Everyone knows someone...

Everyone knows someone who struggles with an eating disorder. If you know me, then...there's your one. Unfortunately, it's much bigger than that. The current statistic is that 1 in 4 people struggle with an eating disorder - men and women, boys and girls included.

I've waited all week to write about this. Perhaps I was actually avoiding it.

It's not that I'm afraid or embarrassed. It just seems like something so big to tackle. To cover it all and do it justice.

I was in 6th grade when I became aware of my weight. It was one of those weird days at school where they toss everyone into the gym to be weighed, measured and checked for lice. I'm sure it's just easier that way: to knock everyone out at once. It was overwhelming to me to have a line of people behind me as I stepped onto the scale.

I remember who weighed me - the mother of a friend in my grade. It was the first time I realized that the number meant something...and here's why.

As I stepped onto the scale and she weighed me, she told it to the person sitting at the table who wrote it down.

112

I think she saw the look of concern on my face, and she leaned over to say "It's okay. I weighed 100 pounds at your age."

I know she meant those to be words of comfort, but I have rarely found comfort in words of comparison. She was the most petite woman. I'm fairly certain she didn't weigh 100 pounds as she stood in front of me at 40 years old. 

At the age of 12, I didn't know what to do with this weight information other than to feel immediately like it was too much. I was too much. Too much and not enough all at once. And to this day, I feel those same extremes. I am too much. I am not enough. 

What I know now...

What I know now is that this struggle - this disease - has been one of many tools of the enemy to steal my joy, my life, my purpose and my confidence in who God created me to be. I know that God uses everything for my good. I know that I have never walked this long road alone.

I was in 7th grade when I began finding ways to make a trip to Eckerd Drug Store and buy diet pills. I skipped meals. I drank diet soda. I did workouts in my living room to lose weight here and there. I was in 8th grade when the bigger demons attacked me, and my only response was to stop eating because I thought that would cure the ache inside. What happened at that point so greatly shaped the next 10 years of my life, and my only weapon was food. Being hungry felt better than the pain inside.

I wouldn't say I lost weight at that point. I hadn't quite perfected eating disorder skills at that point. I would use them to get me through a rough patch, and then return to a normal lifestyle for a time period.

This cycle continued until I was 17.

At 17, I became randomly ill with a virus. The virus went crazy in my body and my platelet count plummeted. I was pulled out of school because I was at risk of hemorrhaging and bleeding internally. They prescribed steroids and warned my parents that I might gain weight. The words echoed in my head, and I was terrified. 

I did schoolwork from home (as a senior) and hoped to go back to school in January. In my mind, there was no way I was going back to school heavier than when I left. So, I stopped taking the steroids, and  I began purging. The vicious cycle of eat, vomit, starve took over. And once that happened, there was no looking back.

My freshman year in college, I ended up in a treatment facility four hours away from home. I couldn't function, I was underweight (a personal victory in my sick mind), and I was depressed. 

I would love to tell you that I left the treatment facility 17 years ago and never went back to my old habits. Sadly, it wasn't until I was pregnant with our first child that I finally had to stop the behaviors that enabled me to cope with life. I had to find a new way to deal with pain and struggle. 

Even since our oldest was born I have still struggled. There are seasons of time that are great, and there are seasons of time that are not. More than the behavior, the mindset is the hardest thing to deal with. Every battle is won or lost in my mind. 

I often think of things I would tell myself if I could go back in time and teach that girl some meaningful lesson. I'm usually never at a loss for words when I start thinking about..."if I only knew then what I know now..."

But this. The eating disorder. I don't know what I would say to the girl in 6th grade. I don't know what I would tell her. Because even today, my mind is cloudy with body image issues, worries for our kids, worries for our future, fear of everything and nothing. And the eating disorder has been a companion of sorts for me. 

Would I tell her she's beautiful and just right?

Would I tell her she's fearfully and wonderfully made?

Would I tell her she's the apple of God's eye?

Would I tell her she's never alone - no matter what she faces?

Today...

Today I am constantly reminding myself of God's word: His promises to me, His words to me, His love for me. It requires vigilance on my part. I cannot be asleep at the wheel. Because the devil is conniving. Sneak attacks are his specialty. If I'm not careful, and if I don't begin my day with my face buried in God's word, I am sorely prepared for the attacks he uses against me.

But God. But God in His infinite mercy, loved me so much that He sent Jesus for me. So that I'm never alone. So that I'm no longer a slave to my sin. So that I'm free to become the woman He created me to be. So that I'm free to walk in His victory!

I know that if I'm still, quiet and resting in Him...He will fight for me. 

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