Weddings and Dreams

“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).

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. 

Identity

“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)”.

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).”

“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)”.

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 never 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 home.

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 prove 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.

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.

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 prove myself, whatever that meant, once again embracing competition to be the best, however that looked. I must weigh the least amount possible—but it was never enough. No matter how low the double digit number dropped, it was never 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 only solution.

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! 

The Cry of My Heart

God,

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 want 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 insurmountable for words. God, I write this with a waterfall of tears raging from within me, for this pain is too much for me to bear on my own. Lord, You are the only one who knows the intentions of my heart and hears the desperation in my adamant cry. These past two and a half weeks have been far beyond brutal, as everything—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 can’t fight You; the harder I fight against you, the louder ED’s voice rages and the closer to death I become. As food, what has become my greatest fear and indisputable enemy 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 FREE of all pain and suffering.

“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

“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

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 disappeared to—why can no doctor hear them? Am I invisible to them and simply a patient of which to test and prod—a patient without 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 standard textbook treatments of which prevent 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 through 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 overcome these temptations to restrict and once again fall captive to the comforting sensations of starvation and a desolate stomach. Keep my mind off of the oppressive discomfort my body displays as it fights to survive, not yet convinced it’s safe to trust me after all of the pain I've so willingly put it through. Lord, be my Strength, for I have none left.

“For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.”  Hebrews 2:18

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 don’t want to live outside of Your ways.

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

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 overcome this temptation. Help me to believe 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 true for even me.

“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.”

Self Denial

“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)”.

“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).”

“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).”

God,

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.

“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)?”

 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.

“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).”

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. 

Perfectly Surrendered

“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).

“You cannot fulfil God's purposes for your life while focusing on your own plans” (Rick Warren).

“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).

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 through the pain to get to the other side, which I’m trusting is more beautiful than this so-called life of adamant torture. 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.

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 free 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 weak. 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 own 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. 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 each 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. “In any given moment we have two options: to step forward into growth or to step back into safety” (Abraham Maslow).

 In Kessa, 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 imperative in order to gain a life of health and passion. Even though recovery often feels a hundred times worse than the comfort and numbness of starvation and razor sharp bones, it is the only 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 more: I choose to break free, believing God has something greater in store for me—yes, me—His precious daughter.

Gut-Wrenching Honesty

Lord, I am so exhausted from trying once again to fight this battle on my own; I so quickly and unknowingly try to control everything, for my battered flesh has forgotten 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 wait upon You 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 You 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 You; don’t let me move until You move.  Be my strong deliverer. Defend me. Comfort me. Be my hope and my strong deliverer—the Everlasting God. Keep my eyes fixed on You.

God, thank you that I could receive a letter of encouragement from my friend today; this is such a sign that You 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 You and You alone. Lord, my spirit is willing but my flesh is weak Fill me with Your 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 more 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 You’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 remain standing as he attacks me with aggression and the overwhelming intention to annihilate my soul and overall entire being. Help me to stand firm with the belt of truth tightly buckled around my waist, keeping me centered on Your 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 You 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—before 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 centered on and filled with the truth of salvation and all I receive once this becomes reality; help me to believe and receive all You so willingly long to offer. May my mind stay focused on these truths—the truths of redemption and forgiveness—rather than these earthly and fleshly desires fighting to steal my peace, strength, attention, focus and satisfaction. Remind me of the reality these intriguing desires bring: the reality that I’m never good enough, never satisfied, and never complete with the lies of Anorexia. Be my hiding place. Help me to take the sword of the Spirit—the Word You’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 I am worth it. Remind me who I am in Your eyes, for I’ve hopelessly lost sight and remain completely blind to Your truths—to freedom. My mind has become so used to this pain and remaining sick, miserable, numb, but most of all dead; 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 never satisfied until my heart physically ceases to beat. Help me to embrace my new identity as Your daughter—a beloved Princess of the King.

Help me to believe You’re my only hope and that if You’re not with me, I won’t go. Help me to not fear finding refuge in Your strong and powerful arms but rather to allow my dying soul to be embraced in love—to allow 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 You rather than the lies and numbing of this world. Help me to move through 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 You who remains in my being. Help me to boldly step out and walk in faith, knowing the satisfaction and contentment of making right decisions as I wait on You. May I not take one step until You go before me. Crucify my flesh! Lead me all the way and help me not to doubt Your tender mercy. Give me grace for every trial. Lead me and keep my feet from falling. Be my strong deliverer! 

Armor of the Lord

“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.”

Ephesians 6:10-18

Lord,

            I give this day to You, for I am tired of trying to control 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 suffocating me. Help me to believe 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 out of my control. Help me to see truth: 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 wept 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 more 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 more—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 before 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 truth 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 long 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. 

The Refining Power of Humility

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.” 1 Peter 5:6

        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”.

        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.

        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 completely rid of all wastes (did you know that the colon is as long as we are tall and that for every foot of colon we can store around 5-10 pounds 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.

        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 since she says I resembled a deceased person in a casket, and told the doctors and nurse that I was anorexic; they immediately 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 humbling 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 fully 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 also 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.

        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 every experience I’ve been given, no matter how painful, because I know they will ultimately 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! 

Once Again Spared

“And so it was, that she, having waited long and endured patiently, realized and obtained what God had promised.” Hebrews 6:15

                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 voice-mail having come during my consultation with my doctor, I was absolutely blown away. The voice-mail 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.

               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 they've hydrated me, my body has gone into panic mode, dropping my heart rate into the thirties. Through all of this stress I've 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, re-hydration 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; they've taught me how not to take care of and treat patients; but then there are others who have showed me how a nurse was intended 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 doesn't 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 doesn't 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. 

All-Consuming Pain

“When you try to control everything, you enjoy nothing. Sometimes you just need to relax, breathe, let go, and just live in the moment” (Unknown).

“And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in” (Unknown).

 “You validation of beauty and sense of acceptance is not the width of your waist or the number you see on the scale” (Unknown).

Pain may be the only constant in life—the one thing I am incessantly destined for. How does it feel to live a moment without it, I continuously wonder, and sometimes am left terrified at the thought of going even one instant apart from my one lifetime companion. To some, pain may be a nuisance or even terrifying, but to my cruelly wounded mind, it is nothing but expected. As I sit here in the hospital bed, once more hooked up to a myriad of wires and tubes, I wonder how it feels to live a life of freedom—free from these chains they’ve inflicted upon me and even worse, the antagonistic chains I’ve freely inflicted upon myself. I know I’ve lived in freedom once before, but right now this pain has become so normal that all sense of freedom has been drowned out by the tumultuous noise of life.

On Wednesday morning, after sustaining multiple days of what we think to be the stomach virus which forbid any nutrients to enter my already malnourished system, I called my PCP (primary care physician) to see if, by any miracle, there would be any openings available for me to take; it turned out there was one available—within a half hour. Needless to say, I rushed into the shower, dried my hair in record speed, and threw on some clothes while my mom so graciously packed my bags for what we figured to be a long hospital stay. I was feeling so severely nauseous, lightheaded, and lethargic that I could scantly move but even a centimeter without having to sit back down for rest, making sure I didn’t lose consciousness. Once I arrived at the hospital office, I was directly sent to the laboratory for STAT labwork which would then be analyzed to determine the severity of my condition and the treatment regime indication. Once put in a room, I plopped my severely compromised body onto the analyzing table and lay in “fetal position” until the doctor came in. She entered in a hurry, along with a young male medical student, and frantically informed me I’d lost five more pounds; she then left the male student to examine me & ask more questions than I ever thought possible in such a short amount of time, while the lab results pended. Once his assessment was complete and all details filled in, he and the doctor discussed the findings and came up with a treatment plan. They then entered with news that I was severely, severely dehydrated, malnourished as indicated by peripheral cyanosis (bluish purple skin), lanugo (fine hair found on premature infants) covering my body, dead skin (from my body shunting its blood supply to only the most essential organs) that just stayed on my back rather than peeling off since it took too much energy of which was already maxed out, dangerously low blood pressure (hypotension) and heart rate (bradycardia), dry skin and unquenchable cold to name but a few, and critically low electrolytes—the most important, potassium, at a low of 1.89 (normal is 3.5-5.0). They then informed me I’d have to be admitted, so I was wheeled up to the all too familiar inpatient floor of which I’ve earned my status as a regular and settled into my very own room. Immediately I was hooked up to telemetry, since my potassium was such a life-threatening low, and three attempts were taken to start an IV on my nearly nonexistent veins—all of which fell short. A Doppler was then sought after to find a sufficient vein by ultrasound, since none were visible or even palpable due to severe dehydration; once a vein was found, a 22-gauge catheter was threaded into it & maneuvered until blood returned into the hub, indicating proper placement. I nearly jumped for joy when the nurse announced she’d gotten the IV in, as they’d already blown up three veins and were running out of options. My IV fluid was changed literally ten times before determining exactly what my suffering body needed, and once the final decision was made, the bag was spiked and the line primed in order to prevent air embolism—a potentially fatal complication of IV therapy. Finally, once the IV was running and all doctors had finished their many questions, I could relax, only to be told I’d be NPO (nothing by mouth) for the next twenty four hours in order to allow my nauseous belly time to rest; this was the worst possible news, as I hadn’t been able to keep anything down for three days already and could feel my intestines churning in agony and desperation for even but a sip of fluid and my lips nearly sealed shut due to dehydration.

Finally, late Thursday morning, the Dr. allowed me to eat solid foods, but there was a catch: Id no longer be able to choose what I wanted to eat, but instead all decisions would be made by a licensed dietitian of whom had no idea what I liked or disliked; so in other words, all sense of control was stripped from me and literally no decisions to be made while admitted, which is my worst possible nightmare. Not even meal times are allowed to be determined by me, as I literally have no say in anything and have never been more frustrated; I’m supposed to gain weight, but how is that possible when the majority of the food sent to me tastes like trash? Each time the tray comes, anxiety grips me like a ton of bricks, absolute panic overtaking me only to feel as if I could literally decompose from a heart attack; the unknown terrifies me and the absolute loss of control leaves me wanting to scream, as all sense of dignity is adamantly stripped from my being. I’ve already gained over eight pounds from IV fluid which leaves me wanting to curl up in a ball and die, as this is an anorexics worst nightmare, now convinced I’ll “balloon up” after but a miniscule increase in calories. I am trying with all of my strength to fight these lies, because I know I cannot live like this much longer, but the urges to restrict just keep getting stronger and stronger. “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). When will this war end and will I able to eat half a sandwich in a normal amount of time rather than over sixty minutes? When will a milkshake touch my lips without trembling overtaking my compromised and fear-absorbed body? When will I allow myself water rather than relying on this needle in my vein for hydration? Will life ever be normal again, or will this hospital bed remain my safety net forever? When will I learn to put the needs of my mind, body and soul first rather than the happiness of others?

I recently started a job in the ICU as a nurse technician, in hopes it’d be the answer to my prayers and the key to happiness—all out of complete and absolute selfishness, I’ve been there for about a month now, but have never felt so incomplete and unsure; after about a week into it, I felt a still small voice telling me this was not for me, but I stubbornly ignored it, convinced only I knew best. However, each week I’ve found myself becoming increasingly less joyful and more stressed due to the strenuous demands of constantly lifting obese and comatose patients, running back and forth to meet each patient’s needs, wiping incontinent butts, stocking medical supplies, answering phones—the list goes on and on, yet there is only one of me. I find myself working more than I ever signed up for, with nearly no time left for schoolwork, which is my main priority, yet I don’t want to give this up since it’s good money and I’m a poor college student as well as informed a nurse tech job is the best thing I can do for myself in terms of experience. Despite all this, I now in my heart my malnourished body can’t take all of the drug-resistant microorganisms and heavy lifting in the ICU as well as the constant restriction of food and water I allow myself due to the constant chaos—my health is on the line and a decision must be made. I can’t afford to lose my health nor my passion for nursing, which I find is rapidly evaporating with every moment spent at work. God, I think I know what you want me to do, but how will I be sure? I’m terrified of losing control yet again, even though I know from the past only You bring true fulfillment and meaning. Please make certain which path to take and soften the hearts of my employers so as to understand what You’ve called me to do, if this truly is Your will. Lead me to something better and restore my joy, for its nearing nonexistence with each passing moment. Lead me to all You’ve called me to and help me to live in absolute victory and freedom.