This life is a roller coaster ride, full of many ups and
downs and unexpected twists and turns. A lot has happened in my life lately and
I haven’t taken the time to sit down and write, so here it goes—I have nothing
better to do as I sit here in a hospital bed, connected to countless wires and
an NG tube keeping me alive as I literally fight for my life—fight to survive
and take back everything the devil has stolen from me, including my identity
rooted in Christ. To many, anorexia just simply doesn’t make sense, and even to
one entrenched within its depths, it is a mystery. God is showing me, however,
that I don’t need to have all of the answers; that to Him, Anorexia is no
mystery and He indeed holds the keys to true freedom. As many of you know, my
life lately has been spent in and out of hospital beds, cycling between self-destruction
and stabilization; actually, my entire life these past few years has consisted
of this hell—of a life sacrificed to ED, or eating disorder, and near-death
experiences. But something has changed; something within me clicked and I no
longer desire this life, which is indeed no life at all but rather an attempt
to become nonexistent and numb my pain—my way of coping with the depravity of
this fallen world and the wounds it heartlessly inflicted upon me. This “click”
didn’t occur all at once, as I’d hoped it would, but rather was a slow process
of coming to the end of myself, testing each boundary, and much prayer—in fact,
prayer is what I believe ultimately produced this “click”, along with endless
love and support.
On May 17 I received an inbox from a dear friend, asking if
he and some close friends could come and pray over me; of course, I could not
decline such an offer and agreed to let these “strangers” from Kenya Africa
come over to my house and lift me up, never even anticipating such an amazing
and miraculous afternoon of prayer and rebuking the devil. At around two
‘o’clock the next day, a dear friend and his wife, who I’d met several years
prior at Bethel Camp, arrived on my doorstep along with a pastor and his wife
from Kenya, Africa. We gathered in the living room and talked about my thorn in
the flesh, otherwise known as anorexia nervosa, and I tried my best to let them
into my mind, where the true battle occurred. They so patiently listened,
asking questions throughout, and came to a profound understanding of my battle
with food. Once a better understanding of my situation was formed, I stood in
the middle of the living room and my mom as well as the two couples gathered
around me, laying their hands upon me as they each prayed; never in my life
have I felt such animation and power coming from the lips of a pastor, as he
literally shook me, crying out in faith
for God to heal me—truly, it was one of the most amazing experiences of my
life. He ended with “You are Blessed”, and we made a deal, telling the devil “I’ve
changed my mind”. Honestly, I expected myself to be healed instantaneously and
for my struggles with food to immediately be gone but it didn’t exactly happen
that way; this “click” occurred through multiple hospitalizations, doctor
appointments and endless prayer.
Along with juggling weekly doctor and bi-weekly therapy appointments,
I decided I wanted to get back into volunteering, so emailed my dear friend and
volunteer coordinator; we went through the different open positions, but one in
particular intrigued me—a position they were just launching. So, I agreed to
become their “guinea pig” and figure out how this position would look, and went
in the next week for orientation. I then received a tour around the brand new,
eye-catching addition of the hospital and then
stopped at the front desk where I’d be located, which had a breathtaking
view of the new hospital and all its spectacular landscaping. I enjoyed
interacting with the families and growing accustomed to the more calm
atmosphere of the Kay Jewelers Pavilion, as well as the haunting aroma of
freshly brewing Starbucks coffee located just around the corner of my new desk.
A week later, as I prepared myself for another day of
volunteering, I heard God’s voice in the middle of the night, as I lie there
awake, unable to sleep. He gave me a vision of Jesus in the Garden of
Gethsemane, where Jesus cried out “Abba,[a] Father,” he said, “everything is
possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will” (Mark 14: 36), as He prepared
for the most gruesome death of all time. I felt God saying, “Chelsea, this is
NOT the life I pre-destined for you”. He gave me a vision of “death”, so to
speak, and what He had called me to endure in order to find life. Just as Christ did in the Garden
of Gethsemane, I cried out to God to “take this cup from me” but felt Him
saying, “Chelsea, stop running”; after arguing with Him for a little while, I
finally agreed to move forward into
what He’d called me to rather than backward, as I’d always done in the past. I
told Him, “My spirit is willing, but my flesh is weak” and just as He equipped
Christ with everything He needed to fulfill His destiny, I was given strength—a
supernatural power not of my own—as I prepared to walk through the profound pain of re-feeding rather than retreating back
to what had become comfortable and my body had become accustomed to. This time
must be different because my body
was shutting down, as indicated by my failing kidneys as I recovered from
pre-renal failure--my body could no longer take the abuse I’d been inflicting
upon it.
That day, as I prepared to volunteer, God gave me an appreciation
for “the little things”. “Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room
in our heart.” He showed me how to appreciate myself again, allowing myself to
feel the water as it splashed against my skin and the tingling sensation of my
face wash as it penetrated into every pore. As I got dressed and allowed myself
to put on make-up, do my hair, spray perfume, etc. I noticed His hand in all
the details and joy overflowed from within me. I could hardly wait to head out
the door, but first I had some errands to run for my sister’s grad party I’d
been having so much fun planning. I went to Wal-Mart and allowed myself to
browse through each aisle, putting the items I needed into my cart and dreaming
of this party as the final details came together. For me, I am such a planner
and dreamer, so it was incredibly thrilling to plan such a big occasion, allowing
my mind to just wander, thinking of each little detail. Once I finished
shopping, I got back onto 77 and headed to Akron Children’s. The volunteers
were so excited to see me and welcomed me with open arms as I entered through
the doors and the love was contagious—I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face! While
completing my first task, I ran into a good friend I hadn’t seen in months; we’d
volunteered together at the surgery desk and formed such a special bond and ,
so it was just another “little thing” God allowed to brighten my day! After we
finished catching up on each other’s lives, I went back to the first floor desk
and finished my shift, aware of all the “little details” throughout the day.
Overall, it was just a good day of allowing myself to enjoy and take part in
the little things of life rather than punishing myself, as I’d so often done.
I spent the rest of the weekend planning and preparing for
my sister’s grad party, making sure every detail was complete. However, I’d
become so consumed with making sure the party was perfect, with every detail in
place, that I forgot how to take care of myself, once again neglecting my
needs. The next day I had a doctor appointment and avoided hospitalization by
the skin of my teeth but resorted right back to my anorexic tendencies rather
than trying to restore my labs into normal ranges. By Wednesday, after doing
everything I could to avoid food, I reached my end, both physically and
emotionally. I saw how my self-destructive actions were not just affecting me, but
also those around me; in fact, my whole family was falling apart. I could no
longer continue this way, so agreed to check myself into the hospital the next
day. I was terrified as I prepared myself for the vision God had shown me in
the weeks prior but I knew there was no turning back now—I had to stop running
because I was getting nowhere and my dreams of having surgery and going back to
college were rapidly disappearing. So, I embraced what God had called me to,
well aware of the “hell” or “death” that rapidly approached. I wrote my doctor
a letter, expressing my innermost feelings and plans or ideas for the future,
as something had to change and I
ached for my voice to be heard; “insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly
yet expecting different results”. As my dad so kindly drove me to my
appointment, my mind raced with ideas of how to “escape” this approaching hell
and rather resort to the comfort of anorexia. After having blood drawn, we
headed over to the clinic, where we patiently waited for the results. After
doing vitals and such, we were taken back into a room where we awaited the
dreaded knock on the door—there was NO turning back now! I knew I was going to
need hospitalization, after struggling to get any form of nutrition in, and
braced myself for the dreaded plan—would my voice be heard, finally? The doctor
entered and informed us of my “crappy” labs and once again recommended
hospitalization—but something was different. After reading my letter and
realizing that insanity is doing the same thing while expecting different
results, as well as seeing something different
in me—a desire for change and a desperation for things to be different,
we came up with a plan we both agreed
on—a way to approach this disease differently and for my voice to finally be
heard. This was my chance; my chance
to prove that I did indeed desire
change, no matter how excruciating. So, it was determined that I would do NG
feedings through the weekend, to provide nutrition to my failing body, rather
than trying to force feed me, which only led to conflict and deception. Then,
on Monday we would slowly re-introduce solid food; they would turn my tube
feeding off for 8 hours and send up two snacks and a meal. If I could handle
that, I would work with the dietitian to plan my meals, re-introducing food at
my own pace; she would help me plan my meals in the hospital based on a plan for
when I return home, allowing me to become comfortable
with how to meet my needs out of the hospital, prior to being discharged. Once I was able to orally consume all
the calories my body required, without the help of an NG tube, we could discuss
discharge and how to approach the future. So, this is the plan for the
following weeks, as we wait for insurance to approve and decline treatment.
Once the plan was set in place, with the residents informed,
I was sent up to my room, where I prepared my “home” for the next days. An NG
tube was placed, placement confirmed by x-ray and a continuous feed started,
slowly re-introducing nutrition into my body. The rate of the feeding was
increased every hour until my anticipated goal was reached. So now, my body
must re-learn what to do with food, since it’s been deprived for so long. The
process is excruciating and there are many moments where I want nothing more
than to resort back to comfort, but I have to remember that “I changed my mind”
and that the pain is only temporary.
After talking with a dear friend, I came to the realization
that the reason I have been unable to maintain a healthy weight for so long but
instead kept relapsing is because I was so determined to control my weight, rather than simply allowing my body to recover.
My surgeon gave a minimum weight I
must reach in order to have surgery, and my black or white mind took that as
the maximum number I could weigh,
with not one ounce more. This is why I have failed to trust my treatment team
time after time—because I always
knew best—more than my own body and
even its Creator! So now, in order to recover and achieve my destiny, I must
learn to crucify my flesh and trust—the hardest thing for me to do.
No matter what my flesh tells me, I cannot trust it right now, but must lay
down my control and trust those God
has provided to guide me. So, I don’t know what tomorrow looks like but God is teaching
me how to be ok with this and to rest in the calm assurance that He knows the
future and holds my life in His hands, which is more than enough! My identity is not found in a number, in sports, or anorexia, but in CHRIST!
