Steady As She Goes...: Eureka

I think it has finally clicked.

I think Heavenly Father answered my prayers and allowed me to, at last, GET IT.

I'll explain...

For many, many years I have struggled with what my therapist calls "disordered thinking" concerning food. I have classified foods as either "good" or "bad", and obsessed over the "right" way to eat since high school, if not earlier. I have cultivated guilt and hated myself for not eating "perfectly", and my body for not being as lean and as trim as I thought it should be. It has all gotten progressively worse over the years. It recently turned into a miserable, dangerous cycle of deprivation and bingeing. I have been feeling like my choices were either to white-knuckle my way through a life without sweets, treats, and desserts (in order to have the body I think I should want and have), or to just eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it and live with the resulting chubby figure. I couldn't imagine being happy with being chubby, but I also couldn't see how I could be happy without indulging in all those "bad" foods. And eating the way that I wanted to would make looking the way I wanted to impossible. I sometimes felt like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Why couldn't I have my cake, but not look like I ate it, too? My therapist diagnosed me with an eating disorder (no surprise) last fall, and since then, I have wondered if I would ever be free of the tyranny of yet another mental illness.

I know that happiness is not dependent on body size or shape, and I know that no food is either "good" or "bad". I know better, and that has made the aforementioned struggle all the more bitter and frustrating. But knowing isn't believing. I have prayed, talked to my therapist, and read various articles and books in a quest to find peace with food. To find peace with my body. To be kind to myself. And last week, as I thought about food for the thousandth time that day, it suddenly just...clicked. Slid into place. I knew that I wanted to be kind to myself. To my body. And I finally believed that being kind means giving my body what it needs to feel energized and healthy. It doesn't equal deprivation or unbridled eating. That is abuse. It usually means passing on the sweets, treats, and desserts, because those foods almost always make me feel sick. Even when I'm not bingeing on them. But it also means that sometimes my body wants those foods, and when that is the case, it can have them. Without judgment.

I keep coming back to the word kindness. I have been so mean, cruel and awful to myself for as long as I can remember. I know that depression, anxiety, and the eating disorder provided most of the impetus for all this nastiness, but I can fight back. I can be kind to myself. And I think that what kindness means, for me, will probably vary. It won't involve a rigid plan.

I know this isn't some radical new idea. My therapist has told me many times that sometimes you simply have to wait for lightning to strike: when the knowledge that you have becomes the belief that guides your actions.

While running in the sun today, I was suddenly shot through with a surge of total happiness. I almost started crying as I realized that I was HAPPY. That emotion is so rare for me. I feel like peace with food is now possible. That I can see how that can be accomplished. For me.

If it can happen to me, it can happen to you. God cares about what we care about. Don't give up if the lightning hasn't struck for you yet! It can, and it will. Keep doing your best. Keep looking for help and answers. They'll come. I am proof.

As I ran today, I also experienced a feeling that I've had a few other times while exercising: that the way I feel when I am exercising (especially running) is who I am. It's me when I am stripped of the insecurities, mental illnesses, and everyday fears and stressors. I feel strong and capable and powerful and kind. I feel like I'm worth something. I really like that person. And as I am kind to myself through my relationship with food, I think I'll be seeing a lot more of her.

On a side note, I am really excited to see what I can accomplish as an athlete when I'm not abusing myself with food. To that end, I began going to Body Pump again this week. I need to strength train more if I want to get faster and stronger!

Me 'n my Body Pump bar.

After 60 minutes of Body Pump, I jumped on the Step Mill for 30 minutes and tried to set a record for how much sweat a person can produce in that amount of time. Ugh. I am such a sweaty beast when I work out indoors. I always feel a little self-conscious whenever anyone gets on the machine next to me: "Please, God, don't let them smell me!!!" Thank goodness for deodorant! :)