It’s a week shy of 4 months when I walked into The Press to work out that •one• day. That one day that I was just going to ‘test run’ the working out, and had no real plan for continuing on. A day, or maybe a few, that I imagined would be another mark disappointingly drawn into the loss column and tucked away in that failure file in the back of my mind.
One thing about those painful past dieting “failures” – they leave scars formed over a base of fear. I say that to say this. It’s frightening to list wins and successes out loud, as if doing so will create immediate destruction on any hard-fought-for progress. I’m going to do my best to kick the enemy out of that thought and give an almost four-months-in eating update that WILL include the wins.
My dieting resume is crowded with plans that are mostly complex to track – calories, points, logs, weights, measures, formulas, extra fat, no carbs, no fat, “free” foods and on and on and on. It’s no wonder my food confusion had truly peaked out after my last diet – keto, for the curious.
A few weeks in – somewhere around the beginning of last November – the first food conversation with Berry happened. It was basically this, “let’s eat whole, good quality food” and he then jotted down a general outline of how to eat at each meal. Notice I didn’t say ‘what’ to eat, but ‘how’. (I’m no food expert and therefore am leaving out the specifics of the ‘how’ but will say that no food groups are excluded and none are eaten in excess.).
For months I had been having the instinct to eat whole, unprocessed food – and had been considering doing the Whole 30 diet, although that wasn’t what he was referencing in our conversation. I wanted to test the theory of taking out the ‘junk’ I was eating to see if my aches and pains, headaches, and overall blah feeling improved. He wanted to make this process simple.
When he said this, I told him I was completely on board, but I have since tried (more than once) to complicate matters (always!) by asking about macros and my fitness pal and etc. “Let’s just keep KISSing” he said. (Keep It Simple Stupid, in case you’re confused).
SIMPLE! The little, but oh-so-big, thing that’s been my hearts desire for my life for the last several years. While I hadn’t previously lined up my need for simplicity with my eating, the encouragement to eat basic, whole, whatever-you-want-to-call-it foods sounded glorious to me. Additionally, another door was opened wide to my thinking – “willpower is an endless resource that you have to use,” he told me one day. You know those incredibly elementary things you hear and think, “well duh.” Mmm hmmm – this was one of those moments.
In a world that, since I was a teenager, had been the most complicated, gut-wrenching mess and one person comes along and gives me a three ingredient recipe that I can easily understand and implement: KISS + Willpower (mix in giant spoonfuls of encouragement as needed) created a life-giving, uncomplicated eating plan.
It possibly sounds absurd that I have neither thought of nor been told to use these simple tools and, whether I have or not, it resonated with me. As with other things in life, when we reach our low point, suggestions are received differently and I think that was why this was the perfect combination for me. A low point with the complex and tangled web of disordered eating, years upon years of diets and failures, plus all of the chaotic thoughts, crashing into someone who realized that keeping it simple was key for me. Again, I know that this meeting was a Divine connection from the beginning.
I’m in NO WAY implying that this has been a breeze and that I don’t struggle. Trust. I’ll explain that part later. What I AM saying is that in the win column, I have almost four straight months of eating with this “recipe” – simple foods, mostly meal prepped (not a ton of eating out) and when certain cravings happen, I mostly always remember that God has given me an endless supply of willpower. When I don’t remember, heaps of encouragement are mixed in.
Additionally, I haven’t had any ‘true’ binge eating episodes in these close to four months. I say ‘true’ because my mind is a work in progress. With some transparency, I will say that I have had a few set backs that shook me to the core and came unexpectedly. Each setback turns into a days-long, soul-crushing episode and that is just the painful truth of it. The difference, however, is placed solidly in the win column. In the past, these things happened in secret, in a black hole of lonely and quiet where no one was the wiser. These times, however, I talked through each of these painful ordeals and learned some pertinent, although hard, lessons.
As the months have ticked by, I have become more aware of just how hard it is to suddenly drop disordered eating – my coping mechanism. In the beginning, it was simpler, as if I were starting yet another diet. The difference now is that I’m in the midst of making a life change, backed by the knowledge of the eating disorder and over a year of work to understand that. Thankfully I have the support of others who have trudged the murky waters of becoming free from their own coping mechanisms, and have helped me understand what can only be described as the big mess in my mind. The details of this feel too personal to divulge, but I will say that the feeling of being lost has been a miserable place to be. “You’ve been turning left and now you’re turning right and you’re lost,” I was told. Lightbulb moment number 523 in this long journey – that is exactly how I feel.
While this time period has been an emotional roller coaster, I’m not putting it down in the loss column. Instead, I’m calling it a win for two reasons. One, I’m trudging through it, for the most part, without giving in to any old coping mechanisms, so that I can see the light on the other side.
Secondly, I’ve been able to connect with people who understand this phase and have explained it to me so well. The main someone that has helped me with this is my son, Blake. During his own addiction recovery, there were times when I was at a complete loss as to why things were so rocky. In all of his explanations to me during this, my own, confusing time, I now know what he was dealing with in trying to ‘turn right’ in his life. It’s harder than it looks, friends. If you can’t understand why, just trust me.
In closing, I want to clarify something that has been on my heart from the very first post. I never want to convey, seemingly simply, that self-esteem, value as a person and self-worth are tied to the number on the scale. In my own journey, that is the case and started very early in my life, snowballing and becoming my deeply disordered way of thinking. The harsh reality, seen more clearly now from a new lens, is that no matter the number, I never saw myself any differently. The bigger, and likely harder, part of this journey is not just about losing weight, but also that those things will be restored and I will see myself as I truly am. For the final four-month-mark win, I will say that I have seen a few glimpses of her, restored Melissa, and it feels pretty dang good.
For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago. Ephesians 2:10
On the first line of my first blog of this journey, I use a random, exaggerated amount of time that I have been in counseling – “523 years.” In a FB story, while on a trip with my daughter-in-law and after doing a “Polar Dip” I wrote “Bucket List #53 – Polar Dip” with a pic of our frozen selves, seemingly a random Bucket List item number, but actually one that doesn’t exist at all.
In reality there is no randomness to either number. These numbers represent the birthdays of two people that have impacted my journey the most – Bill #1 (5/3) – my dad, and Bill #2 (5/2) – my son’s dad and my first and only true love. I knew that each of them were involved in this journey in impactful ways and I have had a post formulating in my mind from the beginning – even thinking of quirky titles like Stackin’ Bills, Too Many Bills, Stack of Bills – you get the picture.
Here is the thing about this journey and this blog, however. First, what I always think I will write about, after some time, transforms into an entirely new thing. With that being said, this post is all about Bill #2. Second, this “journey” is no copy of any other diet or exercise plan I have previously been on, and I absolutely don’t want it to be. It is a journey to peace that involves better physical, mental and spiritual health (totally hijacked those words, but they work.) It has taken me two-plus months to realize this to the fullest extent, and not for lack of being told. What was said months ago: “This will be a hard journey, a battle.” What I heard: “It’s going to be hard to get my fitness level back after all this time.” What this person knew, and I didn’t at the time, is that this road would be twisted and confusing and complicated and that the physical part would be the easier piece.
Oops. My bad for not listening more carefully.
The thing is this – pain, hurt, brokenness, deep struggles – that I buried far, far down inside are being pulled to the surface, and I’ll tell you this, there is no fun in it. In all honesty, the last few weeks can be summed up with one word – suffering. I’m very visual and I keep imagining this giant garbage can being dumped upside down. The things at the top, well, many are wet or burned – not even able to be recognized. They are forgotten. At the bottom, however, are things that are still sitting there, intact as they were so many years ago, not disturbed, and certainly not forgotten as I falsely believed they had been. These things form the base of where all of the disordered eating and self-image issues began.
The two Bills each form varying pieces of this base but as the garbage can has turned over the past several weeks, Bill #2 came flying out with a vengeance. I realized that the neat little box he was in was being ripped open and pieces were flying out all over the place – little bits here, little bits there in a huge whirlwind in my mind. Separating out this pile of garbage is proving to be absurdly painful and deeply confusing.
Bill came into my life when I was a teenager. I began working at his family’s company and I fell fast and hard for his charm, wit, fun spirit, beautiful looks, and let’s be honest – the excitement in the way he lived life. Already struggling with my self-esteem and not really having a goal for my life, there was nothing to ground me. I know that even had I had those things, I couldn’t have stopped my heart from loving him with everything it had. To fuel my deep feelings for him, his family wanted us to be, were very vocal about it, and that tangled me tighter into the dream of an us.
It’s vital to add in here that I began attending church with him and his family and this is when and how I became a Christian. Saved and baptized at 19 years old with the man I desperately loved in the audience. Yes, my testimony involves a person that has hurt me more than any other I have known. It’s interesting how God uses people in our stories in ways that seem so uncharacteristic of the overall version. But that is how it happened, because of Bill #2, I became a Christian. I think to see that this was a beautiful purpose in this relationship is vital, as well as healing.
Bill’s family and I went on a ski trip one Spring and while there, I got really horrible “altitude sickness.” A few weeks after we returned, I knew in my heart, and a quick test confirmed, I was pregnant. I can remember with so much clarity this entire day. Going to get the test at Target with a friend, taking and seeing the test results, crying so uncontrollably laying on a bed in a friends apartment with pieces of a roll of TP laying all around me, little white representations of the scattered mess I felt I had made of my life. I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t think of what to do. I couldn’t see anything beyond that moment of pain and fear and uncertainty. What I did know, in the midst of it all, is how Bill would respond and he didn’t disappoint. As a matter of fact, he trumped my expectations.
Another friend went to get him and told him. Still laying on that bed, sobbing and terrified, I heard the apartment door open when they returned. He walked in the room, sat down beside me on that bed and said “I don’t love you and I’m not going to marry you.”
I don’t remember moments after that – any other conversation with him, leaving there, driving home, only a desperate and dark pain. Later, I remember telling a few friends. One of my best friends cried, which heaped more hurt on me. I told a few people who were supportive and encouraging and that may possibly be the only lifeline to all that happened in the following weeks. Then I told my mother. It was a truly painful conversation with tears and words said that I will choose to not share. Ultimately, she was supportive and that is all that matters. I never told my dad, my mother did that and I have often tried to imagine the conversation. Bill #1 and his response are set aside for another time, but possibly never. I’m unsure. What I will say is that their disappointment was palpable and even more painful.
The next conversations with Bill #2 were hard and deceptive and excruciating. I can’t and won’t write any more about that except to say that he gave me absolutely no support whatsoever. It became clear that I would navigate this pregnancy alone – emotionally, financially, physically, and in every other way. I made the choice to have this child and love him with everything I had. I have to give a shout-out to an angel in this part of the story – one that I don’t even know her name and that will never see this, but that said and did all the right things at just the right moment to bring me over a giant Bill-created mountain of deception.
Lack of self esteem, rejection, indescribable pain- each of these led me deeper into the world of what I now know as an eating disorder. Prior to becoming pregnant, I had been on a long bout of starvation. Becoming pregnant following starvation proved to produce ridiculously quick weight gain and a deeper and more dire insecurity and self hatred with my body.
During my pregnancy, Bill began dating another woman. I don’t have words for how broken my heart was because the truth was I was holding out hope for us to be a family. This broke me into a million little pieces. At least a million. I was still working for the family’s company, watching up close and personal all of this unfold. (Don’t be thinking to yourself “why didn’t you get another job” because YES, I DID try to get other jobs.) I would go home in the evenings and sob uncontrollably laying on my bed and fall asleep. It was a brutal time.
After my son was born, they became engaged and the unfortunate thing is that my feelings were never a consideration, or he was too weak of a man to face them. I came into work and a caring coworker told me about the engagement. I stood outside of the building and I broke, fully and completely. Every dream I had hoped for lay shattered on the ground around me.
My cycle of dieting started as soon as my son was born. Embarrassing to say but true, many diets began with, “I’m going to show him what he is missing.” I knew I loved him, I knew he knew I loved him, I was “nice” about everything that had gone on, and the unknown-at-the-time ED just led me to believe that the reason he rejected me was because of my weight. Now, years later, I know that I was facing a giant of an enemy that was already working to destruct me alone and then in conjunction with someone I loved and we were rolling down hill at warp speed. When I see pictures from that time, I see a girl that thought she was enormous, that felt desperately rejected and unwanted and unloved and so deeply insecure. They are hard to look at and realize how severely broken I already was.
All things Bill #2 were shoved into a neat little box at the bottom of the garbage can, and I began to date, lived with different men, had ‘flings’, drank a little too much, anything possible to try to fill the raging voids within me. Each relationship was more dysfunctional than the last, some emotionally and physically abusive, and I had no clue at all about how I should be treated, how a real man treats a woman, how I should respect myself, or anything else relationship related. The never ending dieting cycle continued, bingeing, purging, starving, exercise as punishment, and the nuclear bomb got bigger and bigger each year. Only, I didn’t know what was happening, I was just moving forward. I definitively knew that I wasn’t right, I just didn’t know what was wrong.
There were moments where the lid at the bottom of the pile cracked open a little and I would dream of what it would have been like to have the three of us be a family. Then there were the opposing moments when I knew God had saved me from a life full of even more pain and destruction than had already happened. Despite everything, I truly am thankful for that, but it certainly doesn’t negate the hurt this caused. I knew that I would have hung on with tenacity to a deeply sick person and would have tried to save and change him with everything I had. I knew he was hurt and broken and I knew the ways that he tried to solve his own problems, I just thought I could solve them for him because I was the one that truly loved him.
That knowledge was well known by some close to the situation and used carelessly – “Melissa has always loved Bill” with this nostalgic tone and isn’t-that-so-sweet facial expression. I got a highly dysfunctional thrill out of being known as the one that always loved Bill. It was the thread that kept me woven into the sickness of it all and into my own sickness.
Over the years, some moments caught me off guard and when our son had children was one of them. Out of nowhere, I was engulfed in yet more Bill-related pain. I went into a space of wondering what we would be like together as grandparents – Meme and Pops with their grandkids. In my twisted vision it was so dreamy but the reality would have been anything but. I cried heavy, hard tears when he would text me when they were born and say how he was so excited “we” had grandkids. Always lingering there was the “what if.” What if he could straighten up and we could be together. Stabbing hot pain burned me again but I would shove that box closed as fast as possible and binge the feelings away like the pro I had become.
Here is the truly hardest part of this entire ordeal. I have, yes HAVE, held onto shame from the very beginning. I can’t begin to explain the number of times shame engulfed me as I heard words such as, “OHHH how are you related to . . .”, “Who is your . . .”, “Are you Bill’s . . .” It happened two days ago and I felt the same dread as I have each of the thousands of times before it. This is how I have always handled it. I would formulate any type of sentence to avoid saying that we were never married. I wouldn’t lie, just use an arsenal of carefully chosen words to not have to admit that I was rejected, unloved, unwanted, etc. It is a heavy and crushing burden to carry. Sometimes, I think I will live under the umbrella of shame and brokenness with this forever.
But nope. On my own terms, I’m ripping the lid off the box of shame surrounding this and it is well beyond time. For anyone that questions, and wonders and whispers or boldly and carelessly asks, such as happened two days ago, it’s out there in all of its truth. I see no way forward in physical, emotional, spiritual, or mental freedom without being free from this part of my life – from the shame, guilt, rejection, pain, and unlovable feelings that defined me so long ago.
Here is when and how it became clear that Bill is the only man I have truly and deeply loved.
At the beginning of 2018, his life had reached the low point of a years-long spiral. It is not my intent to divulge his sins and demons as this is not what this is about. It was actually achingly sad to watch the continual destruction happen. In February of that year, there was an incidence. My sister and I were setting up for an event and I told her about it all and how when we were finished setting up, I wanted to go make a well check on him. I said these very words, “It won’t upset me to find him if he is dead. I would rather it be me than Blake.”
While we were at the place setting up the event, Blake called and my sister answered and handed me the phone. “Mom,” said the saddest and most quiet voice. And I fell into the floor bawling. He was gone from this earth forever. I DID care. I WAS upset. My heart was shattered into another million pieces. I was asked to write his obituary as “the one who had always loved him” and I did it. I had to do some other hard things involving the funeral and I cried and cried and cried some more. Some were shocked that I was so deeply broken and sad. Others completely understood. It was just a weird and hard time. Back into the box it all went, healed I thought. He was gone, after all, and I had cried. ALOT.
But, and you know about the buts by now, it’s December 2020 and I started on this journey to peace back in October, never realizing I would be working through one of the hardest things that has defined more of my life than I wish it would have. With great intensity, I learn that I will have no peace until I resolve years of feelings surrounding Bill. I have to get over it all and truly move on.
We had no closure and will never, but I want to move forward with forgiveness without a sorry. I want to love someone else, prayerfully as much as I loved Bill and that I don’t ruin the relationship BECAUSE of Bill. I believe that there are people God has put in my life that are showing me how I should be cared for and treated by a man. That may be the hardest part for me – allowing myself to be cared about but with that I can feel that the cracked edges of this part of my life are softening and healing. It is a hard journey, this part of it. ED wants to deceive me with everything in him right now – into going back into those old mentalities of pushing people away, isolating myself, believing that I’m unlovable, thinking everything hinges on the number on the scale, finding solace in men, or anything else.
I’m fighting my way to the other side of this no matter what. I’m going to walk through the pain of this part and pray that the healing and newness on the other side are as sweet as I can imagine.
Danny Gokey wrote the song that has defined this part of my journey and word for word tells this entire part of my story.
I was there the moment that it happened But you couldn’t see me through the pain I caught every tear as they were falling When you lost your heart that day Yeah, you lost your heart that day
And now you only see through broken lenses Trying to keep your head above the shame You believe the lie that I am distant But I hold you every day Yeah, I hold you every day
If you could see it through my eyes You’d know that you are wanted You’d know that you are wanted And if you’d let my love inside I’ll show you that you’re wanted I’ll show you that you’re wanted
You’re more than all your darkest moments You are defined by what I see You’re my reflection, you’re my treasure, you’re my heartbeat Oh, child, you belong to me, ohh’
Cause if you would see it through my eyes You’d know that you are wanted You’d know that you are wanted And if you’d let my love inside I’ll show you that you’re wanted I’ll show you that you’re wanted, oh
Not rejected, not unwelcome You’re wanted (You’re wanted) Oh, you’re wanted (You’re wanted) Not abandoned, not forgotten You’re wanted Oh, you’re wantedI’m right here in this moment And I’m singing over you Yeah, I’m singing over you, oh-oh
If you could see it through my eyes You’d know that you are wanted I’d sure you that you’re wanted And if you’d let my love inside I’ll show you that you’re wanted I’ll show you that you’re wanted Ooh, hey
This past weekend, my daughter-in-law, Virginia, and I took an incredible four-day trip to Carlton Landing, OK. I have an entire post in the works about the NUMEROUS reasons this trip was so incredible. Spoiler alert – God was ALL UP IN IT.
Today, however, I’m going to jump to the end of the days there. Up until Saturday evening, I couldn’t have even made up something that had been wrong – it was that great. Saturday evening, we were in the pavilion in town square, next to the meeting house, making fresh greenery wreaths with a group of local ladies (no, I’m not making this up). This feeling came over me of just sadness and for everything in me I couldn’t stop it. We walked back to our house and I just couldn’t get past it, the tears were just welling up despite every effort to not “ruin the moment.” I laid down on the couch and tears just rolled out uncontrollably.
While we were having dinner, Virginia asked if I wanted to talk about it. “I don’t know what to say,” I told her. And I didn’t know, I couldn’t put words to it. We got in the hot tub after dinner and I just kept thinking, “what is wrong with me?”
After the hot tub, and as soon as I stepped one foot in the shower – where, oddly, so much self awareness happens – it hit me like a freight train.
Loneliness.
In the year-and-a-half-ish that I saw ML for my eating disorder, we talked about how this was not a linear process. Not even close. In one session, where I was berating myself because I continued to have all this mess swirling in my thoughts, she had me draw a straight line on a piece of paper and then in the middle of it make a tornado shape. “That,” she said, “is how it will look for you during recovery.” SIIIGGHHH. I wanted things to be better. I didn’t want to feel this way anymore – I wanted linear and I was pissed off I didn’t have it.
Currently, during what is the next phase of this process where I am ACTIVELY working on my health with good nutrition and exercise, as well as trying to get the binge eating under control, things are coming out that haven’t yet been addressed. To clarify this, during the time with ML, I was not ACTIVELY working on recovery. I was passively listening, taking it in, trying to understand and connect myself to something that had no name until this time. It took me a hot second to accept and move forward.
Saturday, when I stepped one leg in that shower, it occurred to me that the loneliness piece had never been dealt with. I knew it was there, I knew it hurt, and what had I done with hurt in the past? Shoved it down hard and binged it away. I began to put the pieces of loneliness together with binge eating. They had walked hand-in-hand, step by step, for a long time but until this moment, and with eight-ish weeks under my belt without binge eating, I saw a clear picture of it.
Let me clarify what I mean by lonely. My son and his family live within walking distance, I have great friends, a business where I interact with people all the time, I have lunch dates on the reg, clubs and groups and bible studies and etc. I am in no way alone. At night, however, when I go to my house, the roar of loneliness is surrounding me. I haven’t yet been given my hearts deepest desire to have a partner in crime in this life. Someone that I can care for, pray with and for, love, share life with – and that can do all the same things for me. In this season of life, on this journey, in this year of weird, during the holidays, I feel it on a deep, painful level.
The loneliness that I felt on Saturday night was just that. We were going home the next day and when I got there I would be – alone. Where in the past I would have consumed that hurt away with some absurd food in a just-as-absurd quantity, I now had to face this differently. What I am learning is that all of these moments, handled in new and better ways – well, they are freaking hard. Not linear. Not I’m okay, I’ve got this. Not even close. Each of these new moments that arise catch me off guard and are painful to navigate, creating a desire within me to stay in the safety zone of my people and places.
What I do know, however, that in this safety zone, healing is happening. Each time I walk through these things in a better way, no matter how difficult, will make the next time a little easier, then easier the next. What I also know is that you can get tackled in the safety zone and that was yesterday.
Yesterday yelled at me from the time I woke up, looked on Facebook and saw the most careless of memes. In a very poor quality meme – I mean they should have consulted with me, I could have made that thing look stellar with a little Canva action, but anyway – it said “People swear they fighting demons. When the whole time they’re fighting the consequences of their actions and decisions.”
DANG, I let that make a little hole within me. Yeah, girl, I’m fighting the enemy and some days he tries to devour me, just like it says in the Bible, sister. I got sassy angry, then I consulted my team – yes I have a team and they’re the bomb. They agreed, garbage. But that little hole was there.
Next was lunch with a new friend that is nothing but kind. Going in with that little hole, ED, my enemy, talked to me the entire time. (I’m calling the enemy ED because, as advised in that first book “Life Without ED,” the idea is to separate that sucker from you by giving him his own name and identity – so that’s who the enemy in this journey will be from now on.) I knew this friend was reading my blog so ED taunted me like a beast – “she’s evaluating what you are eating,” he said 100 times. “She thinks you are a hot mess,” he whispered in my ear. Over and over he tried to make me believe that I shouldn’t even be writing this because I had to “face” people who were reading it. ED worked me over and I left lunch unsettled.
I drove around a while, filling myself with my Soul Food playlist, headed home, and then ED began his work again. He used one of my most trusted and caring friends. While this friend and I were talking, ED jumped in to use loneliness to crush my spirit again. In the course of the conversation my friend said to me, “God gave me a spouse because He knew I would take a long walk off a short bridge.” His words jabbed into me like a hot dagger, literally wrecking me at my core. He has never had anything but good intentions for me and I know without doubt he would never say something to hurt me. But it did – it hurt deeply.
Today, I am working through this. I am trying to understand, connect and correct the loneliness and binge eating relationship. And it’s brutal. Last night I was done, had no intention of going to the gym today, toyed with the idea of a binge, and this morning I felt every self destructive thought and wanted to go into full self sabotage mode. Not with just food – actually not with food at all – with anything that would make me feel better. I’m sure you can list the top three in your mind.
BUT, I’m no quitter and I’m NOT quitting. Those replacement comforts will be squashed by making sure I stay in the safety zone right now. I know I won’t have to stay here forever. I know I have something good to give and I also know ED the Enemy wants to take it all away. I believe in my mind, and am waiting for my heart to catch up, that I’m worth more than “feel better” moments that would only temporarily replace the comfort of binge eating and cause more hurt.
I want one day to know and FEEL my validation come from Him alone. That currently sounds like a lofty goal, but I know it’s achievable.
This is my “therapy” song for helping work through those lonely moments. I may or may not bawl EVERY time I hear it, but it’s a tool I’m using to fight this battle so that at some point I see a VICTORY.
just the good stuff please 