Addiction and Grace

Hello Friends,

Well, I have not been good about following through with writing twice a week. However, I will not give up nor give in to feelings of guilt or shame for not doing so. That would hand a small victory over to evil. Yeah, that's not going to happen.

I spent several weeks discouraged. Truth be told, several months. There are two people I know who opted for bariatric surgery about a year ago. Each has lost a very significant amount of weight over the last year. They look really, really good. I feel like my efforts are too little, almost futile. Sometimes I feel, "Why bother? Unless I go that route I won't get a handle on this; I won't succeed."

Deep down I know this is a lie. But I also know that my issue, my problem is more than a plumbing problem. It goes beyond the kind of immediate changes that would be forced by surgery. My problem is addiction, shame, and a very broken image of self and self-worth rooted, entrenched in scars deeply furrowed by the claws of the evil desires of others. And surgery will not heal those wounds nor will it solve the problem of addiction and shame.

Here is where my fight lives: in the forces of old behavior patterns, of compulsive behavior to numb pain, fear, and shame, of wanting to hide myself and who I was created to be - girl, female, feminine, woman - behind a thick wall of self-contempt disguised as fat and an eating "problem," lack of will power.

My journey of the past six years has been out of this grave of self-contempt and self-hatred. Just over four of those years were spent primarily on facing the truth of things, horrible things that were done to me - things that never should have happened, things that were not my fault. This past year I have begun to look at the effects of the abuse suffered and my reactions to it relationally, behaviorally, emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically. I have begun the long, challenging journey of change - intentional choices to forgo impulsive, compulsive, mindless ways of living, breathing, eating, sleeping, moving, being. This is hard. It has been a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. Yes, difficult. Very, very difficult.

When I see the rapid physical changes in others I wonder about the fight I choose to engage - would it be easier to by-pass biology? or to opt for liquid weight-loss? or restricted caloric intake of less than 600 Calories a day? injecting growth hormones? Would anything be easier, faster than this goal of two pounds a week? hoping for two pounds a week, sometimes obtaining it, sometimes reversing course?

Sometimes the chorus of discouragement has been blaring - voices from the past, present, from self and others, even from evil - taunting me, scratching and gnawing at my already wounded heart. And in my discouragement, I hear and feel, "Why bother? It's just too late anyways..."

I gasp.

This cannot be true. There is too much I have to live for. Too much I have left to do. Too much life to live... and too much love to give.

I pray.

One word.

Sometimes a weak whisper to One I know, I hope hears and knows my deepest desires, my deepest pains, my deepest shame.

Help.



                       ... and I hear in response....

 
You're not alone, For I am here,
Let me wipe away your every tear,
My love I've never left your side,
I have seen you through the darkest night,
And I'm the one who's loved you all your life,
All your life

Faithful and true, Forever,
Oh my love will carry you.*



He carries.
            He holds.
                     He hopes when I cannot.
                                                     He loves.
                                                              He answers.
                                                                            And I know:
                                                                                           I am loved.
                                                                                                        I am His beloved.

Hope today restored. Enough for now; enough for this moment.

Addiction meets grace... Grace moves into addiction...

I breathe.

One day.

At a time.

There is hope.

For He lives.

And I live.

Because of Him.

I live.

He lives, is alive.

In me.

And I rejoice.
 
Happy Easter.

With much Love and Blessings,
Erin

*from You're Not Alone by Meredeth Andrews.