I used to know this girl once,
This 4 year old girl.
She was sweet and innocent.
She loved to laugh and play with her daddy.
She loved life, because she never thought about life.
She never questioned it, just lived it,
But then again how could she?
She was only 4 years old.
I used to know this girl once,
This 8 year old girl.
She was rambunctious and full of energy.
She would get angry easily, but her daddy would calm her down.
She loved life, when she wasn't in trouble.
She never questioned it, just lived it,
But then again how could she?
She was only 8 years old.
I used to know this girl once,
This 12 year old girl.
She was cute, but slightly awkward.
She thought she was pretty, because her daddy thought she was.
She loved life, but it often made her wonder.
She questioned it, but still lived it,
But what else could she do?
She was only 12 years old.
I used to know this girl once,
This 14 year old girl.
She was shy and self-conscious.
She loved to draw and hold her boyfriend's hand (not her daddy's)
She loved life, as long as she felt loved back.
She never questioned who she was, because her boyfriend always told her,
But she didn't know any better,
She was only 14 years old.
I used to know this girl once,
This 18 year old girl.
She was funny and outgoing.
She loved to make people laugh, and impress them even more.
She loved life, when everyone was looking.
She never questioned who she was, because her friends always told her,
But what do you expect?
She was only 18 years old.
I used to know this girl once,
This 20 year old girl.
She was hopeful and curious.
She loved God and wanted to know more about Him.
She loved life, because she thought she was supposed to.
She never questioned who she was, because the church always told her,
But I don't blame her,
She was only 20 years old.
I used to know this girl once,
This 22 year old girl.
She was active and in good shape, but never good enough.
She loved to measure her food, but pretended that she didn't.
She hated life, but acted like she loved it.
She questioned who she was, but her eating disorder always told her,
So she stopped asking.
She was only 22 years old.
I hope to meet this girl one day,
This 20, 30, 40, 50-something year old girl.
She will be confident and healthy.
She will live in freedom and pursue her passions.
She will love her life, simply because it is good, and a gift from God.
She will be proud of who she is, look back on who she was, and continue to look forward to who she will become.
She will have a voice,
And her age will not matter.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
Letter to my former self
This was a writing assignment while in treatment at Timberline knolls (Feb-April 2007)
Dear Jennie Joy (14 years old),
Hey girl! I wanted to write to you to give you some words of wisdom to carry with you throughout the years. I know you don't listen much to your parents, but I'm asking you to listen to me because I know where you've been and I know where you're going.
You're young- stay that way! Don't rush to grow up only to wish to be a kid again. Take your time! Know that it's ok to make mistakes- learn from them, but don't run from them.
Don't worry so much about what other people think of you- it's really not that big a deal. If you don't agree with someone, just say it, don't pretend you do just to impress someone- it's not worth losing your voice over. Express yourself, don't hide behind a smile, be true to how you feel. If you keep it locked up, it will find a way out one day, and it won't be very pretty.
You'll come across some nice guys, one in particular. Hold on to your innocence, don't be so quick to give it up; and remind yourself that you're really not as old as you think you are. With the whole guy thing, take a little time to get to know yourself first before you try to get to know someone else. I know it may seem like the most important thing in the world to have a boyfriend at 14, but let's be honest, you don't know what you want at 14. If you really want to be loved, love yourself first. Only then will you be ready to love someone else.
Explore all the options life has to offer. Ask what life is about. Don't feel confined to any one church, one religion, one school, one home, one job, one name, one friend. See what's out there and find out for yourself. Don't be afraid to question, doubt, seek, look, wander. If you are truely looking for ultimate truth you will find it, and it won't matter where you looked, but know that you don't need facts or even answers to have faith. Remember that everyone is different, and different doesn't mean bad or good, it just means different. You may find truth long before any of your friends do, and it's ok. They may or may not find it, but don't let that take away from who you are. Offer help, but not at the expense of losing yourself.
Always remember that you do matter, no matter what anyone says. You are worth it. You are known, and loved anyway, no more pretending. Don't be afraid to ask for help, no one is strong enough to do it all on their own. Don't let your pride get in the way, which it will, often; in which case, just lay it down and surrender as best as you know how.
The world will tell you you need to be a certain way in order to be accepted. The truth is that you are loved just the way you are, yes, just the way you are! If you start comparing yourself to others you will soon find out just how unhappy it will make you, don't let it steal your joy. Share your joy, but guard it.
Be honest. In all things. Even the little ones. The truth hurts in the moment, but it heals in the long run. Don't let a little white lie turn into a life of lies. Stop, think, and tell the truth.
As for the superficial stuff, I want you to believe me when I say that no matter how much you think you need that name brand coat, or shirt, or whatever, you don't. It's ok that you want them, but learn to know the difference. If you realize you already have everything you need, you may realize you don't want much else.
I can't tell you about all the things you will go through, but I can say don't ever give up! Life is too short to give up. We've only got so much time, and it's just enough to be patient, but not enough to give up. So hang in there.
And finally, I'm not gonna lie, life is messy, kid. But it's worth it. Change is gonna come. Don't dwell on the past or focus on the future, but live life for today. Live with passion. Share your voice. Give your heart. And don't be afraid to give, but more so recieve, love... from yourself, from others, and from your Heavenly Father. May your journey dead end at His feet.
I love you girl... don't ever forget that!
Much love,
Jennie Joy (23 years old)
Dear Jennie Joy (14 years old),
Hey girl! I wanted to write to you to give you some words of wisdom to carry with you throughout the years. I know you don't listen much to your parents, but I'm asking you to listen to me because I know where you've been and I know where you're going.
You're young- stay that way! Don't rush to grow up only to wish to be a kid again. Take your time! Know that it's ok to make mistakes- learn from them, but don't run from them.
Don't worry so much about what other people think of you- it's really not that big a deal. If you don't agree with someone, just say it, don't pretend you do just to impress someone- it's not worth losing your voice over. Express yourself, don't hide behind a smile, be true to how you feel. If you keep it locked up, it will find a way out one day, and it won't be very pretty.
You'll come across some nice guys, one in particular. Hold on to your innocence, don't be so quick to give it up; and remind yourself that you're really not as old as you think you are. With the whole guy thing, take a little time to get to know yourself first before you try to get to know someone else. I know it may seem like the most important thing in the world to have a boyfriend at 14, but let's be honest, you don't know what you want at 14. If you really want to be loved, love yourself first. Only then will you be ready to love someone else.
Explore all the options life has to offer. Ask what life is about. Don't feel confined to any one church, one religion, one school, one home, one job, one name, one friend. See what's out there and find out for yourself. Don't be afraid to question, doubt, seek, look, wander. If you are truely looking for ultimate truth you will find it, and it won't matter where you looked, but know that you don't need facts or even answers to have faith. Remember that everyone is different, and different doesn't mean bad or good, it just means different. You may find truth long before any of your friends do, and it's ok. They may or may not find it, but don't let that take away from who you are. Offer help, but not at the expense of losing yourself.
Always remember that you do matter, no matter what anyone says. You are worth it. You are known, and loved anyway, no more pretending. Don't be afraid to ask for help, no one is strong enough to do it all on their own. Don't let your pride get in the way, which it will, often; in which case, just lay it down and surrender as best as you know how.
The world will tell you you need to be a certain way in order to be accepted. The truth is that you are loved just the way you are, yes, just the way you are! If you start comparing yourself to others you will soon find out just how unhappy it will make you, don't let it steal your joy. Share your joy, but guard it.
Be honest. In all things. Even the little ones. The truth hurts in the moment, but it heals in the long run. Don't let a little white lie turn into a life of lies. Stop, think, and tell the truth.
As for the superficial stuff, I want you to believe me when I say that no matter how much you think you need that name brand coat, or shirt, or whatever, you don't. It's ok that you want them, but learn to know the difference. If you realize you already have everything you need, you may realize you don't want much else.
I can't tell you about all the things you will go through, but I can say don't ever give up! Life is too short to give up. We've only got so much time, and it's just enough to be patient, but not enough to give up. So hang in there.
And finally, I'm not gonna lie, life is messy, kid. But it's worth it. Change is gonna come. Don't dwell on the past or focus on the future, but live life for today. Live with passion. Share your voice. Give your heart. And don't be afraid to give, but more so recieve, love... from yourself, from others, and from your Heavenly Father. May your journey dead end at His feet.
I love you girl... don't ever forget that!
Much love,
Jennie Joy (23 years old)
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Girls, Girls, Girls
"Many of the girls who wrote about dark problems were, on the surface, “perfect” girls—smart, pretty, and popular. Why do you think teenagers fall prey to such problems when they appear so outwardly happy?"
I found this question online... it's referencing a book by Sara Shandler called Ophelia Speaks. The themes of which include adolesence, body image, sexuality, friendship, self-identity, family relationships, etc...
The book shares the "harsh realities of being young and female," and is done so by actual girls writing in and sharing their stories with the author... girls we thought were perfect, girls we thought had it all together, girls who looked happy. But behind the scenes was a whole nother story. This trend continues today... with girls of all ages, all sizes, all looks, all colors. Insecurity doesn't come in one shape, insecurity comes with being human, and it's a characteristic that some openly express and one that others have learned to mask too well, myself included.
I haven't had the opportunity to read the book yet, so I won't go into it until I have done so, but this question really caught my attention.
So many of us look to society, which is literally just a big group of people, as the standard for how we should live our lives, from what we eat to what we wear, and everything in between.
Why???
Why do we need other people to tell us how to live? A vast majority of girls today are living their lives based upon what's cool or what's popular or what someone else says they should do. They're learning to do what is necessary to fit in despite what they want. They don't even know what they want. They think they want to fit in, but they have no idea that that really doesn't even matter, and if they knew it didn't matter, they wouldn't want it.
Girls today are trying to "grow up" younger and younger in an attempt (maybe even an unknown attempt) to skip their childhood. And it's sad. It's sad to see 6th grade girls wearing mid-drift tank tops and heavy make up. It's sad to see girls starting to diet as young as fourth grade. It's sad to see girls I used to babysit for post pictures of themselves on Myspace in their bathing suits. It's sad to hear about middle schoolers having sex. It's sad that society is telling them that this is ok, and even more sad they they think it's cool and that they need the attention they get from it to validate them.
I wish girls could see the value in themselves without feeling like they need to give up a part of themselves in order to do so.
And when I say girls, I include myself. I include myself as a girl who thinks her value lies in what the world thinks of her. I include myself as a girl with distorted body image who trys to reach an unattainable goal of perfection. I include myself as a girl who wants to believe so badly that looks don't matter, but does everything she can to try and make the mirror happy... a mirror with unrealistic standards and a voice that says "you'll never be good enough."
But... I also include myself as a girl who is willing to fight for herself and for girls everywhere who believe the lies of a mixed up world. Who, though she is weak and is easily swayed by those around her, will not give up. I refuse.
I'll fall down, a lot, but God will pull me up, time and time again. And each time he does, I'm pulling two girls up with me.
I found this question online... it's referencing a book by Sara Shandler called Ophelia Speaks. The themes of which include adolesence, body image, sexuality, friendship, self-identity, family relationships, etc...
The book shares the "harsh realities of being young and female," and is done so by actual girls writing in and sharing their stories with the author... girls we thought were perfect, girls we thought had it all together, girls who looked happy. But behind the scenes was a whole nother story. This trend continues today... with girls of all ages, all sizes, all looks, all colors. Insecurity doesn't come in one shape, insecurity comes with being human, and it's a characteristic that some openly express and one that others have learned to mask too well, myself included.
I haven't had the opportunity to read the book yet, so I won't go into it until I have done so, but this question really caught my attention.
So many of us look to society, which is literally just a big group of people, as the standard for how we should live our lives, from what we eat to what we wear, and everything in between.
Why???
Why do we need other people to tell us how to live? A vast majority of girls today are living their lives based upon what's cool or what's popular or what someone else says they should do. They're learning to do what is necessary to fit in despite what they want. They don't even know what they want. They think they want to fit in, but they have no idea that that really doesn't even matter, and if they knew it didn't matter, they wouldn't want it.
Girls today are trying to "grow up" younger and younger in an attempt (maybe even an unknown attempt) to skip their childhood. And it's sad. It's sad to see 6th grade girls wearing mid-drift tank tops and heavy make up. It's sad to see girls starting to diet as young as fourth grade. It's sad to see girls I used to babysit for post pictures of themselves on Myspace in their bathing suits. It's sad to hear about middle schoolers having sex. It's sad that society is telling them that this is ok, and even more sad they they think it's cool and that they need the attention they get from it to validate them.
I wish girls could see the value in themselves without feeling like they need to give up a part of themselves in order to do so.
And when I say girls, I include myself. I include myself as a girl who thinks her value lies in what the world thinks of her. I include myself as a girl with distorted body image who trys to reach an unattainable goal of perfection. I include myself as a girl who wants to believe so badly that looks don't matter, but does everything she can to try and make the mirror happy... a mirror with unrealistic standards and a voice that says "you'll never be good enough."
But... I also include myself as a girl who is willing to fight for herself and for girls everywhere who believe the lies of a mixed up world. Who, though she is weak and is easily swayed by those around her, will not give up. I refuse.
I'll fall down, a lot, but God will pull me up, time and time again. And each time he does, I'm pulling two girls up with me.
Friday, August 17, 2007
"Hate is so close to love, you have to love someone to hate them."
Otherwise, why such passion?
I used to hate someone. But I hated him because I loved him. Sometimes I still catch myself getting angry at him, not that I see him or anything, but when I think about what I went through emotionally, I can feel the hatred. I understand as a Christ follower I am to forgive him and let it go, but let's face it, I am a Christ follower, not Christ. So I can't perfectly forgive him the way he deserves to be forgiven... and yes, he does deserve to be forgiven, but only Christ can forgive him in the way he needs to be. I've done the best I can with what I have, but it's not perfect forgiveness.
From my understanding, the beautiful thing is that Christ doesn't ask for perfection, which is great considering the fact that I'm pretty close but not there yet (kidding). So I still get angry. I still feel hurt. I still wonder why. But that's not the driving force of my life. The thoughts creep in, I may dwell on them for a while, maybe even longer than I should, but then as best as I know how, I give it to God... only to grab hold of it again, but I give it up again, and the cycle repeats itself.
It may be a different story if I were to actually see him (the guy). My stomach would turn, and truth be told, I would feel sick. I realize that sounds dramatic, but I'm a girl, and that's how I'm wired. That's just how it is, no apologies. I don't know if I would get mad at him or at God. I tend to take things out on God when someone else hurts me. I'm still exploring what that's all about.
I don't know why I thought about it this morning. I guess I saw that quote and it reminded me how the first time I saw it I knew I had to let go of my hatred. I thought I was over him because I hated him, but I wasn't over him at all, I just channeled my feelings a different way.
Eventually it caught up with me, and I realized hating him was not a sign of being over him, it was a sign of not forgiving him, which meant I was still giving him power over my emotions.
I'm sure you can gather by the way I talk about him it was obviously someone I was in a relationship with... and it's the kinda thing where I kinda was and kinda wasn't... so if it were on facebook it would say "it's complicated!" Which it was... at least from my perspective.
Again, I don't know why I'm writing about this. Maybe I guess because I know a lot of girls feel this way and I don't want them to feel alone, but more so because I don't want them to allow a guy to have such power over their emotions, as I did. I'll be the first to say I've been hurt badly, but what I've realized is that it hurts even more to hold it against the person who hurt me. It kept me in bondage longer, it kept me angry longer, and it kept me from pursuing my own life. It's hard to really go after what you want in life when you are dwelling on all the crap from the past. Hoping that it will get better will not make it better, but letting it go will.
Like I said, there are no "cure alls," but that doesn't mean we can't try. It's hard, it sucks, and it's the last thing I want to do, forgive someone who hurt me, but...
I forgive you Louie.
I used to hate someone. But I hated him because I loved him. Sometimes I still catch myself getting angry at him, not that I see him or anything, but when I think about what I went through emotionally, I can feel the hatred. I understand as a Christ follower I am to forgive him and let it go, but let's face it, I am a Christ follower, not Christ. So I can't perfectly forgive him the way he deserves to be forgiven... and yes, he does deserve to be forgiven, but only Christ can forgive him in the way he needs to be. I've done the best I can with what I have, but it's not perfect forgiveness.
From my understanding, the beautiful thing is that Christ doesn't ask for perfection, which is great considering the fact that I'm pretty close but not there yet (kidding). So I still get angry. I still feel hurt. I still wonder why. But that's not the driving force of my life. The thoughts creep in, I may dwell on them for a while, maybe even longer than I should, but then as best as I know how, I give it to God... only to grab hold of it again, but I give it up again, and the cycle repeats itself.
It may be a different story if I were to actually see him (the guy). My stomach would turn, and truth be told, I would feel sick. I realize that sounds dramatic, but I'm a girl, and that's how I'm wired. That's just how it is, no apologies. I don't know if I would get mad at him or at God. I tend to take things out on God when someone else hurts me. I'm still exploring what that's all about.
I don't know why I thought about it this morning. I guess I saw that quote and it reminded me how the first time I saw it I knew I had to let go of my hatred. I thought I was over him because I hated him, but I wasn't over him at all, I just channeled my feelings a different way.
Eventually it caught up with me, and I realized hating him was not a sign of being over him, it was a sign of not forgiving him, which meant I was still giving him power over my emotions.
I'm sure you can gather by the way I talk about him it was obviously someone I was in a relationship with... and it's the kinda thing where I kinda was and kinda wasn't... so if it were on facebook it would say "it's complicated!" Which it was... at least from my perspective.
Again, I don't know why I'm writing about this. Maybe I guess because I know a lot of girls feel this way and I don't want them to feel alone, but more so because I don't want them to allow a guy to have such power over their emotions, as I did. I'll be the first to say I've been hurt badly, but what I've realized is that it hurts even more to hold it against the person who hurt me. It kept me in bondage longer, it kept me angry longer, and it kept me from pursuing my own life. It's hard to really go after what you want in life when you are dwelling on all the crap from the past. Hoping that it will get better will not make it better, but letting it go will.
Like I said, there are no "cure alls," but that doesn't mean we can't try. It's hard, it sucks, and it's the last thing I want to do, forgive someone who hurt me, but...
I forgive you Louie.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
8/15/07
I'm tired, but I'm wide awake.
Today was hard. I had a rough lunch.
Pizza. And I actually had dressing on my salad. That's like breaking the 5th commandment of eating disorders.
In my recovery I'm trying to learn that there is no such thing as bad food... everything in moderation. While in my disorder I was completely and utterly convinced that certain foods were pure evil, and if I ate I had to eat healthy 100% of the time. I could never slip up, and every bite had to be perfect, even when it came to healthy food. I couldn't waste a single bite on imperfection.
I thought I was controlling what I ate, but really, it was controlling me. The more I deprived myself the bigger deal I would make about foods I didn't eat. "Junk food" became like the forbidden fruit to me... even though (in my mind) I wasn't supposed to eat it, I terrribly wanted it. Why? Because it was forbidden... everybody wants what they can't have.
All the deprivation caught up with me one day. I snapped. I had tried as hard as I could for as long as I could to control what I ate, and in a weak moment, I snapped. Because I am an extremist, of course I couldn't just start eating balanced meals... after all, I had to make up for lost time. I would binge until it physically hurt, only to perge right after due to all the guilt and "evil" food I had just put in my body.
Binging was a way for me to numb my feelings, and perging was a way for me to express my feelings.
My body had phsically lost all sense of hunger and satiety cues, and was functioning based on emotions.
When I say I am in recovery, it does not mean I am recovered. It means I am making an effort not to actively engage in my eating diorder. The difference would be now I realize I have a choice. I still have the eating disorder thoughts, but that doesn't mean I have to act on them. A thought does not equal an action. A thought equals a choice, and I can choose not to do it.
So why was lunch hard? I was pretty ok about the pizza and dressing, I mean, in all honesty it tasted good... but it was the topic of conversation discussed at the table where I was sitting. It was all women, and no matter where you go, what do most women talk about these days? Unfortunatley, food and weight. It's an obession, even for those without eating disorders. The world in which we live says we must look a certain way to be accepted, so much so that even the church believes it. I'm in recovery and I still believe it, I'm no different, but it still sucks that this is what we have placed as a top priority in our lives.
According to the table at which I was sitting, the pizza (which was provided for everyone) was considered "bad" food... or "unhealthy." My therapist would totally disagree... which is why I'm glad I'm in therapy. But yesterday I wasn't hearing the voice of my therapist, or my nutritionist, or even my Savior... I only heard the voices around me that, though not intentionally, were sending me messages that what I was eating was bad.
I completely shut down. I started looking at some of the homemade "healthy" lunches around me, and all of a sudden my pizza didn't taste so good. What should I do? Should I eat it? Should I move to another table? Should I leave and go get something "healthy?" Should I ask to change the topic of conversation? Should I explain to them that everything is ok in moderation, to which most people respond "yea, right!" Should I just binge since it's bad anyways and perge later? My extremist mindset took over and told me since I already started eating the "unhealthy" food I must continue to do so, as much as I can, for the rest of the day, and then never do it again, maybe not even eat at all the next day to make up for it. I don't know. I couldn't think, I couldn't focus, I couldn't smile, and I couldn't speak up for myself.
I have a meal plan which I am supposed to abide by 100%. I have to get in a certain amount of exchanges each day. No cutting corners; that's where it always starts... the corners. So I ate the pizza. I ate it, but the amount of guilt I felt overwhelmed me, and my anxiety about the rest of the day shot through the roof. I knew I was going to feel this way until I talked to someone about it, but along with the guilt and anxiety came my pride. Perfect timing. I started "shoulding" all over myself. I'm 23 years old, I should be able to handle eating lunch without getting upset. I should just eat when I'm hungry and stop when I'm full. I should stop worrying about what other people eat. I should be able to do this on my own.
But I can't. Trying to do it on my own is what got me into treatment, yet somehow my pride still convinces me that if I just try harder, I can do it all by myself, and that way I won't have to embaress myself along the way. After all, who really wants to walk up to someone and say "hey, I really want to binge my brains out right now... I know I shouldn't, but I'll make myself sick later, oh and by the way, I need help!"
So what do I do? I say nothing, and the longer I say nothing the more my addiction becomes an option.
I know it will be an option until I ask for help. But asking for help sucks. It's revealing a lot about yourself, and even though I talk openly about my eating disorder and my recovery, I very rarely talk about the struggle I still have with it. Everyday is a battle, but most people wouldn't know that. I often think that no one will understand, but in reality, I don't even give them the chance to understand.
I saw someone who I hadn't reached out to before, but something just told me I could.
So I finally did, atleast as much as I knew how to in that moment.
I asked for enough help to not use behaviors, but not enough to be convinced that I hadn't messed up my entire day by what I ate, and that I should continue to stick to my meal plan. Which is ironic, because not sticking to your meal plan is a passive way of using behaviors.
8/16/07
So today is a new day, and while I can't make any promises, I can say I'm going to try to do the best I can, and maybe actually ask God for a little help this time. I hear He's in the transformation business.
Today was hard. I had a rough lunch.
Pizza. And I actually had dressing on my salad. That's like breaking the 5th commandment of eating disorders.
In my recovery I'm trying to learn that there is no such thing as bad food... everything in moderation. While in my disorder I was completely and utterly convinced that certain foods were pure evil, and if I ate I had to eat healthy 100% of the time. I could never slip up, and every bite had to be perfect, even when it came to healthy food. I couldn't waste a single bite on imperfection.
I thought I was controlling what I ate, but really, it was controlling me. The more I deprived myself the bigger deal I would make about foods I didn't eat. "Junk food" became like the forbidden fruit to me... even though (in my mind) I wasn't supposed to eat it, I terrribly wanted it. Why? Because it was forbidden... everybody wants what they can't have.
All the deprivation caught up with me one day. I snapped. I had tried as hard as I could for as long as I could to control what I ate, and in a weak moment, I snapped. Because I am an extremist, of course I couldn't just start eating balanced meals... after all, I had to make up for lost time. I would binge until it physically hurt, only to perge right after due to all the guilt and "evil" food I had just put in my body.
Binging was a way for me to numb my feelings, and perging was a way for me to express my feelings.
My body had phsically lost all sense of hunger and satiety cues, and was functioning based on emotions.
When I say I am in recovery, it does not mean I am recovered. It means I am making an effort not to actively engage in my eating diorder. The difference would be now I realize I have a choice. I still have the eating disorder thoughts, but that doesn't mean I have to act on them. A thought does not equal an action. A thought equals a choice, and I can choose not to do it.
So why was lunch hard? I was pretty ok about the pizza and dressing, I mean, in all honesty it tasted good... but it was the topic of conversation discussed at the table where I was sitting. It was all women, and no matter where you go, what do most women talk about these days? Unfortunatley, food and weight. It's an obession, even for those without eating disorders. The world in which we live says we must look a certain way to be accepted, so much so that even the church believes it. I'm in recovery and I still believe it, I'm no different, but it still sucks that this is what we have placed as a top priority in our lives.
According to the table at which I was sitting, the pizza (which was provided for everyone) was considered "bad" food... or "unhealthy." My therapist would totally disagree... which is why I'm glad I'm in therapy. But yesterday I wasn't hearing the voice of my therapist, or my nutritionist, or even my Savior... I only heard the voices around me that, though not intentionally, were sending me messages that what I was eating was bad.
I completely shut down. I started looking at some of the homemade "healthy" lunches around me, and all of a sudden my pizza didn't taste so good. What should I do? Should I eat it? Should I move to another table? Should I leave and go get something "healthy?" Should I ask to change the topic of conversation? Should I explain to them that everything is ok in moderation, to which most people respond "yea, right!" Should I just binge since it's bad anyways and perge later? My extremist mindset took over and told me since I already started eating the "unhealthy" food I must continue to do so, as much as I can, for the rest of the day, and then never do it again, maybe not even eat at all the next day to make up for it. I don't know. I couldn't think, I couldn't focus, I couldn't smile, and I couldn't speak up for myself.
I have a meal plan which I am supposed to abide by 100%. I have to get in a certain amount of exchanges each day. No cutting corners; that's where it always starts... the corners. So I ate the pizza. I ate it, but the amount of guilt I felt overwhelmed me, and my anxiety about the rest of the day shot through the roof. I knew I was going to feel this way until I talked to someone about it, but along with the guilt and anxiety came my pride. Perfect timing. I started "shoulding" all over myself. I'm 23 years old, I should be able to handle eating lunch without getting upset. I should just eat when I'm hungry and stop when I'm full. I should stop worrying about what other people eat. I should be able to do this on my own.
But I can't. Trying to do it on my own is what got me into treatment, yet somehow my pride still convinces me that if I just try harder, I can do it all by myself, and that way I won't have to embaress myself along the way. After all, who really wants to walk up to someone and say "hey, I really want to binge my brains out right now... I know I shouldn't, but I'll make myself sick later, oh and by the way, I need help!"
So what do I do? I say nothing, and the longer I say nothing the more my addiction becomes an option.
I know it will be an option until I ask for help. But asking for help sucks. It's revealing a lot about yourself, and even though I talk openly about my eating disorder and my recovery, I very rarely talk about the struggle I still have with it. Everyday is a battle, but most people wouldn't know that. I often think that no one will understand, but in reality, I don't even give them the chance to understand.
I saw someone who I hadn't reached out to before, but something just told me I could.
So I finally did, atleast as much as I knew how to in that moment.
I asked for enough help to not use behaviors, but not enough to be convinced that I hadn't messed up my entire day by what I ate, and that I should continue to stick to my meal plan. Which is ironic, because not sticking to your meal plan is a passive way of using behaviors.
8/16/07
So today is a new day, and while I can't make any promises, I can say I'm going to try to do the best I can, and maybe actually ask God for a little help this time. I hear He's in the transformation business.
God Speaks Italian
I asked God for help one day...
and He answered me in Italian.
"Arbella," He said.
"I don't understand"
"you will" He responded.
"How will I know?"
He smiled, "because I'll show you"
I was curious, "what does Arabella look like?"
"It looks different for each person."
I asked what mine looked like and He said one day I would find out.
Time went by...
and I did.
My Arabella looks like an old yamaha guitar proped in a corner waiting to be played.
It looks like painted ceilings and colorful yarn for knitting.
My Arabella looks like a house on the river with broken fishing poles in the garage and worms above the fridge.
It looks like a home cooked country breakfast made of biscuits and gravy shared with someone close.
My Arabella looks like a big cup of coffee and unlimited flavors of cream.
It looks like too many groceries, not enough bathrooms, and just the right amount of love.
My Arabella looks like leftovers for lunch, but never for dinner.
It looks like a crowded driveway, a jar of peanut butter, and an occasional visit from a Queen and her Bo.
My Arabella looks like a baptism in a basement surrounded by friends from close by and family from far away.
It looks like a life saved, a passion found, and an enemy lost.
My Arabella looks like a vegetarian who eats meat and a house mom who knew all along.
It looks like it's crowded on Friday nights, empty on Saturday mornings, and perfectly attended come Sunday afternoon.
My Arabella looks like a voice that learned how to sing out loud, a hand that learned how to reach out for help, and a life that learned how to live in abundance.
As God listened, He smiled.
He saw a change in me and asked where it came from.
He knew I couldn't speak Italian, but I made my best attempt...
"Arabella" I said.
********************************************************************************
"Arabella" is Italian for "answered prayer." It is also the name of the group home I lived in while undergoing treatment for my eating disorder.
and He answered me in Italian.
"Arbella," He said.
"I don't understand"
"you will" He responded.
"How will I know?"
He smiled, "because I'll show you"
I was curious, "what does Arabella look like?"
"It looks different for each person."
I asked what mine looked like and He said one day I would find out.
Time went by...
and I did.
My Arabella looks like an old yamaha guitar proped in a corner waiting to be played.
It looks like painted ceilings and colorful yarn for knitting.
My Arabella looks like a house on the river with broken fishing poles in the garage and worms above the fridge.
It looks like a home cooked country breakfast made of biscuits and gravy shared with someone close.
My Arabella looks like a big cup of coffee and unlimited flavors of cream.
It looks like too many groceries, not enough bathrooms, and just the right amount of love.
My Arabella looks like leftovers for lunch, but never for dinner.
It looks like a crowded driveway, a jar of peanut butter, and an occasional visit from a Queen and her Bo.
My Arabella looks like a baptism in a basement surrounded by friends from close by and family from far away.
It looks like a life saved, a passion found, and an enemy lost.
My Arabella looks like a vegetarian who eats meat and a house mom who knew all along.
It looks like it's crowded on Friday nights, empty on Saturday mornings, and perfectly attended come Sunday afternoon.
My Arabella looks like a voice that learned how to sing out loud, a hand that learned how to reach out for help, and a life that learned how to live in abundance.
As God listened, He smiled.
He saw a change in me and asked where it came from.
He knew I couldn't speak Italian, but I made my best attempt...
"Arabella" I said.
********************************************************************************
"Arabella" is Italian for "answered prayer." It is also the name of the group home I lived in while undergoing treatment for my eating disorder.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Got Hooked?
I did. This weekend. To an old habit I thought I had said goodbye to. It's no secret that I'm working towards recovery from an eating disorder, and I haven't relapsed since Feburary 5th of 2007. This past Saturday, I came close, but I decided to switch addictions instead.
I had a rough dinner. And for those of you that don't have or understand eating disorders, having a rough dinner translates into eating my entire meal. Exciting huh? I realize the solution for most people is "just eat," but I wish I could explain to someone what it feels like to fear food, yet be addicted to it at the same time. To have your addiction be the very thing you need in order to live. Most alcoholics and drug addicts just abstain from their drug/drink of choice. Unfortunately, those of us with eating disorders aren't allowed to abstain from food. Infact the solution to our illness is to do the very thing those with other addictions are advised not to do... enjoy it in moderation. Try telling an aloholic to just have one beer. Or how about a heroin addict... "yea, it's ok for you to shoot up, as long as you only shoot up half... everything in moderation." Those with eating disorders have to face their demons everyday, and usually six times a day... breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, snack. Wake up and repeat. All day. Everyday. And I'm tired. I'm tired of trying. All day. Everyday.
Moderation. A word I did not understand until treatment. I am an extremist in the truest sense of the word. Which isn't always bad... look at Martin Luther King Jr. He was an extremist for equality, and even he said the world is in need of more extremists... and guess who he referenced? Jesus, who was an extremist in love. The world is in need of more extremists. But extremists are not needed in the field of addiction. What does it look like to be an extremist with an addiction? For me it looks like one cookie is too much, or the whole box is not enough. It's either or. It's black or white. Hot or cold. All or nothing. I think it's safe to assume that alcoholics would agree... one drink is too much, the rest of the bottle is not enough. So what's the solution?Moderation. All Day. Everyday. Yea. Right.
All this to say... recovery is hard. And fortunatley on Saturday, I fell off my high horse.
So after my rough dinner and feeling guilty about what I had eaten, I went to church and remained cool and collected on the outside, but inside I was already scheming up how to get away with using behaviors... which translates into "getting rid of my dinner." I thought about doing so after church but why wait, how about during. No one's ever in the bathroom during the service. Uncomfortably, I sat through worship. I sat through announcments. I sat and watched the guy move rocks from one side of the stage to the other, wondering what the hell he was doing. If I was in my "good christian mood" I probably would have wondered what the heck he was doing, but given the fact that I wanted to engage in negative behaviors I guess I figured I might as well swear too. All or nothing.
Moderation. Saturday night, moderation looked like sitting through church while swearing and scheming up how to use my addiction. Church... swearing. Church... addiction. Most people don't combine the two, or atleast they don't teach their kids to. But Saturday night, I needed to swear and I needed my addiction, so I needed to be in church.
Jon Ferguson spoke about Egypt as being a place of bondage, of being ensalved to the very thing that is harming you. "What is my Egypt," I was asked. To be honest, I got mad at the question... what isn't my Egypt? I was mad because I couldn't sum up my answer in one short little word. I couldn't make it look nice and neat and simple. Fortunately God understands scratchy handwriting, severe stuttering, funny accents, and talking jibberish, so as I stumbled over my words in prayer, I asked God to just save me from myself.
Not only did God understand me, he answered me. God always speaks to me through different people. And that night He spoke through Jon Ferguson.
I ate up every word Jon said, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I was supposed to be exactly where I was sitting. "Most people never change until the pain of change becomes less than the pain of staying the same," he said. Ouch! No wonder this hurts. "Confess," he said, "means to say the same thing as God. To agree with God." This all of a sudden made total sense to me, because by living in denial I'm essentialy calling God a liar. And I know He's not, and I know I am, so I might as well agree with Him. "Ok God, I agree with you. I am a sinner. Not only am I sinner, but I want to be a sinner. I want to do what it takes to live up to the worlds standards of what it means to be happy and successful. I want the world to like me. I want to be the center of attention. I want to please man. I want to have control. I want a quick fix. I want my eating disorder. I want my ex-boyfriend. I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want to enjoy what the world and what you have to offer. I want you both. I want to settle. I want what I want and I want it now. But God, I don't want to want these things."
I couldn't get it into those exact words in that moment, but God understood my mumbling, because He knows my heart. And the cry of my heart screams out "God, I want to want you!"
As Jon closed in prayer, I cried. I cried because I cause God so much pain. I cried because I continually ask Him to rescue me, but refuse to leave when He asks me to move. I cried because my Egypt is comfortable. I cried because it hurts to leave. I cried because the place I want to stay is the very place that's causing me pain. And I cried because I knew I couldn't go through with using those behaviors.
So I didn't.
This is supposed to be the end of the story where I'm supposed to feel good about myself and everyone tells me how proud they are of me. But unfortuantely, my story doesn't end here.
I was proud of myself while I was at church, and I really did feel better. But instead of using eating disorder behaviors, I just replaced them, not even aware until after the fact. I was invited to go have a few drinks with a friend. A few turned into not able to drive. Was it fun? Yes. If it wasn't fun it wouldn't have been tempting. But when I woke up the next morning, the emotional pain was so much worse than the physical. I didn't even plan to do that, it just happened. And right after an amazing church service where I felt like I had a major break through.
But this is where my heart really broke... Before leaving church on Saturday night I had the pleasure of meeting Edward, an older, but not old, gentleman who works at the resources table before and after services. He approached me and said he had heard my testimony about being in recovery from my past... alcohol, drugs, guys, eating disorders. He was very encouraging and said that recovery is the best place to be. I agreed. But he knows a bit more about it than I do, He's been sober for 23 years!
Sunday morning when I walked into church to work in the cafe, Edward was the first person I saw. "Hi Edward! How are You?" His response... "Oh I'm good, I got my miracle for the day, I woke up sober!" OUCH! Oh it hurt so bad. I was so happy for Edward, but man did that knock the wind right out of me. I was so disappointed with myself. I felt like a failure. I thought I should be proud just because I didn't use behaviors, but I realized I did, just in a different form.
I wish this story had a profound ending. Something to the effect of "and after I heard the message, I left and sinned no more!" I'm sure we all wish that. But nope, it ends with me messing up... Which has reminded me that I am in desperate need of a Savior.
I had a rough dinner. And for those of you that don't have or understand eating disorders, having a rough dinner translates into eating my entire meal. Exciting huh? I realize the solution for most people is "just eat," but I wish I could explain to someone what it feels like to fear food, yet be addicted to it at the same time. To have your addiction be the very thing you need in order to live. Most alcoholics and drug addicts just abstain from their drug/drink of choice. Unfortunately, those of us with eating disorders aren't allowed to abstain from food. Infact the solution to our illness is to do the very thing those with other addictions are advised not to do... enjoy it in moderation. Try telling an aloholic to just have one beer. Or how about a heroin addict... "yea, it's ok for you to shoot up, as long as you only shoot up half... everything in moderation." Those with eating disorders have to face their demons everyday, and usually six times a day... breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, snack. Wake up and repeat. All day. Everyday. And I'm tired. I'm tired of trying. All day. Everyday.
Moderation. A word I did not understand until treatment. I am an extremist in the truest sense of the word. Which isn't always bad... look at Martin Luther King Jr. He was an extremist for equality, and even he said the world is in need of more extremists... and guess who he referenced? Jesus, who was an extremist in love. The world is in need of more extremists. But extremists are not needed in the field of addiction. What does it look like to be an extremist with an addiction? For me it looks like one cookie is too much, or the whole box is not enough. It's either or. It's black or white. Hot or cold. All or nothing. I think it's safe to assume that alcoholics would agree... one drink is too much, the rest of the bottle is not enough. So what's the solution?Moderation. All Day. Everyday. Yea. Right.
All this to say... recovery is hard. And fortunatley on Saturday, I fell off my high horse.
So after my rough dinner and feeling guilty about what I had eaten, I went to church and remained cool and collected on the outside, but inside I was already scheming up how to get away with using behaviors... which translates into "getting rid of my dinner." I thought about doing so after church but why wait, how about during. No one's ever in the bathroom during the service. Uncomfortably, I sat through worship. I sat through announcments. I sat and watched the guy move rocks from one side of the stage to the other, wondering what the hell he was doing. If I was in my "good christian mood" I probably would have wondered what the heck he was doing, but given the fact that I wanted to engage in negative behaviors I guess I figured I might as well swear too. All or nothing.
Moderation. Saturday night, moderation looked like sitting through church while swearing and scheming up how to use my addiction. Church... swearing. Church... addiction. Most people don't combine the two, or atleast they don't teach their kids to. But Saturday night, I needed to swear and I needed my addiction, so I needed to be in church.
Jon Ferguson spoke about Egypt as being a place of bondage, of being ensalved to the very thing that is harming you. "What is my Egypt," I was asked. To be honest, I got mad at the question... what isn't my Egypt? I was mad because I couldn't sum up my answer in one short little word. I couldn't make it look nice and neat and simple. Fortunately God understands scratchy handwriting, severe stuttering, funny accents, and talking jibberish, so as I stumbled over my words in prayer, I asked God to just save me from myself.
Not only did God understand me, he answered me. God always speaks to me through different people. And that night He spoke through Jon Ferguson.
I ate up every word Jon said, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I was supposed to be exactly where I was sitting. "Most people never change until the pain of change becomes less than the pain of staying the same," he said. Ouch! No wonder this hurts. "Confess," he said, "means to say the same thing as God. To agree with God." This all of a sudden made total sense to me, because by living in denial I'm essentialy calling God a liar. And I know He's not, and I know I am, so I might as well agree with Him. "Ok God, I agree with you. I am a sinner. Not only am I sinner, but I want to be a sinner. I want to do what it takes to live up to the worlds standards of what it means to be happy and successful. I want the world to like me. I want to be the center of attention. I want to please man. I want to have control. I want a quick fix. I want my eating disorder. I want my ex-boyfriend. I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want to enjoy what the world and what you have to offer. I want you both. I want to settle. I want what I want and I want it now. But God, I don't want to want these things."
I couldn't get it into those exact words in that moment, but God understood my mumbling, because He knows my heart. And the cry of my heart screams out "God, I want to want you!"
As Jon closed in prayer, I cried. I cried because I cause God so much pain. I cried because I continually ask Him to rescue me, but refuse to leave when He asks me to move. I cried because my Egypt is comfortable. I cried because it hurts to leave. I cried because the place I want to stay is the very place that's causing me pain. And I cried because I knew I couldn't go through with using those behaviors.
So I didn't.
This is supposed to be the end of the story where I'm supposed to feel good about myself and everyone tells me how proud they are of me. But unfortuantely, my story doesn't end here.
I was proud of myself while I was at church, and I really did feel better. But instead of using eating disorder behaviors, I just replaced them, not even aware until after the fact. I was invited to go have a few drinks with a friend. A few turned into not able to drive. Was it fun? Yes. If it wasn't fun it wouldn't have been tempting. But when I woke up the next morning, the emotional pain was so much worse than the physical. I didn't even plan to do that, it just happened. And right after an amazing church service where I felt like I had a major break through.
But this is where my heart really broke... Before leaving church on Saturday night I had the pleasure of meeting Edward, an older, but not old, gentleman who works at the resources table before and after services. He approached me and said he had heard my testimony about being in recovery from my past... alcohol, drugs, guys, eating disorders. He was very encouraging and said that recovery is the best place to be. I agreed. But he knows a bit more about it than I do, He's been sober for 23 years!
Sunday morning when I walked into church to work in the cafe, Edward was the first person I saw. "Hi Edward! How are You?" His response... "Oh I'm good, I got my miracle for the day, I woke up sober!" OUCH! Oh it hurt so bad. I was so happy for Edward, but man did that knock the wind right out of me. I was so disappointed with myself. I felt like a failure. I thought I should be proud just because I didn't use behaviors, but I realized I did, just in a different form.
I wish this story had a profound ending. Something to the effect of "and after I heard the message, I left and sinned no more!" I'm sure we all wish that. But nope, it ends with me messing up... Which has reminded me that I am in desperate need of a Savior.
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