.......................

I'm in desperate need of a coping mechanism right now, so I'm going to write. I don't know what I'm going to write about, or why, but I'm going to write and I'm going to keep writing until I feel like I have accomplished something, or until I feel like this feeling has passed... this feeling of hopelessness, this feeling of worthlessness, and this extreme feeling of either wanting to go to sleep and not wake up, or to do something completely destructive to distract my attention and remind me how to feel.

Why? Why does God feel so far away? Why do the warm fuzzies and the holy hugs fade after a certain period of time? Is there a time limit; like a 3 month love fest with Jesus and then one day you get tired of it and look for something else? Is this another addiction I have gotten myself into... addicted to Jesus? People say it's a healthy addiction, but is any addiction healthy when it consumes your life?

Do I really want Jesus to consume my life?

I'm sick of things consuming my life. I'm sick of popularity, greed, food, lust, anger, weight, depression, control and all of the above consuming my life. I'm sick of wanting my eating disorder back, I'm sick of wanting my ex-boyfriend back, I'm sick of wanting my party life style back... I'm sick! Aren't we all?

All of us are sick in some way and yet we refuse to talk about it. We refuse to talk about our insecurities and our weaknesses, we refuse to talk about our failures and our shame, our guilt, and our lying... maybe we refuse to talk about it because we refuse to acknowledge it... or maybe because even though we're told time and time again that it doesn't matter what other people think (only what God thinks) deep down we don't think that's true.

I don't. I'll be the first to shamefully admit it. I don't want to admit it, but it's true. All of us, to some degree, care what other people think of us. It's human and it's been ingrained in us since the fall. Isn't that how it all started?... Adam and Eve walking around in all their glory and then BAM! "Oh my God, Adam don't look... pretend like you didn't see!"

Too late. He saw, and so did you Eve, and you can hide all you want but it won't take back what you did and it won't erase the past.

(and when I say "you," I don't just mean Eve, I mean you and me, and him and her and they and them and all of us... whether we like it or not, we're all in this together)

So then why? WHY? Why do we continue to hide and pretend like just because we're Christians everything is fine?

It should be the opposite! Jesus said if we followed him the world would hate us! HATE US! How can we be fine, as Christians, with the rest of the world HATING us? We don't have to pretend. EVERYTHING IS NOT FINE! It's hard to follow Jesus, it's hard to surrender, it's hard to not do what I want when I want in the moment I want it. It's hard!

Here all this time I've been trying to get all these people to like me, and yet Jesus said that if we followed him, even families would be divided... some will remain followers, while others will not. And when the time comes to please one or the other, Jesus says "follow me."

I don't know if I have the energy to keep following Jesus, but I know I don't have the energy to continue my journey alone. And just like one of the disciples, I ask, to whom else should I go?

I can walk away. I know that. But I've got no where else to walk to and no one else to walk with.

You're not good enough. I'm not good enough. Bill Hybels is not good enough. Beth Moore is not good enough. Not even Billy Graham is good enough. None of us are good enough.

And Jesus is the only one, that I know of, who ever promised to be enough!



And that's all I want right now Lord. I want just enough. I don't need a miraculous sign, a chance of a lifetime, or all I could ever want in life...

I just want to get through this moment. Right here. Right now.

I need just enough for now... and then maybe we can talk again later... when later comes.

I...

I cry myself to sleep every night.

Sometimes I know why, and sometimes I don't.

Crying has become a comfort zone, and not just because I'm female.

There are many different reasons why I cry, and I'll cry for those different reasons on different nights.

I cry for the homeless children in Africa.

I cry for the 100s of thousands of people who were killed in genocides all over. I cry for their families, and their traumatizing experiences.

I cry for my family and their own struggles.

I cry for my ex-boyfriend who continues to let alcohol govern his life.

I cry because I know so many people love me, but I feel so alone.

I cry for the girls I met in treatment.

I cry because they are such amazing, beautiful people, and yet they have no idea.

I cry for girls I don't even know, who I know are struggling with eating disorders.

I cry for my friend who was doing so well in recovery, and now because of one slip, can't get back on track.

I cry because I am scared for her. What if she is the 1 out of 5 girls who dies from an eating disorder?

I cry for middle and high school girls who have no idea what life is really all about.

I cry for young girls with boyfriends, short skirts, and high heels.

I cry for my 14 yr-old self and wanting so badly to go back and help her. I cry for 14 yr-old girls now and pray they don't make a go at life the way I did.

I often cry for other people. I cry because I want to help them and I don't know how or where to start.

I cry because I want to help people so badly, yet I can't even help myself.

Which is why I cried last night. Hard.

I cried because I'm tried of recovery. I'm tired of having to try hard every day. I'm tired of the world in which we live and feeling like I can do nothing to change it. I cried because I feel like I am useless and just no good. I cried because I am tired of messing up and breaking God's heart. Last night was the most intense I have felt in my sorrows. I told God I was too tired and just asked him to please take me home. Just to rest. I can't keep up.

I honestly think that right now the only thing that keeps me motivated are the people I am surrounded by and the attention they give me.

Recovery is hard, but I love the attention. Though my motives are selfish, the more people that know, the less I can hide. Which is why I love the attention and I hate it at the same time. I love how it makes me feel, but I hate that it holds me accountable.

Last night the attention wasn't enough to convince me my recovery was worth it. I cried so hard and I felt like it was never going to end. I felt stuck. I felt worthless.

Fortunately I fell into a deep sleep. A little too deep because I had a hard time getting up early for work.

I went in to the cafe to work this morning and around 8am Pam came in. I don't even know Pam's last name. I know she goes to the church, has a women's group on Tuesday mornings, and likes cream in her coffee (I think). We usually make small talk, but nothing too deep.

Pam came right up to the counter and said "JJ, I have just been praying for you all morning. God has really put you on my heart this morning and I just had to pray for you. I even had to write you a note, so here..."

I read the note...

"JJ- I'm praying for you! Sometimes when we share our testimony Satan tries to beat us down with the distractions of life! Keep fixing your eyes on Jesus- His arms are open! In His Love, Pam"

What can I even say after that? Even that makes me want to cry just thinking about it.

How? How can God love me so much?

At the end of Pam's note she said for me to check out a video on Godtube. God must really want me to get the message this video is sending, because it's the 3rd time someone has shared it with me. And each time is just as powerful as before.

Which is why I want to share it with you...


http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ee73e63418003b47d7d5


I am genuinely usually doing pretty well during the day. I like to laugh and have fun and make people smile... that's real. But night time is also very real too. The pain is real. The tears are real. And the feelings are intense. But I don't think that's always a bad thing. I feel like God gives me a taste of what it's like to just hurt for the people He loves. People like me, who know that God loves them, but don't believe they are really good enough to be loved.

This is For Real!

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/10219756/site/newsweek/page/0/


And can happen to anyone... not just "vain girls" who want to be "skinny."

It's bigger than that.



Eating disorders (i.e. anorexia) have the highest imortality rate of any mental illness!

Help!

I'm better with my words when writing them out, so this is me asking for help. I'm having a hard time staying on track with my meal plan, and as long as no one knows, it doesn't matter. I'm working two jobs now, one of which is incrediably busy and conviently during prime hours for snack, lunch, and snack again.

I didn't have lunch today. It was easy. I worked all day. No one was at home when I got done with work, so I didn't have to answer to anybody, except myself.

Well, not true... God was there, but I didn't notice. I had already gone the whole day without eating, so why start now? Infact, I was afraid to start. If I start, I won't stop. My solution? Just don't start. All or nothing.

I decided instead of eating, it would be a good idea to go for a bike ride. Hmm... let's think about this.

No food... bike ride... once upon a time, this would have been a great idea, and always the appropiate answer to any of life problems. This time around, I definietly felt the desire, but something just didn't feel right. I tried to think it through...

I laid on my bed and I battled back and forth in my mind "what do I do? Do I eat? Do I not eat? Do I go for a bike ride? What if I start to feel faint? Then I should eat. But what if I can't stop? You will. No you won't. I'm starving. I love this feeling. But I'm scared of it. How long will it last? Just don't eat! Just eat! You might as well just binge! You'll have to throw up later. It's ok. Just this once. Yea right. No. I don't want to throw up. But I don't want to gain anymore weight. And I don't want to eat. I want to live. But I want to be in control. I want to do it my way. I can't do this on my own. Yes I can. This isn't fair. God what do I do?"

I picked up the phone and I called my nutritionist. I told her I was scared and I told her the truth about not eating most of the day. To be honest, I felt good. I felt good about not eating, and it was like flirting with my past. We talked through how I could make up my exchanges. "Eat at 5pm and then again at 8:30pm," which by the way breaks old school rules of never eating past 8 (and for those of you who live by this "rule," your body doesn't know what time it is, and it doesn't matter what you eat after 8pm, it's how much).

I didn't want to eat. But recovery is not about what I want, it's about recovery (which is why recovery sucks). Ultimately, I know recovery is quite the opposite, but in the moment, it's so hard to think otherwise.

I mostly did what I was supposed to do. I ate both of my meals, but I skipped my "fats" and I decided to hop on the treadmill afterward. Old habits die hard.

Do I know better? Yea. Most of us (who are no longer living in denial) do.

But knowing the right thing to do is different from doing the right thing to do. I know what I need to do, but I can't do it on my own. So I'm asking for help. When you see me, ask me how my meal plan is going. Ask me if I'm getting in my exchanges. Ask me how I'm doing, but don't expect your typical generic response "I'm fine, how are you?" Only ask if you have time to listen. I can promise I'll listen to you too, but I can't handle the surface anymore.

Deep is calling unto deep.

The Power of Words

Words are powerful.

This is not a profound statement, but I think it's one that many people underestimate. I realize their power when someone says something hurtful to me, but I'm not to quick to recognize the power when I'm addressing someone else. Maybe it's because I'm aware of my intention in what I'm saying, and my intentions, for the most part, are good. So I expect other people to know that... which is why I'm usually shocked when someone says I hurt them... "well I never meant to you." Profound. That doesn't mean I didn't do it. Regardless of what I intended, someone got hurt. It'd be easy to say "don't feel that way, I didn't mean to," but I can't tell somone how to feel, no more than you can tell a short person how to grow. You can give them heels, but that doesn't fix their height. I can say "don't cry," but that doesn't heal their pain.

When I was in high school I wanted to be a lawyer. I was, and still am, very passionate about justice... and I could argue about anything... ask my mother. My junior year when I actually voiced my desire to be a lawyer to my english teacher, he said something that has stuck with me ever since...

"You can't be a lawyer because you can't write. If you want to learn how to write, read (your younger sister's) paper... she can write."

I never questioned what he said, because it never occured to me that a teacher could be wrong.

That one statement changed a lot about my life... the way I saw myself, the way I saw my sister, the way I thought other people saw me, which prior to that statement I don't think was ever that important... the way people saw me.

As a kid I was always independent and carefree. All of a sudden I needed to prove something... I needed to prove to my teacher that I could write. He needed to know I could write so that I could be a lawyer, as if it depended on his judgment. But I never got that affirmation. So I stopped writing.

The power of words.

A few years back my family recieved a letter from this teacher. He wanted to apologize to all his students and their families for the way he taught and the things he said back when he was still teaching. He explained that at that point in his life he was going through a severe depression and he seemed to take it out on his students. He went on to say that this wasn't an excuse for his actions, but an explanation. Then came the shocker... "I have since then accepted Jesus Christ into my life," and he was asking for our forgiveness. Whoa!

Looking back, I forgave him, but I never actually told him he was forgiven. I just dismissed the letter and thought "good for him." To this day, he still doesn't know that I have forgiven him.

There is power in the lack of words.

My silence toward him is just as powerful as his words toward me.

It wasn't until treatment of this year that I really started writing again... or at least started letting people read what I write. Still in the back of my mind I tell myself I can't write, and people tell me I can, but I don't hear them. I hear that voice. That voice that tells me I can't. That voice that tells me never. That voice that says "she's better." It's a voice from the past that I've allowed to stay in the present for far too long now.

So I have a choice... I can keep listening to that voice, or I can use my own.

The power of his words are no longer going to tell me who I am... and the power of my silence is no longer going to tell him who I think he is.

Whether in a letter, in an email, or on the phone, it's my turn to use powerful words... "I forgive you."

It's Not Me!

Whatever good you see, whatever smile, whatever laugh, whatever help I give or hand I offer... please know, it's not me!

I am not amazing... God is amazing!

The good is God, the rest is me.

God is using me for something, and I don't know what it is, but I do know what will stand in the way... myself. Giving myself the glory instead of God. Giving myself the praise for what I have done, instead of thanking God for what He has done in me.

I want people to praise me, I want people to think I'm great, and I don't want to share that greatness with anyone else.

Feeling this way has left me tired and worn out. I was recently told that no one in the New Testament goes it alone, which is exactly what I try to do. If I go it alone, no one else can share the credit... my credit, my glory, my fame... although none of it belongs to me in the first place.

I say I want to give God the glory, yet I am constantly stealing it from him. And I'm tired. It takes a lot of energy to steal from God, and I just don't think I can keep up anymore.

So please know, whatever good words may come from my mouth, or good works from my hands, it is God, and not I.

God is good.

I am human...

Just like you.