Recovery is Bold. Brave. Beautiful.

I am so sad to see NEDA week end.  It has been a privilege and blessing to share a small piece of my story with you.

As I was reflecting on NEDA week last night, I realized something: I’m not ready for it to be over!  All of a sudden, I am realizing that there is so much more I want to say.

I want to say that recovery is a work in progress.

I want someone to know that if you still think about your weight and your body and your calorie consumption, it’s okay!  I do.  Every day.  But I’m getting better at ignoring it.  And I truly believe that someday, I’ll climb into bed at night and as I’m slipping off to sleep, I’ll realize that I didn’t think about any of that…at all…the entire day.  I’m FAR from that, but that’s okay, because recovery is a work in progress.

I want to say that recovery is for everyone.

I want someone to know that you don’t have to be underweight to have an eating disorder and you definitely don’t have to be underweight to get help.  Eating disorders come in all shapes and sizes, but one thing is true no matter what your size: if you are struggling, recovery is for you.

I want to say that recovery is standing up for yourself.

I want someone to know that eating disorders, body-image issues, and low self-esteem won’t go away on their own.  There is a war going on, and in order to fight it, you have to stand up.  Stand up to your insecurities.  Stand up to the lies.  Stand up for yourself.

And finally, I want to say that recovery is bold.  Recovery is brave.  Recovery is beautiful.

As we close out the week, I want to leave you with a verse that got me through many long days on the journey to freedom and recovery.

But He said to me: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

2 Corinthians 12:9

When Paul wrote these words, he was struggling with a thorn in his flesh, and though he begged God to remove it, God – in all wisdom and power – chose not to.  Instead, He gave Paul the strength to bear the thorn.  God took Paul’s weakness and used it for His glory.

Through my struggle with anorexia, I learned that when I am at my lowest point and my weakest moment, that’s when God’s presence starts to break through my blindness.  That is when I see Him making me strong.  Strong enough to say no to Ana. Strong enough to admit that I need help.  Strong enough to pursue recovery.

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, stop trying to do it on your own.  Embrace your weakness and let God use it to place HIS power and strength on you.  Let God’s power be the thing that makes you strong.  Makes you bold.  Makes you brave.  Makes you beautiful.

Recovery is believing in something better

  

          I stepped in front of the full length mirror and examined the reflection it showed me.  A lovely knee-length skirt coupled with a matching top.  Coordinating jewelry and flawless makeup.  I was ready for an evening out.

            And yet, I had to swallow the feeling of dread that was starting to rise up inside of me.

            What if it doesn’t work?  What if they see through the façade? No.  It had to work.  The outfit, the hair, the makeup – it had to be enough to convince everyone that I had it all together.

            It took all of my willpower, but I managed to wipe the look of exhaustion off my face.  I tried on a smile instead.

            Anyone else who had seen me at that moment would have said I looked lovely – but I didn’t see it.  Years of struggling with an eating disorder had trained me to hate my body and my reflection, no matter how put-together it looked to someone else.

            Well, I thought bitterly, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

            Although I was referring to my body, it was the same thing I believed to be true about my life: it was never going to get any better.

            For years, I believed that this life I was living – this hopeless, falling apart, struggling to keep my head above water, what-have-I-gotten-myself-into life – was the only thing out there for me.  Why bother hoping for something better?  Something better was never going to come.

           

*   *   *

One of my all-time favorite Bible passages is Psalm 107.  It tells the story of God’s people as they struggled through life on their own.  They were hungry.  Thirsty.  Weary.  They were trying to survive without God.

There were those who dwelt in darkness and in the shadow of death, prisoners in misery and chains…they stumbled and there was none to help.  Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble; He saved them out of their distresses.  He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death and broke their bands apart. (Psalm 107:10-14)

It wasn’t until the Israelites turned to God that their thirsty souls were satisfied.  It wasn’t until they humbled themselves before the Lord that they found healing, redemption, and freedom.  It wasn’t until they called on God that they found something better than the life they had been living.

Like the Israelites, I was dwelling in darkness.  The shadow of death seems like the perfect way to describe my life in the midst of my eating disorder.  But when I cried out to God, He was there with the same healing, redemption, and freedom that He had for the Israelites. 

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, know that God has something infinitely better for you.  He is the Light that will cast out the darkness and remove you from the shadow of death.  Cry out to Him.

Recovery is embracing imperfection

Yesterday, I wrote to you about body image.  Today, I want to take that concept a little bit deeper and talk to you about Ana.

I know exactly what people mean when they talk about Ana, but I realize that not everyone understands.  So let me explain…to someone with an eating disorder, Ana is the essence of all things thin and beautiful.  Ana is a perfect body coupled with perfect will-power.  Ana is a mentor and a guide.  Simply put, Ana is perfection.

(Sound messed up?  It is.  But when you are struggling with an eating disorder and desperate to lose weight, Ana somehow makes perfect sense.)

In the midst of my eating disorder, I spent so much of my time and energy pursuing Ana that I never even realized that the perfection I was searching for was a lie.  It wasn’t until much more recently that God revealed to me one simple but profound truth: Ana isn’t real…but Satan is.

When I turned to Ana and idolized her and asked her to help me lose weight, what I was turning to was a lie.  What I was turning to was Satan.

Be alert and of sober mind.  Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  Resist him, standing firm in the faith… -1 Peter 5:8-9

Satan has made it his job to destroy lives, devouring everything he can sink his teeth into.  Sometimes, his lies can be convincing.  Thankfully, God has Truth that counters those lies.

Satan tells me that my skin isn’t perfect.  But God says, “I made your skin, and I love it.”

Satan tells me that my thighs aren’t perfect.  But God says, “I formed your thighs, and I love them.”

Satan tells me that my facial features aren’t perfect.  But God says, “I hand-chose every feature you have, and I love them.”

Satan tells me that my frizzy hair isn’t perfect.  But God says, “I have counted every hair on your head, and I love them.”

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, know this:  Ana and Mia are lies invented by Satan to destroy you.  Ana and Mia teach you to hate your body (though they disguise it as the holy pursuit of perfection.)  But God LOVES your body.  And those things you consider imperfections?  He cherishes them.

Embrace your imperfections.

They are beautiful.

Recovery is the freedom to be the woman God created me to be

“Girls don’t just simply decide to hate their bodies.  We teach them to.” –anonymous.

Everywhere I look, it seems like I am bombarded with images of what a “perfect” body looks like.  Movies, magazines, and social media are constantly spreading the lie that you have to look a certain way to be beautiful.  On top of that, years of battling with anorexia taught me to hate anything about my body that was less than “perfect.”

But my body was created to be so much MORE than something to look at.

For we are [God’s] workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good words, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. –Ephesians 2:10

God didn’t create me to serve an eating disorder.  He created me to serve Him and to serve others.  To do His good words and to be His hands and feet to people on this earth.  And you know what?  He gave me a body to do just that.

So I can either obsess over all the things I don’t like about my body…or I can praise God for the way He created my body to serve Him…

*   *   *

Dear cheeks,

I don’t like that you are puffy and you make my face look round in photos…but I love that you were created for Isabelle’s before-school kiss greeting.  I love that you remind me of my beautiful relationship with that sweet girl who means the world to me.

Dear chest,

I don’t like that I don’t have defined collar bones, which years of thinspo have taught me to covet…but I love that you were created for Elle’s gentle hand, resting on you as she feels my heart beat.  I love that you remind me that she trusts me to take care of her.

Dear arms,

I don’t like that you jiggle when I move and that I will never again see defined muscle when I look in the mirror as I fix my ponytail…but I love that you were created to hold my goddaughter, Mina.  I love that you remind me how important it is to watch her grow.

Dear stomach,

I don’t like that you aren’t flat like the pictures I see in magazines…but I love that you were created for Edline’s fresh squeezed juice.  I love that you remind me that I have a family here in Haiti that loves me like a daughter.

Dear thighs,

I don’t like that you rub together beneath my skirt or that you get bigger every time I sit down…but I love that you were created for Love to sit on my lap during chapel.  I love that you remind me that every moment with these kids is a precious gift.

Dear calves,

I don’t like that you touch the back of my thighs when I lie on my stomach with my feet in the air…but I love that you were created to dance.  I love that you remind me what it means to glorify God with my body and of the importance of sharing that truth with young girls.

Dear body,

I don’t always like you.  I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.  I don’t like that you are so far from the image of perfection that I spent years burning into my mind…but I love that you were created by a God who cares for me deeply, passionately, and intimately.  I love that you remind me that I was created in His image.

*   *   *

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, you are carrying the burden of unattainable “perfection.”  (Which by the way, is a LIE.)  Rather than carrying that burden, I encourage you to run into the presence of your Father, who says, “come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”  -Matthew 11:28-30

Recovery is falling in love with life again

In my mind, beauty has always meant one thing: skinny.  By that definition, the girl on the left is definitely more beautiful than the girl on the right.

At 17, the girl on the left weighted just over 100 pounds.  She was skinny, fit, and strong.  She could do 30 push-ups and run for miles on end.  She had defined muscles, a flat stomach, and a thigh gap.  Yes, the girl on the left was skinny…but she was also miserable.

She smiled a lot, but it was fake.  She laughed often, but it was forced.  And when she crawled into bed, she cried herself to sleep every night, promising herself that everything would be better tomorrow…but it never was.

The girl on the left was obsessed with controlling the amount of food she put in her mouth.  If she ate less than 300 calories, it was a good day.  If she ate more than 500, it was a disaster.

The girl on the left was so ashamed of her body that she was absolutely terrified of doctors.  Even if it was only for a school physical, she had to be tricked into going.  Just the thought of having someone examine her body made her anxious and overwhelmed.

The girl on the left hated her body.  She weighed herself five to ten times a day, documenting every bite of food, every sit up, every mile, and every minuscule fluctuation in weight.  She considered lettuce a legitimate meal and when she failed to follow her diet, she had to punish herself…a rubber band snapping on her wrist for minor infractions and a razor blade to her skin when her actions called for more desperate measures.

The girl on the left was so desperate to be skinny that she would do just about anything to get there.  She wore sweatshirts in 100 degree weather to hide her body until she lost 5 pounds.  She had friends sneak her cigarettes to suppress her appetite.  She lied over and over again and occasionally she considered ending it all, just to make the pain go away.

5 years and 20 pounds later, the girl on the left became the girl on the right.

The girl on the right isn’t particularly skinny or fit, but she’s happy.

When the girl on the right smiles, it’s genuine.  When she laughs, it’s real.  And when she has a bad day, she goes to bed knowing that everything really will be better tomorrow.

The girl on the right eats healthy foods – she likes salads and yogurt and fresh fruit.  But she also eats fun foods.  She likes pizza and French fries and she has a sweet tooth for desserts.  She doesn’t count every calorie she puts in her mouth anymore.  And she’s better off for it.

The girl on the right isn’t buff or toned, but she has learned how to exercise for fun!  She dances because it feels good and it glorifies God – not because it burns calories.

The girl on the right may never be completely satisfied with her body, but she is learning to accept it.  She is learning to love it for what it was created to do.

The girl on the right would never again cut herself or hide under a sweatshirt or smoke a cigarette to lose weight.

Most of all, the girl on the right knows that no matter what she sees in the mirror or on the scale, she has a Father in Heaven who sees her as beautiful, perfect, and complete.

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, know that there is life, joy, and peace waiting for you on the other side.  Jesus said, “Just as the Father has loved Me, I have also loved you; abide in My love…These things I have spoken to you so that My joy may be in you and that your joy may be made full.” (John 15:9, 11)  I wish you knew how wonderful it is to abide in the fullness of Jesus’ love and joy.  I pray that someday soon, you will.

Recovery is redefining beauty

At age 15, I had a very strict definition of beauty.

Skinny = beautiful.

Beautiful = skinny.

End of story.

Skinny and beautiful – those two things were inseparable in my mind.  I also wholeheartedly believed that:

·         Long legs are beautiful

·         Tan skin is beautiful

·         Straight teeth are beautiful

·         Straight hair is beautiful

·         Thigh gaps are beautiful

·         Bones are beautiful (ribs, collar bones, hip bones…if you can see it, it’s beautiful)

10 years later, I’m finally starting to get a new perspective on beauty.  Now I know that:

·         Messy is beautiful

·         Brave is beautiful

·         Imperfections are beautiful

·         I am beautiful

The King is enthralled with your beauty, honor Him for He is your King.

Psalm 45:11

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, I encourage you to check out some of these verses.  Maybe they will help you redefine beauty.

Psalm 45:11

Proverbs 31:30

1 Peter 3:3-4

Psalm 139

Luke 12:6-7

Recovery is knowing that I am enough

We waited for the bell to ring signaling the end of passing period before we slipped into the empty bathroom.  I waited until Natasha had checked beneath all the stall doors – ensuring that we were alone – before pulling out the measuring tape I had stashed in my backpack that morning.  Starting with myself, I lifted my shirt to reveal my stomach, then wrapped the measuring tape around my waist.

“21 and a half,” I declared, looking down at the black lines and numbers that marked my destiny and my worth.

            Next it was Natasha’s turn.  I waited for her to roll up her shirt, then wrapped the measuring tape around her.

            “The same,” I said, checking the numbers just as I had for myself.

            We didn’t have much to compare our numbers to, but we had a start.  As we slipped out of the bathroom and headed for class (which we were now late to), I wondered what it would take to see the number on the measuring tape get smaller…Whatever it was, I was willing to do it, because I knew that the more the number went down, the more my worth would go up.

Fast forward 10 years.

I scanned the Old Navy website, searching for the best Black Friday deals I could find.  Clicking on a cute dress, I considered putting it in my cart, but hesitated when the website prompted me to choose a size.  Buying clothes online can be tricky.  Sometimes, there’s only one way to hope to get the right size…comparing your own measurements to the ones listed on the website.

Leaving my computer, I headed to the bathroom and pulled up my shirt.  As I looked in the mirror, a frown creased my forehead.  I wasn’t pleased with what I saw.  I reluctantly got out the white measuring tape.

I didn’t want to know.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to look down at the numbers.  Ick!  I hated the number I saw.  And yet, when I left the bathroom to return to my computer and see what size dress to order, I didn’t hate myself.

I may not always like the number on the scale or the measuring tape, but I know that it no longer defines my destiny or my worth.  And THAT is a victory worth celebrating.

*     *     *

How beautiful it is to know that my worth doesn’t lie in something as temporary as my size, height, weight, or appearance.  …So where does my worth come from?

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine!” (Isaiah 43:1)

I belong to the Lord.  I am His.

That is my destiny.  That is my worth.

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, know that your worth and destiny are not determined by the scale.  Check out Zephaniah 3:17 and you will see that there is a God who is in your midst – a God who exults over you with joy.  There is a God who sees you, knows you, loves you, and is longing to tell you that you are enough.

Recovery is Worth It

Tears of anger and frustration burned in my eyes.  I told myself I could handle this, I thought.  I truly believed that I was strong enough to recover.  But I was only kidding myself. 

The familiar feelings of food-induced guilt and shame were starting to take over.  I fought back the tears that were threatening to spill from my watery eyes.  Crying wouldn’t solve anything.  Breaking down wouldn’t solve anything.  As a matter of fact, there was only one thing that could solve my current problem.

My walk turned to a run and before I knew it, I was in the bathroom, locking the door and turning on the shower for background noise.  Trying hard not to let myself think, I opened the toilet seat, closed my eyes, and prepared myself for the thing I told myself I would never do again.

I was never terribly successful at making myself throw up, but that night, as I leaned over the toilet gagging on my own fingers, I knew that this was not what I had in mind when I imagined recovery.  If this was what recovery looks like, I thought angrily, maybe it’s not such a good idea after all.  Maybe recovery isn’t worth it.

*   *   *

Last year, I was blessed to take part in a week-long blog series for National Eating Disorder Awareness Week.  To me, a survivor of anorexia, NEDA week is about many things.  One of the most important things – the thing I want to highlight this year – is that there is hope for those who are struggling.  Hope that is real.  Hope that is available.  Hope that is worth it.

Did you catch that?  Let me say it again just to make sure.

RECOVERING FROM AN EATING DISORDER IS WORTH IT.

Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, “it was I who brought you up from Egypt and brought you out from the house of slavery.  I delivered you from the hands of the Egyptians and from the hands of all your oppressors, and dispossessed them before you and gave you their land and I said to you ‘I am the Lord your God; you shall not fear…’”

Judges 6:8-10

God spoke these words to the Israelites at a time when they needed to be reminded of God’s provision and deliverance.  He reminded them that He saved them from slavery and oppression and that He was their hope.

As I look back on my journey with anorexia and my journey through recovery, I feel God speaking these same words to me…it was I who brought you out from slavery.  I delivered you from the hands of anorexia.

There were times I didn’t think it was worth it.  There were times I thought I wouldn’t make it.  Thankfully, when I was willing to give up, God wasn't.  If you are struggling with an eating disorder (or ANY addiction for that matter!) I am here to tell you that God is bigger than your struggle.  His deliverance will get you through.

Two Years of Awkward. Two Years of Heartache. Two Years of Beautiful.

January 31, 2014.

The day I stepped off a bus from the DR and began the adventure of a lifetime: my new life in Haiti.

Sometimes, it feels like just yesterday that I was stepping off that bus, blinking up at the bright Haitian sun, wondering what life was going to be like from here on out.  And sometimes it feels like I have always been in Haiti.  It’s hard to explain...when your heart beats so passionately for something – the way my heart beats for Haiti – there is an infinite, timeless quality to it.  It is hard to imagine a time before Haiti was home.

And yet, it has been two years.

As I finish out my first two years of life in Haiti and look forward to continuing on this journey God has placed before me, I am reflecting on what the past two years have been like.

The past two years of life, work, and ministry in Haiti have been…awkward.

Living life in a different culture is FULL of awkward moments.

Like when you come back from a trip to the US and a Haitian friend greets you with an enthusiastic, “ala gwo ou gwo!” (“wow, you are so fat!”) and you have to smile and say “thank you,” because you know that even though the words sting, what she really means is I’ve missed you and I’m so happy to see you!  Still, it’s awkward.

Or when you accidentally ask in Creole if someone has a voodoo priest (manbo), because it’s one letter away from the Creole word for peanut butter (manba).  Awkward.

Or when things that are so simple in your first culture – things like getting gas or buying butter – cause you to burst into tears at the side of the road while strangers stand by helplessly wondering why the silly little American girl is so upset.  Awkward.

The past 2 years have been…lonely.

God has been so faithful in surrounding me with amazing people here in Haiti.  I am blessed to have amazing friends, neighbors, roommates, coworkers, and the best Haitian family I could ask for.  But at the end of the day, when my friends and neighbors are headed home to their families and my coworkers are gone and my Haitian family is settling in for the night…I come home, close my bedroom door, and listen to the silence.  And the silence reminds me of the fact that being a single missionary can be incredibly lonely.

The past 2 years have been…heartbreaking.

I wish I could put into words the heartache I have felt ministering to orphans and vulnerable children.  Children like 8-year-old Isabelle who fought back tears as she told me that once again, her dad was nowhere to be found, despite his promise to come back for her.  Children like Synthia, who sat alone at our Christmas party – when every other child had a family member there – because nobody in her family could come share it with her.  Children like Josie who were uprooted from everything they knew and loved when an earthquake destroyed their homes and families.  Children like Elsie, who have been beaten and abandoned by their families.  Children like Rosie who have been shipped from one orphanage to another with no stability in their lives.  Children like Crystal who have lived in slavery.

There are no words to describe the heartache.

The past 2 years have been…rewarding.

Little ones don’t always know how to say thank you…but they know how to smile.  And laugh.  And hug.  And yell my name from across the yard.  And run into my arms.  And place their hands on my chest to feel the security of my beating heart.

That is their way of saying thank you.  That is their way of showing me that they love me and appreciate me.  That is how I know I am making a difference in their lives.

That is my reward.

The past 2 years have been…confirming.

730 days.

730 days of awkward.  Of lonely.  Of heartache.  Of frustration and confusion and just trying to figure out how to do life in this second culture where nothing seems to happen right the first time and everything seems to take twice as long.

And yet here I am, knowing that this is where I am supposed to be.  Confirmed in my calling to live in Haiti and to kenbe fèm.  Stay strong.

The past 2 years have been…beautiful.

I can’t think of a better word to describe it all.  The kids.  The relationships.  The moments of heartache and the moments of growth.  Simply beautiful.

Getting on a plane in Arizona 2 years ago.

Game days at the Green House are the best days.

Their smiles are my reward and my confirmation.

Two years with this girl isn't long enough.  Can't wait to keep watching her grow.