i started hating myself in february, 2005. i was 35 years old.
the reasons are irrelevant, the consequences critical.
i committed to swimming and speed walking everyday.
i wanted to lose ten pounds by my check-up in august. because ideal weight was too much.
and i lost it.
life-altering change hit me head-on in the fall
and i stopped eating altogether.
i lost 20 more pounds.
and ed (eating disorder) had grabbed right hold,
crippling my hands to keep me from reaching for food
crippling my mouth to keep me from chewing
crippling my mind, handing me over to the deepest, darkest fears of my life.
i told some friends, thinking i could fix it by saying it out loud. or googling it.
exercise addiction. i wouldn’t say anorexia.
but my husband would. and did.
but my doctor would. and did.
and then i was in therapy. a christian. a teacher. a mom. in therapy. for a mental illness.
it lasted forever it seems – the refeeding. the mothers bringing lunch to my classroom.
the weekly weigh-ins. the crying sessions about fat.
25 pounds. i gained that. i was proud. i was horrified.
then the therapy was about okayness. which took longer than gaining the 25.
i began loosening the rules.
the clock no longer dictated when we ate.
the food pyramid no longer dictated what we ate.
i allowed my children, my boys, my hank and jack, the freedom of choice.
i touched dirty dishes.
i touched meat.
i ate doughnuts.
2008 and i was better. mostly.
and writing. listening to the god call to write it.
2009 and i published.
so i had to tell the boys.
by then hank was 14 and jack was 10,
and i had kept it all from them.
i knew they wouldn’t understand – i didn’t understand,
and i was ashamed.
i mean, good moms don’t fall.
but i told them,
and they didn’t get the why.
and they asked but you’re okay now?
and we all believe it.
(thank you, dear kendal, for guest posting today… kendal blogs here, and her book, ‘Full,’ can be purchased here… tomorrow, i will be starting a series on What it means to be made in God’s image… join me?)