ Many of which led me to feeling like a horrible person…the insides of my heart feeling like it was just grated by sandpaper…left pink, raw, and gaping.

Why do I put makeup on when I go out? Why do people post pictures of themselves in bikinis, after workouts, during diets, after haircuts? What is the purpose of selfies? Besides the HILARIOUS duck lip pose of course..;) But really…If I were the last person on earth…would I still run? Why do I force myself to wake up before class every morning- rain, snow, sleet, sickness, or pain- to run? Yes, there is definitely a joy I experience- the endorphins, the reduction of anxiety and release of stress, the time alone-away- with God. But is it also to not burn calories? To EARN my intake of food for the day? To make sure I present myself as healthy and fit? To prove myself competent?

A co-worker of mine made a comment to me the other day~ “You are so hard core! My daughter and I always see you, the same time, every morning either biking to school, the gym, or running! No matter the weather...even Saturday when it was 17 degrees!” I just laughed…and immediately felt relieved…

"Well at least I am good at something!" I thought. That right there...Pride. But for what? Running around in circles? I once saw a post on Facebook that made me laugh…and think at the same time: I forgot to post I was going to the gym on Facebook…My workout is ruined!

How often I see posts of people stating how many reps they can do, how many miles they run, how much weight they have lost and what a killer workout they just had. And my stomach turns. Why? Because I get irritated! WHY?! BECAUSE IM JEALOUS! If I see anyone running on the side of the rode, I am immediately angry at myself because…well, if they are running I should be too! No excuses! BUT WHY?! I always say I am such a perfectionist…I HAVE to do this…I MUST do that~ Good grades, perfect scores, clean house and room, new clothes, spotless appearance. For what? My glory? Others praise? Or HIS? Does HE care? Does my Savior care when I have my hair perfectly straightened, teeth whitened, clothes pressed and lookin’ fly but yet don’t want to bend down and pick up that crying child because they might get snot on my new shirt! Don’t want to get dirty helping another person up or muss up the hair do by walking in the rain to a friend in need! God forbid I be late to somewhere because I am stopping to say hi to someone who needs a friend! How selfish I have become…how self-seeking. Why can’t I be OK with myself regardless of whether I am in PJ’s or in a dress… Why can’t a woman look at herself in the mirror and exclaim, “Damn! I am WORKING it today!” instead of having to rely on someone to comment on how pretty she looks. Can she not recognize the beauty within herself as a human being, a creation of God without someone telling her so? And if someone does tell her so, will she truly even believe it or take it to heart? Why can a man not buy tickets to his own gun show? Does he have to prove himself manly or can it instead be a trait inherently possessed by him no matter if he shows his true emotions or not? Can we judge a man on his integrity and the size of his heart and measure of love for his brothers and Christ instead of how much he can lift or how ‘swoll’ he is? Who gives a crap what size her chest is…what brand his jeans are…how much money is in your bank account or what you cumulative GPA is. But…in the end…like Linkin Park says…“It doesn’t even matter.” J

Reading through Luke chapter 13 with my awesome accountability partner #loveher, I came across two significant stories tonight…as I lie awake! J

Verse 24 says: “Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many will seek to enter and will not be able. When once the Master of the house has risen up and shut the door, and you begin to stand outside and knock at the door saying, ‘Lord, Lord open for us’!” But He will answer and say to you, “I do not know you…where you are from?” And you will begin to say, “We ate and drank in your presence!” But He will say, I tell you I do not know you, depart from me all you workers of iniquity. FOR INDEED: those who are last will be first and those that are first will be last.”

WOW…so are you tellin’ me…even if I work my butt of to be first in my graduating class, first woman to do this…earn this amount of money…run this many miles…it will result to nothing in the end?!!!

In verse 10, Jesus the Lord beholds a woman who has been bound by Satan for 18 years, suffering from a spinal problem. And though the woman does not ask for healing, Jesus restores her, having compassion for her, regardless of it being on the Sabbath! I have struggled the entirety of my life with sin…with caring about what people will say...what they will think…how they judge me. But just like this…the Lord lays His hands on her saying, “Woman, you are loosed from your infirmity,” and immediately she is made straight and glorifies God! I want to be like that woman…who has been crooked in her strivings for so many years…22 to be exact, but in an instant is forgiven by God. I want to forget about what others think…and pretend that it is just me and Jesus. Cause in the end…that is all that it will boil down to!

Selah and sweet dreams…maybe?…finally?...hopefully~J

Terminally Unique

So I am going to be super blunt, brutally honest, and quite frank. It is time to bite this denial in the butt. Because my jeans no longer make it up past my butt. My head is super friggin loud. I don’t know what is going on. My appetite is insatiable. I have night sweats all the time. And I have gained a significant amount of weight since last summer. When I was at a healthy weight. Period. Yes, even though I felt uncomfortable at that weight as well, I cannot describe how disgusting I feel lately. ED wants to worm his way into my soul…

I feel like the binging is out of control. It is not fun. And I am tired of it. I talked to my doctor and consulted people IN recovery who I trust and they said it might definitely be due to my medication I take for anxiety, OCD, and depression.

The truth is, it is time for me to be honest. Because in this society, eating a friggin cupcake is looked at as being horrendous for women to do. Because “it will go straight to your hips…” Well I feel like I have been on auto-pilot and just want this empty whole in my stomach to go away…but it doesn’t no matter what I put in, no matter how many cupcakes I freaking eat. And then boom! All of a sudden I feel so full I just want to crawl in a hole and hibernate or die... I vow to not let it happen again…and then it does…the very next day. This stupid cycle is getting so old…and I want off this shit show band wagon.

I have so many feelings towards myself: Angry, sad, disappointed, disgusted, confused, tormented…In church we were learning about the “STAKES” we have that we feel tied to. My body, food, how much I eat…don’t eat…exercise, it is ALWAYS there. Having an eating disorder, that probably makes sense. I know it is much more than that…but for right now I am completely and utterly…lost? Disappointed…disgusted…

~So UPDATE~ I wrote this literally three days ago. Today…I am feeling better. I think for me…talking about this…exposing the thoughts and feelings is crucial. For so long now I have been hiding the way I have been feeling because my Eating Disorder didn’t want me to.

“You are an anorexic! How dare you binge…you cannot let anyone know…otherwise you will look weak and disgusting.”

Yep, thanks ED. That got me nowhere but shoveling chocolate covered anything down my throat in secrecy…then wishing I could purge it. Thank God I didn’t go down that rabbit hole. But I know it could lead to there. And I just had a very good friend of mine have to have a feeding tube inserted because they ripped their esophagus. This shit kills. And my pride will kill me. It will keep me trapped in the mindset that I am undeserving of help…of saying what I am TRULY struggling with…of opening my mouth and saying I CANT any longer. The truth is, my ED wants me to shut my mouth and only open it to allow poisonous lies in. Well I am tired of it. And I don’t want to listen to his voice in my head any longer. Because it is painful and defeating and ultimately withholds me from my main goal and purpose in life: Bringing joy to others~ Loving on them as we are told to do so in Luke chapter 10, which I am reading through with a wonderful friend of mine. What good is it if I partake of the Scriptures and stop there? The Lord wants me to apply it to my life. To live out the commandments in His Word. My sinful nature wants to pretend I am fine…that I can love other people and never ask for anything in return. But that will kill me. It is time to accept that I cannot attain my expectations of perfect and allow the only One who is perfect to wash over me with His grace and mercy. No longer do I need to sit in shame and silence. It is time to get back to the core basics. And thank God for friends who have been there and are helping me through it. Amazing how your life is not so ‘unique’ when you actually open up and allow yourself to be vulnerable! SO! Here I am baring it all. I have the pleasure of being in a best friend’s wedding this May. I am already dreading having to go pick up the dress and try it on…because I know what my head will tell me. But how selfish is that? I am pretty sure this day is for her! And I guarantee that over three-fourths of the women in America dislike trying on clothes as well. So I will suck it up. I will bring support. I will venture forth. Because the joy of life is too great now to dim it with this damn ED. My hair is growing, my nails are strong, my body can do anything on a daily basis that I require of it. God has given me a new chance at life…and I will be damned if I let any little thing like a medication and some number on a scale determine what trajectory my life goes towards.

“It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.” Ursula K. LeGuin

A Lady's Pledge

 

Today, I formally pledge to be more of a lady. From here on out, I solemnly swear to:
Take up more space. I will eat up all your space, and show up in places you don’t want me to be. I will be everywhere. I will take almost all the space up in the room. I will stand with my legs far apart. I will stand with my shoulders high. I will be as much of a physical presence as I will be a vocal one. You will hear me from streets down and miles away. I will run circles around you. I will be everywhere you didn’t see me before. I will climb higher and farther in shoes you couldn’t walk in.
I solemnly swear to tell you no. No. No. No.
I swear to look exactly as I want to. I swear to wear red lipstick and drink out of a straw. The next day I will have knots in my hair, thick and tangled. The next day, I will stop shaving my legs. Then, I will shave them again. My hair is my crown and I will cut it all off and I will let it grow long and soft. I will chew you up with my mouth open. I will blow smoke rings and make smoke signals to all the places I dream to go. I will put my napkin on my lap and scribble ideas on the napkin. I will move far away. I will be so high you cannot see me. I will break the glass ceiling on the other side of the glass ceiling, way up in the sky. I will speak assertively. I will say “Excuse me” and I will walk past you. I will carry a sledgehammer with smooth hands. I will eat things that make my belly soft. I will run farther and harder than you. I will invade all the words you own—I will settle softly into sportsmanship and handshake and money and power and dollars. I will pay my own bills. I will dress the way I like. I will decorate myself the way I like, in skirts and pants and smart trousers. I swear to cross my legs when I want to.
I will treat my body like my own temple. I will let people in. I will listen and be compassionate and not so modest. I will take my sexuality with freedom and responsibility. I will not be ashamed by how others interpret shame. I will not be ashamed of myself. I will cover my mouth when I cough. I will drink in great big swigs. I will drink life the same way.
I swear to be known. I swear to be aggressive and calm, a mighty body of water or a contained fire. I swear to make you nervous. I swear to make my own decisions and own my decisions. I will brush my teeth twice a day and be seen, not heard (during movies, only). I will let you buy me dinner and hold the door but I will hold the door open for you, buy dinner, make jokes, speak without being spoken to, be wild and powerful and impossible to ignore. I will sneak up slowly behind you and then I will be gone, quite a ways ahead. I will hold my head high and look people in the eye and say ‘fuck’ when I stub my toe and be the woman my grandmother dreamed women could become. I will be a force, the wind that throws open the door. I will also walk through that door.
I swear you will hear me and listen. I will be hte woman you were always afraid of.
I will take up space. I swear.

(The Frenemy)