a story of hope

I first met Brittnie in the early nineties.

You know. Back when perms and Keds were rockin' the planet. (Is it true that the Keds style shoe is making a come back or are my eyes deceiving me?) Brittnie had just moved to our town with her family and she became a fast friend to our little gaggle of girls at church. We shared secrets, and sleepovers, and silliness. It was at her house that I plucked my eyebrows for the very first time (and I am not sure they have ever fully recovered). Brittnie was a part of my life until high school, but after that we parted ways. I began attending a different private school and my family began attending another church.

Fast forward fifteen or so years and I discovered Brittnie's blog. She was now an adult! Just like me! Duh. But I still find it weird that we are now the grownups in life. I loved catching up on the years of her life that I had missed. We were now both wives and mothers. And we shared something else that I had no idea about until I read her words. We had both walked through the darkness that is an eating disorder and had come out on the other side.

We both now shared a story of hope.

Brittnie's blog is a beautiful place. She writes there of her joy renewed. And today she asked me to share in her space. It is an honor to share my story of hope.

To visit Brittnie's blog and to read my story click here. And as always, thank you for sharing in my life. Life is so much better when we do it together.

(Eeek! I just read my words over on her site. Oh, the mess that was my grammar and spacing! Please ignore, as I was writing with fingers trembling....)

Speaking Up

(source)

It started in junior high. There were cruel classmates, a brother that left home too soon, grieved parents, and a young girl who thought it was her responsibility to hold everyone in her life together. A young girl who believed that if she could only be perfect, then everything else wouldn't fall apart.

That young girl was me.

And then there was that Lifetime movie. The one with Tracey Gold. For the Love of Nancy, I believe it was called. Did you see it? I watched as the girl on the screen lost more and more weight, and instead of seeing the pain, and the hurt, and the body destroyed, I saw only answers. If only I could be thin, then classmates would not be cruel. If only I could be thin, perhaps my brother would find me fun and come home. If only I could be thin, maybe my mom would not be so sad. And most importantly, if only I could be thin, perhaps everyone would be okay again. Including me. So I began to practice.

I practiced learning how to have an eating disorder.

Before I had reached thirteen years of age, I taught myself how to count calories, and how to measure portion sizes, and I did not allow myself to go over five grams of fat per meal. And then came the vomiting. Truthfully, that took lots of practice. It was not as easy as it appeared in the films. But I kept practicing until it became easy. And over my remaining years at home I practiced these learned behaviors and my life took on a pattern. When life was good, I ate and allowed the food to remain in my body. When life became overwhelming, I took control of the only thing I knew for certain that I could control. My body.

And then came college, and new amounts of stress, and more people and feelings that I could not control. And without parents around to notice, my eating behaviors began to completely consume me. Food consumed me, where I was going to eat, and what I was going to have. The scale consumed me, sometimes weighing myself every hour on the hour. And the extra weight went away and clumps of my hair went away. And my heart continuously raced and I was sure I was dying. And I was, if only on the inside.

I knew that I needed help, but I did not know where to find it. So I began to pray and God faithfully answered. At a retreat during my sophomore year of college, a girl stood up and bravely shared her story. She talked of the place where she had finally found healing, and I knew that I wanted to go there. I knew that I needed to go there. Because my only dreams in life were marriage and children, and if I could not learn to love me, then how could I ever love somebody else? And if I wasn't living whole, was I really even living? So I asked my parents if I could go to this place of healing that she spoke of, and seven days later I landed in Arizona. And Remuda Ranch became the place where I got a second chance.

Treatment was hard. The entire first week I cried. I cried because they made me finish my plate at every meal, and I cried because they would not tell me what I was weighing each day. I cried because I did not want to face the feelings that were behind the food, and I cried because I felt as though I had failed. The only thing I had ever wanted was to hold everyone together, but in striving for that I had torn myself apart.

But even in the darkness, God was there.

As I sat and daily read his Word, and began digging deep with my counselor, and learned how to just be, I felt him there. And I knew that this was my chance for healing. My second chance at living the life I desired to live and becoming the person I desired to become. I found healing in the friends I made at the Ranch, friends who finally understood the real me and liked me anyway. I found healing in writing out the words I could never seem to say. I found healing in learning to let go of the grip of the scale. Remuda Ranch taught me that I was more than a number, and that I did not have to be perfect to be valuable. I learned there, that while often painful, life could still be enjoyed, and that the only feelings I was responsible for were my own. And in the healing I finally found the freedom I had been looking for. Freedom to let go of the past and to move forward towards my future.

I found the freedom to be me.

A decade has passed now. I am a wife and a mama just as I always dreamed of being. Life is not perfect, but it is good. And I can honestly say that I have not restricted or purged in ten whole years. But some of the scars still remain. I still let food consume my mind if I am not careful to take captive every thought. I still struggle to be in the kitchen. I still struggle with the thought of dieting, knowing full well that there is a quick way out of the extra weight I now carry. But my biggest struggle of all is knowing how to raise my own two daughters to love themselves for who they are.

I learned many lessons in treatment that I will carry with me for a lifetime. I learned that nobody is perfect, even if they appear that way on the outside. I learned that eating disorders don't discriminate. I was in treatment with women of every shape, size, age, and background. I learned that keeping silent is the very worst thing that you can do. Whether it is silent about your own struggle and story, or silent as you watch someone you love suffer.

Several months ago I was asked to share my story with a young girl who was suffering in the hospital with Anorexia. Her mother had hoped that if she could talk to someone who had overcome, if she could see that there is beautiful life on the other side of addiction, that perhaps that would help her daughter to heal. And I really wanted to go, to sit with that girl and hold her hand. To tell her that I understood. But I didn't. I was too afraid. I was afraid that girl would look at me, would look at the shape I am now, and think if recovery brought on extra pounds then she would want none of that! I let my old fears of not being good enough return. I told myself that I needed to be perfect before I could share my story with others. So I kept silent, and I have often regretted that.

This week is National Eating Disorders Week, so I decided to speak up. I decided to share my story. It's not a perfect story with a perfect ending, but it's the story I have. The slogan for National Eating Disorders week is EVERYBODY KNOWS SOMEBODY. So in case that is true, or in case that is you, please know there is hope. Healing can be found. And with that healing comes freedom. Freedom to be the very real, beautiful you that you were meant to be.

(source)

Making Muffins




(Image found HERE)

A decade ago, food consumed me. It didn't consume the insides of me, I would never have allowed something like that back then, but it consumed my mind, and it consumed my heart, and it consumed my days. Eventually, intervention was needed, and my parents gave me the gift of sending me away to Arizona to find help. But I found more than help in Arizona. I also found healing. And now, a decade later, I can honestly say that food no longer consumes all of me. So many other things now consume my heart and my days.... my husband, my children, my love for God, friendships, homeschooling, adventures. But my mind? Food sometimes still has a hold there. Probably more of a hold than I would care to admit. And I know it really is not about the food (trust me... I know), but since I don't care to delve into my feelings further at this time, we will go with it being about the food.

Ironically, I no longer have a problem consuming food. Want to eat out? Perfect! But kitchens? And preparing food? Well, some problems remain. And unfortunately, this has greatly challenged my role as mother. Because Boss and the children need to eat! And there is something so beautiful about the family table. About loved ones gathering around and sharing a meal together. And it's just not the same if that meal is take out. So, in my recent efforts to master all things 'mother' (I have been finding inspiration in the form of my beautiful friend), I have been tentatively working my way back in to my kitchen. I want my children to remember Mama baking goodies, and chopping fruits and veggies, and even better, I want them to be in there doing it with me. We have not had enough kitchen togetherness in this family. And it's a shame, because we have a really cute kitchen!

 

And so, my efforts began. I started with a couple of hot breakfasts last week. Kate and I made those delicious muffins pictured above on Wednesday. Add some fresh blueberries and a glass of orange juice and I had three happy children! I also tried a couple of new recipes for supper (one found HERE), and Boss was a happy husband, too. And while I won't deny that it was not a struggle for me, I can absolutely say that this journey into the kitchen will be worth it. My children thanked me for the meals we ate this week more times than I could count! And so I gave myself a pat on the back and considered it a job well done. Or a start well done. Because I still have a long way to go. But every journey must start somewhere, and my kitchen journey started with a batch of warm muffins. And I know it really is not about the muffins. It's about the time spent together, and the memories, and the atmosphere, and the love of home. It's about consuming the beautiful things of life, hungering after all that is good, and letting go of the rest. One meal, one day at a time.

 

 

 

 

It Is Time

(image found here)

Item number one, on my 30 Before During 30 list (found here ), was to lose the last ten pounds of baby weight that I had been carrying around since, well, since I began having children eight years ago. Sad, I know, but oh so true. Those last ten pounds and I had become friends. Best buds. Partners in crime (we could (still can) demolish a cupcake faster than most people can get theirs out of its liner). Together, my last ten pounds and I, we could do anything. Anything except fit into a smaller dress size. And so the time had come for us to part. You know that quote some friends come into your life for a reason, others only for a season? Well, there was no good reason that I continued to lug around those last ten pounds, friend or no friend, so that must have meant that our season together needed to come to an end. And quickly. So I added losing those last ten pounds to my 30 During 30 list. Right up there at the very top! Because it was important to me. Because it was something that I really, really wanted to do.

(Now here is the part where I update you on my progress. Are you ready for it? If not, quit reading here and head on your merry way.)

The truth is that I have not lost even one of those blasted pounds. Zip. Zilch. Nada. They remain right where you last saw them, smack dab on my hips. A few on my thighs (my extra pounds don't like to play favorites). But I can tell you that our friendship is deteriorating faster than I can eat a cupcake. Which is pretty darn fast. And I think I am finally finding my resolve, deep within, to start back up on my journey of weight loss. I think weight loss is a tough journey for most, and the same is true for me. If not even more so, for me. Because for me, it isn't about depriving myself of my beloved cupcakes. It isn't about having to drive past my favorite restaurants without stopping to head inside. For me, weight loss is hard, because it takes me to a scary place. A place I don't care to revisit. A place that is not a part of my current life, at least not on the outside. Thinking about weight loss, and dieting, takes me back ten years to days where I was out of control. To days where binging, and purging, and restricting were part of my everyday. To the days where my eating disorder consumed my life.

But those days, as hard as they were, as ugly as they were, are part of my story. And I think that it's time that I tell my story. Or at least record it here. Maybe sharing my story will help others. Maybe it will help me. Because while I no longer binge, or purge, or restrict, sometimes (even ten years later) my brain still gets consumed with the thought of it all. Especially, like now, when I try to diet. Because my brain tells me how easy it would be. My body knows how to get rid of those extra pounds quickly. And losing weight the healthy way, the correct way, feels like too much work. So much harder, actually, than my old ways of going about things. But I am not the same person that I was ten years ago. I am stronger. I am more whole. I now see that I am God's creation, put here to point other's to Him. And if I ever forget that (which I sometimes do), my children remind me. Not verbally, of course, but all I have to do is look into their eyes and know that I am NEVER returning to those dark days. No matter how hard it feels, I WILL lose these last ten pounds in a healthy way. And on those days where it is particularly hard? I will come here and write. Little pieces of my story at a time. Visiting the past, remembering, so that I can move forward and be more of the woman that I want to be.

So goodbye, last ten pounds (for always). And goodbye cupcakes (for now). It was fun while it lasted. But now it is time for something new.

Losing Weight in 2008

I am trying to lose weight. There. I said it. Currently, I am not really watching what I eat, but I am trying to cut back. When I try and diet by watching what I eat, I have noticed in the past that I fail. Eating every meal out of a little cardboard box, or drinking my meal out of a can, just doesn't cut it for me, and I end up quitting.

And because I am not really watching what I eat, I have decided to try a little something called exercise. I have been working out for exactly one month now, and I have lost seven pounds. Our property has a nice two mile loop, and I am making sure that I go at least two to four miles a day, five days a week. I started out simply walking, then I went to walking fast, and now I am walking and jogging.

And I have come to find that I love to be out on the land by myself. It is a great way to get some quiet time in to pray, plan my week, think about goals for my kids, and dream of baby number three. When I don't get to go, I miss it! So far being out on the land is working far better for me than any gym membership I have ever bought. It is becoming a vital part of my day.

I have always struggled with my weight. I was never overweight until after having my second daughter, but I have always struggled. In college, I struggled tremendously with an eating disorder. Those were dark times. Through treatment and many prayers said on my behalf, I can honestly say that I completely overcame that. Once I was married and became a mama, my thoughts were naturally no longer on myself. Being thin was just no longer as important as it used to be. I became much more focused on being a good wife and mama, and I am ever so thankful that my addiction did not keep me from doing so.

After I had Emma, it took about a year, but the weight I gained with her just naturally came off. Then came my pregnancy with Kate. While the pregnancy itself was great, I had health complications afterwards that kept me from getting right out there to exercise during the months after she was born. Then we moved, and then it was winter, and then we moved again, and before I knew it almost two years had passed, and I had not gained or lost a single pound during that whole time period.

So here I am now. While I would like to have lost more this first month, I am pretty happy with seven pounds. I must admit that I still struggle with getting caught up in the number games with the scale, but I am trying to simply focus on becoming healthier, and the weight will take care of itself. I know it will be a lengthy process to lose true weight and keep it off, but I am ready. I am thankful for gorgeous weather, beautiful land, and a supportive husband to help me do so.