Separating From Ed

     Some days, ED gets me down. "You are so fat." "I can't believe you ate that much." "Just look at yourself. That's disgusting." "You used to be skinnier. It was more attractive." "Think of what you are losing out on." These words feel as though they play on repeat over and over again in my head sometimes.      I try to keep positive, but in reality, recovery IS hard. It is a challenge. Like my marriage, I have to work at it, be willing to put in the effort DAILY, if not moment by moment, to manage my recovery, my eating disorder thoughts, and behaviors. It's not easy, but I am getting better.      I like to think that I do a decent job of recognizing much of the progress that I have been making with my eating disorder recovery, but Ed can still find his way in to sabotage my thoughts. A big portion of my recovery has been sharing what I need, how I am feeling, and talking through my thoughts prior to engaging in a dest

     In my last post ( Be Proud ), I discussed the agony of repressed feelings, the lostness found in being alone, the lack of confidence felt as a youth, and the hopelessness faced through invalidation. Hope is something that we all need in our lives. Without it, we lack purpose and the drive to keep going. A life that ceases to have hope likewise ceases to have joy, pleasure, and peace. It lacks the ability to comprehend that life can or ever will get better. Without hope, we in turn lack the faith needed to push through hard times, get through the struggles, and believe that there is something greater on the other side.      When I felt hopeless against the people (adults and peers) in my life, I wasn't absolutely positive that things would get better, I only knew that I had to maintain faith that it would improve. Yet, you see, faith and hope are not mutually exclusive. Many people have hope without a faith and plenty of people maintain faith, while doubting or lacking hope.

     For most of my life, I have been taught to repress negative feelings. Feelings of sadness, inadequacy, hopelessness, loneliness, depression. In my darkest hours, I have felt unable to share the truly harmful thoughts with those closest to me. My pain, regret, struggles, and hurts have felt like they were mine and mine alone to bear.      Recently, I recalled a phrase that was said throughout my childhood. "I'm the only one allowed to be upset in this family." Or, "I'm the only one allowed to cry in this family." Substitute upset or cry with other words such as "get angry" or the like. These expressions were not something that caused trauma while I was growing up, however, when I remembered them a few weeks ago, some things stuck with me. Not only were these phrases inaccurate (because everyone can and does have feelings and is actually allowed to), they were also incredibly invalidating. The person who said these things in my life and my hom

Dear Jesus,      You, Lord, are beautiful. You know when I sit and when I rise. You perceive my thoughts from afar. Before a word is on my tongue, You know it completely, O, Lord. Your ways are always good and always higher than mine. Your plans are far beyond anything that I could ever do for myself. You hem me in behind and before. You created me in my mother's womb and wove me together in the depths of the earth.      Lord, despite knowing all about me, You still choose to love me. You are miraculous. What other god would love unconditionally? All of my faults and mistakes are obliterated in Your presence because of Your blood. Your blood is life. When it left Your body, it made me new, whole, and clean. Lord, my God, I can't thank You enough.      You are powerful and mighty, Lord. You are good. You are strong, holy, and worthy to be praised. Nothing I could ever do or not do makes You love me any more or any less. You love me as I am and You love me as if I were the