Living in Community

We were never meant to live without community. Even God lives in community with Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. A life alone is a life of despair, hopelessness, negative thoughts and possibly self-sabotage through self-inflicted harm. Alcohol, Sex, Drugs, Food, Cutting or Suicide. None of these are a path to healing...only a path of self-destruction.

In the preface and forward of the third edition of the Big Book, these statements stood out. If you substitute your addiction in place of the word alcoholic, it might make more sense to you. But for me, an addiction is an addiction no matter what the name.

1. If you have a drinking problem, we hope that you may pause in reading one of the forty-four personal stories and think: "Yes, that happened to me"; or, more important, "Yes, I've felt like that"; or, most important, "Yes, I believe this program can work for me, too."

2. "The only requirement is a desire to stop drinking."

3. "We simply wish to be helpful to those who are afflicted."

4. "... the need for moral inventory, confession of personality defects, restitution of those harmed, helpfulness to others, and the necessity of belief in and dependence upon God."

5. "He suddenly realized that in order to save himself he must carry his message to another alcoholic."

6. "Strenuous work, one alcoholic to another, was vital to permanent recovery."

7. "Yet is is our great hope that all those who have as yet found no answer may begin to find one in the pages of this book and will presently join us on the high road to a new freedom."

And isn't that what Jesus wants us to have? And isn't that what God wants us to experience through His grace and mercy, power and strength? And isn't that how the Holy Spirit counsels us to live day by day seeking God's will for our lives so we can adjust ourselves to it?

When we have trusted confidants, mentors and Christian brothers and sisters who know us (REALLY know us), we can run to them and ask for prayer and wisdom. But ultimately it's between us and God.

I want to be fully recovered from the obesity I've had since I was in Jr. High. I don't want to be a yo-yo anymore. I weighed myself today and the scale showed 205.6 lbs. It reflected what I new to be true. I don't feel that heavy but the scale doesn't lie. It puts reality back into my fantasy life thinking I can do all things without accountability. Wrong-oh!! Back on track I go because:

A. I want to be set free from the bondage of food.
B. I want to be able to hear His whispers clearly and without interruption.
C. I want to fulfill the desires He has placed in my heart to help people.
D. I'm not perfect and I will make mistakes. But with each mistake comes learning something new and I want to remain teachable, not with my fists up in the air.
E. I'm tired of the struggle to do this my own way. So I pray for a sponsor or a spiritual guide who can help me. I believe I am being led to one of the women in our Celebrate Recovery group. She and I share a common past so there's a connection that doesn't need to be worked on. It's already established.

What are you going to do for yourself today? How will you handle your addiction(s)? I don't know the answers but I do know where God has lead me to begin. Read the book Alcoholics Anonymous. Not only will it help me with my struggles and addictions but it will also help me continue healing the pain of the relationship with my Dad and his death. His alcoholism poisoned our family, poisoned me. I don't want to live with that poison-ness residue anymore. I want to bury it with him.

In order to come full circle I have to lay down each broken piece before my Holy Maker. And with each piece comes feelings. And with each feeling comes the need for community. And in each community is someone picked out just for you to help you get through your junk.

God innately designed us to lean on Him and one another.

The Promises

As Jeff and I were talking about the layers of shame I still carry on my body (the extra weight) I remembered the promises from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. I've decided to go back to the basics by reading the beginning of the Big Book. Let me share the Promises for those of us stuck in the cycle of addiction because there is hope - in God, in recovery and through each others life experiences.

This is taken from the chapter Into Action at the bottom of page 83-84:

"If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us-sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will materialize if we work for them."

Right before the promises is a sentence that grabbed me. It said, "As God's people we stand on our feet; we don't crawl before anyone." How many times have I in my woundedness crawled before people for a little bit of love, little bit of acceptance, little bit of self-esteem or a little bit of anything positive they could give me? Too often. In God's promises found in the Bible the only person I crawl to is Jesus Christ. And when I have asked to be forgiven for my sin and He washes me clean, He takes my hand and pulls me up from the ground I've been crawling on.

I am His. I stand on my feet. There are days I wobble and days I stumble but no longer do I crawl. I bow only before my Holy God. I bow in awesome wonder of His glorious majesty. My face is in the dirt for I am not worthy to look upon His face. But then I hear a gentle whisper..."Come to me my child. Look upon my face which is filled with love for you. My eyes see your eyes and we share an intimacy like no other relationship you have. I am gentle in spirit. I enjoy who you are. I like you as an individual person-not compared to anyone else I have created. You are my living child, my adored one, my precious one...I have loved you from the beginning and will love you forever because My love never ends."

Recovery from addiction is hard. Letting God be my comfort is harder than grabbing a bag of chips and dip then sitting in front of the TV zoning out. Letting God be my comfort takes confession, community and commitment. All I know is that I'm fighting for my right to get well, be well and stay well.

My prayer is that this is what all of us truly desire in our hearts. Here's a real story from a real woman who struggles with food addiction.

Talking About Feelings

Carol wrote something similar to me during a session. "Keep eye contact with me and share your feelings and thoughts even when you are scared or crying or else I cannot help you." Then she drew a sad face. (I'm the knight in case you couldn't guess).

Today I woke up with a cold but not one that's so bad I'm in bed. It's certainly not enough to keep me from the therapy appointment this morning. So I guess I can write what I'll be talking about with Jeff.

During this time in my recovery the depression is coming back, the seizures are weekly, the CAMS (chronic, acute, major and severe) diagnosis for other mental illness and physical challenges are daily and how do I feel? My brain is mush and unable to strike a match. My emotions are all over the place so I put them in a far away and hard to reach box deep inside. I sit here gazing at the keyboard wondering what to type. Then the anxiety returns and I fade away for a moment.

All this talk and action about the weight loss has become harder and harder each day. I think I've gained about 5-10 pounds during the last month. I'll find out next week when I meet with the dietitian. I'm disappointed in myself for not being able to handle all of this "perfectly." Yet I'm handling it without running away, cutting or attempting suicide again. Some call it progress. I call it miraculous progress.

I'm going to do another irrational/rational writing about my weight and relationship with food. My hope is that "because I am truly a disciple and live as Jesus says, I shall know the truth and the truth shall set me free (John 8:31-32).

Irrational: The fatter I am, the safer I am from other people hurting me.
Rational: I still get hurt no matter what my weight is.
Rational: The fat keeps me away from those who can help me.

Irrational: Overeating takes away the pain.
Rational: Overeating prolongs the pain and adds more pain, physically and emotionally.

Irrational: I am a fatty and I hate myself for being so weak.
Rational. Obesity can be healed. If I choose to follow the plan I was given I will find an inner strength I never knew I had.

Irrational: Nobody understands how hard this is - managing emotions and food.
Rational: You are not alone. Remember your stay at Rogers? Each pair of eyes were filled with sadness and hopelessness. You can choose to revert or choose to move forward. Either way, you need to talk about it so you can live with this disease in a healthy manner.

Irrational: If I'm thin people will compliment me and I'll be embarrassed.
Rational: Get over it. When you're thin you will feel better about yourself knowing the focus is not your weight. It's the heavy burdens you've been carrying on your body that are going to be removed.

Irrational: I don't want to fail.
Rational: That's a rational statement. So what are you going to do about it?

And that's what I'll discuss with Jeff and Dr. Sarah.

Memorializing my Dad

The inscription on the candle reads, "In loving memory of Henry Raymond Endler, Jr. who is present in our hearts."

Tracy bought the candle to display on the day of her wedding. It was lit during the wedding ceremony behind she and Bill. I took it home afterward.

On Saturday, I set it up at Tina's using a picture I had given to she and Tracy at Christmas. It was my way of remembering him on the one year anniversary of his death.

I really don't have much to say right now. Tears continue to fall, I'm still processing his loss and its affect on me. Our relationship had so many facets. It's to be expected that I would have such pendulum swings right now.

Maybe later, I will write more....

One Year Ago Today...Again

(This was written Thursday night)

It's the middle of the morning when the phone rings at work. It's my sister Tracy. "Amy, I have something to tell you. Are you sitting down?" I knew it was serious and this time I knew it was someone in our family. I prayed it wasn't one of my nieces or nephews. She continued. "Dad died this morning." I froze.

It was the second death in 9 days. We had just buried Cathy, my mom had just returned home (6 hours north of us) and now the man who hadn't returned my calls or spoken to me in three and a half years was gone. I hung up the phone, called my friend Sue who worked downstairs then burst into tears.

I remember every detail of the 24 hours after his death. In fact, I remember more than that. Annie started making phone calls for me including the first one to Carol. Carol had a cancellation. Annie and Donald drove me to Wheaton so I could be with her. I received a call from Tracy just before we left warning me that Dad was going to be immediately cremated. Our only time with him would be the following morning for an hour. An hour. Can you believe that?

I remember how he looked laying in the wooden box on a sheet of plastic. There was a white sheet covering him up to his chest. One side of his face was turning different shades of purple. Sue, Annie and Donald were with me, Dale with Tina and Bill with Tracy. When we first saw him, we each had different reactions. As some time passed each of us spent one on one time with him.

In that season of my recovery the memories of him sexually abusing me were still pretty new. Carol and I had been talking about it for a few weeks intensely. Tracy's wedding was being planned. Sadly, looking back, it was a relief that he died when he did. For selfish reasons I wouldn't have to feel bad about him not attending Tracy's wedding because of the fear I felt just at the thought of seeing him.

When it was my turn to go say good-bye, I found myself looking at my Dad through God's eyes. I bent down and told him how much I loved him, all the while stroking his hair. I touched his face with my fingers, tracing his forehead, cheeks, chin, mustache and lips then returned to stroking his hair. I continued by thanking him for all the things he taught me: how to fish, how to fix things, telling me how smart I am. I told him I knew he had done the best he could. I told him I forgave him for all the ways he hurt me. And then I told him this: "Dad, I'm going to continue working through these abuse issues. I'm going to get mad at you and I'm going to continue recovering from what you did to me. I just want you to know that." When I was finished, I continued crying as I kissed him on the lips and felt his mustache for the very last time.

It was very hard to leave him there that day. I still wish I could have had more time with him while he was alive but he didn't want time with me. Truth be told, my dad lived a very isolated and lonely life and that's the way he died...

I grieve the loss of a man I looked up to as a little girl and still love today. I grieve the loss of emotional support when he and I shared those days. My Dad believed in us, believed we could do great things with our lives. He loved all of his grandchildren and I know he loved his daughters more than he was capable of expressing.

My Dad collected eagle statues and plates...a symbol of strength. He raised me up. Not perfectly. But as best he could. The strength I had to have as a child has served me well as an adult.

I will always love him because he was my Dad.

When Are You Going To Come Full Circle?

For the movie buffs, that is a quote by Colonel Samuel Troutman to Rambo in Rambo III. Rambo's response: "What do you mean?"

When Troutman explains the meaning, Rambo says, "I guess I'm not ready."

I have days when I don't feel ready to move out of my comfort zone back into the real world. The comfort zone being a place in my mind where I can hideout and no one comes looking for me. If they do, like Rambo I respond with, "I don't believe this."

I've been overeating the last few days, maybe even a full week now. I know why. The emotions, stress, tension, anxiety and some depression are difficult right now. I'm not surprised by any of those feelings nor am I surprised that I'm not as caring about my recovery from bulimia. I binge and then I starve myself to make up for the binge then the destructive cycle starts all over again. I'm riding the crazy train having purchased a one way ticket. I should have bought an open ended ticket.

Open ended. What an interesting combination of words. (random thought)

Carol called today. It was great to hear her voice and have a quick chat. I didn't tell her about the one year death anniversaries. I don't know why. So I called her back. Instead of her voice mail she answered the phone. I asked her to add those anniversaries to her prayers for me. She became very quiet...somber in her voice. I wasn't sure how to respond and quite frankly was surprised by her lovingly sad reaction. I think it brought me back to what I've been avoiding.

Unless one of your parents have died, it would be hard for you to understand what it feels like. The grief, the sudden outburst of tears. When there's past abuse from that parent, in my case, the Post Traumatic Stress gets re-ignited. I can't sleep tonight. I stare at the ceiling. I think about the past year. How quickly it flew by and how I put my grieving on the back burner for the sake of a job.

I called Tina the other day. I asked if I could spend Saturday with her so I'm not alone on my Dad's anniversary. She's picking me up Friday morning. I don't know how we (including Tracy) are going to memorialize him. We still haven't seen the urn or received any of his personal belongings that we're entitled to. We have a slipper I found in the garbage when Joan (his wife) moved the week after he died. It sits on the memorial table at Tina's with pictures of him, Cathy and Maryla.

How do you pay tribute to a man like my dad?

Maybe by Saturday I'll have an answer.

Geez This Is An Emotional Week!

Yeah, this picture sums it up.



I'm starting to feel numb. The denial of Social Security Disability and Social Security Income came as a shock. No matter how many people tell you that the first time is normally a denial of benefits, seeing it in black and white caused all sorts of irrational thinking:

Irrational: They don't like me.
Rational: They don't even know me - it's not personal.

Irrational: I'm not disabled enough.
Rational: I have major mental illnesses and seizures. That's more than enough.

Irrational: I'm a victim again.
Rational: I am a survivor and it's time to use that to my advantage.

Irrational: I have to cut myself in order to feel better.
Rational: I will feel worse and cause unnecessary worry for my family and friends.

Irrational: I should be locked up in a mental institution.
Rational: If I need help, I can go see my psychiatrist or therapist.

Irrational: I won't be taken care of and medically I'll suffer more.
Rational: God is taking care of me and knows my medical needs. He will meet them.

That was an exercise Carol taught me. Take the irrational thinking and turn it around. It raises my ability to deal with reality in a healthy way. Yes, I do have mental illness (chronic, acute, major and severe). Yes, I do struggle with cutting, suicide attempts and suicide thoughts. Yes, there are days I am in bed because my physical body is in so much pain that all I can do is sleep and take a pain pill. That's my life. But it's not my eternal life. It's temporary.

If I can get through each day as Jesus did before he went to the cross I consider myself lucky. He walked alone...I walk with family and friends. God turned away from Him when the sin of the world was upon Him. God never turns away from me or my concerns because Jesus took the brunt of my punishment.

Emotional week? Yes. But I never EVER walk alone.

Relapse vs. Restructuring

Sound familiar? Maybe not verbally or consciously but I know I've felt that way when I'm successful with my weight loss. It's called self sabotage and it's as old as the creation of man and woman.

To loose self sabotage is to change the way we think of ourselves especially during stressful, emotional, changing and grieving times. Those are my top four.

So, how do I learn how to restructure? I dunno. During my therapy session with Jeff this morning we figured out that's where I am. I've hit a plateau. The next step is to delve a little deeper. When I left Rogers Memorial Hospital in October for Bulimia treatment I was given a second packet to work on when I got home. Certainly the last few months have not been the right time to work on it. As I've been watching and experiencing my eating since the viewing of Tina's 40th birthday DVD, we realized the DVD triggered a wide range of emotions and memories.

How I looked as I grew up was in that DVD, too. I was thin, had a smile on my face and appeared like a happy child. There were pictures of the three of us. In one of them Tracy has her arms wrapped around mine, like a safe and protective hold. A picture of my Dad I'd never seen before. One where he looked genuinely happy, content and peaceful in his flannel shirt. Then one of him at Tina's wedding - a completely different person. One of Cathy at Tina's wedding as her Matron of Honor. Maryla at Tracy's wedding this past July. Snapshots of Tina as she grew from a little girl then watching how her eyes changed as she got lost in her teen years. Then watching as she came around full circle in her recovery, marriage and raising her children. I was wondering why I felt like breaking down and crying as I watched the DVD. Now I know. It triggered many emotions in a very short amount of time.

Instead of talking about them (after all, it was a birthday party) I found myself eating and eating. Not paying attention except to watch the carbs but even then I wanted to deaden whatever it was that was happening inside of me. A new awareness, perhaps? Still to be revealed.

Cathy died Feb 12, 2008. Dad died Feb 21, 2008. I tried to kill myself (again) Oct 7, 2008. Maryla died Nov 11, 2008.

It's a lot to process. A lot to feel. A lot to restructure. Thank God it doesn't all have to be fixed at once. Just one day at a time, as I can with the support of family and friends. I have to keep talking about it, writing about it and letting my small group at Celebrate Recovery help me.

Each overweight pound represents a part of my past. And with each pound that is shed another part of my past is healed. It's time for a shift and I do it fully aware that I'm not overeating like I used to, I'm not cutting like I used to, I'm not drinking like I used to and I'm not keeping it a secret like I used to.

That's a miracle!!

Thinking

So, I've been thinking. And like our friend Winnie the Pooh it takes a lot of concentration. Eventually, the thought becomes clear. Then it is able to be told.


I've been fluctuating between overeating then not eating for the last few days not caring at all about most things, especially how I look and feel. That's a red flag and I knew it when I was doing it. Last week at Celebrate Recovery I mentioned the next 9 days (at that time) were going to be difficult. That's all I could get out without having a complete melt down. So instead, I used a faithful old tool so I wouldn't feel the pain of the sudden losses of Cathy and my Dad.

My sister Tina's 40th was on Valentine's Day. It reminded me of mine almost two years ago. Last night I was looking at some of the photos hoping Cathy was in one. She was and I have a great one of her laughing. It was a mixed moment. I was glad to have one then felt sad for Tina. Grief is a mixed bag of emotions.

I have a memorial frame of my Dad. When I look at the pictures, from the time I was a baby until the most recent picture in Missouri, I miss him. I feel love and affinity when I look at him barbecuing (his sweet spot), the picture of he with my sisters and I, the one where I'm learning to stand and I'm leaning on his back...that's the Dad I miss. The one who was able to show love, be supportive and have fun.

This week...well...it will be what it is. I started today by eating what I'm supposed to eat to kick start my metabolism. As the day progresses I think I'll be eating on autopilot but hopefully able to experience the day by staying present.

But who can really say what it will be?

Psalm 139

As the days draw near to the one year anniversary of my Dad's death, I draw near to God's Word...

My Mom

This is my Mom when she went with a group of folks to serve in New Orleans after Katrina. She is the best Mom ever! Let me tell you why, especially on this Valentine's Day. My Mom filed for divorce in Aug 1982 because of the abuse that was going on in our home. She came to realize that after a year of 12 step groups, counseling and watching she and her daughters deteriorate, enough was enough. She was courageous and took one of the boldest steps I'd ever witnessed. My Mom? She's my hero.

Since the divorce (which saved all our lives), she has written us a love letter every Valentine's Day. I have a stack of them in a special folder which I re-read from time to time. Not only do they remind me of how much she loves me but they also give a historical account of my life from year to year. She writes about my personal growth, challenges, my own courage and our similarities.

Nowadays with three grown girls, two sons-in-law and nine grandchildren, her writing takes a bit longer but the message is always the same: I love you and here's why.

I'm blessed with a Mom who loves Jesus. She lead me to the church where I became a believer. She leads the spiritual health and integrity of our family, including sons-in-law and grandchildren. She is a woman after God's own heart. Admittedly not perfect in any way but humble in more ways than most.

I love her very much. We've come a long way in our relationship. I trust her with my "innards" and she knows how to counsel me when I'm troubled. Her favorite game to play is Sorry! and card games. But you better beware! She's incredibly competitive and ruthless, laughs the best of laughs, and when she says, "Say Two", you best do it so you're both rolling off the chair in hysterics and wet pants.

One Year Ago Today

It's the middle of the afternoon when the phone rings at work. It's my sister Tracy. "Amy, I have something to tell you." I sensed in her voice it was serious but was not in our immediate family. She continued. "Cathy was killed in a car accident this morning." I froze.

Cathy was my sister Tina's best friend. Cathy became part of our family for many years. She and I shared a special closeness because of the similarities of our past. Whenever we saw each other we'd steal a few moments to talk about our stuff. What we were healing, the latest drugs we were taking. We understood unspoken words, thoughts and feelings where sometimes only the intimacy of eye contact can communicate. She was the only one who understood my half sentences and I understood hers. And now...she was gone.

Cathy was a follower of Jesus Christ who loved her children and struggled with the same sort of things you and I do. She was a fighter. She inspired me to keep pushing through the pain of my past no matter how many hospitalizations, therapists or trying new drugs it took. She was my cheerleader. And so much more.

Tracy drove to where I was working so we could get out to Tina's quickly. On the way, we looked for the accident scene. We found it. We walked around where littered on the ground were pieces of Cathy's car, it's contents and the telephone pole her overturned car hit when she slid across black ice and lost control. It was sobering to take in. Since then, I've felt her presence there. Today, I long to connect with her.

I'll always remember the shock of that phone call. The wake, the funeral, crying with my sister and my mom driving down as soon as she heard. I don't know how to process the sadness I feel. I'm crying some but mostly I feel numb. I look at the picture when we all stood up at Tina's wedding. Her beautiful smile, sense of humor and candid conversations will always be with me. Deep down, I wish God hadn't taken her home so soon.

I miss her a lot.

What a Wonderful World

A dear friend sent this today. It lifted my spirits as the last couple of days have been hard.

Micah 6:8

"No, O people, the Lord has told you what is good,
and this is what he requires of you:
to do what is right, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with your God."

This is one of those days that started at a new church, in God's word, with a good friend, sharing a delicious meal, a refreshing walk and a hearty laugh. As my spirit settles into a time of personal reflection I pray that God would use this writing to bring glory unto Himself and perhaps give a little lift to us all.

The sermon this morning was Romans 13 where Paul talks about respecting and obeying people in authority. As a Christian and follower of Jesus Christ I understand what that means as it relates to government, law enforcement and employers. God chooses those in authority whether I like them or not. It's my responsibility to follow Micah 6:8 in all circumstances where authority is present. The times I do not is if it goes against the word of God. In order to know the word I have to be in the word.

After church, I was looking at the display table. I saw materials from my former employer. Feelings of sadness quickly swept over me. As I looked through them and saw the work I had been helping accomplish with the poor around the world, I offered this question up to God: "Why did you remove me from a job I loved, doing work for your kingdom, that is in my passion area?" I knew the answer. It's not the work He wants me to do anymore. That part of my life is finished. For close to three years I served God and that ministry with all my heart. Maybe, too much of my heart.

I sacrificed my health. Even when I had those seizures, I still pushed forward for reasons that are truly unhealthy. I didn't and wasn't taking good care of myself. No matter how much I gave I felt I had to give more. I couldn't discern when enough was enough. I didn't use the word "no" as often as I now realize needed to. I was burning myself out. For what? It certainly wasn't to honor God. It was because I had a wrong definition of respecting authority.

Since the letter I wrote to God and He to me, I've been quietly processing the meaning of it all. Piece by piece I'm beginning to understand that God doesn't want me to break myself in serving others in work, church or in my family. I believe He wants to show me how to live a life that resembles the life Jesus lead. Lean on the Father; pray for all matters that concern you; and lead a life of obedience to those God has chosen for your life.

God knows my heart. He hears my humble cry. He holds my hand and redirects my footsteps when I get off track. Isn't it great to have a Father who cares enough to teach us out of pure love? A love that never dies?

I think so...

A Conversation With God

Dear God,

I don't like myself today. I feel worthless, burdened, troubled, frustrated, angry, depressed, discouraged, distrustful, incapable, useless, forced and unsure. I don't want to talk to anyone, see anyone or be anyone. I want to cancel the appointment with the psychiatrist and talk to my therapist instead. I know I need help from both but what's the point of talking about medication when I can't get it?

I've been off the seizure meds for two weeks. I'm going to bring the form from the manufacturer to see if I qualify to get them for free. In the meantime, I deal with being screwed up and feeling like less of a person because I am crumbling.

Your word says to give you my burdens and I think I've been doing that. I know Jesus will carry them for me so the load I carry is lighter. Yet all the crap that is still in limbo creates a list of uncertainties in my mind. This life I've been dealt is not an easy one. You already know that. I'm trying to do the next right thing. Some days it's tasking; other days it's sleeping.

This whole meal plan is really messing with my head. What do YOU want me to do? My body is YOUR temple and I'm responsible for keeping it in good condition. That includes eating right, exercising (though limited) and making sure the fuel gauge of my life is in balance. Neither running on empty or at mock speed.

What do you want from me?
Amy

My dearest Amy,
You are troubling yourself with things that do not matter. You have been given challenges because I know your faith in me is strong and you will overcome the burdens of all of them. You struggle with pride, people pleasing and talking about how you are feeling. You need to get passed the details of conversations and look at the big picture. Amy, you are starving yourself. Sarah was right. You have this fear in your heart that if you eat anything it's going to cause weight gain which you now have a terrible fear of. I want you to become a whole person who has confidence in your choices. I don't want you to push people away who are trying to help you, especially when I have chosen them just for you. I want you to be who I created you to be. You're not there yet. You have not arrived. You have a long way to go and a lot of work to get there. But until you let go of control and your strong self will, I cannot help you and neither can those I've sent. You've got to let your guard down, Amy. Let people in who I've placed around you. Don't isolate yourself from the healing I am doing in your broken spirit. I fully intend to restore you. Remember, you are a new creation. You are alive in Christ. He set you free and because you are my daughter and beloved child, I will protect you from any harm you may be fearing. Let's walk this journey together. I want to be with you. I want to be part of your life. Don't shut me out. I'm not going to hurt you.

Love God

Fears I Am Feeling

This evening I am crawling into my shell and hiding. The day started out great but then after seeing my dietitian I felt distressed. I expected celebration for the weight loss but I set myself up for disappointment.

Rather than hide my body, I want to hide my thoughts, words and voice. But I know better. I feel broken - shattered into a million pieces. Trying to get wise counsel from Dr. Sarah, Jeff, Celebrate Recovery members, friends, family and of course, God. It's as though I walked out of Dr. Sarah's office today with my heart in my hand. I had tears in my eyes again but was able to shield them. Why does it hurt so bad when I don't feel heard? I have a voice, I use words but somehow the message gets lost. Then I quietly give up.

I had dreams a couple of nights ago where I was being held down on my bed. I tried to scream but nothing came out of my mouth. I tried and tried until finally a small cry escaped then my voice became louder. I was thrashing about on my bed trying to get away. I'd found my voice and fought for my life. I feel the same way about this fat on my body.

I'm afraid I'm going to gain back what has already been successfully removed.
I'm afraid I'm not being believed when I say, "I feel better with an empty stomach."
I'm afraid I'm being strong willed and not submitting to her wisdom and training.
I'm afraid I'm going to leave and not come back.
I'm afraid of all these things.

So I sit here at home writing about it. It's really bothering me, hurting me inside. I feel sad, misunderstood and scared. I feel like the little girl who wanted to do what she was told but knew in her heart she felt differently. As an adult I have the freedom to choose. For this moment, I choose to sit in those feelings instead of eating them. And maybe that's why I feel better with an empty stomach. It reassures me that I'm alive with feelings and those need to come out before the food gets stuffed in.

I praise God for being so patient with me. Without His love and constant presence I would feel alone. I love Him with all my heart and worship His beauty.

Out of the Darkness

A day of nothing.
Sleep and rest for this weary body.
Found a message you're sure to enjoy.

Women of Faith...

Crying Is Good for the Soul

Just spent two hours with my therapist. Good thing I asked for an extended time slot! Most of you know I've been working through stuff that's kept me trapped inside 99 extra pounds of protection. By now some of you know 40 pounds of that protection is gone. I said to Jeff, "I feel as though I'm disappearing."

Isn't that what healing and going through the pain of change is all about? It's not about isolating or running away from the things that hurt us in the past or things we let control our present. It's about letting go of damaging survival tools that are not, as Shrek said, "The sharpest tools in the shed."

Crying. All my life I've wanted to cry and cry and cry and cry. Grief and loss and pain and all the crap I've been stuffing down my throat instead of puking into God's toilet. My dear friend Jo who has known me for years prayed that I would begin crying. I'm so glad she had the insight and guts to identify what I needed and tell me in person. She was right. She was so right.

Crying is good for the soul. It releases so much. I still feel like crying just as much as I did when I was talking to Jeff. Two hours won't take care of a lifetime, especially with the one year anniversary of Cathy and my Dad's deaths this month. But it's a start. A good start.

And like Paul, I keep my eyes focused on the prize. I race toward the finish line and in my mind's eye, I see myself breaking the tape and being set free. When that day comes (and it will be soon), you better believe I'm sharing that celebration with Carol, the one God chose over two years ago as my trainer, coach, cheerleader and Kleenex sharer!

He Will Make A Way

Little faces, little hands,
Changes in their auntie they do not understand.

"How come you don't come over as much?"
"How come you use a cane?"
"How come you get tired so soon?"
"How come?"

"Because my body isn't working like it used to."

Hearing those words come out of my mouth is a slug in the gut without any padding to absorb the impact and sometimes the shock. There's no money for medication, no insurance. I wait for God to answer this need. In the meantime, I deal with the withdrawals, returning symptoms and pray that God moves paperwork at lightening speed through government agencies. He can do all things - even that.

I'm afraid. More pain killers but a limited supply. I have to be very careful not to get hooked on them. It's tempting when you can't sleep at night, your body is seizing up, headaches/migraines return and your stomach is in knots. The daily bleeding, the extra pounds shedding, no way to get the treatment I need. So I pray that God moves peoples hearts at foundations to pay for the medical needs. He can do all things - even that.

I have a roof over my head, soft foods for my stomach, baggy clothing, utilities and my family and friends watching over me. They believe He can do all things - I hang onto that.

He will make a way...

The Chisel

"Though my body be weakened, my soul's calling does not die."

An original thought as I watched the trailer to the movie Amazing Grace.

It's not often that in watching another person go through so much internal pain that I am inspired in my own pain to make sure I am not pushing God away. I had a picture flash through my mind before that quote put itself together.

It's the inside of a prison from days of old. I am inside those prison walls. Dark cold cement, iron bars, free to move about but a prisoner. A prisoner of what? Of things inside that need to be chiseled away so the bars that hold me captive can be removed. Then what? One would think climbing out for freedom's sake would be the next obvious move. So why then do I choose to stay?

The cement is impenetrable. It's cold to the touch - a cold that grows comfortable over time. The prison cell itself protects others from coming in - unless they have a key. Why did I chisel the bars away? Perhaps it's because I want to see what happens next. There's fear inside that begins to well up but my prison cell has trusted visitors so I am safe. The bars themselves are good weapons if I am ever in danger but those who hurt me have passed away.

The prison I kept myself in for so many years is melting away. It's shifting and if I shift with it surely I will know freedom where I have only known pain. A different kind of pain.

I'll keep the chisel active. Though at times I may need to stop. But I know in my heart the pain of looking in the mirror at a fat person is far greater than the fear of looking in the mirror at a thinner person. For with the melting of outward protection comes something nobody can ever take away: Perfect Peace in the woman God formed me to be, shapes and all.

God has work for me to do. And I intend to do it. But my biggest prayer is that His eyes will shine through mine...

Amy Grant - My Father's Eyes