Re: Hungry For Healing

“You have a choice,” I tell the pre-school class I teach on weekday afternoons. “You can choose to put your coat on or you can choose to sit in time-out, but those are your only options.” Most days they choose time-out. I don’t know if they are just full of defiance—testing their boundaries and pushing the (my) limits—or if they simply do not understand that the other choice, that darn coat they hate wearing, is the better choice. And for more than one reason: it keeps you out of that awful time-out chair and it keeps you warm.

Last night I went running for the first time in a few weeks. I told myself that it was because I’ve decided to train for another half-marathon, although the whole time I was running, I was thinking, “Push harder, burn some more calories, [that boy] I like will definitely ask me to a function 10 pounds from now.”

The disappointment in myself set in as I was walking to my car. I felt an all-too familiar sadness that I haven’t felt since last year. I desperately did not want to be in that place again, and so as I started the ignition, I practiced telling myself what I tell my pre-schooler’s every day.

“Autumn, you have a choice. You can choose to get stuck in this rut again and you can believe Satan, or you can choose to know that weight is the least important thing.”

Then I thought, “you also have a responsibility to others, Autumn.” The response to my “Hungry For Healing” series was overwhelming. A month ago I received an email from a girl that goes to my school. She confessed her battles with bulimia and anorexia and then told me, “I really just wanted to stop by and tell you that each time I’ve thought about throwing up I think of you and how pretty you are and how much you glow and that if I 100% give this up I can be happy and glowing like you sooner than if I hold on to this destructive habit. Honestly though, your blog is amazing and has been such a light in my life this past week. I know it sounds cheesy but it’s been huge. I keep reminding myself when I feel down like if Autumn did this, I can too, because your life through pictures and happiness on your blog is so amazing and I want that!”

When I read the email I cried. I felt like the Lord had used me and I also felt a huge responsibility to never sink back into body image depression because if I did, I knew that I would discredit any good that had been done. I felt that I would, anyway, and I’m glad that I felt that way, because it helped me to make a choice.

I drove away from the gym with a decision made: I will love the extra flesh on my stomach, I will rejoice that although I’m never going to be “skinny” enough (for society) I can still run miles, I will not stress over eyebrows that seem to grow together too fast, I will be ok with the fact that my thighs touch.

Hear me, though: this choice has been years in the making, and it changes with the seasons, and it depends on how often I am conversing with the Lord. Hear me: I know that for some women (girl, pre-teens, teenagers) it is not completely up to them. It’s a chemical in the brain, it is a true, true disease.

Whether or not it’s a true disease for me or if it’s just low self-esteem, the Lord intercedes for me and makes me capable of overcoming, although it’s hard sometimes because just like those darn coats that my pre-schooler’s hate wearing, I don’t see the good outcome in the right choice and choose to be defiant; I choose time-out and end up feeling defeated, sad, and fat.

But the beauty in making the right choice comes in instant gratification. It comes in the feeling of weight being lifted off your shoulders. It comes in the joy of feeling zero remorse for eating a spoonful (or two, or three) of icing straight from the can.

I’m not naive enough to believe that last night’s choice will carry me through the rest of my life. I know that there will be days when I feel guilty for every extra calorie. I know there will be days when I compare myself to others in a destructive way.

The difference now is that I know what it feels like to put the coat of high self-esteem on (do you follow my imagery?) and I know the joy of eating guilt-free and I know that the Lord loves me despite it all and I know that one day, a boy will fall in love with every part of me. Even if I don’t have that dang gap between my thighs.

I choose continual recovery.