When Love Rescued Me from an Eating Disorder

As a little girl I liked all things pink, pretty, and feminine. I was a child of the 80’s when fashions like colorful leg warmers, side ponytails, and hair scrunchies were the latest trend. I danced ballet for several years and played the violin. Wearing my pink ballet slippers and hair pulled back in a bun made me feel pretty — and I enjoyed wearing fancy dresses when performing at music recitals.

I was on the thinner side as a child. Somewhere along the way, a seed was planted in mind that skinny was a good thing. As I entered my teenage years, I started maturing and gaining weight in places — and I didn’t like it. I did gymnastics for a short while during my junior high years, never feeling like I was thin enough to be good enough.

The mirror that once put a smile on my face became my worst enemy. I was around thirteen years old when I first remember not liking the reflection staring back at me.  The innocent little girl who once played with dolls and dress-up clothes, became a teenager soaked in confusion.

Not much in my life made sense during that time. There were broken pieces in my family and I was hurting inside. I didn’t feel like I had much control of anything, so I tried to take control of something—my appearance. A lie brewed in my mind that if I was skinny enough and pretty enough, I would be lovable enough.

Enough. I just wanted to be enough.

Calorie counting and dieting turned into trips to the bathroom to throw up. The scale never gave me the right number, so I just kept striving. Bulimia became an addicting shame-filled cycle that made me hide in secret. I was a miserable mess.

No one knew.

The prison walls were dark and dreary, and my chains were painfully heavy. I tried so many times to break free on my own strength, but the bars just wouldn’t budge.

High School graduation rolled around and I went away to college. A fresh start, I thought.  I’d wipe the slate clean and put my eating disorder behind me. I just wasn’t going to struggle anymore…right?

Wrong.

For a while I did okay, but familiar patterns crept back in. By the end of my first semester, it became clear that I wasn’t armed to win this battle by myself.

On the night before my first final of the semester, I experienced insomnia. Thoughts were spinning through my (almost) 18-year-old mind as I tossed and turned in my dorm room bed.

I didn’t like it one bit, but they something holy happened.

At what must have been the break of dawn, Love came to my rescue — Jesus came to my rescue. He invited me to stop running away from all of my problems, simply asking me to trust that His Love would be enough.

And I said yes.

Confessing my mess and accepting God’s forgiveness

I tried to fix my mess on my own for many years, but it wasn’t until I let Jesus in, that I finally broke out of that prison and tasted freedom. I confessed my sin and God was quick to forgive me.

Sometimes we think that we can only come to God when we are all cleaned up, but if that were true, there would be no hope. The beauty of the Gospel is that God loves us so much that HE gave. Jesus died on the cross for us while we were still sinners covered in muck. It’s because of our messes, that He came. His blood shed, tore down the walls, allowing us to have a relationship with the living God.

Seeking professional help

I came home from college and took time off school so I could focus on recovering from my eating disorder. It was hard and humbling, but with Jesus by my side I brought my struggle into the light. No one judged me or criticized me —  but I felt exposed, embarrassed, and ashamed.

Behind my struggle, was a lot of ache. I sought professional help through counseling and the layers of pain began to peel back. It was freeing and healing to talk about the things that were locked up in my heart for so many years. Having the perspective of a neutral person was helpful. I further processed my feelings by filling journals with my most honest thoughts.

Moving away from self-focus

A lot of my battle happened in my mind. As I began to focus my thoughts on God and away from the scale, my mindset shifted. The Bible became my favorite book. I plugged into an amazing church that was saturated in grace, I started listening to Christian music which ministered to my soul, I read books about body image, and I spent intimate moments with Jesus falling more in love with Him each day.

I started to get better — healthier mind, body, and soul.

A bump in the road

I returned to school after taking time off. Lots of transformation had taken place in my life, but I was still a work in progress.

Eventually, I began to struggle again but this time I went in the direction of not eating enough—and I lost a noticeable amount of weight. 

Exercise took over my life and the pounds came off quickly. My body alarmed me with warning signs. I knew I needed to dig deeper.

I spent more time in counseling, found further healing, and over time the chains lost their grip.

It is hard to break free from an eating disorder, but nothing is too hard for God. Nothing.

What helped me most

Counseling and positive community were a big part of my healing. Protecting my mind was as well. I started focusing on my value in Christ, rather than finding my value in a number on the scale. I started counting my blessings, and I stopped counting calories. I started viewing food as nourishment for my body, rather than as something to control. I started exercising with the goal in mind of being healthy, not skinny. The Bible became my manna and I found so much comfort in the Truth. The healthier I became on the inside, the healthier I became on the outside.

Do I still struggle?

The great Healer rescued me and set me free from an eating disorder. Healing takes time, but lasting victory is possible in Christ. My battle with an eating disorder ended about ten years ago, and I give every ounce of glory to God.

That doesn’t mean my life is struggle-free. I’m an imperfect person and it’s not easy being a woman in this world. I still wrestle with body image at times, but the difference now is how I respond to those feelings. Before I used to run to the bathroom or the gym — now I run to Jesus. I lay my burdens at His feet and He always, always, always points me back to the truth.

The truth, that I am treasured daughter of the King and a valuable part of his Kingdom.

I try to make healthy choices, but I also fully enjoy chocolate sprinkle donuts and pepperoni pizza. And sometimes, I play “run-chase” with my 3-year-old miracle child instead of fitting in my scheduled work-out.

Hope for others

My passion is to share the truth that set me free. I am not a professional therapist, counselor, or doctor. There are wonderful people who do those things and I have been privileged to work with some of them. But me, I am simply a woman who traveled the dark valleys and eventually found hope in the Light.

To those struggling or those who know someone that is struggling… 

There is a way out.

The road to recovery can be challenging and sometimes giving up feels like the better option, but there is One greater than any mountain that seems too steep to climb. He has the keys that unlock the prison doors. 

He is my Savior, my Redeemer, my King, my Deliverer, the Mighty Healer, the Grace Giver, the Light of the World, The Lamb of God, The Prince of Peace, and my Best Friend. 

He is Jesus — the One whose Love rescued me in my darkest hour.