In February 1997...

I was a freshman in college. A Texas girl attending a small school in Arkansas. Living four hours away from home...it felt like a million hours.

I went to school on a music scholarship...to sing...my passion. Music, singing, worship - this is my passion still. My tiny school in Arkansas - not my passion.

In all fairness, I left home in August for school carrying an 18-wheeler of baggage...figuratively speaking. My literal baggage only took two car loads, and was mostly shoes.

Had I not carried so much baggage with me, perhaps my experience at small school, Arkansas, USA would have been different. Perhaps then I would have embraced it, loved it, soaked it in and at the end of four years, drove off into the sunset northeast to Nashville. Who knows, right?

Miserable. Miserable doesn't even scratch the surface. I was miserable. Loved my roommate. Met some neat people...but I was miserable.

And I nurtured a raging eating disorder. Baggage.

From days without eating, to days full of vomiting, I lived my life trying to avoid every meal, every calorie and attempting to fit in as much running as possible. Now, today I still run, but today I run to feel good...to be strong...to be fit...and to breathe. It's very different than the running I used to do.

I write all of this because in February of 1997 my parents took me to a fantastic treatment center in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Fantastic because it offered hope. I stayed for three months and arrived back home shortly after Easter.

How fitting that February traditionally features Eating Disorder Awareness Week...and it's the month that the possibility of a life without an eating disorder entered my mind as feasible. I had struggled with the disease for so long...since I was in 8th grade. I only became proficient at it as a junior in high school. So by the time I went to Laureate, I couldn't remember what it was like to not wake up each day with the food-struggle.

I wish I could tell you that I returned home and I've been free ever since. It took much longer to recover though. It really wasn't until 2001 when I became pregnant with our firstborn that I found the freedom I had longed for. That freedom came out of necessity since I carried a sweet, little life inside of me. I was responsible for his well-being. I couldn't ignore the weight of that responsibility.

So I stopped. Almost cold turkey. I stopped counting calories. I stopped throwing up. I stopped running. I continued to walk and exercise, but only because I wanted to be healthy for delivery. (I was terrified of that!)

Fast forward from 2001 to 2013, and today, I have a total of three beautiful kiddos and the most amazing husband. He is supportive and encouraging and knows every detail of my life. He knows the struggle. He lived with it at the beginning.

And though the road to recovery is life-long, each day without eating disorder behavior is a victory. Each day without the raging battle of the mind, sometimes the toughest part to overcome in my opinion, is a leap in the right direction.

I cringe when I hear moms and dads talk to their kids about eating in a way that is destructive. I'm sure their intentions are good, but their words are little seeds that are planted deep within that can eventually lead down a long and lonely road.

Along the way, my relationship with Jesus Christ grew...ultimately it was Him who led me to freedom. And perhaps not in the miraculous healing in an instant sort of way, but my desire to please and honor God spurred me on to pursuing freedom from the bondage of my eating disorder. God doesn't want me to live in bondage to anything because ultimately my bondage became a sort of idol. Anything that took my focus off of my relationship with Him is/was an idol.

What I found was that indeed, His grace was sufficient for me. His strength was made perfect in my weakness...and there are many days that I am weak. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust." Psalm 91:2