The Two Paths.

Sometimes I feel like living in recovery isn’t any better than living in my eating disorder. Sometimes it feels a lot harder—the lies about my body, food, exercise, self-worth are all still here; yet, I’m choosing not to listen to them. Sometimes it seems easier to just give in and stop fighting all together. At times like this, I have to remember:

There are two paths in front of me.

The one that is familiar and known is my eating disorder. It is alluring. It is enticing. It seems like the less strenuous path. However, I know where this path leads. It dead-ends leaving me alone, depressed, and dying. I know there is no potential for good that comes from my eating disorder. I’ve been there, I’ve done that, and I’ve gained evidence that is not the life I want to live.

The second path is unknown. It is just being paved with each step I take. I can’t see what lies ahead of the hills. I don’t recognize the twists and turns. But at least this path has potential for good. And for now, I have to hold onto that hope.

I’m clenching onto the hope that the chatter from behind trying to convince me to change paths will cease as I continue to move forward. I’m gripping onto the hope that this path is jam-packed with grace for each time I stumble or take a few steps backward. I’m not letting go of the hope that there is a finish line at the end of this road.

The in between of recovery, of no longer wanting my eating disorder and not yet being recovered, is like climbing Mt. Everest. But I cannot lose hope. There are many times where I’ve cried out and asked God why—why me, why an eating disorder, why such the struggle. So many times in this past month I have begged God for some peace and quiet from my own torturous thoughts.

But amidst those nights, I also see little glimmers of my hope coming to life. Moments of singing my favorite song at an amazing Ben Rector concert (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2fFKKkcx70). Of standing in awe at the beautiful coast of California. Of meeting Mickey in the most magical place on earth. Of getting lost in a good book (I’m joining the Harry Potter clan, and I got sorted into Hufflepuff)—these moments remind me to continue forward. They remind me that there is freedom from my eating disorder.

So I will trek on, and I will not lose hope.

Compare and Despair.

My eating disorder thrives off comparisons. That girl has skinner legs. Her abs are more defined. She has less food on her plate. She got a better grade on the test. She has more friends. With all these comparisons running rampant in my mind, no wonder I was miserable!

Under these seemingly superficial comparisons lies the belief that I am not ok as I am. When I walked through the doors at Vista, I immediately started to compare myself to the other girls. Quickly my eating disorder latched onto the idea that I didn’t deserve to be in treatment because others were “sicker” than me. The problem wasn’t simply that I thought I didn’t need to be in treatment, but rather I didn’t believe that I was worthy to receive help.

Just like every human is distinct, eating disorders don’t all look the same; they manifest differently in every individual. So maybe I didn’t have as much weight to gain as someone else or I didn’t have my eating disorder for as long as another, but I did need help. The core belief that I didn’t deserve proper nutrition and rest, yet alone love and acceptance needed to be uprooted and tossed to the curb.

Only through the power of the cross can I eradicate such unworthiness. Daily, I am replacing my fleeting eating disorder thoughts with the steadfast words of God. The Psalmist writes, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139: 13, 14). God wonderfully created me, and unconditionally loves me just as I am—my talents, quirks, and yes even my weaknesses. My Savior views me as so deserving that he carried my sins to the cross, not because of anything I have achieved, but simply because he deeply cares for me. Through God’s grace, I can rest in the truth that no grade, paycheck, workout, no not even the number on a scale can make me worthy; but rather, my worth is found in the death and resurrection of Jesus.

Many times, I don’t look towards Christ to find my self worth. On a daily basis, I struggle with evaluating others in order to feel content in myself. But that’s the beauty of the Gospel. My actions don’t dictate my worth—Christ’s saving grace does!

So when I turn to comparison, I remember the wise words of Theodore Roosevelt, “Comparison is the thief of joy”. I remind myself that comparing stifles the joy I have in the Lord. Instead, I cling to the certainty of Scripture that I am perfectly handcrafted and incredible beautiful.