I didn’t plan on writing about this today. Frankly, all my mind has been consumed on lately, is the out of control prices at the grocery store, and the soaring inflation that has left me and everyone I know, riddled with concern, and hopeless for the future.
But let’s be honest, dwelling on that is not going to a) make the situation any better, and b) will only add to the worry we all are already feeling.
Instead, I wanted to share something that actually could help to bring a little brightness to a very dark and gloomy world right now.
And that is the phrase that changed my life.
Take a mental trip with me back to inpatient. It was one of my first days there, after I had my “come to Jesus” moment, where I met Him on the floor of the chapel, received His mercy and forgiveness, and the rest is history.
That episode is all well and good, but when the time came for the “rubber to meet the road,” let’s just say turning those notions and good intentions into actual action…that was another tune all together.
Because when it comes to recovery from anorexia, “following through” meant only one thing: I was going to gain weight.
And sure, committing in my heart and mind was one thing. But actually doing the things that were going to make the scale go up was quite another.
Doing things like: eating every meal and every one of the three snacks to completion. Taking all the weight-gaining supplements like Ensure, and Boost…those actions were terrifying. Especially because I had spent the last year “pretending” to drink the Ensures my parents wanted me to drink, and instead dumping them out the window of my car on the way to school, and bringing back the empty bottles.
So let’s just say, I was not real keen on doing the actual things I needed to do, to put on the weight my 78 pound body desperately needed.
Until…I made this one mental shift.
I had been praying for strength to “do recovery.” I couldn’t even say the words: “gain weight” to myself. But I knew that Jesus was with me, and I just asked for strength to “do what I needed to do.”
And in the stillness of the night, as I was falling asleep at the nurses’ station. I had this little small voice utter these two little words: “WHAT IF.”
What if? What if I were to eat everything they placed in front of me…knowing and trusting that God was the one to put it there. What if I were to become curious about the notion of “blossoming” into a womanly figure, instead of being afraid of it? What if I were to tackle the weight gain supplements with a fighting attitude, knowing that my fear was coming from one place, and one place only: the enemy.
And right then and there, I decided that that was how I was going to do it. I was going to become curious. I was going to treat this whole thing as one exciting “let’s see” situation.
And right then and there — it was literally after midnight, and I guess, sleeping at the nurses’ station had it’s perks. Because I got out of my cot, walked up to the reception desk, and in my PJs, asked the night nurse for a Boost supplement. She looked at me very strangely. Looked at her colleague, and bewildered, gave me a 300 calorie Boost chocolate pudding. I scarfed it down, and asked for another. And to my surprise, she obliged. And afterwards, she said, “You’re the first resident to ever ask for extra supplements.”
And from that moment on, I decided to look at eating, and finishing my plate as a) a way to commit my heart to God, and give every bite to Him, knowing that He was the one putting the things in front of me to eat. And b) as a giant way to fight back against “ED”, with each bite also being a big middle finger to the enemy, as I reclaimed my life, one bite at a time. This bite for having to miss graduation. This bite for robbing me of my passions and having to drop out of drama and sports. This bite for the relationships I threw away.
It was a combo of: the trust that God put the food there to help me and not to harm me; the righteous anger of reclaiming the life ED stole from me; and the curiosity of what would happen if I let recovery run its full course on my body, my mind, etc.
I think that can really be applied to a lot of other things in life, not just recovery. How many things in my life do I let fear dictate my actions on?
Fear is one of the most controlling emotions on this earth, and the enemy not only knows that, but also knows how to capitalize on that.
At the end of the day, we have a Father who holds us in the palm of His hand. We have a Father who will never let us dash our foot against a stone. A Father who wants a life of abundance for His children. Who will work all things together for good.
We have a Father we can trust. What if we let Him take our life and run with it? What if we let Him be God?
Until next week…
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