At age twelve, the Lord had a hold of my heart and I was growing in my relationship with Him. I was excited and eager to learn more about the Bible and to share my faith with others. However, I was also very insecure. My body developed much earlier than most of my friends, and I felt ashamed. I saw the attention that my small-framed friend received, and I longed for that. The boys chased her; she got the best grades; she seemed to have it all together. I couldn't compete, and so instead I began to self-hate.

It started with me making comments about how stupid I was and how ugly and disgusting I looked. But that wasn't enough. I felt the need to punish this person who was so terrible and undeserving, so I began the cycle of self-mutilation. I remember the exact day I opened the open the door to such destruction. I was at church camp and my "perfect" friend had stolen the attention of the boy I had a crush on. Jealous and feeling rejected, I ran somewhere to hide, waiting to see if any one cared enough to come looking for me. As I sat there, my eye caught glimpse of a piece of glass shining on the ground. That's when the strong voice of self-hatred filled my mind with thoughts of hurting myself, "You might as well, no cares about you anyway. No one even notices you're gone. You deserve it. You're nothing. No one could ever love you." I couldn't argue against such truths or what I thought were truths, so I picked up the piece of glass and began to cut on my legs until blood rose to the surface. It brought such relief to the pain inside, yet only temporarily. Once the physical pain wore off, the same shame and self-hatred continued to torment me.

A couple months passed by, and it was time to start training for cross-country. I wanted to make it a great year and perform my best. I decided that I needed to start eating more "healthy" and exercising more. I looked at different diets and tried skipping meals. I would exercise late into the night and early in the morning. Then one night, after eating more than I was used to, I got sick and threw up. That's when I decided whenever I ate too much, I would just throw up. And so began my days of bulimia. What started out as maybe once a week, became once a day, and then eventually to countless times a day. It took control over me and it was all that I could think about. Especially late at night, I would stay up stuffing myself with food and throwing up. I found a new way to self-punish, a new way to numb the pain that I felt inside.

Scared and knowing what I was doing was wrong, I told a friend. She made me promise to get help or she would tell my parents. I decided to talk with a lady in my church who I knew I could trust. She counseled me for a time, but I just couldn't seem to stop the behavior. I was starting to lose weight and knew I needed to tell my parents. They took me to a professional counselor who recommended an inpatient treatment facility. Concerned about my increased weight loss, they decided to send me.

I must say that not much ground was gained while I was there. I found ways of sneaking around and throwing up my food. While I was there I met a guy. He paid attention to me and made me feel special. After faking my way out of the program, we remained in contact, and I allowed him to become another way to ease the sickness of my soul. Not much long after, he broke my heart, and I was left to face my shame and self-hatred once again.

Eventually my parents found out that I was still binging and purging. My weight continued to drop. They found another place to send me where they had a program specifically for eating disorders. I was in and out of that program for two years with change only for the worse. They had no choice but to send me home and pray that I didn't die. The next months were painfully hard. It was my senior year in high school, and it was a struggle to concentrate. The binging and purging was out of control, and death sounded more and more appealing. I knew I couldn't live like this anymore. It was killing me. I cried out to God day in and day out, but it seemed that my prayers would only fall to the ground. I felt hopeless. A friend suggested a place called Remuda Ranch in Arizona.

Out of desperation I told my parents that I needed to go. They weren't sure what to do, but they knew their daughter was dying, and so they sent me. But after making the decision to go, I immediately thought that they would take one look at me and send me home. I didn't think I was "sick enough." I still thought I was fat, even though I was only skin and bones at the time. I couldn't see it. I was deceived.

When I arrived, I was immediately transported in an ambulance to the hospital. There I was hooked up to an IV and forced to receive a feeding tube. I thought at first that they had the wrong person. Remember, I wasn't "sick enough." It was then reality hit me of how "sick" I really was.

There God began the work of grace in my life . I learned that His love for me was unconditional and personal . It was the foundation of my healing . I was there for about 90 days. I was able to do my school work there and graduate with my class. I returned home in June of 1997.

The next three months were great. My weight had been restored, and I enjoyed eating again. I was planning on starting college in the fall. The week before I was to leave, I started back into the bulimia. I didn't think much of it, hoping it would just go away, but it didn't. The first week of college I was consumed again. I was totally flipped out by the new challenges that faced me. I didn't feel like I could do it, and so I resorted to old behavior. I took a box of laxatives and sat on the floor holding a knife in my hand. I wanted to cut so badly. I hated who I was. I called the campus counselor, who called my parents, who came and took me home.

The next three months were a nightmare, binging and purging constantly. I felt horrible for dropping out of college. It reinforced the belief that I could never measure up, that I was just a big failure. I didn't know where my life was going.

But God, and how I love saying that, BUT GOD had mercy on me. Like the Israelites in Egypt, He heard my cry and said enough is enough. My deliverer came. The night of December 25, 1997, was the last night of my love affair with bulimia. The next day, all desire was gone, and I haven't had the urge since. Only God could have done such a miracle in my life.

Now God rescued me from 'Egypt', but the 'wilderness' awaited me. Deuteronomy 8:2 says, "Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the desert these forty years, to humble you and to test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep His commands." God was concerned about the condition of my heart and allowed me to be tested in order to expose what was really inside.

After the three years of binging and purging, I lost sense of what it was to be hungry and full. I ate, but very little, scared of falling back into the bulimia. Slowly I began losing weight again.
In January of 1999, I joined Teen Mania Ministry's Honor Academy. It was a great experience, but the pressure to measure up still controlled me, and anorexia took over. I hid in my room during meals and began to exercise obsessively. I didn't realize the hold it had on me. It was when I noticed how easily my fingers could wrap around my upper arm that I knew I had to stop. I tried getting counseling while continuing the internship, but they were unable to give me the help I needed. It was then that I returned to Remuda Ranch for another 90 days. During my second stay, God did an even deeper work in my heart, planting His truths where lies once grew.

I left there in September of 1999 and immediately sought a therapist in my area for follow-up to make sure my progress and growth continued. I've been in and out of outpatient therapy for almost four years now and have been symptom free for the most part. The first three and a half years I focused mainly on gaining and maintaining the last few pounds I needed to reach a healthy weight.

Just recently I started getting real and open about the struggle inside that keeps me from totally surrendering. I've been facing my fears of rejection and failure. I've been challenging the false belief that I have to measure up to a certain standard to be acceptable. I've been allowing myself to feel the emotions of life without finding ways to numb out. It's been hard, but I know that God is doing a work in me, and He will be faithful to complete it. For so long I've tried to have control of my life, thinking that I can somehow protect myself from being hurt and rejected. But God is my protector. There will be hurt and rejection in my life, but I can hold on to His promises that He loves me and that He will work all things for my good and His glory.

I am now beginning to experience many of the things I missed out on because of my eating disorder. My prayer is that others would find this freedom, too. Life is SO worth living.

Jeremiah 20:11-14 "For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for Me in earnest, you will find Me when you seek Me. I will be found by you," says the Lord. "I will end your captivity and restore your fortunes. I will gather you out of the nations where I sent you and bring you home again to your own land."

 

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