tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26380112014809079882024-03-13T12:53:12.345-04:00Beautiful LifeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-11010004758853732312018-04-07T11:11:00.002-04:002018-04-07T11:25:05.413-04:00My Life Lately <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #203864; font-family: "bakersignet bt" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s been awhile since I’ve
last written, as honestly, I’ve been relentlessly running away from God, rather
than towards Him, because my flesh is weary of being “controlled”; however, God
is showing me that what I view negatively as “control” is the opposite.
Anorexia has instead stolen everything and is controlling every aspect of my
life rather than providing the freedom it so appealingly promises. I’ve been <b>so</b> tired of entering treatment center
after treatment center, where all rights and nearly all control is taken away.
I’m tired of being told what to do, and so as much as others try to dictate or
even suggest actions, I rebel and run the other way, doing the opposite out of
my own fleshly stubbornness. I’ve been completely abusing my body yet putting
on a “mask” or “front” that everything was ok, when in reality I was quickly
dying inside. Recently, however, God has completely changed my heart and I want
to tell you about it, as well as what He has been doing in my life!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #203864; font-family: "bakersignet bt" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Since returning from
inpatient after four long, traumatizing months, I’ve begun teaching preschool
Sunday School, which was intimidating at first but quickly evolved into my
passion, helping to give me a purpose greater than myself. I absolutely adore
preparing the lessons and coming up with ideas to make it my own, whether by
adding art projects or fun interactive learning activities, as each child has a
different way of learning. One thing that saddened me, however, was discovering
how most parents simply throw away the child’s unique creations and papers,
which I understand since these things tend to accumulate and take up space; I
guess, though, on the other hand, it saddens me to think of how pride has, at
times, taken over—with the majority wanting to appear “put together”, neat and
organized rather than allowing for some “messiness” and creativity to be
displayed and thrive. I personally believe these art projects, coloring pages, and
all other unique creations give each child profound confidence when pride or
approval in their “masterpiece” is shown; so, I made a goal to display these
creations in the classroom, which makes for cheap decorations as well as unique
and colorful beauty and appeal. I created an art wall, with the quote “Every
child is an artist” hanging above the children’s strung artwork. I also
purchased some vinyl rainbow colored polka dots to add around the room to
spread the cheer and add some personality. One week we made spring flowers with
cupcake liners and sequins, and the kids had a blast making them their own, as
well as getting to use glue “all by themselves”. It was beyond neat to see how
each flower was different and unique, yet equally beautiful. We also painted
the Earth with waterproof paint and q-tips, which was a fun, sensory project
that the kids enjoyed. I love how the lessons include unique, creative ideas to
really solidify the learning points and I enjoy utilizing them, but also enjoy
adding my own “twist”—I guess this is where my creativity comes into play! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: #203864; font-family: "bakersignet bt" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On Wednesday, I finally “caved”
and decided to allow myself to embrace a little self-care and change by getting
a haircut. While away in treatment, a young, new hairdresser had offered to cut
my hair for free, so I of course couldn’t turn her down. I chose to be spontaneous
and “mix things up” from my usual bob style and went with a cute, trendy
asymmetrical pixie cut. At first, it was new and exciting but quickly became
difficult to style and manage, especially as we only had limited “mirror time”
at the treatment facility. Over the months, it grew so long and simply had no
shape, so I decided it was time to call up my trustworthy hairstylist to “do
her magic”. I just love going into the salon and feeling pampered as someone
else shampoos, cuts and styles my hair. I brought in a picture as an idea of
what I wanted, but my hair ended up being too short on the one side, so she
instead came up with a brilliant compromise, creating her own masterpiece. I am
absolutely in love with her creation and it feels SO good to actually have some
shape and texture to my hair—it’s amazing what a good haircut can do! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #203864; font-family: "bakersignet bt" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On Thursday, I had my first
appointment with a Christian counselor who specializes in eating disorders,
whom I’d been waiting to see for over a month. We instantly connected, which
was relieving after the difficulty I’ve had finding a “quality” therapist I connect
with that’s also covered by insurance—yet another answer to prayer! We began by
getting to know each other and determining what I want out of therapy; it was
exciting to discover that she has a different and unique way of therapy,
different from the normal “talk therapy”, but instead includes artistic
approaches such as painting and simply playing games. It was nice to know I
wouldn’t have to come prepared every week to do extensive, deep talking but
rather could allow healing to flow through different, artistic approaches that
don’t have to be “perfect”, which is a challenge for me. I look forward to the
weeks ahead and all the healing to come! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #203864; font-family: "bakersignet bt" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I then had an interview at
a preschool as an assistant teacher, which at first was the exact opposite of
what I <b>thought</b> I wanted to do but
ended up appealing to the creative side of me that also wants to make a
difference in the life of a child—our <b>future!
</b>The manager was exceedingly friendly and ended up having a daughter who was
also in nursing school at Kent, so we had something in common! She informed me
of the job duties and expectations, as well as the reality that childcare
unfortunately is an unappreciated and underpaid field to go into. However, it
is also exceedingly rewarding, as well as exhausting, to forever impact the
life of a child. I am excited yet nervous to hear back from her regarding
employment but trying to simply sit back and trust God, allowing Him to make
things happen if it is His will. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #203864; font-family: "bakersignet bt" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I also registered for Fall
college courses, which begin in August. I decided to try a different approach,
since insanity is “doing the same thing yet expecting different results”, and
registered for 100% online courses, which allows me to focus more on my health
rather than the high physical demands of clinicals. I’m excited, yet nervous,
about being able to set my own schedule and work at my own pace, but also know
that online classes require an exceedingly large amount of determination and
dedication, as there is no classroom experience to really solidify the
teachings and ensure understanding. I’ve also learned that procrastination
cannot occur with online courses and you must also utilize and expand
organizational skills in order to stay on top of all of the deadlines, which
often run together. I’m taking two intensive writing courses, which will be
demanding due to all the papers required, but also registered for an exciting,
new course that helps you to develop a personal profile or identity on the web.
I’m excited to see what this next semester has in store for me! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #203864; font-family: "bakersignet bt" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After seeing how all these
positive experiences are occurring in my life and really feeling God’s presence
with and purpose for me, even though I so often run away and fail on my own, I’ve
decided it is time to take action and really pursue recovery, both physical,
emotional and spiritual. A huge part of anorexia recovery is physical, so I
need to be proactive and stop abusing my body and expecting things to just “happen”;
God requires me to take action and won’t simply do everything for me, although
I sometimes wish He would! In the past, I’ve tried a healthy, Biblically based
way of eating called <u>Trim Healthy Mama</u>, but ended up becoming
overwhelmed and obsessed with losing weight, developing my own “rules” which
only <b>increased</b> food restriction and
completely stole my joy. I really like the unique approach to eating and how it
is a lifestyle choice rather than fad diet and doesn’t eliminate food groups
but rather focuses on including whole foods and nourishing your body from the inside out,
but it is a lot to learn! God is helping me to take a compassionate approach,
embracing mistakes as learning experiences rather than failures. I sat down and
read the book, then developed my own weekly meal plan with links and page
references for recipes so I can have quick access to meals, snacks, drinks,
etc. and eliminate the opportunities to go hungry, since there’s now no excuse
to not know what to eat or at least give me an idea of what sounds good. It’s
exciting to discover and try new recipes, experimenting with different flavors
and textures and creating my own versions based on what appeals to my unique
taste buds and desires. I’m also discovering that the more I step out of my
comfort zone and incorporate rather than prohibit foods from <b>all </b>food groups, the fear becomes less
intense and overwhelming and food becomes an opportunity to nourish and rebuild
my body rather than abuse and destroy it. Here’s to all of the new and exciting
adventures awaiting me! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-25967819586475116032018-03-04T21:44:00.001-05:002018-03-04T22:08:33.662-05:00Florida Vacation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Last week, my family surprised me with a vacation to Sarasota,
Florida to stay with my grandparents. On Saturday, I awoke at around 4 AM,
since my flight left around 6 AM. When I arrived at the airport, I printed my
boarding pass and was assigned a seat for only the first flight, since my
previous route to Charlotte had been cancelled due to a lack of people, so I
was transferred to a completely full flight to Atlanta, where I would need to
register for my second seat to Sarasota. On the first flight to Atlanta, they
had accidentally stocked the plane with only Starbucks coffee and bottled
water, which was fine with me since I only wanted coffee. Due to high winds,
there was a lot of turbulence, but we arrived in Atlanta early, which gave me
more time to register for my second flight to Sarasota. I had never been to
Atlanta Airport, so I asked the flight attendant which gate I would be leaving
from, and she gave me directions. I had to go to the opposite end of the
airport, so I went down the escalators and hopped on the train, which took me
to my gate after several stops. I made it in time and went up to the desk to
make sure I was at the right gate, and he informed me they would be registering
people momentarily, so I would be the first one. Once I was registered and guaranteed
a seat, I relaxed and called my family to update them. We soon boarded, as
people were scrambling to get seats at the last minute; thankfully, my spot had
already been guaranteed. Once I found my seat and stowed my bags underneath the
seat in front of me, the plane took off, headed for Sarasota. This flight was
much less bumpy, and we arrived in a little over an hour. Once we landed, I
called my grandparents to see where they were, and met them on the other side
of security. As we embraced for the first time in months, the smell of chlorine
overwhelmed me, which was trademark of Florida. We walked to the baggage area
to get my suitcase and then hopped into the car to drive into the sunshine.
Once we got to the house, I quickly unpacked and then made lunch and promptly
headed out to the pool to swim. We stayed out for several hours, then decided
to go to a small Mexican restaurant called Mi Pablo for dinner. Once we had
placed our orders, the food arrived within minutes, fresh and steaming. Once we
were done eating, we headed back to the house to relax and enjoy each other’s
company.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> On Sunday, it was gorgeous outside, as
it was every day, so I headed up to the pool early to swim and get more sun. I
fell asleep laying by the pool and ended up getting slightly sunburned, so I
went back inside to take a shower and get ready for dinner. I was in the mood
for sushi, so we decided to try a local Chinese buffet, where they were known
for their fresh sushi assortment, as well as a large variety of foods for those
who didn’t like sushi. I filled my plate with sushi and fresh shrimp and
decided to be adventurous and try fresh oysters, which unfortunately ended up
being less than appealing. Once our bellies were full, we headed to the grocery
store to pick up some Florida goodies, then went back to the house to watch the
closing ceremony of the Winter Olympics. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> On Monday, my grandma and I visited a
local produce market, where we purchased some freshly grown strawberries and
other fruits and veggies, as well as freshly baked bread, deli meat and cheese.
My grandparents then went to a local friend’s house for a potluck dinner and
to watch slides of a man’s trip across the US on his tractor. I opted out of
going and instead stayed home and read some books I’d downloaded, as well as
watched a Netflix movie I’d been longing to see. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> On Tuesday, it wasn’t as nice outside
as the days prior, but we decided to be adventurous and check out the beach,
hoping the clouds would have disappeared out there. We packed a lunch and put
on sunscreen and drove out to Lido Beach, where the sun had appeared and made
its entrance. The drive across the ocean was breathtaking and we just took in
the scenery around us. Once we found a parking spot, we unloaded the car and
found a spot along the beach, among many Amish. We laid out along the shore for
about an hour, and then ate the lunch we’d packed; as soon as we got the food
out, the seagulls went crazy and kept trying to steal it, so we quickly
finished our lunches then walked along the water’s edge, looking for shells.
There were many people out fishing and one man happened to catch one, but
unfortunately had to throw it back since it was less than an inch too short. We
watched the boats and jet skis go by, then headed back to “our spot” to lay out
some more and watch some local Amish families board and un-board a Pontoon
boat. Once we’d had our fill of the sun, we packed back into the car and headed
back to the house to get ready for dinner. We decided to go to Sweet Tomatoes,
where we saw some neighbors from Ohio. We filled our plates with fresh
vegetables and other salad toppings, then paid at the counter and found some
seats outlooking the patio. They also served homemade soups, pasta, breads and
pastries, fruit and desserts, which we filled some more plates with. Once we’d
tried everything appealing, we filled our cups with fresh coffee, then headed
out to shop at some local stores. I tried on many armfuls of clothes and looked
through each shelf, only to end up purchasing a floral dress and kimono. We
then headed back to the house to relax and unwind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> On Wednesday, we decided I’d gotten
enough sun for a while, so my grandma and I headed out to do some more shopping,
where we spent the entire morning. We then headed back to the house to get
ready to take my other grandpa, who was renting an apartment just down the
road, out for dinner. We went to Anna Maria Oyster Bar for all you can eat fresh
grouper, which was nothing short of outstanding, then drove out to Longboat Key
to watch the sunset. While we were sitting along the shore, a huge group of
ducks swam by, feasting on fish until there was no more, or so it appeared. We
watched them feed for a while, then walked further down along the beach to
watch the sunset, which was breathtaking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> On Thursday, we went swimming at the
pool in the morning, then got ready to have dinner and visit with some of my
grandpa’s brothers and their wives, who were also vacationing in Sarasota.
First, though, the neighbor lady had invited my grandma and I over to create
things with shells, so we ended up crafting several creatures out of shells she’d
collected over the years along local beaches. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was then time to pick up my
grandpa’s brother and his wife, who were staying just down the road from us,
and we drove to Pincher’s Crab Shack, which was a favorite among many. We
arrived first and saved a table, then waited for the rest of the gang to
arrive. Pincher’s was famous for their fresh shrimp, so I decided to try it,
and was far from disappointed. It was fun catching up with family I hadn’t seen
in years and once we’d all finished eating our fresh seafood, we decided to get
together at one brother and his wife’s house, which they’d just purchased. On
the way, my grandpa’s younger brother decided to be spontaneous and took a
surprise turn to Orange Leaf, which was a local frozen yogurt shop, where they
offered countless flavors and toppings unique to Florida. Even though our
bellies were full of seafood, we each filled a cup, combining unique flavors and
toppings to each person’s liking. I decided on coffee and cheesecake, topping it
with brightly colored sprinkles. We enjoyed our concoctions inside the shop,
which was brightly decorated with an ocean theme. Once we’d each satisfied our
sweet tooth, we drove to the house where everyone else had already arrived and
begun visiting. We toured the house, then sat down in the living room to visit
and catch up. Once it’d passed everyone’s bed times, we said our goodbyes then
headed back to my grandparent’s house to unwind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> On Friday, it was supposed to rain, so
my grandma and I planned to visit the Mote Marine Laboratory and Aquarium, which
I’d been longing to experience due to my love of sea-life and aquariums. I’ve
always been intrigued by seahorses, which Mote Marine dedicated a special
laboratory to raise and educate about, as well as many other locally found sea
creatures. I needed energy to start out the day with, and had found a local
coffee shop just downtown that was famous for its unique and locally grown coffee
blends, but my grandma wasn’t up for the adventure, so we decided instead on making
a pit-stop to Starbucks, which was just down the road. I found a cute Florida
mug and ordered my favorite cold brew to energize me, and then we drove the
rest of the way to the aquarium. Mote Marine Laboratory & Aquarium, in my
opinion, is a must-see, and offers unique sea-life displays created out of
recycled materials found along the beach, including boots and milk jugs. They
also had countless displays of both fresh and sea water fish and other animals
inside. At eleven o-clock there was a shark feeding amidst the shark tank,
filled with a wide variety of sharks and other fish. The trained workers used
PVC pipes and targets to attract the sharks, where they then lowered the “fish
food”. Once all the sharks were fed, we headed to the other end of the
aquarium, where they had a touch tank, where I touched sea urchins, starfish
and several types of stingrays. We then visited the seahorse laboratory, where
they were raising many different types, including the rare dwarf seahorse. They
also had several types of jellyfish, as well as many other tropical fish and
creatures. We then walked across the street to the other building, where they
had manatees, sea otters and many types of sea turtles. Once we’d seen all the
exhibits, we visited the gift shop, where there was a vast array of souvenirs
and ended up each purchasing a colorful and sparkly glass sea turtle made in
Guatemala.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Once we were finished, we drove back to the house, where I got ready
to meet my aunt and her two sons for coffee at the coffee shop I’d been dying to
visit. My cousins picked me up and we drove through downtown Sarasota to the cutest
coffee shop called Buddy Brew Coffee, which I’d seen on the internet and fallen
in love with. Buddy Brew is a “specialty coffee roaster with a passion to Brew
Good and Do Good”. Their specialty coffee is grown on farms from countries
across the globe, including Guatemala, Rwanda and Brazil, and infused with
unique flavors including blackberries, pomegranate, walnuts, dates and green
apples, to name a few. Once my aunt arrived, we went inside, and each chose a
signature drink to try, then found a seat outside among many couches. It had
been over five years since I’d last seen them, so we spent awhile catching up
and enjoying each other’s company. My aunt then had to leave to go to a
birthday party, so my cousins decided to be my tour guide, and gave me a tour
of downtown Sarasota. We walked along many fancy, street-side restaurants, and
stopped inside an expensive, high-end local art gallery, where they were
featuring bright, colorful 3-D acrylic paintings. We also visited my cousins’
favorite toy shop, called Toy Lab of Sarasota, where they sold a large
assortment of unique toys and gadgets, as well as pranks. I was still looking to
find some unique souvenirs, so we decided to head on to St. Armand’s Circle,
where they were known for their unique shops. Since it was after dark, the
parking lot was packed, and we had to drive around awhile to find a parking
spot but managed to spot one at the last minute. We first visited Le Macaron
French Pastries, which was a cute shop with hot pink walls and high-end
chandeliers, where they sold fresh macaroons of all colors and flavors, as well
as gourmet chocolates and gelato. We then stopped in at Woof Gang Bakery &
Grooming, where they made their own dog treats in unique shapes for all
occasions, including birthdays. There were many unique little shops along the
road we stopped in to browse through, but then ended the night at their
favorite chocolate shop called Kilwins, where they make their own fudge,
chocolates and ice cream of all varieties. We settled on three unique fudge
flavors, then drove back to my grandparent’s house so I’d be back in “good time”.
I absolutely had a blast visiting all the cute, unique shops and just walking
through downtown Sarasota at dark, while there were countless beautiful lights
and heaters lit along the road. It was truly an experience I’ll never forget!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> On Saturday, I spent one last morning
up at the pool and then received a text from my grandpa who was staying just
down the road, informing me I had a surprise date scheduled for four o’clock. I
quickly packed up my suitcase, then got ready for my special date. My grandpa
was running late due to some unexpected circumstances, so he picked me up
around five o’clock and we drove to our surprise destination, which neither of
us had visited before. We ended up at Yogurtology, which is a cute, modern
frozen yogurt shop with countless unique flavors and toppings that my aunt had
told him about. He told me to fill up my cup to my heart’s desire, so I settled
on kiwi strawberry and cheesecake, after tasting many unique, tropical flavors.
My grandpa claimed to be a “chocaholic” and came up with a concoction of mint
chocolate truffle, birthday cake and some other chocolatey flavors, as well as
kiwi strawberry. They had a large assortment of toppings including many
different shapes and flavors of gummies, as well as chocolate candies, fruit,
nuts, donuts, brownies and blondies, cheesecake, sprinkles and then sauces of
many flavors and last of all, whipped cream to top it off. Once we’d each created our own masterpiece, we
found a seat on the sofa along the wall and chatted while enjoying our yogurt.
We talked about my grandma, who had recently passed away suddenly from a
massive heart attack, and recalled favorite memories, as well as grieved her
loss. He also encouraged me to pursue God and His calling and to always pray
first, before doing anything too spontaneous which I’m known to do. I enjoyed
spending quality time with him, but sadly “all good things must come to an end”,
so he dropped me back off at my other grandparents’ house so I could finish
packing to leave in the morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Since my flight was scheduled to leave
at around six o’clock AM, I set my alarm for four o’clock AM, to give me plenty
of time to check in, go through security and find my gate. My grandparents
drove me to the airport and we said goodbye outside the front doors. It was
still too early to check in, as no one was yet at the desk, so I waited in line
behind one other person. Finally, around five o’clock AM, several attendants opened
the desk and I registered and checked in my bag, which almost knocked me over.
I then went up the escalators, through security and found my gate, where I
waited to board. We took off into the sunrise, overlooking the palm trees,
which was breathtaking, and I said goodbye to sunny Florida. After about an
hour, we landed in Charlotte, where I had time to stop at Starbucks for my
favorite cold brew, as well as browse some other shops. I then found a seat at
my gate and a young Indian boy sat next to me, and we talked about each of our
trips. He was coming home to Ohio for college vacation and we discussed each
other’s careers. It was then time to board, so we said goodbye and boarded our
last flight to cold, snowy Ohio. I sat next to a friendly older man who’d also
been visiting family in Florida and we talked until the plane took off. After
about another hour, we were on the ground in the all familiar Ohio airport,
located close by to my hometown, where my younger sister picked me up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "formal436 bt"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> All in all, this week was one of the
best of my life and one I will treasure forever. I enjoyed spending time with
long-lost family and making countless memories, realizing just how incredibly
blessed I am! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-51376697984923276592018-02-22T19:51:00.001-05:002018-02-22T19:54:21.686-05:00Wedding Day <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "balloon xbd bt"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On September 9, my twin sister got married to my favorite
brother-in-law, who is perfect for her. Many hours went into planning this
special day, which was exactly as she’d imagined, apart from a few details
which were out of anyone’s control. </span><span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "balloon xbd bt"; font-size: 14pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">On Saturday morning, the bridesmaids arrived at the church by 10
AM to get ready together. The wedding planner provided each bridesmaid with a
Starbucks drink of her choice, which “hit the spot”. My sister hired two
hairstylists to do the bridesmaids’ hair and makeup and then another to do her
own, which was absolute perfection, as she looked stunning. My grandma provided
food for all of us, but I was so busy getting ready that I forgot, or at least
didn’t take the time to eat. Once we were finished getting ready, we all went
into the hallway to see the bride in her dress and were all speechless!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "balloon xbd bt"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Balloon XBd BT"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "balloon xbd bt"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Balloon XBd BT"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">We then carpooled to a local park for pictures and the weather was far
beyond perfect. The groom and groomsmen were there prior to our arrival taking
pictures, so once we arrived, it was time for the bride and groom’s “first look”,
which was exceedingly romantic, as there was not a dry eye around.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "balloon xbd bt"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We then took the rest
of the pictures, and when it was time for the entire wedding party pictures, I
started getting nauseous and noticed the signs of syncope; suddenly, I was on
the ground and everyone staring at me with concern. I got back up, horribly
embarrassed, but was then overtaken with a sudden need for the restroom, so my
dad then carried me to the car and drove me to the nearest outhouse. My grandma
then held my dress to keep it from getting soiled and after about fifteen
minutes, all the pictures were already finished, so the rest of the bridal
party headed back to the church to eat lunch but I drove with my parents to our
house, where we quickly “whipped up” a protein shake, as there was little I was
comfortable with eating due to severe anorexia nervosa. I “chugged” the protein
shake and we rushed to the church, where the wedding was scheduled to begin in less
than twenty minutes.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "balloon xbd bt"; font-size: 14pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Utterly embarrassed, I couldn’t face the bridal party, so
I took off for my dad’s office in the church, where I could cry in silence. My
twin then entered and was hurt that I didn’t want to come out and witness her
special day, and decided that due to concerns for my safety, I would not be
walking down the aisle as planned but would instead sit in the front row with
the rest of my family. I began sobbing and was so ashamed of “ruining” my twin’s
special day, but my aunt then came in and gave me a “pep talk” and held my hand
as we walked into the ceremony together. It was difficult to watch the rest of
the bridesmaids walk up the aisle and to imagine myself walking behind my
younger sister, but the disappointment faded once I saw the pure joy on my twin
sister, the bride’s face, as she gave her heart to the one man that had stolen
her heart. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "balloon xbd bt"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My dad gave her away and we then sang some praise and worship songs
and then the ceremony began. My dad had gotten his license to marry prior to
the wedding, just so he could perform the marriage ceremony of his first
daughter to get married. They then lit the unity candle and combined pink and grey
sand and finally both set of parents gathered around the couple to pray for
them.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "balloon xbd bt"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> It was then time for the first kiss, and the bridal party was escorted
out into the hallway. We then greeted everyone and headed to the gym, where the
reception was held. My twin decided she wanted me to sit at the front of the
gym with the rest of the bridal party, so I walked into the reception escorted
by my “date” after our names were announced. It was nice to be a part of the
reception, and everyone treated me as if nothing had happened, which was comforting.
The gym was breathtaking, with lights strung across the ceiling and flowers
everywhere, as well as gorgeous “touches” of my twin’s, as well as her fiancé’s
personality, including a pink sparkly tablecloth on the cake table and popcorn
as favors for each guest. The reception was far beyond perfect and we had such
a good time, and before we knew it, the time arrived to “pack everything up”,
after we had wished the bride and groom “good luck’ as they headed to the hotel
where they would spend the night and then “fly on a jet plane” to their
honeymoon destination. This day was one I will treasure forever, even though
things didn’t go quite as planned!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-131420604146997982018-02-22T14:43:00.001-05:002018-02-22T14:43:57.800-05:00Inpatient Treatment<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "brodyjoid"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I know, it has been far
too long since I last updated my blog! My life has been far beyond chaotic, as
last year I had to drop out of my senior nursing semester due to medical
complications caused by anorexia. After a doctor’s appointment in November 2017,
I was forced to seek inpatient treatment STAT, as my weight had dropped to
around 50% of my IBW, labs within critical range and vitals unstable; if I
refused to go, I would likely die, so I packed my bags and my parents drove me
to Pittsburgh, where I would spend the next four months. As much as I fought
against it, I only had one choice for an inpatient eating disorder facility,
which I had been to three times prior and vowed NEVER to go to again—however,
God had other plans! I waited in the DEC for many hours and went through the
process of being admitted, which included a physical, lab work and many
questions; the next morning I was sent to the ninth floor, which is the dual
diagnosis, or drug and alcohol floor, until a bed on the eating disorder floor opened.
Later that day I was transferred to the eating disorder floor and began the
long journey of medical stabilization. I was started on a low meal plan and
increased every couple of days, but the process was delayed a bit due to
unstable labs and refeeding syndrome. Once my labs were stabilized, my calories
were increased, and my psychiatrist informed me that if I restricted even one
time, I would be 302’d, or involuntarily committed and force tube fed. The food
at the facility was less than appetizing and rotated on a weekly menu, which
was the same every week. Every day included countless “fear foods”, including
cheeseburgers, cake, pie, French toast, fries, cookies, etc. and one day I “caved”
into restriction, only to refuse the “back-up”, which was Ensure Plus. The team
then gave me a choice of either an all Ensure Plus diet or tube feeding, and I
chose the Ensure since I refused to get a tube down my nose! Every couple of
days the amount of Ensure only increased, until it was a nearly intolerable
amount I had to complete in 45 minutes. I began to get sick off the large
volume of Ensure Plus forced within 45 minutes and was thus losing weight, so the
team decided to involuntarily commit me and feed me “over objection”, which
basically meant I couldn’t refuse to be tube-fed. After threatening to rip my
tube out, I was restrained to a hospital bed but ripped my tube out, only to
have another one replaced, and my restraints tightened so I couldn’t rip it out
again. I could get up and go to the bathroom once a shift, and security was
called to escort me each time. On each side of me a security officer held my
hands behind my back, so I wouldn’t pull out my tube, as my life literally
depended on the constant nutrition, which I wouldn’t allow or at least tried to
prevent, as I viewed it as poison. After four days of constant nutrition, I was
taken out of restraints and slowly given back privileges, such as walking on my
own and attending groups. After about a week or so, my phosphorous dropped to a
critical low, so I was then immediately sent over to the neighboring hospital
to be admitted for IV phosphorous and monitored during and after the infusion.
While there, I was threatened once again to be restrained if I refused tube
feeding, so I decided to allow it, but immediately began to manipulate the tube
feeding. Since the hospital was not familiar with the many “tricks”
accompanying anorexia, I was then stabilized and transferred back over to the
inpatient unit, where I once again began to manipulate the tube feeding. The
team couldn’t figure out why I was continuing to lose weight despite aggressive
calorie increases, so I was then put on 24/7 monitoring and “caught”, so to
speak, only to be once again forced into four-point restraints. I was hysterical
about the situation and the ethics department consulted, who decided it was
unethical for me to be restrained for another week, so after 24 hours, I was
allowed to walk on my own and attend groups, accompanied by a staff member
within arm’s reach. Once I exhibited “good” behavior, absent from pulling my
tube out, I was given more freedom, including the chance to go in my room alone,
without supervision. I was kept on tube feeding for another month, but one day
ripped it out and the team decided it was pointless to keep replacing tubes if
I was just going to rip them out, so I was given the choice of how I wanted to
receive my nutrition: I could either be tube fed or choose to eat the food
provided. I decided to meet them halfway and decided to try and eat a “maintenance”
meal plan and receive the rest of my nutrition via overnight tube feeding. I
was then slowly weaned off the tube feeding until I could eat ALL my calories
orally. Once my weight was stabilized, I was then discharged to home and am now
in the process of being admitted to a free Christian residential facility, where
I will hopefully spend the next six months. These past four months have been by
far the most difficult of my life, as all rights were taken away, including the
right to freedom of choice, but I know I would not have survived had not such
drastic measures been taken. While I was away at treatment, my grandma passed
away, which was devastating for me, as she was one of my greatest supporters. I
couldn’t attend her funeral but was given the opportunity to watch it via
Facebook Live, which was a blessing! It’s comforting to know she’s in a better
place and free of pain and suffering, but I still miss her and can’t believe
she’s gone! I have chosen to spend the next six months in treatment, even
though it’s scary and seems like a long time, since I know it’s what she would
have wanted for me. She asked God right before she died to take her life and in
exchange give ME life, so I could be free of anorexia. So, I continue to fight
for my life with her in mind, as well as the many people who love and support
me! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, I've been hearing about this new movie called <u>Feed</u>, which is a recent film about Troian Bellisario's battle with anorexia. Troian, from the famous TV series <u>Pretty Little Liars</u>, wanted to portray how there is a separate, controlling voice in the eating disorder victim's head that becomes "safe", or comforting, promising to take care of the victim and convincing him/her that everyone else is against and only wants to inflict harm on him/her. I thought the movie did a good job of showing how this voice becomes overwhelmingly dominant and controlling and difficult to "drown out" or get rid of, which is true in my own experience with anorexia; this voice becomes your best friend and everyone else becomes your enemy, even when the opposite is true. I also liked how it showed the excruciating battle of getting yourself to eat or else being force fed, which is a struggle I've also experienced; most eating disorder facilities do indeed serve the unappetizing meals shown, which, if not consumed within the allotted time frame, result in having to drink a nutrition shake or else, the last measure, having a tube forcefully shoved down a nostril and into the stomach or intestine and feeding controlled by a man-made pump. Medications can, and are often, used to control the victim when the battle to eat becomes too extreme to control. It also does a good job of showing how often, in these facilities, one simply "does what they're told" or says what they know those in authority want to hear in order to simply get out of that "torture chamber", without ever truly getting "rid" of the ED voice. It also does a good job of showing the extreme personality changes which are experienced throughout the battle. One thing, however, I did not like, was the extreme partying atmosphere and the many inappropriate sex scenes, which could have been skipped over, since in my opinion were highly unnecessary. Over all, the movie <u>Feed</u> was a fairly realistic movie and, in my opinion, much better than the recent Netflix movie <u>To the Bone</u>, which was unrealistic, in my opinion. In the movie <u>To the Bone</u>, it shows an unconventional treatment center in which the victim is not expected to eat a set amount and there is also a lack of accountability/authority figures to "watch over" those enrolled. I also didn't like all of the inappropriate sex scenes shown. The movie did do a good job, however, of showing the tension and family dynamic changes which occur from an eating disorder, as it tears the family apart. Each movie had its strengths of at least attempting to personify the torture experienced by one caught within the grips of an eating disorder, but, having experienced it firsthand, I am highly disappointed, as there is still not a movie produced that accurately exhibits the torturous life with an eating disorder. Maybe, however, this is because everyone's experience is so vastly different and cannot be portrayed in a single movie. If you would like to at least get a glimpse of what life is like with anorexia specifically, I recommend <u>Feed</u> (skipping the sex and party scenes) which does a fairly decent job. <u>To the Bone</u> is also another option to see some of the experiences; feel free to check them out for yourself!</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-60760951019098883102017-07-14T16:52:00.001-04:002017-07-14T16:52:17.419-04:00Living without Fear<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "Agency FB",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I know, it’s
been far too long since I’ve written, but honestly, I just haven’t been able to
develop the courage to sit down and write. I hear the devil whispering things
like “that sounds stupid” or “you have nothing to say” and every time I am
still, I must come face to face with these lies, as well as vulnerability. Writing
and expressing the desires of my heart prevents me from self-imposed
safeguards, allowing my fragile heart to be exposed and facing rejection and
further abuse. I just want to protect myself and run away into what has become
comforting and familiar over time, but I know that this comfort will literally
kill me. I can no longer live a slave to the things of this world but am rather
called to something much greater, if I will just simply allow God to lead me. I’ll
admit—I am not very good at giving up control and trusting anyone but myself,
even though my mind has led me astray countless times! God is showing me that
it is OK to let down my guard and trust Him because He is not like others who
have so violently hurt and abused me. No, I did not deserve this abuse and
still don’t, as much as I believe otherwise, but instead He wants to so graciously
pour out blessings and joy. “But I didn’t EARN it”, my performance-driven mind
screams and then I hear God so quietly replying “you never will”, which is why
He sent His Son to die for my sins and imperfections. I am weary and tired of
following endless “rules and regulations”; the more I am told what to do the
more I want to do the opposite, which frustrates me! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "Agency FB",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I do not understand
what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do
what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no
longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good
itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the
desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good
I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I
do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living
in me that does it. So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil
is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see
another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me
a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who
will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "Agency FB",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Romans 7: 15-24 (NIV)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "Agency FB",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I have
become resentful from years of being rigidly controlled by man-made rules that
I cling SO tightly, with my entire being, to any form of control, whether false
or true. Sports and extreme fitness protected me from further sexual harassment,
as well as gave me a false sense of achievement. Anorexia allowed me to
override my very own body and its cries for attention to prove I was “invincible”,
or so I thought, as well as allowed me to cling to some form of control when
everything around me was spinning out of control. God is showing me, though,
that by “following my mind” and the things that ED (eating disorder) tells me
to do, control is being lost instead of gained. Starvation leads to a point
where one cannot be trusted because the end literally leads to death if no
action is taken. Sometimes extreme measures are called for but other times they
may cause more harm than good. For many years I was forced to eat whatever was
placed in front of me, no matter how revolting and utterly un-appetizing,
because I’d proven I couldn’t feed myself on my own; left to my own desires, I
would literally starve to death. It became familiar to have every calorie
counted and food weighed, as well as pre-determined requirements dictating what
I could or could not eat. What was it like to eat intuitively and listen to my
body—to hear its deafening cries for sustenance and actually provide? Through
countless hospitalizations and inpatient admissions, it had become normal and
eventually comforting to have every meal and snack planned for me so all I had
to do was eat, which alone was nearly too much for me to handle. It didn’t
matter if I “didn’t like” the food that was being placed in front of me because
I was an “addict”, which seemed to somehow make me “less of a person” and
incompetent of decision-making. If I couldn’t trust my own mind, then who could
I trust to keep me safe? If doctors told me I must have a tube forced down my
nose or eat a greasy, unappetizing and overcooked cheeseburger, I had no choice
but to comply. No matter how much agonizing fear and anxiety burned within me,
I had to comply—or else bad things would happen. After years of neglecting the
desires of my heart and living a slave to man-made rules and antidotes, this
internal God-given voice within me—my very instinct—has become depressed and
nonexistent. I’m tired of being told “If you’d just do this, you’d be healed”
because when it doesn’t happen I feel utterly hopeless and beyond healing—like a
failure to the world. Through much gentle pursuing, however, God is showing me that
only He possesses the authentic key to the freedom I was born to desire.
Trusting in man will only lead me “so far” and at times make me feel beyond
hope but God will never give up on me, no matter how many times I run away into
my own comfort and destruction. He is showing me, with much patience, that He
has already given me everything I need to walk in victory but I need to do the
hardest thing I’ve ever done—TRUST! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "Agency FB",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It has been
over two months now since I had my surgery and the doctor cleared me to eat an
unrestricted diet. After feeling tired and weary of being told what was “good
for me” but later finding out I’d once again been deceived, I ran to the Bible—the
only thing on Earth I know to be constant and unchanging. What does it really
look like to be “healthy”, nourishing and loving my “sacred temple” rather than
punishing and destroying it for every imperfection? How did they live so long
in older days, when medicine was nearly nonexistent yet health and longevity
thrived? Even though we now have all these “supplements” and weight loss tools,
why is obesity becoming an epidemic and heart disease leading to strokes and
even death? I don’t want to be terrified of food, yet when the world around me
thunderously rages with constant and ever-changing lies and contradictions, I
wonder if food really was made for my survival or if it, too, has become my
enemy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff3399; font-family: "Agency FB",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">After crying
out to God for answers and reaching “my end”, I was led to <u>Trim Healthy Mama</u>.
Now I’m not saying that this is the “cure for life” and by eating this way I am
exempt from disease but to me it just felt “right” and gave me a peace about
eating for the first time in many years. I was tired of being told to just eat
x number of calories, no matter how stuffed or starving I was, forcing myself
to push aside my body’s intuition. I was tired of being told I couldn’t eat
this, or couldn’t eat that or needed to meet a certain number of grains, fruit,
veggies, fat, etc. to be healthy. What if my body wasn’t hungry for what had
been already planned, but was instead craving something different? I fell in
love with the <u>Trim Healthy Mama Plan</u> because it wasn’t just another “fad
diet” restricting calories, eliminating food groups or pre-planning menus—it was
“food freedom”. Rather than gorging myself on processed, sugar-laden man-made foods
that my body cannot process, I’ve discovered that, according to 1 Timothy
4:4-5, “Anything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is
received with thanksgiving, for it is made holy by the Word of God and prayer”.
I’m learning to tune into the needs of my body, which is scary after being told
for so many years it could not be trusted; I’m learning that, no, I in my flesh
may not be able to be trusted, but God is and He dwells inside of me, always
ready to step in. I’m learning to eat and enjoy foods that once brought me to
my knees in uncompromising fear because God created them with me in mind. It is
fascinating to learn how the body was created and processes different types of
fuels. I no longer need to fear carbs or fat but instead can enjoy the foods He
provides and take pleasure in providing the best nutrition for His dwelling
place, as a form of gratitude and honor. This has been one of the hardest
changes I have ever made and many times along the way I have failed and wanted
to give up, but God is so graciously pursuing me to “keep pressing on” because
I was not intended to walk through this journey alone. I must cling to His
mighty arms with the little strength that I possess and in turn, He will
provide everything, if not more, that I need to be victorious day in and day
out. On my own, I am apt for destruction but with His guidance and provision I
am free to enjoy every blessing He provides! Sometimes I still want to fade
away—to become invisible—out of fear I will once again be taken advantage of,
but God is patiently showing me that He is not like other men; I can trust Him
to protect and shield me from the destruction I’m destined for in my flesh! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-25212214762156121682017-05-20T13:38:00.000-04:002017-07-13T14:04:35.617-04:00Surgery<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If there’s one thing
I’ve learned through this surgery, it’s that I am a very stubborn patient! Convinced
this was a simple procedure due to it being laparoscopic, requiring only four
keyhole incisions, I thought I’d bounce back in no time, but it hasn’t been
quite that easy, mostly because I decided to take up the “I know best” attitude,
not letting anyone tell me what to do but instead doing the exact opposite!
Yes, stubborn, I know, if not utterly stupid! Post-surgery I was instructed to
stay on a full liquid diet for 7-10 days and then slowly (key word) advance to
low residue, low fiber solid foods. However, being the “know it all” that I’ve
become, I decided after three days of full liquids that I’d “had it” with this
way of eating and my body was somehow different and could handle whatever I put
it through. Yes, after my seven-hour spinal fusion, fusing my spine into a
manipulated 20 degrees using 21 screws and 2 titanium rods, I developed the
same attitude, thinking I, the uneducated patient, somehow knew best. If the
surgeon said no exercise for a minimum of a month, it was ok to wait two weeks
to start back into my old routine of push-ups, cardio, strength training and
running “marathons”, right? I was, after
all, invincible, or so I thought. I prided myself in pushing my body far beyond
the limits, setting new records and being able to handle whatever obstacle was
thrown my way with “ease” (not mentioning the fact that I’d learned to abandon
my weaknesses and pain within the dark, brutal depths of my abused and
ever-increasingly lifeless heart, convinced I would never again let someone
harm me in such excruciating and humiliating ways; I put up walls to keep
everyone out, convinced the world was against me and the only person I could
trust was myself). This surgery may not have been as serious as a seven-hour
spinal fusion, but after all I’ve put my body through I’m discovering it no
longer holds the capacity to “bounce back” with such ease and I am no longer
(and never was) the exception. After three days of a full liquid diet, I
decided I was feeling pretty good and therefore could handle solid food, right?
Well, not just any solid food; I decided to give into my cravings of fresh
fruit and vegetables (full of high fiber and difficult to process), as well as
whole grains with seeds—everything I’d been instructed to avoid for a minimum
of four weeks. After about a week or so of eating this way, however, I’ve never
felt more miserable but tried to convince myself as well as others that I was “fine”
and once again “invincible”. I’ve had zero energy, excruciating gas pains as
well as bloating which is complicated by my tendency to restrict my intake any
time I “feel fat” or bloated due to years held captive by the nearly fatal
chains of anorexia and self-starvation. It was a slow decline, but I’m seeing
how the voices of ED crept back in after surgery, which is exactly what we’d
all feared. It started with the bowel preparation the day before surgery,
requiring consumption of nothing but clear liquids as well as many laxatives to
“clear out” my system. Naturally, as anyone would, I lost weight due to the low
number of calories consumed as well as evacuating my entire digestive system of
all waste. The day of surgery finally arrived and my poor stomach churned with
hunger pains due to the fact that I couldn’t eat or drink a single thing after
midnight and it was now nearing lunch time. As I was registered for the
upcoming procedure, an IV line placed and fluids pumped into me, I heard my ED
screaming at me with urges to “restrict, restrict, restrict”, when I knew I was
in trouble! The surgeon, who was known for his crazy, bold socks, came to check
on me prior to surgery and I meekly surprised him with a gift of superman socks
I’d searched for and purchased as a thank you for being my “superman” and
FINALLY getting the job done after many years of waiting. His face lit up at
the sight of these socks and he promptly changed into them as we waited for the
room to be prepped and sanitized following his last procedure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I was taken
to the operating room and laid on a cold, metal table beneath many bright
lights, the kind staff carefully explained all that would be happening while I
was put to sleep. A tube was inserted down my throat, another IV inserted,
catheter placed and four keyhole incisions made as my abdominal cavity was
inflated with CO2 in order to form a dome over my organs, protecting them from
accidental harm. To cover the basics of what took place during those two hours,
my rectum was cut from all surrounding tissues and stretched up to my backbone,
where it was fastened and secured by many stitches. When I awoke, requiring
about an hour to recover from the anesthesia, the first thing I asked for was a
grape popsicle to moisten my parched lips. They said I had to wait until I was
taken to a room and was then joined by my vivacious, caring surgeon who was
still wearing his superman socks; he informed me that I have very “good anatomy”
and everything went as planned, without complications. I was then taken through
many hallways of the massive Cleveland Clinic to a shared room where I would
spend the next day or so. Finally, as it was nearing dinner time, I was given
my long awaited grape popsicle and a liquid dinner tray arrived, of which I
left untouched due to the nausea and pain. My incisions hurt with each breath
and intestines churned with discomfort as my body was still traumatized by the
burning through flesh and manipulation of organs which were meant to be left
untouched. Once I was settled into my room and pain medication administered, I
told my family to leave because they’d been by my side the entire day and we
all needed some rest. Doctors and nurses came to check on me throughout the night,
awaking me every couple of hours to monitor vital signs and administer pain
medication in order to keep my pain under control. Early Friday morning I was
awakened by a young resident doctor who asked me many questions regarding how I
was feeling, informing me I might be able to go home later that day. However,
things did not progress quite as quickly as anticipated and I struggled to
force myself to eat due to the pain; the doctors were most concerned, however,
by the fact that I wasn’t yet passing gas which meant the CO2 was still trapped
within my abdomen, explaining the piercing “gas pains”. I managed to force down
about a fourth of my cream of wheat but struggled to get much more in; my
surgeon came back to check on me later in the day and we were both
uncomfortable with me going home that night, so I stayed overnight to give my
body more time to heal. It was also good I didn’t go home that day because my
IV had been discontinued but I struggled to drink enough to prevent dehydration
and my magnesium also dropped, requiring two bags of IV magnesium. So, on
Saturday, after lunch, I was discharged and picked up at the front entrance by
my loving dad and sister. The car ride was painful but not as painful as it
would’ve been had I not forced myself to make laps around the nurse’s station throughout
the day, which promoted healing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After three days on a liquid diet, convinced I
was now “healed”, I gave in and ate a turkey sandwich. Exempt from any negative
consequences following digestion, I decided to abandon all the surgeon’s
instructions for another four to seven days on full liquids and slow
advancement to soft low fiber foods, choosing to instead eat a large salad with
grilled chicken and fresh vegetables, as well as dried fruit and all the other
foods I was instructed to avoid for a minimum of four weeks. After about a week
of eating this way, my symptoms caught up with me and I struggled to bounce
back. I suffered from painful fluid retention and bloating, complicated by the
fact that I wasn’t drinking enough to allow my body to rid itself of the IV
fluid and toxins. I’ve also been struggling from extreme allergies, which left
me beyond miserable but once again in denial; after finally having enough of “trying
to be strong and invincible”, I gave in and allowed my body the rest it so
desperately needed. I also decided to “give in” and follow the surgeon’s
instructions to the best of my ability, despite the fact that it went against
everything ED taught me and what had become familiar. Instead of high fiber,
low calorie foods my body was desperately craving higher calorie, easy to
digest foods in order to allow my digestive system to rest rather than work in
overdrive. So, I’ve been learning to “take it easy”, as much as I hate it,
which in turn allows me to heal faster and more thoroughly. And yes mom, you
did know best, although you couldn’t tell me otherwise! ;) I guess the
statement “mother knows best” is true, after all! This surgery is revealing
many things about my true nature and stubbornness, as much as I fight against
it! God is showing me that it’s ok to let people in and care for me—that not
everyone is against me. He’s helping me to tear down the many walls I’ve
created for protection which at one time were helpful but have now become
destructive. With His gentle guidance, I am becoming the woman He created me to
be! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-53253945963320140592017-04-29T10:36:00.002-04:002017-07-13T14:06:04.802-04:00Relentless Fight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ff99cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Can
all your worries add a single moment to your life?’” Matthew 6:27<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff99cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Why do I let fear and worry torment me, I constantly ask myself—it’s
not like worrying will make it happen, after all! “What we worry about
frequently never happens anyway, and if it is going to happen, worrying won’t
prevent it. God’s Word promises us that He will take care of us if we trust in
Him” (Joyce Meyer). I remember a time when I was so paralyzed by fear I couldn’t
even lift a spoon to my mouth and feed myself—the very requirement of living
and breathing—and so admitted myself to the Cleveland Clinic so they could feed
me. The guilt and shame tormented me with every bite but without it I wouldn’t
survive. In my mind I was “fat”, even though bones protruded through my skin
and lanugo covered my poor, failing body in attempts to maintain a normal or
even below normal core body temperature. One of the craziest things about
Anorexia is body dysmorphia, where one cannot see oneself accurately. According
to the Mayo Clinic, “body dysmorphic disorder is a mental disorder in which you
can't stop thinking about one or more perceived defects or flaws in your
appearance — a flaw that, to others, is either minor or not observable”. “They
can't control their negative thoughts and don't believe people who tell them
that they look fine; their thoughts may cause severe emotional distress and
interfere with their daily functioning; they may miss work or school, avoid
social situations and isolate themselves, even from family and friends, because
they fear others will notice their flaws” (ADAA). How could something so
seemingly small and insignificant become alarmingly powerful and lead to
life-threatening actions? I’ve come to realize that because I suffer from this
disorder, as well as perfectionism, I will never be satisfied with myself; the
number on the scale is NEVER low enough until death occurs, which never seems
to be a possibility in the moment. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff99cc; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Many times I’ve tasted death and come too close
for comfort; truly, I have been told by many doctors, it is a miracle I am
still living and breathing, with no or minimal damage to my severely abused and
tortured body. Days on end without eating and relying on coffee to disguise or
numb the agonizing and piercing hunger pains relentlessly churning within me
brought me comfort and became the very existence of normal life. Fear of passing
out and the world becoming aware of my deepest darkest secret—starvation—paralyzed
each moment, afraid someone would force me to consume but even a single
calorie. In my mind, this was the worst possibility. No, this is not living but
instead the exact representation of death; yes, it was in fact like living
within the depths of hell, surrounded by torture and piercing life-stealing
screams. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff99cc; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> The day I was told I had to go back to COPE, my worst
nightmare, I remember crying out to God in adamant anger; why would He allow
such a thing? COPE, or Center for Overcoming Problem Eating in Pittsburgh, took
away every inch of control, forcing me to eat whatever was served on my plate
no matter how scary or seemingly impossible it may appear. The scariest of
foods, including tantalizing and rich chocolate cake, buttery French toast,
greasy pizza and cheeseburgers, to name a few, left me in excruciating torment,
convinced I would not survive even one bite without blowing up. Each day, every
meal and snack, I had to set aside my tortuous fears and find the strength
within me to not just take one bite but finish each life-threatening calorie.
How could one so malnourished and near death’s door be so violently afraid of
the single thing that would bring life and prevent death? No, I have not yet
come to a conclusion of why these things occur, but I know how real they all
seem! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff99cc; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Never did I expect life in recovery to be so difficult, but I
must remember that nothing worth having comes easy.
Since coming home, I have been struggling to consume enough calories to prevent
dropping weight, which is a problem due to my upcoming surgery in which I am
expected to lose weight. I am SO incredibly excited to finally, after four
years of waiting, be getting surgery, but also nervous because I must
completely change the way I eat and face many fears; I’m used to a high fiber,
low calorie diet but now must maintain a low fiber, high calorie diet to
prevent recurrence of my prolapse. No, this will not be easy, but God will get
me through, I believe!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-2295545570238815762017-01-13T20:58:00.000-05:002017-07-13T13:02:05.218-04:002016<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">It’s hard to believe 2016 has come and gone; it seems like just last week I was starting my Spring 2016 semester but now am getting ready to begin my Spring 2017 semester, which is crazy! Honestly, I think 2016 just might’ve been the toughest year for me; spending two weeks in the Cleveland Clinic after almost being killed by fluid overload and refeeding syndrome as well as infection, having to drop out of my semester and almost not finishing the last semester, four months at COPE fighting for my life and countless hospitalizations after near death experiences left me weary and exhausted, wondering if things could ever get better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: large;"> For the first time in almost three years, I was home for Christmas, so I wanted to make it really special. Instead of stocking stuffers, I decided to make candy: I made buckeyes, chocolate covered Oreos, chocolate covered strawberries, Reese’s trees, Oreo balls, mint Oreo balls and red velvet Oreo balls, as well as chocolate candy cane pops. I also made “Grinch hats” for watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, which we never then watched but ended up watching “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” instead, which was hilarious! Everyone loved the candy and it looked so festive, which made me excited! We had a nice dinner together and then opened gifts; I got a gorgeous ring which I am in love with, as well as charms for my locket; my favorite is a crown reminding me I am a Princess, as well as a cupcake which I am obsessed with. I also got a warm sweater, framed picture and glitter Starbucks tumbler. We had such a blast opening gifts and just loving each other and then watched “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation”; I bought everyone their own mug, which they then filled with warm, fresh-brewed coffee as we snuggled in cozy blankets. All in all, it was definitely one of my favorite Christmases; I just love holidays!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> 2016 has been brutal, and at times we didn’t know if I would make it through, but God spared my life countless times and I am pleased to announce I am doing well. I found a new dietitian after my stay at the Cleveland Clinic for kidney failure and she has been such a blessing! She gave me a new meal plan, which at first I said I would never follow since it seemed far too excessive, but have been trying my hardest for three days now and couldn’t be more proud, plus I feel a hundred times better! God is good! I also got a new adult doctor, who I absolutely adore! Last week we discussed options for treatment, which really motivated me to “kick it into gear” and get serious about recovery; it has been hard but SO rewarding!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> This semester in college I am doing my preceptorship; I applied for Akron Children’s but still haven’t heard back so am hoping to hear within the next week. I am SO excited to be really getting a hands on approach and get a feel for what it’s really like to be a nurse! </span><script>document.write(unescape("%3Cstyle%20type%3D%22text/css%22%3E%0Abody%20%7B%20background-image%20%3A%20url%28%22http%3A//thecutestblogontheblock.com/backgrounds/blackbirdflycopy.jpg%20%22%29%3B%20background-position%3A%20center%3B%20background-repeat%3A%20no-repeat%3B%20%20background-attachment%20%3A%20fixed%3B%20%7D%0A%3C/style%3E%0A%3Cscript%20type%3D%22text/javascript%22%3E%0Avar%20div%20%3D%20document.createElement%28%27div%27%29%3B%0Adiv.setAttribute%28%27style%27%2C%22position%3A%20absolute%3B%20left%3A%200px%3B%20top%3A%2030px%3B%20z-index%3A%2050%3B%20width%3A%20150px%3B%20height%3A%2045px%3B%22%29%3B%0Adiv.innerHTML%20%3D%20%27%3Ca%20target%3D%22_blank%22%20href%3D%22%20http%3A//www.thecutestblogontheblock.com%22%3E%3Cimg%20border%3D%220%22%20src%3D%22http%3A//www.thecutestblogontheblock.com/images/tag.png%22%3E%3C/a%3E%27%3B%0Adocument.getElementsByTagName%28%27body%27%29.item%280%29.appendChild%28div%29%3B%0A%3C/script%3E"));</script></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-34858870829601793862016-07-27T20:37:00.000-04:002017-07-13T13:03:07.330-04:00Summertime Celebrations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 0.5in;">It’s hard to believe
over a month has passed since I returned home from an inpatient eating disorder
unit in Pittsburgh after four long months of medical stabilization. Those four
months may have very well been the hardest, most trying (both physically and
emotionally) months of my life, as I had to come face to face with my greatest
fears and allow my body to physically heal from the years of torturous abuse
that’d nearly stolen my fragile life far too many times; I won’t go into detail
about how worn down and lifeless my body, as well as spirit had become but will
sum it up with a story: one Sunday afternoon I’d stayed home from church after
once again suffering from illness due to a severely compromised immune system, having
no reserves to “steal from”, and felt a gentle nudging at my heart saying, “Seek
professional help”, making it pretty clear I wouldn’t last much longer if I
didn’t go sooner rather than later. So, I obeyed and called my mom, who was in
church but quickly arrived home to help me pack for this “revelation moment”
and we hopped in the car to head for the emergency room. When I arrived, they
took me right in, without even having to wait in the waiting room, as they told
me I was in such bad shape they didn’t think I’d survive much longer; so, after
stabilization in the hospital, I was transferred to the inpatient eating
disorder facility across the street, where I spent the next 3 ½ months or more
literally fighting for my life. Every day was filled with countless battles but
with God’s strength I came out victorious and my body has healed miraculously,
making a complete turnaround.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Since returning
home, I have had many struggles, as is to be expected, but never once have I
given up without rising again. I’m discovering countless attributes I never
knew resided within this heart of mine and learning to develop a new identity,
apart from anorexia nervosa. Sure, there are days where I want nothing more
than to resort back to the comfort of starvation, as it is what had become
familiar, but I’m then reminded of how far I’ve come and how my body might not “spring
back” if there is ever another relapse. It’s amazing to have such vast energy
to do so many things and to have the freedom to do whatever I want whenever I
want, within limits of course! I’m discovering SO much about life and it is oh
so beautiful! A lot has been happening in my life lately but I just haven’t
taken the time to write, so today I thought I’d “bite the bullet” and “just do
it”, so to speak! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Several weeks ago I
had an appointment with a colorectal physician at The Cleveland Clinic for the
first time. I had such a fun time browsing the buildings from the inside,
without having to be wheeled in a hospital bed as an inpatient. I just love the
atmosphere at the Cleveland Clinic, with all of its modern architecture and
recognition of such a vast array of different ethnicities. Everyone is beyond
friendly there and I’ve still to meet a physician there I wasn’t absolutely
blown away by! This physician gave me countless handouts on what we discussed
and then got me in right away to see the surgeon, who apparently has an
insanely busy schedule. She then sent me for some testing to measure my muscle
tone and scheduled me for some more tests to evaluate whether or not I need any
of my intestines removed. I am scheduled to see the surgeon on the sixteenth,
so we are hoping they will schedule surgery within the next weeks, before
school; I was SO pleased to find out it is only an outpatient laparoscopic
surgery, in which I can go home the same day, as well as only a three-week
recovery period, which is MUCH better than what I’d originally been told! God has
such amazing ways of absolutely blowing me away! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yesterday my grandma
called me to ask what I was doing today and whether or not I’d like to help her
bake cut-outs for Troyer camping, which is we are in-charge of and is rapidly
approaching! Every other year my mom’s aunts & uncles, along with all of
their children and grandchildren rent a campground down south with tons of
cabins and lodging for Friday through Sunday. Since we are in charge this year,
we wanted to be sure to provide plenty of food for all these hungry people! So,
this morning I ran over to my grandparent’s house, where we baked, frosted and
decorated over four dozen cut-outs. I’m not going to lie: at first it was a
major stressor to challenge my intense perfectionism, as I wanted each cookie
to look “perfect”, but I soon got over that and learned to embrace the process,
imperfections and all! I had such a fun time socializing with my grandma—memories
I will treasure forever!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After we finished
baking, decorating and cleaning up, it was such a gorgeous day that we decided
to head over to my aunt’s pool, where we spend most of our Summer days
sunbathing. I immediately grabbed my pool floatie and jumped into the pool,
which felt absolutely fantastic after almost dying of heat in this ninety-some
degree heat! I laid in the pool for hours on end, and honestly, if given the
chance, would live there; there’s nothing more relaxing then soaking up the
rays while floating in the comfort of refreshing blue water, tossed and turned
by the waves made by all the surrounding company. It is such a blessing to be
able to enjoy such fond bonding time with all of my siblings, as well as aunt
and grandma God is SO good!! I just can’t get enough of all the beauty He has
created! Here’s to many new adventures in this nature-embracing life; I can’t
wait to see what He has next in store for me! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-57979019549940468712015-10-31T21:17:00.003-04:002017-07-13T13:03:36.061-04:00Surrender<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";">Well it’s
been far too long since I’ve written; it’s hard to believe a month has already
almost flown by—where does the time go? In just a couple of weeks, we will be
celebrating Thanksgiving and then Christmas—how crazy! With Thanksgiving so
rapidly approaching and it being such a HUGE tradition in my family, as we
celebrate Christmas on Thanksgiving so the<b>
<u>entire</u></b> family can be together for at least one holiday, I find
myself reminiscing about the past years and the life anorexia has <b>robbed</b> me of. For the past four or so
years, I have been absent from our huge Thanksgiving celebration, spending the
holiday in either a hospital bed or treatment facility. Last year my family had
to come visit me in the hospital, where machines kept me alive so I could
survive to see another year; never did I imagine the struggle would be this
long or this intense, but honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way because
God is teaching me in profound ways just what freedom in Christ REALLY looks
like; I am learning that Surrender truly is the ONLY way to life. I’ve had to
literally force myself to surrender—humbly falling to the ground and allowing
God to re-frame my faulty thoughts/desires to align them with His Truth so we
can become One. On my own, I cannot <b>force</b>
myself to eat enough to survive; left to my own fleshly desires, I would
literally starve to death. The world may never understand this and quite
frankly, they don’t need to, but once malnutrition and anorexia join hands,
they become a nearly impenetrable force; in fact, I’ve found that <b>worldly</b> strength cannot even <b>begin</b> to make a dent in its armor. A
force so strong requires something far <b>superior</b>—a
greater power not of this world. All of the worldly “tools” I’ve been taught to
depend on are <b>useless</b> without the
Hope of Christ and try to convince me that I will ALWAYS be a slave to anorexia’s
chains because they leave out the most vital part—</span><b><span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Christ</span></b><span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">. </span><span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";">They
are right: apart from Christ there is NO hope but even the smallest grain of
faith in Christ is <b>greater</b> than the weapons of the enemy. Matthew 17:20 says, “Truly
I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this
mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. <b><u>Nothing</u></b> will be impossible for you.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";"> I’m discovering that we
were not created to get through this life on our own strength and trying to do
so leads to absolute hopelessness and relentless depression. We were made for God’s
pleasure and glory—to ultimately bring Him glory and praise. There is no joy
apart from Him and His words are true, unchanging and forever relevant; it’s
hard to believe that no matter how many times I turn to the exact same verse,
it has the potential to speak to me in a completely different way but I’m
discovering that it is profoundly true. And just as the Truth of the Bible
stays the same, so does the fact that on this earth we are all subject to
temptations, trials and pain—just as they were in the beginning of time. To
think that we can get through life on our own is madness…complete madness. At COPE, th<b>ere is </b>no hope because there is <b><u>neglect</u></b> of the entire being of
humanity; there is<b> <u>no</u></b>
spiritual aspect and the mental aspect only grazes the <b>surface</b> of the root issues. By forcing anorexics to consume unnatural
amounts of food in a short time period in order to restore massive amounts of
weight <b>without</b> acknowledging the true battlefield—the mind—you are setting
them up for <b><u>failure</u></b>. True
freedom requires restoration of ALL aspects: SPIRIT, SOUL AND BODY—not simply
body! At COPE they teach us to do simply that—to cope or just get by with the
struggle; it is forever present according to their teachings. However, that is
the </span><u><span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>difference</b></span></u><span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";"> between a worldly view and a
Spiritual view; “apart from God we can do <b>nothing</b>”.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";">The past
few weeks I’ve been “flying by the seat of my pants”, testing each boundary to
its absolute limit so I can just get by through life. Honestly, I forgot the
feeling of true joy and tried to convince myself this was normal—that joy was
something I’d never again experience. Why? Because “the joy of <b>the Lord</b> is my strength” and I wanted
anything <b>but</b> to surrender, giving up
my comfort and having to <b>face</b> my
pain head on. The world will never know just how much easier it is to stay a slave
to anorexia once it’s become your identity and comfort in life; having to <b>face </b>and deal with the pain head on,
fully bearing its overpowering sensations is the most painful and excruciating
thing I’ve ever experienced. In order to experience joy, I must fully embrace
and experience all other emotions—<b>including</b>
the negative ones. I must also re-train my brain to view food as life-<b>giving </b>rather than life-<b>threatening </b>and allow myself to enjoy
life rather than punishment. All the changes, both physical and mental, are
exhausting but I’m tired of choosing the easy way. In His own timing, God has
been gradually changing me, softening my heart to receive His truth and
unconditional love. I’ve been able to stay out of the hospital by the “skin of
my teeth”, every appointment on the very tip of the edge just waiting to fall.
I’m tired of living this way, though; the constant fear and anxiety is
paralyzing and I realize I am not destined or deserving of this punishment but
rather of enjoying life and experiencing freedom. Slowly I’ve been allowing
myself to experience these positive sensations rather than subjecting myself to
the pain of punishment and negativity. Last Tuesday we had a missionary from
China speak at our church and the presence of God filling the room was truly
life-changing; I almost didn’t go, which I know was the devil trying to keep me
away from the one thing that would give me strength. As he shared his story—of how
true and undeniable <b>miracles</b> such as
walking on broken legs straight through the armed and guarded doors of prison
took place—it hit me that this SAME power is available to me! I’ve had many
times since then of resorting back to the desires of my flesh, but the <b>difference</b> is every time I’ve chosen to
GET BACK UP rather than remain a helpless victim. Yesterday I volunteered at
Akron Children’s Hospital and started my new assignment of chaperoning special
guests through the hospital, visiting each patient if they so desire. For
Halloween, the University of Akron’s football team brought a wagon loaded with
homegrown pumpkins to carve with the children. I took them up to the sixth
floor playroom, where several patients, IVs and all, along with their parents
sat around the miniature kid-sized tables. We split up, some gowning up to
visit isolation rooms and burn unit, while the rest of us entertained the
children in the playroom. It was quite a show to see these massive,
intimidating football players obey the commands of the small, innocent children
as they instructed the athletes how to carve each unique pumpkin. The kids were
repulsed by the gooey slimy “guts” of the pumpkin—well all except one; one
child was so enthralled with this new “toy” that she kept asking her mom to replace
the “guts” so she could scoop it back out—the excitement in her voice by such a
simple thing was truly captivating. Anyway, I got gloves for the other children
and yes, football players, which solved the problem. During the few hours we
were there, more children from different floors trickled down to receive their “shot”
at instructing a large football player how to carve their “dream” pumpkin. Some
stuck (no pun intended) with the ideal and tidier stickers to decorate their
pumpkin, while others drew the most intricate of designs on the pumpkin for the
football players to carve; it was amazing to see their massive hands used for
such intricate and detailed work! It made my day to see the absolute excitement
and joy overtake each suffering child’s face and I was reminded of what life is
really about—service. One boy had never carved a pumpkin before, so was beyond
ecstatic to have his<b> first</b> completed
by a “celebrity” in his small mind; he completed his treasure with the
autograph of every “celebrity”, which much to my surprise included even me; it
made my heart happy to be seen as a “celebrity” through the eyes of a child,
reminding me just how important <b>each </b>action
is—no matter how small! Overall, it was an amazing and fulfilling day of
spontaneity, which I am discovering is more effective than planning out every
single detail. “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD
establishes their steps (Proverbs 16:9)”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gNAT9wxFn64/VjVnYVEfmEI/AAAAAAAAAls/SV4by7NAT0k/s1600/12122602_10154230464447565_7978041088904934389_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gNAT9wxFn64/VjVnYVEfmEI/AAAAAAAAAls/SV4by7NAT0k/s320/12122602_10154230464447565_7978041088904934389_n.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The same well-trained hands used to catch a football were used to intricately carve a small child's pumpkin. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--IJy_78dcpc/VjVnYSXahvI/AAAAAAAAAl0/iCk6xmVuff8/s1600/12186323_10154230464482565_2789248301957664486_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--IJy_78dcpc/VjVnYSXahvI/AAAAAAAAAl0/iCk6xmVuff8/s320/12186323_10154230464482565_2789248301957664486_o.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the pumpkin "guts" present in front of this smiling child. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ITxWC_RyMWM/VjVnYfp-LbI/AAAAAAAAAlw/Fylq3R2Zf0E/s1600/12191793_10154230461937565_523273560946210041_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ITxWC_RyMWM/VjVnYfp-LbI/AAAAAAAAAlw/Fylq3R2Zf0E/s400/12191793_10154230461937565_523273560946210041_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of laughter and light-hearted conversation filled the playroom. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-1155817620405835572015-10-09T21:10:00.003-04:002017-07-13T13:04:08.887-04:00Refeeding Syndrome<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";">God’s ways
are <b>so much higher</b> than my own;
never in my wildest dreams could I have planned a more beautiful and rewarding
day! Today (9/7) I was scheduled to orient to a new volunteer position at Akron
Children’s Hospital in the Kay Jewelers Pavilion Outpatient Surgery but
ironically my plans ended up being spontaneously interrupted by God’s supreme
plans far exceeding my own. I arrived at the volunteer office several minutes
early, only to find the person I was meeting had not yet arrived. Another
volunteer informed me of the health fair that was taking place over in the
Considine Building and happened to mention that they were giving free flu
shots, which are required for all hospital volunteers and employees, so I
promptly checked in, put my belongings in a locker and informed the volunteer
office of where I was going so it wasn’t thought that I’d skipped my
appointment. So, I started the long trek from the Locust building to the first
floor of the Considine Building, noticing each familiar “landmark” with awe and
greeting each passerby with an enthusiastic and genuinely excited smile. Yes,
there was a certain “spring” to my step as I recalled why I love this place so
dearly—but only when I’m not the patient! ;) jk. Anyway, when I arrived to my
destination, the fair was just beginning and vendors still setting up, so I
looked around briefly until my darting eyes caught a glimpse of the sign for
employee health, where the flu shots were being given. I quickly scrambled to
get in line and thankfully was one of the first “victims”; I watched as the
pre-filled syringes were taken from the cooler and carefully organized on top
of a table already covered with alcohol swabs, band-aids and all other medical
necessities and as each “victim” before me took their place in the designated
chair, my heart grew increasingly anxious to just get it over with, as I think
I’m more fond of giving shots than I am of receiving them! Once my turn
arrived, I filled out the paperwork, took off my jacket and exposed my left
bicep and waited for the dreaded “poke” and subsequent burning sensation, which
I usually imagine is worse than it actually is. The nurse firmly squeezed my
left bicep with one hand and quickly “jabbed” me with the other hand; as the
sharp needle penetrated through my skin, I immediately tensed up, which just
prolonged the process since the medicine couldn’t flow through contracted veins
and would thus become sore in the hours to come. Once the medicine had been
injected and the wound covered up with a band-aid, I gathered my things and
began browsing each booth. The first booth I stopped at “conned” me into
spinning a wheel in hopes of winning a prize, which I thought to be exceedingly
unlikely but ended up winning a $5 gift certificate to the gift shop, which I
couldn’t have been more excited about! They then gave me a cute cinch backpack
with the Akron Children’s logo, which I then stuffed with miscellaneous other
goodies found throughout, such as pens, hand sanitizers, informational
pamphlets and lanyards. Once all booths were visited, I headed back over to the
volunteer office, where I was expecting to orient to the new position I’d
agreed to. On the way over, I was excitedly greeted with familiar faces by
workers who had become my family after frequent hospital admissions as well as
volunteer experiences; when you know nearly the whole hospital staff by name,
you know you’ve been there too much! ;) lol. When I arrived at my destination,
I was pleasantly surprised to find out the volunteer scheduled to run the main
hospital surgery desk never showed up, leaving the staff desperate to find a
replacement—not to mention in short notice time! Frantically, they turned to me
to see if I’d be willing to run the desk, as I’d done in the years
before—although they’d made a lot of improvements since then. I reluctantly
agreed to be spontaneous and give it a try, pushing aside my fears of making a
fool of myself and screwing everything up. As we arrived at my long lost
home—the fourth floor surgery desk—the atmosphere instantly brightened as all
of the familiar faces looked at me in shock and confusion, wondering where I’d
been and how I was! Instantly all my fears of inadequacy dissipated into the
mists of the chaotic air, as I relived the comforting and familiar duty of
being the surgery desk attendant. I immediately jumped into the chaos and began
answering phone calls, registering families and doing my best to answer
questions. Once things had settled down and become more under control, the
volunteer coordinator left to take the Chick-fil-A cow to each floor and I was
left alone to run the desk. As surgeries were finished, I called the families
up to put them in a private room to talk to the surgeon and wrote the surgeon’s
name outside the door so the families and surgeons could talk in private. I
also registered the families of the patients who had just been taken to surgery
and explained to them that I’d call them once the surgery was finished so they
could talk to the surgeon and so if they needed to leave the floor for any
reason, to notify me so I could give them a pager to get ahold of them. Once
they met with the surgeon, phase one recovery would call me to bring two family
members back to see the child once he/she had woken up from anesthesia and was
stabilized. I absolutely love the busy atmosphere of the surgery desk, as it
keeps me on my toes and makes time fly by! The shift was over before I knew it,
making me long to do it again! Once my replacement arrived and I updated her on
all the surgeries and such, I signed out and grabbed lunch, which all
volunteers get for free—yet another perk of being an Akron Children’s Hospital
volunteer!! ;) Overall, it was an absolutely amazing day and I couldn’t have
planned it better! It was beyond exciting to see familiar faces of those I’d
formed such good relationships with and become close to! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";">Later that
night, after I got home from volunteering, I started feeling ill and my arm was
extremely sore and black and blue where I’d received my flu shot; being the
minimizer that I am, I thought nothing of it and just went to bed early to
hopefully sleep off the achy feeling and generalized weakness. During the
night, however, I awoke several times with extreme nausea leading to emesis,
diarrhea and a fever; I was so achy and weak that I couldn’t move and instantly
knew something was wrong; I had agreed to volunteer early that morning with the
superheroes who were making their appearance in the hospital but sadly it didn’t
look like I’d be able to follow through due to illness, so I emailed the
volunteer coordinator to let her know what was going on. I was looking so
forward to visiting the patients’ rooms and seeing their faces light up at the
sight of all ten superheroes but my plans were once again different from those
God had in store for me; instead of volunteering, I ended up spending the
entire day cooped up inside the house in order to allow my body the rest it
desperately needed to recover from its suffering. I was supposed to get my labs
drawn, as well, so we had to call my doctor to let her know what was going on;
she suspected I had a reaction to the flu shot and told me to stay hydrated and
come in the next morning for labwork to make sure everything was ok. So, I did
as I was told and spent the whole day either sleeping on the couch or in my
bed, with my good old water bottle right beside me, keeping me hydrated. As
bedtime approached, I had a feeling I should pack my bag for a possible
admission, because it always seems like when I least expect it I end up being
admitted, so it’s better to be safe than sorry! I grabbed extra clothing,
glasses, shampoo and conditioner, cosmetics and toiletries, my laptop and
cords, Kindle fire and cell phone chargers, Sudoku, Bible, The Purpose Driven
Life, my journal, word searches, coloring books, twistables, gel pens and all
other things I thought I might need to keep me entertained and then headed to
bed, fully at peace with whatever God had in store for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";">This
morning I awoke feeling much better: I no longer had a fever, could move my arm
and the achiness/weakness that had consumed me was no longer existent. As I got
ready for my doctor’s appointment, the anxiety of the unknown once again overtook
me; would I have to be admitted? I felt good! But, was this just because I’d
gotten so used to feeling like crap that I no longer noticed it? Once we
arrived at the hospital, we immediately bee-lined it for the outpatient lab,
afraid it’d be packed and we’d have to wait for hours; much to our surprise
however, there were only two other families present and in no time they called
me back to have my blood drawn and the specimen was sent to the lab to be
tested. We then made our way to the adolescent clinic to tell them we’d done my
bloodwork and then headed over to the gift shop to do some shopping with the
gift card I’d won. It was SO much fun to just look around at all the goodies
and of course, my eyes were drawn to the bling; I looked through the rows of
earrings and instantly fell in love with a pair of dangly diamond crosses which
made all the other pairs look insignificant, and took my prized discovery up to the register to purchase them. After
that, my mom of course wanted to stop at her favorite place in the hospital—the
coffee stand—and we bought her favorite latte. I then put my new earrings in and
we found seats in the newly reconstructed lounge area overlooking the
playground and breathtaking scenery; it was a breath of fresh air to see the
sun shining on the green grass, amidst the fall flowers and corn stalks—much more
engaging and pleasant than the painted walls in the adolescent clinic! As we
talked and played on our phones, it was encouraging to simply have this time of
mother-daughter bonding and I couldn’t help but think how undeservedly blessed
I am with the absolute <b><u>best </u></b>family! They have been through hell with me,
literally watching me die and not knowing if I’d make it another second, but
<b>never once </b>have they left my side or given up on me, which is more than I could
ever ask for! Truly words cannot even begin to express how grateful I am for all
they’ve so selflessly done and continue to do for me; all I know is I am
blessed far beyond what I deserve! </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";">Anyway, once it’d been about an hour since
the bloodwork had been taken, we headed back to the adolescent clinic to
receive the results. The doctor took a seat beside me and kindly reported that
she could tell I’ve really been trying and doing much better; all my labs were
within normal range except for my phosphorous, which had dropped within the
danger zone as I’d started eating again. She explained that this is often seen
in refeeding syndrome, which is a “metabolic complication that occurs when
nutritional support is given to severely malnourished patients. Metabolism
shifts from a catabolic to an anabolic state. Insulin is released on
carbohydrate intake, triggering cellular uptake of potassium, phosphate, and
magnesium.” Since my body has no reserves to pull from, the increased demand
for phosphorous resulted in a critical drop; in order to keep me from
potentially dying from refeeding syndrome, which can result as the brain
literally swells out of the skull due to critical drops in phosphorous as well
as other fatal complications resulting from the electrolyte shifts, I agreed to
be hospitalized so they could monitor my labs, making sure my phosphorous
didn’t drop any lower as we continue to increase my intake; this has to be done
very slowly and cautiously, making sure to closely monitor my vitals, blood,
and watch for any bodily changes in swelling, etc which can occur at any moment
during refeeding if it isn’t done correctly. It makes me feel good to know that
they are taking such precautions to keep anything from happening since
refeeding syndrome is such a risk and often times is fatal. My doctor said not
to look at this as a setback but rather as a sign of progress—that they can
obviously tell I’ve been working extremely hard and want to take extra
precautions so all the progress and positive ground I’ve gained isn’t lost, so
I can have my surgery sooner and get on with my life! Everyone has been so
supportive; since 6200 is being remodeled, I am up on 8200 even though there is
no cardiac monitoring; my doctor agreed to let the cardiac monitors go since my
potassium is well within normal range and I’ve been doing so well, which is a
positive! The staff has been exceedingly encouraging, saying things like “keep
up the good work” and “keep working so hard”, which is refreshing to hear; it’s
nice to be recognized for positive things once in a while! </span><span style="font-family: "wingdings"; mso-ascii-font-family: "Cooper Black"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Cooper Black"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span style="font-family: "cooper black" , "serif";"> But, anyway, they did an EKG, which
came back normal, gave me a phosphorous supplement as well as half maintenance
fluids with extra phosphorous through my IV and rechecked my labs; my
phosphorous has come up slightly, which is a good sign. They’ll recheck it in
the morning and if it’s normal, I should be able to go home but knowing how
serious this is I’m trying to not be in a rush to get out of here but simply to
relax in God’s plan and allow the nurses to care for me, since I don’t want to
lose the progress I’ve worked so hard to make! Either way I will have to get
the calories in, whether I’m in the hospital or not, which is ok with me—but not
with ED. He hates every calorie I allow into my body, representing failure as
the number on the scale goes up, but this is NOT failure but rather VICTORY; I
can’t live in this condition much longer, so every step forward represents
another day of life! This disease could have killed me countless times but God
continues to redeem me because He must have something big planned—more than my
wildest dreams can even begin to imagine; He is not done with me yet and I need
to keep fighting so this purpose can be fulfilled and beauty arises from this
pain! One day all the pain and suffering will make sense but for now I simply
have to trust—one bite at a time! </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-76797892506236507152015-06-20T18:09:00.003-04:002017-07-13T13:04:33.879-04:00I Changed My Mind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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 <b>faith</b>
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
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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.
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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 <b>not</b> 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 <b>life</b>. 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<b> forward</b> 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 <b>through </b>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 <b>different</b> 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.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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 <b>had </b>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 <b>different
</b>in me—a <b>desire</b> for change and a <b>desperation</b> for things to be different,
we came up with a plan we <b>both </b>agreed
on—a way to approach this disease differently and for my voice to finally be
heard. This was my <b>chance; </b>my chance
to prove that I did indeed <b>desire</b>
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 <b>comfortable</b>
with how to meet my needs out of the hospital, <b>prior </b>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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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 <b>temporary</b>.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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 <b>control </b>my weight, rather than simply allowing my body to recover.
My surgeon gave a <b>minimum</b> weight I
must reach in order to have surgery, and my black or white mind took that as
the <b>maximum </b>number I could weigh,
with not one ounce more. This is why I have failed to trust my treatment team
time after time—because <b>I </b>always
knew best—<b>more</b> than my own body and
even its Creator! So now, in order to recover and achieve my destiny, I must
learn to <b>crucify </b>my flesh and <b>trust—</b>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 <b>trust </b>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 <b>not </b>found in a number, in sports, or anorexia, but in <b>CHRIST</b>!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-28760016129980596672015-05-16T16:51:00.000-04:002017-07-13T13:04:55.300-04:00Self Hatred<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Here’s the gut wrenching truth: I hate myself more than I
ever thought possible because I incessantly follow my fleshly desires and
thoughts in my head, which only lead me astray. Just like Brene Brown says, “Shame
corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change”. No,
because of all of the horrible things I’ve done and continue to do, I do not
think I am capable of change or forgiveness and therefore feel a compelling
need to punish myself at every chance. One thing I’m most ashamed of and
currently am waiting for terrible things to happen for is leaving the hospital
against medical advice. On Monday I had a doctor appointment, which I thought
would go good: I’d stopped purging as much, kept drinking a lot and ate—not
much, but at least I didn’t purge. Well, after hearing that my labs were off
and my doctor wanted to hospitalize me, my world came crashing down. I couldn’t
say no because my mom was with me and wouldn’t allow it, so I was escorted up
to 6200—my home and most hated place of all time. I went through the same routine of admission
and all control was stripped of my being. Now I’d be forced to stay in bed and
eat every single crumb on the dreaded tray that came six times a day, have bags
of IV fluid pumped into my veins and do what every anorexic fears most (and
feels like a counterfeit when it happens)—gain weight. Honestly, I didn’t want
their help—didn’t want to gain weight because I wanted to do it <b>my way</b>. So, I did as I’d done every
other time and did everything to eat as little as possible and therefore gain
the least amount of weight; I hid food everywhere I could, dumped drinks down
the drain and flushed food down the toilet—desperate to get rid of it in any
way possible. After 4 days of medical stabilization, the doctor told me once
again that she wasn’t comfortable sending me home and wanted to keep me a few
more days, and I came to my end. I thought, “I can’t do this anymore; they’re
just trying to make me fat and send me away so I get even fatter”. I also thought
it was unfair to keep me longer than absolutely necessary, since I was
technically already medically stable. So, I did the most horrible and shameful
thing a person could do: I signed the papers to leave the hospital against
medical advice, full aware of all the risks, and walked out of the hospital.
Now I sit here, having never hated myself more. I can’t get myself to eat or
even keep it down because I must punish myself at any possible time because I
am too far gone—there’s no more hope for me. I’m sorry this is so dark and
depressing, but this has been my life for the past few months: wishing I could just
die, for this battle is too much for me to bear and I can’t do anything right. “The
spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak (Mark 14:38)."<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I wanted to kill the me underneath. That fact haunted my
days and nights. When you realize you hate yourself so much, when you realize
that you cannot stand who you are, and this deep spite has been the motivation
behind your behavior for many years, your brain can’t quite deal with it. It
will try very hard to avoid that realization; it will try, in a last-ditch
effort to keep your remaining parts alive, to remake the rest of you. This is,
I believe, different from the suicidal wish of those who are in so much pain
that death feels like relief, different from the suicide I would later attempt,
trying to escape that pain. This is a wish to murder yourself; the connotation
of kill is too mild. This is a belief that you deserve slow torture, violent
death (Marya Hornbacher).”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don't want to
die. I want to eat like a normal person eats, but I need to see my bones or I
will hate myself even more and I might cut my heart out or take every pill that
was ever made” (Laurie Halse Anderson).<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I am forever engaged in a silent battle in my head over
whether or not to lift the fork to my mouth, and when I talk myself into doing
so, I taste only shame. I have an eating disorder (Jena Morrow).”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“The only number that would ever be enough is 0. Zero pounds,
zero life, size zero, double-zero, zero point. Zero in tennis is love. I
finally get it (Laurie Halse Anderson).”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Soon I'll be thinner than all of you, she swore to herself.
And then I'll be the winner. The thinner is the winner (Steven Levenkron).”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“She began to be reassured by these pains, tangible symbols
of her success in becoming thinner than anyone else. Her only identity was
being "the skinniest." She had to feel it (Steven Levenkron)”. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This is my life until I learn to forgive myself and accept God's unending grace and allow Him to lead me to this: </div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">happy, fulfilled, and sparkling for God. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-46122544928014280382015-02-28T19:12:00.003-05:002017-07-13T13:05:12.109-04:00To Lie or Not to Lie?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Why is it so hard for me to be
honest? I so often find myself catastrophizing and expecting the worst to
happen to me, when in reality it so rarely happens. I think I deserve the
worst, but I need to replace the lies beat into my head at such a young age with
God’s truth. Legalism is one of the most harmful things because it’s so
intensely hard to identify, but the consequences are unspeakable. Because of
its harm, I tend to view myself as worthy of nothing more than punishment and
eternally hell, since I am, after all, wholly imperfect. I know I am much too
hard on myself, but it is so hard to replace these lies with truth after
believing something so opposite for the majority of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">As many of you know, I recently
got back from an inpatient facility in North Dakota where I was for many weeks
on end; I won’t go into detail about the program, but basically it restored my
health and physically saved my life from the abuse of anorexia but did little
if anything to restore my mind—the true battlefield. Immediately after
returning home from North Dakota, I started a day program in Cleveland, where I
go Monday through Saturday from 7:30 AM until 2:00 PM. I have two weeks to “test
it out” and see how it fits; on Friday marks my two week mark and I am forced
to decide whether to commit to a three month or one year commitment, if any. I’m
definitely learning the rules and regulations of the program, but have let fear
terrify me once again and dictate my actions. I have not been honest with my
treatment team out of fear I will be punished and kicked out of the program if
they saw how I really struggled. Yes, I catastrophize everything, and no, it
does not help but only makes matters worse. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Upon discharge from North
Dakota, I was on around six thousand calories daily, but for some reason they
discharged me on 2000, as well as an exercise plan. Upon coming home, I
struggled intensely to get even close to 2000 calories in and by my second
weigh in I was apparently down quite a bit of weight. Alarmed, my team asked me
what happened and I told half the truth: I had been discharged from inpatient
on way below my body’s needs and was exercising on top of that, explaining the
weight loss. Since I “forgot” to tell them about struggling to get even close
to 2000 calories in, they assumed it was way too little which led to a drastic
increase. Now, I am being forced to eat a ridiculous amount all because of
telling half the truth; I guess it always pays to be honest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">The program has a very strict
protocol where any exchanges missed outside of treatment have to be made up in
treatment by adding to your current meal plan. Since I am already on a
ridiculous amount, I was terrified of being honest about my restriction and
having even MORE added, so I just kept quiet and lied on my diary cards, saying
I’d gotten all my exchanges in. Well, now this leaves me in a hole because I’ve
been lying all this time, struggling to get my meal plan in outside of
treatment but I face another increase since I’ve continued to lose, or at least
am not gaining (How do I know? Because I’ve secretly been weighing myself and
feeling a high, or rush, watching the numbers on the scale rapidly decrease). I
know I need to be honest and tell my team what’s been going on, but I’m
terrified of being kicked out of the program and it’s my last hope to getting
the surgery I so badly need. Maybe if I’m honest, they will decrease my meal
plan to a more manageable amount, but yet again, I risk the consequences of
vulnerability and transparency. I’m also torn because I know I need to gain weight
in order to have surgery and ultimately live, but there is a relentless battle
in my mind, distorting my perception and telling me I am not underweight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">So, when you happen to think of me, please pray that I’d
have the guts to be honest and transparent and that my treatment team would be
understanding and compassionate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Lying lips are an abomination
to the Lord, but those who act faithfully are his delight” (Proverbs 12:22).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“And you will know the truth, and
the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "colonna mt"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“The integrity of the upright
guides them, but the crookedness of the treacherous destroys them” (Proverbs
11:3).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-55245500930888879492014-09-06T15:38:00.003-04:002017-07-13T13:05:46.705-04:00The Meaning of Life <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What is this life about? Why was I put here on this earth? What
really matters? All these questions relentlessly haunt me as I reflect back on
my life and wonder where the time has gone and where my passion for living has
dissipated to. I’ve become so tired of fighting this deadly disease when the
truth of the matter is I was never created to fight alone, so why do I so
adamantly try? Each day I tell myself it will be different; tomorrow I’ll let
God have control, but it seems my flesh only creeps back in, clinging
desperately to control. Deep down in my heart I want to be free from this
misery, yet a part of me still believes I don’t deserve anything more</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">that pain is
the result of my imperfection and unworthiness. Honestly, moments without pain
and suffering scare me to death, as my flesh has become so accustomed to torture
that life without it seems wholly unnatural. As twisted as it may sound, pain
brings comfort to my afflicted flesh, convincing me I am safe and only
receiving what I deserve. So, in all sincerity, I’ve been running</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">unreservedly running</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">from what I
know God has called me to do: to surrender. Why is surrender so hard? Maybe it’s
because my flesh still doggedly cries out for control, hesitant to give it ALL up,
which is exactly what He has called me to do; all my dreams, plans and
ambitions</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><b><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">everything</span></b><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">. That’s why
I’ve been running: because I don’t want to give it all up, yet my trivial mind
fails to realize that once I give up all these fleeting and superficial desires,
I then make room for even <b>bigger </b>dreams
to abide. But what could be better than my own desires, my flesh persistently
wonders. I believe God has not called me to have all these answers, although my
flesh demands them with wholehearted aggression, because stepping out in blind
faith requires trust</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">the hardest thing for my flesh to do.
After being abused and taken advantage of, my flesh barbarically runs away from
all situations requiring trust because it is simply too painful to face. But, I
can’t spend my whole life running. I believe I have been called to more than
this, no matter how rigorously my flesh clings to the comforting sensation of
punishment and pain. I was not meant to despise food</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">the very
thing that sustains life</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">or torture myself with the comforting
sensation of starvation. My body was not intended to endure this unshakable
persecution, no matter how much my flesh argues otherwise. I was not intended
to be defined by a number, which is exactly what has happened; my flesh
desperately clings to a fading number for its identity, which is never enough;
the number is never low enough and only leaves me depressed, hopeless and absolutely
miserable. The more I allow myself to restrict, the more food terrorizes and
haunts me, becoming my greatest enemy. I’m tired of fighting this battle on my
own and running from God’s plans</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">plans I can’t
yet see but desperately believe are better than my own, which simply leave me
empty and broken. This week has been especially hard as I’ve watched what,
according to my own selfish and prideful desires to be seen, was my greatest
ambition and fought so hard to make happen suddenly occurring for others; why
didn’t they have to give up their dreams but I must give up everything, my
flesh cries out in agony? </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The heart of man plans his
way, but the Lord establishes his steps</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">”</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> (Proverbs
16:9). God has been teaching me that a life glorifying my fleshly abilities is
no life at all but instead the path to misery; I was not created to get through
life on my own, which only leads to pride and selfishness, but rather to
surrender all</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">even my greatest dreams and ambitions in order to
find something abundantly greater. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For by grace
you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the
gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">”</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> (Ephesians
2:8-9). I was not created to bring glory to my flesh, but to God’s miraculous
power; I was created to pour out His love and live a life of unselfishness,
worship and service, which is the exact opposite of what my flesh so adamantly
desires. My flesh longs to be seen and admired, but God has called me to
instead be defined by His love</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">the one thing that doesn’t
change, no matter how persistently I run away from it. I am not defined by my
achievements, failures, appearance or anything of this momentary life, but
instead by <b>Who</b> I belong to. No
matter how much my weight drops, it’s <b>never</b>
enough, but to God I’m enough simply as I <b>am</b></span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span></b><b><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">broken
and beautiful</span></b><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">. I no longer want to spend my life a slave to the
opinions and approval of this narcissistic world, which is meaningless and
forever unsatisfactory but rather to be fully surrendered to the King of the
Universe, which is what I was created for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Or do you not know that your body is a temple of
the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for
you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">”</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> (1
Corinthians 6: 19-20).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear
God and keep his </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">commandments, for this is the whole duty of man</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">”</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
(Ecclesiastes 12: 13).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Everyone who is called by my name, whom I created
for my glory, whom I formed and made</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">”</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> (Isaiah
43:7). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And be found in him, not having a righteousness
of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in
Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> that I may
know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings,
becoming like him in his death</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">”</span><span style="font-family: 18thCentury; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> (Philippians 3: 9-10). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-4136724953765275362014-08-17T20:41:00.001-04:002017-07-13T13:06:09.145-04:00Weddings and Dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
“The reason why many are still troubled, still seeking, still
making little forward progress is because they haven't yet come to the end of
themselves. We're still trying to give orders, and interfering with God's work
within us" (A W Tozer). <o:p></o:p></div>
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Why does life have to be so hard? I remember the day I got
the letter asking me to be a bridesmaid in my best friend’s wedding; I let out
a huge scream of joy after reading those words—that I was to be a bridesmaid
for the very first time in my life. I remember planning the special day with my
best friend and even starting a secret wedding board to organize all of our
ideas, since this is, after all, the happiest day in a woman’s life. I remember
sitting in a coffee shop as we discussed the bridesmaid dresses and other
wedding details, with the excitement rising. Since the bride was in the middle
of her most intense nursing semester and I had taken off due to medical
reasons, I helped her the best I could and spent a lot of time on Pinterest,
pinning ideas for the special day. I remember meeting the rest of the
bridesmaids at Applebee’s for the first time, discussing wedding details and
getting to know each other. I volunteered myself to help the maid of honor plan
the bridal shower and baccalaureate party, as well as help in any other way
possible since I had so much time on my hands due to taking the semester off;
as we began to plan, sitting at a corner table in Starbuck’s, watching the rain
pour, we instantly became close friends & had the majority of the shower planned
within an hour. Pinterest was our saving grace, as we could each see each other’s
pins & get neat ideas to throw the bride her dream shower. Many months were
spent planning this shower and as each day passed, I grew more excited for the
special day. I remember shopping for all the bridal shower decorations and
supplies with the maid of honor; I had my organized list of items to purchase,
as well as the budget to stick to, and we went up and down every aisle,
anxiously searching for each item. For months we gathered decorations and
supplies and stored them at the maid of honor’s cute apartment; as the items
kept increasing and the budget decreasing, the vision of a beautiful pink,
white & grey shower became increasingly more real. I spent many days
dreaming about the shower, wondering how I could make it more special for my
best friend and everything she’d ever dreamed. After we finally decided on a
venue and checked it out, familiarizing ourselves with the layout, all the
pieces started to come together. Everything was going smoothly, except for my
health; one of my greatest weaknesses is serving so much that I neglect my own needs,
and this was certainly no exception. As I spent weeks on end in the hospital,
my health only continued to decrease and we finally decided I could no longer
fight on my own and decided I’d go to an inpatient facility. Days later I
boarded a plane headed across the world—my new home for the next ten weeks, at
the least. I was determined, above all things, to reach my goal weight in time
for the wedding, which was about 9 weeks away; I told my treatment team my plan
& embarked on the hardest journey of my life—weight restoration. I never
thought I’d be asking for MORE food, but was desperate to hasten the process
and reach my goal; weeks upon weeks of eating thousands of calories and feeling
as if my stomach would explode from the entrance of one more calorie let me
exhausted but determined to reach my goal. After nine long, miserable weeks, I
did reach my goal weight; I told God that if I reached my goal weight the next
day, which they thought was impossible, it would be a sign that I should go to
the wedding; well, I did indeed reach it the next day and was convinced that God
wanted me to go to the wedding, despite the rising concerns around me. I was
determined to make the wedding—the day I’d been dreaming of for weeks upon end,
and nothing was going to stop me! However, my body didn’t agree with me and the
experts advised me to stay longer, since I still hadn’t reached maintenance
calories & was dropping weight as they decreased; however, I was still
determined to make the wedding, regardless of what the experts said, and told
my team I’d be leaving later that week, regardless of what they advised.
However, after calling my amazing therapist and listening to the warnings of
others, something no longer seemed right and I no longer had a peace about
leaving. After many tears, sobbing, anger, and frustration, I decided to give
up the wedding—the day I’d been planning and working so hard to reach—in order
to restore my health. Some things just don’t seem fair; why would God ask me to
give up something so important to me? Maybe it was because the wedding had
become my idol and there was no more room for God; I was so determined to make
the wedding that nothing else mattered. So, as I gave up my greatest desires, I
dethroned my idol and made room for God to abide. Now, as I see pictures of the
day I fought so hard to attend, my heart is filled with sadness and grief;
sadness I couldn’t be there, at my best friend’s side, as she married the man
of her dreams. I know God sometimes calls us to do hard things, but never did I
expect it to be this hard. I’m hoping beauty will come out of this pain,
because now it hurts more than words. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-45666149047753336772014-07-12T19:46:00.004-04:002017-07-13T13:06:27.944-04:00Identity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Do not fear,
for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will
strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My
righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10)”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Lord himself
goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged (Deuteronomy 31:8).”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I am forever
engaged in a silent battle in my head over whether or not to lift the fork to
my mouth, and when I talk myself into doing so, I taste only shame. I have an
eating disorder (Jena Morrow)”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anorexia
nervosa is the most deadly of all psychiatric illnesses, with the mortality
rate 12 times higher than that associated with all causes of death for females
15-24 years old. Why would one purposely starve herself to death yet still
strive to be thinner? One main reason this illness is so dangerous is due to
the unending competition to be the thinnest—never satisfied until death is on
the horizon, which for me was still not enough. Even though I was severely
malnourished and my body crying out for nourishment, weight gain was my
greatest fear because through my distorted eyes, I was not sick and didn't need help. To ED (short for eating disorder), I was <b>never</b> enough; he was like that
of an abusive spouse yet I always seemed to come running back into his
comforting yet life-stealing arms since I wholeheartedly believed I deserved
nothing more. I must punish myself for imperfection, I believed, and soon the
joy of living dissipated into the mists of the air, never again to be found.
Unrealistic expectations consumed me, taking their place at the forefront of my
battered and abused mind, convincing me to once again be inadequate. Eating
became the greatest punishment and sign of weakness, as the convulsing hunger
pains became my only source of comfort and stability in a world fighting to
steal my identity. Watching the numbers on the scale continue to drop gave me
an adrenaline rush and soon the number was never enough, since satisfaction is
not a word in an eating disorder’s dictionary. In the mind of an anorexic,
eating is the ultimate sign of weakness, so deception and manipulation became
my best friends to avoid its manifestation, since nothing else mattered but
starvation and the protruding existence of razor sharp bones; no matter how
frightfully they pierced through my paper thin skin, it was never enough. Time
and time again I lay in a hospital bed, connected to a myriad of tubes and
wires camouflaging my neglected and abused body as it simply fought to exist.
The hospital had become my <b>home</b>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For years too
many, this has been my life, or should I say mere existence, since it was not
living at all. Anorexia nervosa had become my idol and nothing else mattered in
my mind consumed by shame and self-hatred. The sensation of razor sharp bones
piercing through my skin and hunger pains radiating throughout my entire body
brought comfort to my disturbed mind, convinced I must punish myself for
imperfection of any kind and indeed deserved nothing more than adamant and
unrelenting pain. After years of abuse, I was convinced I’d never be enough, so
life became a competition to <b>prove</b>
my worth—that I was someone worth loving and fighting for. However, no matter how hard I tried,
I always fell short of my ever-increasingly unrealistic expectations—once again
experiencing the pain of rejection. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In order to
de-throne my idol and walk in freedom, I have to face what has become my
greatest enemy and foremost fear: food. Each time, as I lift the fork to my
mouth, adamant and unrelenting shame takes over as I’ve given in to the
unthinkable—weakness. I must retrain my mind to view food as my medicine rather
than greatest threat and do what I’ve come to see as greatest punishment: eat.
As the thought of even a single calorie brings absolute despair to my fear-consumed eyes, I must “do it afraid”, because there is no other way
through. My body can no longer take this
abuse, as I must learn to care for myself and accept imperfection. Essentially,
I must become like a child and start over, asking God to transform my
brokenness into beauty. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Since I could
not start over in my own insufficient strength, I decided to accept help and
headed across the world to North Dakota, where I’ve been for the past three
weeks. Convinced I was not sick or in need of help, I refused to eat and just
barely made it through the airport without blacking out; I was determined to <b>prove</b> myself, whatever that meant, once
again embracing competition to be the <b>best</b>,
however that looked. I must weigh the least amount possible—but it was <b>never</b>
enough. No matter how low the double digit number dropped, it was <b>never</b> enough.
As I entered the doors of treatment, convinced I was not sick, fear overtook my
body at the thought of giving up control—my worst nightmare. As all sense of dignity
was stripped from my being, I finally gave up and surrendered—putting my
vanishing life into the hands of my Creator. For the first few days I was
limited to my bed and forced to remain as still as possible in order to
prohibit my abused body from suffering any more harm or losing weight. Food was
delivered to my room and I was forced to do what I dreaded most: eat. In order
to avoid the potentially life-threatening effects of re-feeding syndrome, which
occurs in the most severe cases of starvation, I was forced to remain as still
as possible—limited to my bed due to the inadequate amount of food slowly
introduced into my victimized body. Every couple of days my calories would be
increased but activity must remain the same—nonexistent, which was far beyond
frustrating to my thrill-seeking mind. After many days of bed-rest and absolute
boredom, I begged to be permitted to attend programming and socialize with the
rest of the group, whom I hadn’t yet met. Slowly, I was allowed to leave my
room and attend groups, but not at a fast enough pace for my adventure-seeking
self. This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, as daily if not
moment by moment I must abandon my will, forsaking the things of this world and
fleshly desires so I can one day walk in freedom. God has become my Refuge and
under His wings I find shelter from the flaming arrows rigorously fired at my
soul. Without His strength, I would remain utterly helpless and without hope.
Each day is a chance to show God’s unrestrained strength, as He truly is the
only cure for this absurd disease. The skills they teach us here may be
temporarily beneficial but fail to solve the problem or answer the unthinkable
questions. God is the <b>only </b>solution.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Please continue
to cover me with your prayers, as I face my demons head on and de-throne all
idols. This journey at times seems hopeless and unrelenting, but the support
I’ve received is undeniably encouraging! Thank you for continuing to stand
behind me as I fight for freedom and discover my true identity! </span><span style="font-family: "bradley hand itc";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-65244321264339378542014-05-10T11:35:00.002-04:002017-07-13T13:06:44.204-04:00The Cry of My Heart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
God, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes I just hate Your plan, for how could You allow
such unthinkable pain to overtake me once again? I am too weary to stand, God.
I <b><span style="font-size: large;">want</span></b> to believe You are using this inconceivable pain to transform me and
bring me closer to Your perfection, but right now these mountains just seem too<b><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>insurmountable</b> for words. God, I write this with a waterfall of tears raging
from within me, for this pain is <u>too much</u> for me to bear on my own. Lord, You
are the only one who knows the intentions of my heart and hears the <b><span style="font-size: large;">desperation</span></b>
in my adamant cry. These past two and a half weeks have been far beyond brutal,
as <b><span style="font-size: large;">everything</span></b>—my entire flesh—is being stripped of me and replaced with Your
perfection. God, this stripping hurts more than words and most times I want
nothing more than to shrink back in fear and fall captive once again to the
comforting pains of anorexia but I<b> can’t</b> fight You; the harder I fight against
you, the louder ED’s voice rages and the closer to <b><span style="font-size: large;">death</span></b> I become. As food, what
has become my greatest fear and indisputable <b>enemy</b> is literally forced down my
throat in what one may see as gluttonous amounts, I want nothing more than to run away—to dig a
hole and hide from this inconceivable pain. As the weight, according to my anorexic mind, swiftly rolls on in
unhealthy amounts while I helplessly lie here in bed, I want nothing more than
to find refuge in Your strong and muscular arms and to feel the holes in your
palms—the holes formed so I can find refuge and comfort in You. Maybe this pain
isn't so bad—compared to the implausible pain Jesus so willingly suffered for
my sake. When it feels as if my neglected stomach will explode from the
entrance of one more calorie, I must remember the pain Jesus walked through simply
so I could be <b><span style="font-size: large;">FREE </span></b>of all pain and suffering. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>“They will see his
face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They
will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and
they will reign forever and ever.” Revelation
22: 4-5<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>“For I consider that
the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that
is to be revealed to us.” Romans 8:18<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God, sometimes it just doesn't feel fair. I asked for my
hospital stay to be extended because I didn't trust myself and desired freedom
above all else, but this has been taken advantage of and I wonder where the
depths of my small voice have <b>disappeared</b> to—why can no doctor hear them? Am I
<b>invisible</b> to them and simply a patient of which to test and prod—a patient
<b>without</b> a voice and succumbed to self-destruction? When will they hear my voice
and I be able to play a part in the decision-making process rather than
destined to the <b>standard</b> textbook treatments of which <b><span style="font-size: large;">prevent </span></b>the unique psychological
aspects of my being from consideration? God, help me to see Your face in this
unquenchable pain so I may gain inconceivable strength to walk <b><span style="font-size: large;">through</span></b> this
fire relentlessly raging against my tender and paper thin flesh. Strengthen me,
for I am too weak to stand. As each thought of food brings me to my end, give
me the strength to <b><span style="font-size: large;">overcome</span></b> these temptations to restrict and once again fall
captive to the comforting sensations of starvation and a desolate stomach. Keep
my mind <span style="font-size: large;"><b>off</b></span> of the oppressive discomfort my body displays as it fights to
survive, not yet convinced it’s <span style="font-size: large;"><b>safe</b></span> to trust me after all of the pain I've so
willingly put it through. Lord, be my Strength, for I have none left. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>“For because he himself
has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.” Hebrews 2:18<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just as You endured temptation, give me victory and help me to walk in the
path of your commands and live in the strength of Your will; lead me in Your
everlasting ways for I <b>don’t</b> want to live outside of Your ways. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>No temptation has
overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let
you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also
provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. 1 Corinthians 10:13<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As this feeding tube rigorously gags me and I desire nothing
more than to rip it out from within the depths of my once abandoned stomach,
give me the strength to <b><span style="font-size: large;">overcome</span></b> this temptation. Help me to<b> <span style="font-size: large;">believe</span> </b>the words
of 1 Corinthians 10:13: “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to
man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability,
but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be
able to endure it”. Help me not to fight
these hands that are holding me and swallowed the grave in order to give me
life. Lord, may the words of 1 Peter 5: 9-10 become<span style="font-size: large;"><b> true</b></span> for even me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>“Resist him, firm in
your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by
your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little
while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ,
will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-26328824295214312602014-05-04T19:23:00.004-04:002017-07-13T13:07:00.636-04:00Self Denial<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">“There is no magic cure, no making
it all go away forever. There are only small steps upward; an easier day, an
unexpected laugh, a mirror that doesn't matter anymore (Unknown)”.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">“Weight (too much or too little) is
a by-product. Weight is what happens when you use food to flatten your life.
Even with aching joints, it's not about food. Even with arthritis, diabetes,
high blood pressure. It's about your desire to flatten your life. It's about
the fact that you've given up without saying so. It's about your belief that
it's not possible to live any other way -- and you're using food to act that
out without ever having to admit it (Geneen Roth).”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">“I’ve never had anorexia, but I know
it well. I see it on the street, in the gaunt and sunken face, the boney chest,
the spindly arms of an emaciated woman. I’ve come to recognize the flat look of
despair, the hopelessness that follows, inevitably, from years of starvation. I
think: That could have been [me]. It wasn’t. It’s not (Harriet Brown).”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">God,
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Why
have You called me to such a daunting task—a task so far beyond my own
capability and even comprehension. Relentless pain has become an ever-present
part of my microbiota as You’re teaching me to fully trust and relinquish
control because without doing so this inconceivable battle will be the death of
me. Why have You chosen my fragile soul to endure such unthinkable pain, I
wonder as I prepare to surrender all dignity and be tube fed—my worst
nightmare. As the thought of even a single calorie paralyzes me with adamant fear
and weight gain becomes inevitable, I am forced to simply sit back and watch as
literally thousands of calories are forced down my throat and emotional support
is nowhere to be found but instead replaced with unending time to sit &
dwell on continual and debilitating anxieties since all activity is restricted
and these same four walls have become my home for the past two weeks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">“What
if I'm so broken I can never do something as basic as feed myself? Do you
realize how twisted that is? It amazes me sometimes that humans still exist.
We're just animals, after all. And how can an animal get so removed from nature
that it loses the instinct to keep itself alive (Amy Reed)?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";"> This is why I must run to God, my ever-present
Refuge because without His strength I could not go on, as this battle so far exceeds
my own incompetent ability. As I’m forced to order each meal despite the
ruthless temptations to restrict and give in to the comforting pains of
starvation, I must cling to my Savior, knowing He is my only hope and the One
Who holds the keys to unlock this heart of stone. ED’s voice rages as my body
continues to regain its strength, sometimes raging so ferociously I wonder if I
can even withstand it; this is why I asked to remain in the hospital longer—because
I knew if I were to go home I would be my biggest threat, giving in to the
comfort of starvation and protruding bones since my flesh is incomprehensibly
weak. “We turn skeletons into goddesses and look to them as if they might teach
us how not to need (Marya Hornbacher).” Even though the hospital is the last
place on earth I want to spend my weeks, restricted by the countless wires
camouflaging my fading body and under the complete control of the countless
doctors, I know I must deny myself, taking up my cross to follow Christ since
this is not the life I want to live—in fact, it’s no life at all. I don’t want
to spend the rest of my life captive to the debilitating fear of food and
admiration of the nonexistence of starvation but instead have measureless hopes
and dreams which are rapidly fading away as I approach death’s horizon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">“I
breathe in slowly. Food is life. I exhale, take another breath. Food is life.
And that's the problem. When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to
crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock
everybody out. But it's a lie (Laurie Halse Anderson).” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Each
second of every day I must fight against my flesh—fight to survive—since my
very own presence has become my worst enemy and biggest threat. I must learn to
take each thought captive and make it obedient to Christ, as well as crucify my
flesh so I may gain life. As the battle rages on, I am clinging to the hope
that it won’t always be this hard but these present troubles are simply “light
and momentary”, “producing a glory that vastly outweighs them all and will last
forever (2 Corinthians 4:17)”. “Whoever finds their life will lose it, and
whoever loses their life for my sake will find it (Matthew 10:39)”. Yes, I must
lose my life, giving up control, in order to find it. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wzWLCTRZgjw/U2gJwLk1czI/AAAAAAAAAfA/2iX-Gv1j-3o/s1600/take-up-your-cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wzWLCTRZgjw/U2gJwLk1czI/AAAAAAAAAfA/2iX-Gv1j-3o/s1600/take-up-your-cross.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-55008045316027317282014-04-27T21:33:00.001-04:002017-07-13T13:07:16.118-04:00Perfectly Surrendered<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">“The reason why many are still troubled, still seeking,
still making little forward progress is because they haven't yet come to the
end of themselves. We're still trying to give orders, and interfering with
God's work within us”</span></i><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">
(A.W. Tozer). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">“You cannot fulfil God's purposes for your life while
focusing on your own plans”</span></i><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">
(Rick Warren). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">“Now we cannot...discover our failure to keep God's law
except by trying our very hardest (and then failing). Unless we really try,
whatever we say there will always be at the back of our minds the idea that if
we try harder next time we shall succeed in being completely good. Thus, in one
sense, the road back to God is a road of moral effort, of trying harder and
harder. But in another sense it is not trying that is ever going to bring us
home. All this trying leads up to the vital moment at which you turn to God and
say, "You must do this. I can't” (C.S.Lewis). <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I believe it is true that we find God
when we are on our knees, in complete surrender and with nothing to offer but
absolute brokenness. Through my weaknesses, God has shown Himself strong as
each step I take isn’t possible without Him strengthening my feeble legs. Some
days I want nothing more than to run away from this relentless and unthinkable
pain but then I’m reminded that I must go <b>through
</b>the pain to get to the other side, which I’m trusting is more beautiful
than this so-called life of adamant <b>torture</b>.
As many of you may already know, I recently went inpatient for Anorexia
treatment and was there for about a month or so before being rushed to the ER
for a medical emergency and referred to a specialized surgeon who was alarmed
by the severity of my case and gave no option but invasive major surgery. I was
then immediately discharged from the inpatient facility, forced to leave and
find a treatment team, including a surgeon, on my own within twenty-four hours.
No, this was not ideal nor was it my preference, but it was reality. So, while
my family was on vacation in Florida, I had to find a way to get to my home four
hours away by car, increased in length due to a major snow storm. God’s plans
are definitely not my own, I’ve come to find out time after time, as He’s
teaching me to simply surrender, which may possibly be the hardest lesson of
all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">Mark 14:38 says, “Watch and pray so that
you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is
weak.” I can testify to the truth of this verse, as I want more than anything
to be<b> free</b> of this disease called Anorexia
Nervosa but my flesh is exceedingly weak and vulnerable; in fact, dependence on
the flesh leads to nothing but death, both spiritual and physical. I’ve tried
time and time again to do what I know is right but every time end up falling
hopelessly short because it is all out of the flesh, which as Jesus says, is exceedingly
<b>weak</b>. My flesh was not made to lead
but to surrender and remain in submission to and in awe of the Creator. After
completely relapsing and moving backwards from the progress made at the
inpatient facility, I’ve been trying for nearly three months to restore my
health in order to have surgery but setbacks seem to be more prominent than
leaps forward, since my pride hasn’t been shattered nor my will aligned with
God’s until Thursday—when I finally gave it ALL up and said “yes” to my
greatest fear: a feeding tube. This whole time I’ve been in denial, saying, in
my own distorted mind, “It’s not that bad” or “I’m not Anorexic since I’m not
thin enough or the best”; therefore I would never need a nasogastric tube in
order to remain nourished and thriving but could simply do it on my <b>own</b> stubborn will—even if it required
drinking the tube feeding, which is where my stubbornness lead me while
recovering at Remuda Ranch. However, I’ve come to realize that “apart from God
I can do nothing” (John 15:5) and “it is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh
is no help at all” (John 6:63). Each time I look ahead to the future and the
monumental amount of weight gain required simply to get into the triple digits,
I want to shrink back in fear—absolutely overwhelmed and hopeless, as well as
completely drained of strength. “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for
tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own”
(Matthew 6:34). And when I focus on the past and all of the mistakes I’ve made
as well as pain and trauma endured, I remain stuck. “Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do
you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the
wasteland” (Isaiah 43:19). So, in essence, all that’s left is the present,
which is exactly where God wants me—totally dependent on Him. I’ve learned, in
the words of Leigh Ann Brisbin, to “F.R.O.G. it”, or Fully Rely on God, which
is a lifelong process. With each calorie, my hands adamantly shake and my knees
tremble, which is why I must “F.R.O.G.” it, for there is no other way to get
through this everyday battle. The very thought of food sends stabbing shivers
down my manipulated spine, each time making me want to run away and hide,
finding shelter in starvation. This is why I agreed to having a tube threaded
down my nose, through my esophagus and into my stomach—because on my own I
cannot consume enough calories to keep from losing more weight. ED’s voice
rages each time the fork advances toward my mouth; if it were up to him, I
would be dead by now. </span><span style="font-family: "century" , serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">This past week, at my weekly doctor’s
appointment, a mass was noted in the right upper quadrant of my abdomen; I was
then hospitalized and tests performed to determine the cause of this mass, which turned out to
be my spinal hardware literally protruding to the other side and palpable to
the touch. I’ve become so malnourished that my rods and screws can now be
touched and felt with every slight movement, yet it’s still not enough. Laurie
Halse Anderson says it perfectly when she says, “The only number that would
ever be enough is 0. Zero pounds, zero life, size zero, double-zero, zero
point”. Despite how deafeningly ED’s voice rages, I fight with <b>each </b>breath to consume every calorie,
for food is the enemy yet also the only cure. I must walk through what I fear
most in order to experience freedom and life.</span><span style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "century" , serif; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">“In any given moment we have two options: to step forward
into growth or to step back into safety” (Abraham Maslow).</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-40z5V56evWA/U12vffeGXpI/AAAAAAAAAeI/AUxeCeVQSws/s1600/IMAG0035bnnbn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-40z5V56evWA/U12vffeGXpI/AAAAAAAAAeI/AUxeCeVQSws/s1600/IMAG0035bnnbn.jpg" width="362" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";"> In
<u>Kessa</u>, Steven Levenkron says, “She began to be reassured by these pains,
tangible symbols of her success in becoming thinner than anyone else. Her only
identity was being "the skinniest." She had to feel it.” Anorexia has
become my identity, although I know it is both demeaning and unrealistic—yet I
still cling to the number, which keeps getting smaller and smaller. There is no
satisfaction in anorexia; it is a life of misery and bondage inflicted by those
seeking relief from exceptional pain. However, I’ve failed to realize that this
pain can only be removed by the God of the Universe in Whose hands freedom
resides—and re-feeding very well may be the most uncomfortable,
counter-intuitive process of unthinkable bloating, stretching the stomach
beyond comprehension, nausea and absolute misery but this unglamorous process
is positively<b> imperative</b> in order to
gain a life of health and passion. Even though recovery often feels a hundred
times <b>worse </b>than the comfort and
numbness of starvation and razor sharp bones, it is the <b><u>only</u></b> way. “Recovery is a very unglamorous daily process of
being willing to fall down again, to break again, to cry again, to get up and
try again until success manifests as ever greater sustained healing” (Unknown).
So, according to Philippians 3:14, “I press on toward the goal to win the
prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus”. With each step
towards recovery, Christ is replacing Anorexia’s residence as my identity: a
Beloved Daughter of Christ through whom freedom is found. Freedom comes through
laying down my will at the foot of the cross and remaining perfectly
surrendered to God’s leading, even when the road seems too treacherous to bear.
So, as this tube persistently scrapes my throat and leaves me nauseous and
implausibly uncomfortable, I must press on because I was made for </span><b><span style="font-family: "clarendon"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 150%;">more: </span></b><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">I
choose to</span><b><span style="font-family: "clarendon"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> break free, </span></b><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">believing God has</span><b><span style="font-family: "clarendon"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif";">something
<b>greater </b>in store for me—yes, me—His
precious daughter.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-61290114262437322252014-03-29T16:42:00.000-04:002017-07-13T13:07:31.956-04:00Gut-Wrenching Honesty<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Lord, I am so exhausted from trying <b>once again</b> to fight this battle on my own; I so quickly and unknowingly
try to control everything, for my battered flesh has <b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">forgotten</span></b> how to trust. The wounds of my past continue to
haunt me and absolutely bring me to my knees. My weak and abused flesh wants
nothing more than to give up, for it is unthinkably weak yet strong-willed.
Lord, help me to <b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">wait upon </span></b><b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span>so strength
can rise. I feel so incredibly weak and want nothing more than to give up—to run
away from the battle that awaits me, for it seems never-ending; may I not become
overwhelmed with the future or even the past, but keep my eyes fixed on <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b> and the present
moment. Lord, defend me—the weak—and comfort me as I cry out in desperation and
adamant agony. Lift me up with wings like eagles so I can soar above the storm.
Help me to wait upon <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>; don’t let me move until <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You </span></b>move.
Be my strong deliverer. Defend me. Comfort me. Be my hope and my strong
deliverer—the Everlasting God. Keep my eyes fixed on <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You.</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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God, thank you that I could receive a letter of
encouragement from my friend today; this is such a sign that <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b> have my best interests in mind, but I’m
still terrified to do what’s right! God, take away this debilitating fear, for
I can’t afford to let it get the best of me. Keep my eyes fixed on <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You </span></b>and <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b> alone. Lord, my
spirit is willing but my flesh is weak Fill me with <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>r peace and help me to rise above this.
God, I just want to scream—why is this so hard; my flesh wants to run away, for
this pain is <b>more</b> than I can bear
and far more excruciating than simply remaining static and comfortable—forever enslaved
by the chains of my sinful nature and thorn in my flesh. I pray that <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>’d be the anchor for
my soul and help me to say “it is well”. Help me to put on the full armor of
God so I can take my stand against the devil’s wicked schemes and <b><u>remain </u></b>standing as he attacks me
with aggression and the overwhelming intention to annihilate my soul and
overall entire being. Help me to stand <b><u>firm</u></b>
with the belt of truth tightly buckled around my waist, keeping me centered on <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>r truth; may it
become the core of my being. Help me to put on the breastplate of righteousness
so I may be righteous and pure; may this armor shield my heart and keep it pure
and without blemish—as it was created. Keep my feet fitted with the readiness
that comes from the gospel of peace—the peace to do what’s right and readiness
to follow <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>
no matter what the cost. Help me to take up the shield of faith to extinguish all
the fiery arrows relentlessly shot at my vulnerable flesh. May this shield keep
these arrows from touching me—<b>before </b>they
can penetrate or even scrape my weak flesh, for I am more vulnerable and weak
than I may ever know. Help me to put on the helmet of salvation to keep my mind
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">centered</span></b> on and filled
with the truth of salvation and all I receive once this becomes reality; help
me to <b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">believe</span></b> and <b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">receive</span></b> all <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b> so willingly long to offer. May my
mind stay <b>focused </b>on these truths—the
truths of redemption and forgiveness—rather than these earthly and fleshly
desires fighting to <b>steal </b>my peace,
strength, attention, focus and satisfaction. Remind me of the <b><span style="font-family: "emmett";">reality</span></b>
these intriguing desires bring: the <b><span style="font-family: "emmett";">reality</span></b> that I’m <span style="font-family: "showcard gothic"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">never</span>
good enough, <span style="font-family: "showcard gothic"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">never</span> satisfied, and <span style="font-family: "showcard gothic"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">never</span> complete with the lies of Anorexia. Be my
hiding place. Help me to take the sword of the Spirit—the Word <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>’ve written—to
destroy the enemy and protect my weak soul; may he not leave victorious or know
the satisfaction of winning but instead thoroughly feel the sting of defeat
throughout his entire sly and deceitful being. Remind me I have everything I
need to walk in victory and convince me it’s worth it—that<b><span style="font-family: "kunstler script"; font-size: 90.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I</span></b><span style="font-size: 90.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span>am worth it. Remind me who
I am in <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>r
eyes, for I’ve hopelessly lost sight and remain completely blind to <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>r truths—to freedom.
My mind has become so used to this pain and remaining sick, miserable, numb,
but most of all <b><span style="font-family: "cracked johnnie";">dead</span></b>; help me to give up this false identity—this
idol—and to let go of being the “sickest” which remains wholly unattainable as
the enemy is <span style="font-family: "showcard gothic"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">never</span> satisfied until my
heart physically ceases to beat. Help me to <b>embrace</b> my new identity as <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>r daughter—<span style="font-family: "kunstler script"; font-size: 28.0pt; line-height: 115%;">a beloved <b>Princess</b> of the King</span>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Help me to believe <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>’re my only hope and that if <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>’re not with me, I won’t go. Help me to
not <b>fear</b> finding refuge in <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>r strong and
powerful arms but rather to <b><u>allow</u></b>
my dying soul to be embraced in love—to <b><u>allow</u></b>
myself to feel and be healed; may I not fear the piercing sensation of touch
but rather identify it as a source of comfort rather than pain. Help me to run
to <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>
rather than the lies and numbing of this world. Help me to move <b><span style="font-family: "emmett";">through</span></b>
the pain, no matter how much it hurts and remind me it’s only temporary. May I
forge new and healthy—but most of all Godly—pathways in the many folds of my
battered mind. Fill me with truth and overcome me; strip me of my deceitful
self and fleshly desires and fill me back up with truth so that it is only <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You </span></b>who remains in my
being. Help me to boldly step out and walk in faith, knowing the satisfaction and
contentment of making <span style="font-family: "clarendon";">right</span>
decisions as I wait on <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>. May I not take one step until <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b> go before me. Crucify my flesh! Lead
me all the way and help me not to doubt <b><span style="font-family: "stencil"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You</span></b>r tender mercy. Give me <b><span style="font-family: "acmefont";">grace </span></b>for every trial.
Lead me and keep my feet from falling. Be my strong deliverer! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-37704394171663944752014-03-26T21:38:00.002-04:002017-07-13T13:20:44.459-04:00Armor of the Lord<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Finally,
be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so
that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is
not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities,
against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil
in the heavenly realms. Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so that when
the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have
done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled
around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with
your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition
to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the
flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of
the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the spirit on all occasions
with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always
keep on praying.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ephesians 6:10-18</span></i><span style="font-family: "century" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lord,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I give this day to You, for I am tired of trying to <b>control</b> everything and ending up
depressed, hopeless, frustrated and utterly exhausted. I was not made to
control but to surrender yet I grasp these chains with unyielding strength,
even though they’re <b>suffocating</b> me.
Help me to <b>believe</b> I deserve more
than this—that I don’t deserve the gruesome and blood-curdling pain I inflict
upon myself to numb the relentless and debilitating feelings of shame and guilt
I’ve grown accustomed to for something completely <b>out</b> of my control. Help me to see <b>truth</b>: that it was not my fault, nor do You blame me for the
heartless injustice uttered toward Your vulnerable, innocent and pure little
girl—Your prized possession. Show me that although no one else heard her
piercing and desperate cries for protection and deliverance—that You heard and <b>wept </b>for the unthinkable injustice she’d
silently endured. Remind this wounded and bleeding little girl that pain is not
of You but of the hater of her soul and although it may sting with burning and
skin-peeling aggression, You and You alone can bring beauty from the injustice and
gently bandage her gushing wounds, bringing forth healing and redemption.
Although walking through the pain is far <b>more</b>
uncomfortable and seems wholly impossible, remind her that it’s only temporary
and absolutely necessary in order to move forward. And when this girl wants
nothing more than to run back into the welcoming and comfort-filled arms of
pain, for it’s all she’s ever known, remind her that she deserves so much <b>more</b>—that she was not created for pain
and to simply go through the motions but rather to embrace life with passion,
spontaneity, joy, and unrestrained courage. Help her to put on the full armor
of God so she can declare her stand against the schemes of her heartless
aggressor. Help her to stand firm with the belt of truth tightly buckled around
her waist so she can see past and resist the devil’s lies; with the breastplate
of righteousness in place to guard her wounded and bleeding heart—the overspring
of life—so it can once again burst forth with life and unquenchable passion;
with her feet fitted with the readiness of the gospel of peace—forever at rest
with the peace of God and therefore revitalized and ready to fight and take her
stand for the spot You’ve saved for her precious soul created solely in Your perfect
image; to embrace her place in this world as a light in the darkness and
instrument of God; to take up the shield of unwavering faith so she can
extinguish the flaming arrows of the evil one <b>before</b> they breed destruction, so they can in no way harm her; to
take the helmet of salvation protecting her mind—the battleground—from the lies
of hopelessness, depression and shame only to embrace the <b>truth</b> of salvation, which is freedom, life, unquenchable passion,
joy and every other good thing You’ve promised to those who believe; to accept
everything You <b>long</b> to offer her—everything
of value; to take the sword of the Spirit—the Word—to fight against the hater
of her soul and perfector of deceit. Help her to pray without ceasing, forever
in Your presence of safety and grace, and to always be alert and aware of the
enemy’s schemes as he waits like a lion, momentarily ready to pounce on his
unexpecting victim with relentless and unyielding aggression. Give her everything she needs to walk in
victory and embrace the life You’ve created for her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-65045379555482096432014-02-04T22:48:00.000-05:002017-07-13T13:08:36.608-04:00The Refining Power of Humility <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #ff33cc; font-family: "segoe print";">“Humble
yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due
time.” 1 Peter 5:6<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #7F7F7F; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=50000 lumo=50000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 128;"> What is humility? According to
Merriam-Webster.com, it is “the quality or state of not thinking you are better
than other people”. In essence, humility is the exact opposite of pride, which according
to Merriam-Webster.com, is “a deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s
own achievements or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired”. To
me, the difference between humility and pride can be seen in the ability to
accept oneself fully as God’s perfect creation, not having to prove oneself through
outward actions or appearance: someone who is ok to just “be”. It is the
ability to care more about what God thinks about you and how you represent Him
rather than superficial things such as outward appearance and personal achievements.
Humility is mainly concerned with “what would God think” whereas pride focuses
on “what would people think”. In my opinion, humility is one of the hardest
lessons to learn since it implies such brutal self-denial and the afflictive
stripping of pride: the core of a fallen and hopelessly sinful human-being; this requires
completely ridding oneself of what is comfortable, familiar and innate in order
to pursue something so unnatural and seemingly absurd. One must be crazy, in my
opinion, to ask God to teach them humility, but it is essential to Christianity
and in essence, aren’t all Christians a little “crazy” in the world’s eyes? According
to Proverbs 11:2, “Pride leads to disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #7F7F7F; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=50000 lumo=50000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 128;"> Today just may have earned its status as
the most humbling and/or embarrassing day, of which there have been many, of my
life. God’s plans are not my own—that is for sure—but yet when I simply let go
of my pride & selfish desires, His plans become oh so beautiful and
absolutely perfect! As some of you may know, I’ve recently been struggling with
a severe case of rectal prolapse, which is extremely rare for someone of my age;
although the professionals have told me it’s most likely not due to my history
of anorexia, I still wonder if it didn’t play a part; although I may never know
if this sudden emergency came about due to the lack of food and peristalsis in
my colon which in turn led to muscle weakness or possibly due to laxative abuse
weakening my pelvic floor, I am convinced it at least played a part. Despite
how it came about, however, I was informed by several doctors, surgeons, and
specialists that it was severe enough to require surgery; in fact, that surgery
was the only option since it’d become so advanced. I won’t go into the details
just yet about how I found out about this condition, since it is such a long
story, but I will, however, tell you about my crazy day—when I once again
tiptoed on death’s unexpected horizon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #7F7F7F; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=50000 lumo=50000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 128;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #7F7F7F; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=50000 lumo=50000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 128;"> In order to ensure there were no other
problems going on inside of me, the surgeon recommended I have a colonoscopy
done to allow for detailed internal visualization. For those of you who don’t
know, a colonoscopy entails inserting a small camera through the anus and into
the colon to look for any abnormalities such as polyps (abnormal
masses/growths); in order for clear visualization to be possible, however, the
colon must be <b>completely</b> rid of all
wastes (did you know that the colon is as long as we are tall and that for <b>every</b> foot of colon we can store around
<b>5-10 pounds</b> of waste; so, with me
being a little over five feet tall, this means I had to get rid of 25-50 lbs of
feces—had my colon been completely full) which is accomplished through a strict
(and brutal, I must add) preparation regime the day prior to the procedure.
This prep involved taking 7 laxatives, a full bottle of magnesium citrate and
fleet enema as well as maintaining a clear liquid diet until midnight, with no
food or drink the day of the procedure. Since my body is still malnourished,
this preparation literally sent it over the edge, as my body couldn’t handle the excessive vomiting and diarrhea resulting from the large amount of laxatives and dehydration. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #7F7F7F; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=50000 lumo=50000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 128;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #7F7F7F; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=50000 lumo=50000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 128;"> This morning, as I awoke to an
overwhelmingly nauseous stomach and uncontrollable bowels, I finished the prep
and quickly got ready for what would become the adventure of a lifetime. With
my stubborn spirit and prideful attitude, I refused to be wheeled to my
destination in a wheelchair but rather insisted on walking the entire way,
despite the fact I could barely move without being overtaken with an
overwhelming sense of nausea and lightheadedness (of which I of course kept to
myself) since I’d had nothing to eat for over 24 hours and had lost excessive
amounts of fluid and electrolytes due to vomiting and diarrhea. As I was
exiting the elevator, my mom noticed me suddenly stop and grab hold of the
elevator’s edge and say, “I’m going to pass out”, so she quickly ran to catch
me before I hit the ground, as my legs crumbled beneath me. For the next five
minutes or so I completely lost consciousness, as a doctor frantically tried to
keep me awake while a nurse ran for a wheelchair; they then (although I don’t
recall ever being in a wheelchair or even entering the ER) set me in the
wheelchair, with my mom holding my head to keep it from falling, and literally
ran me through several hallways into the Emergency Room. During the frantic
rush, my mom, while holding onto my limp head, distraughtly asked if I was still breathing </span><span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print";">since she says I resembled a deceased person in a casket, and</span><span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print";"> told the doctors and nurse that I was anorexic; they
<b>immediately</b> stopped--dropping everything--to take my pulse in order to ensure I was in fact still alive, ensuring my heart hadn't ceased to beat. As soon as we reached
an empty room, I was transferred to a bed, my clothing stripped and an EKG
performed to ensure my heart was beating normally; I finally regained
consciousness as the EKG was being performed and looked around to see where on
earth I’d ended up, since I last recalled being on an elevator. As I was gaining
consciousness, with light fading from dark to light and sounds
disappearing/reappearing, I began to convulsively “dry heave” and they
immediately held a barf bag up to my mouth, even though there was nothing left to
come out. The EKG came back normal and then an IV was immediately inserted into
my arm to allow for rapid hydration into my severely dehydrated and shriveled
cells; several tubes of blood were then taken to monitor my electrolytes and then immediately sent to the lab for STAT evaluation. Once the room calmed down a little and I was able
to begin to relax, I noticed an intense pressure in my abdomen and immediately
recognized it as the onset of uncontrollable diarrhea, but fought to hold it in
while the doctor asked me questions; as soon as he left, I sheepishly asked the
nurse for a bed pan, which I must say was one of the most <b>humbling</b> experiences
of my life; with working in the Intensive Care Unit as a nurse tech, I’ve
assisted countless patients to use the bed pan and can now<b> fully</b> understand the
utter embarrassment and shame accompanying its presence. I believe it’s true that
no one can understand or empathize with someone in the way that one can had
they <b>also</b> been through it; personal experience is such a gift (although it may
not seem like it) not just to the individual but to countless others who’ve also
struggled with the same thing.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #7F7F7F; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=50000 lumo=50000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 128;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: "segoe print"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #7F7F7F; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=50000 lumo=50000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 128;"> After a full bag of IV fluid had been
administered into my veins at a rapid pace and Zofran (an anti-nausea med) had
pretty well diminished my nausea/vomiting, I was wheeled to endoscopy where my
colonoscopy was to be performed, since we’d contacted the surgeon to explain
what’d happened and then decided to go ahead with the procedure so I wouldn’t
have to go through the prep again. After a multitude of papers were signed, I
was wheeled into the procedure room; here they allowed me to watch the entire
procedure and ask questions rather than being anesthetized and put to sleep,
which would be dangerous due to my low weight. I was able to visualize my
colon, which was as clean as a whistle due to all the prep work, and after what
seemed like five minutes, the surgeon informed me we were done and that
everything looked great. Shortly after finishing the procedure, I was allowed
to be discharged. I was absolutely blown away by the quality of care I’d
received and truly felt understood and worthwhile, which has been a rare
occurrence with my past medical history. I had fun conversing with the nurses
and asking them questions, reminding me of why I am still wholeheartedly
pursuing a career in nursing; I’m so grateful for <b>every</b> experience I’ve been
given, no matter how painful, because I know they will <b>ultimately</b> mold me into
the best nurse I can be: full of compassion and most of all, understanding,
since experience is the greatest teacher. Humility is not a fun lesson to
learn, but in the end the benefits far outweigh the negatives! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2638011201480907988.post-84961365973773501332013-10-15T19:00:00.000-04:002017-07-13T13:08:55.900-04:00Once Again Spared<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“</span><span style="font-family: "borealis"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so it was,
that she, having waited long and endured patiently, realized and obtained what
God had promised.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">”</span><span style="font-family: "borealis"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Hebrews 6:15<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">They
say that when you give up everything: dreams, ambitions and all, that God then
has the chance to bring beauty into your life. Why is it that we—stubborn,
insufficient and wholly incompetent beings—are convinced to know best? After
today, I have never been more convinced that God is in control, even if we wholeheartedly
run away from His mercy in order to dwell in our sin. Through scars inflicted
by legalism, I’ve always believed God would only accept me if I followed His
commandments “to the tee”, living in false perfection and unabridged pride; I
also believed pain was a result of imperfection: a punishment for falling short
of God’s glory, which we are all destined to do. Through these scars, it’s been
immensely difficult for me to accept God’s love after believing I’d never been
worthy, which is true yet the reason for the blood shed on the Cross. I’ve been
running away, fearing the extent of His punishment after the immense extent of
my sins, when all He wants is for me to turn back, running like a little child
into His loving and protective arms of love. Today, as I sat in my hospital
bed, discouraged from hearing the news that I can’t yet be discharged, God
showed me just what He means by forgetting our pasts and merely wanting to
drench His children in love, mercy and beautiful profits. One thing I’ve been
called to give up is my job as a nurse tech in the ICU, which was an amazing
experience but just too much for me to handle right now, due to the high
stress, responsibilities, and expectations of nursing school as well as
fighting for my life against the lethal demons of anorexia nervosa and
suffering physically from its effects on my body. As I waited to hear back from
my supervisor, with anxiety building with each second, I was convinced this
would be a disaster, affecting any future employment I may seek out. However,
after listening to a </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">voice-mail</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> having come during my consultation with my doctor,
I was absolutely blown away. The </span></span><span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">voice-mail</span></span><span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> was from my current supervisor in the
ICU, saying she completely understands my situation and is willing to take me
off of all schedules, without having to hand in my two week notice; she was
sorry to see me go, and even offered to return my job back should I ever desire
to come back, since I’d been “such a good addition to their staff with my
optimism, bubbly attitude, hard work, quick learning & willingness to
fulfill any task, as well as, apparently, many families and patients
complimenting my care and positively energetic spirit”. I am still in awe of
God’s mercy and grace, as nothing I have done is worthy of such credit and acknowledgement.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Yesterday, as my physician came into my room to
see how I was doing, she told me some immensely eye-opening facts, helping me
to realize just how lucky I am to be alive. She told me that never, in all her
years of practice with eating disorders, had she seen anyone so sick from
anorexia nervosa; had I waited one more day to come in, I most likely would not
have survived. She also said she’d never been so scared for a person in her
life and hopes to never have to experience that again; she was torn as whether
or not to send me to the ICU, which would only give me immediate IV fluids, or
to send me to the regular floor which had less supervision should something
happen but provided for a longer stabilization period. She explained to me that
normally in anorexia, peripheral hypothermia and cyanosis is normal, but with
me it was central, or all over (as indicated by thick lanugo covering my body,
but especially my back), indicating my body was so malnourished that all
systems were shutting down to preserve and shunt the energy to vital organs
such as my brain and heart. She also explained that the reason my heart rate is
normal when I’m dehydrated is because my body has learned to survive off of
dehydration; now that </span></span><span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">they've</span></span><span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> hydrated me, my body has gone into panic mode, dropping
my heart rate into the thirties. Through all of this stress </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">I've</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> put my body
through, my heart has been affected, and so I may always have a low heart rate,
averaging in the forties rather than the normal range of 60-100. My blood
pressure has also failed to normalize, despite the large amount of IV fluids, </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">re-hydration</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> and nutrition, which is also a concern. So, I’ve been here a total
of seven days tomorrow, and in order to be discharged, my heart rate must
maintain within the forties, no nighttime episodes of drastic heart rate
decelerations can occur as they have been, I must gain or at least begin to
gain the weight I lost since being taken off of IV fluids, I must eat 100% of
my meal plan (regardless if I like what they send up or not) and my blood
pressure must remain normalized for 24 hours. They’ve also kept me longer due to
starting me on a new med which has a high risk of toxicity, and due to my low
weight, they want to monitor to make sure the right dose is found and make sure
I don’t get overdosed with a toxic amount of the medicine in my blood. So, all
in all, it’s not all bad; even though I’m beyond tired of confinement within these
tight corners of a hospital room, staring at the same five walls for nearly
seven days now, I’ve learned many irreplaceable lessons I’d never experienced
had I not decided to make the right choice: no, not the easiest choice by any
means, but instead the exact opposite—the choice to be real and seek help,
losing all control in order to gain my life. Through this experience, I’ve seen
many nurses and have discovered just which nurses I never want to be like; </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">they've</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> taught me how </span></span><b style="font-family: 'Baskerville Old Face', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">not</b><span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> to take care of
and treat patients; but then there are others who have showed me how a nurse was
</span></span><b style="font-family: 'Baskerville Old Face', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">intended</b><span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> to act: to care for
patients in a selfless way, treating them kindly even if they may not deserve
it, checking in frequently to see if they need anything, maintaining a cheerful
attitude while serving, and doing the things most would consider lowly or
undesirable. Each nurse has taught me something, both good and bad, allowing me
to build upon my own nursing philosophy and how I want to treat patients and
approach nursing in general. Also, through experiencing the philosophy of yet
another physician, I have discovered what does and most of all, what </span></span><b><span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">doesn't</span></span><span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: "baskerville old face" , serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">work for eating disorders and
can use this information in the future to help develop the best possible approach
to eating disorder treatment. Eating
disorders still remain absolutely misunderstood, overlooked, minimized,
stereotyped and belittled, so my goal as a medical provider is to use my own
knowledge and experiences, combining it all with current evidence based
practice in order to develop a protocol or customized approach to treatment, in
hopes that eating disorders can be eradicated or at least better understood and
treated. Right now, in this current day and age, as I suffer to find a
treatment team that actually understands eating disorders but is also
affordable, I’ve come to find that Ohio and even the United States in general
really </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">doesn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> have many options, at least quality ones. As eating disorder
prevalence only continues to increase, this needs to change; we cannot afford
to offer poor care to suffering individuals and expect them to ever walk in
freedom. What we need is a proven, conceptualized, holistic and most
importantly faith based approach so that those suffering don’t have to be
hospitalized time and time again, as I have experienced. We need to get to the
root of the matter: the heart of the disease in order for any progress to be
made. I believe God is still teaching me, through my past, current and future
experiences, exactly what this approach resembles because He is, after all, the
Healer of all and holds the key to all impenetrable locks. Maybe this is part
of why I’ve been called into nursing: to provide care and advocate for those
suffering from the life-threatening illness of an eating disorder. All I know
is that wherever He leads, I will boldly follow, even if it brings me through
more pain than this world may ever comprehend. The pain will be well worth it,
as the empathy, compassion and knowledge I’ve gained and continue to gain far
exceeds the temporary sensations of traumatizing pain. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08379647792694763327noreply@blogger.com1