Bulimia's Bride: The unveiled truth of bulimia

Have you ever read through your old journals and run across a stranger? This is how I feel when I flip through the pages I have stored of my life during high school and early college. I remember several pages as if they occurred only yesterday. Others seem as foreign to me as if they were never my own. I am thankful for that stranger. She is reminder that I am nothing apart from the saving grace of Jesus Christ.

The prevalent theme of those years was my battle with bulimia. I would have never imagined what a life threatening battle I was about to endure the first time I decided to skip a meal or make myself throw up. Had I known the trials I would face I would have turned and ran! I rest in the assurance that God knew, and I praise Him that He walked alongside me the entire way. His presence ultimately saved my life. Now I strive to live as one waiting in delight to array myself as His bride.

I modeled bulimia's wedding gown for the first time at age sixteen. I was captain of a dance/color guard team, dating my first boyfriend, and active in a variety of school and church organizations. I had given my life to Jesus Christ at the age of eight. My relationship with God was close at first but I was not growing as I should. This distance created by my disobedience helped ensure my inability to hear God's warning that danger was approaching.

While dating, I began to have memories of some unhappy events in my childhood. I had seen shows before where people claimed to "suddenly" remember something from their pasts. I always thought that to be impossible, until it happened to me. These memories threw me for a loop. All of the sudden, I was forced to relive moments that my mind had repressed up until then. In order to sort through all my new information, I ended my dating relationship.

Unfortunately, this did not erase those memories. Instead I discovered that if focused on my weight, my attention would be drawn elsewhere. Every weekend I would pour myself into a uniform that clung to every curve of my body. In the midst of my studies and activities, something had to go. So I decided to quit eating. Having bought the lie that womanhood is defined externally, I began the process of creating the "perfect" shell in which to cover my pain. Rather than returning to God's Word, I sold myself society's lie that we can find happiness through physical perfection.

For the rest of football season, my one meal of the day consisted of a baked potato and BBQ sauce. Neither was loaded with fat grams, which were becoming my enemy. Hunger pains were originally a nuisance to my lifestyle, yet they slowly turned into an inner trophy of self-discipline. I enjoyed the new control I had over my body. I was pleased with my lighter frame which slid easier into my uniform.

Convinced that I was in complete control, I was shocked at the end of football season when I could not resume eating "normally." I quickly discovered that the exact habit I had welcomed into my life had somehow escaped the box I had created and was now controlling me! My thoughts were no longer my own. They were filled with the issue of food; "will the party I'm going to have food?" "How can I escape having to eat in public?"

The dress I had simply wanted to model became my possession. I had become bulimia's bride. I wore the dress, played the role and submitted to all his desires. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I lost myself. New habits were acquired in order to survive.

My thoughts were so consumed with food that I could momentarily glance at a plate and know the order in which I would eat its contents so that the very least would be consumed by my body before I could purge myself. My weight dropped, but not so quickly that others became suspicious. This is the deadliest part of bulimia. We can fit in with the "average" crowd and be drowning in the disorder before someone notices.

One afternoon at church my hands began to shake uncontrollably. Concerned, I made a doctor's appointment. After reviewing some blood work he looked me in the face and asked, "Do you have an eating disorder?" What?! No one had ever said that to me before. "Of course not" I replied, "I'm just not feeling well." Eyeing me suspiciously, he continued, "Well, your electrolytes are dangerously low. You have to start eating more." With a quick promise I left the office.

Months passed by as I became more and more adept in hiding my struggle and lying to those around me. Lies are truly the foundation of an eating disorder. First, we begin to lie to ourselves by denying that we have a problem. Next, we accept Satan's lies that we are powerless over the situation. And lastly, we lie to those around us. We become rather proficient in lying, which creates an even more difficult path to healing.

My healing began in the middle of my senior year with a lady named Gayle Cowan. She was my teacher at church and noticed a change in my behavior. God graciously opened her eyes to my problem and she soon confronted me. Despite my opposition, we soon began meeting together weekly and working through a Christian workbook for eating disorders. I stayed committed only because she promised that as long as I met with her she would not tell my parents.

In the beginning I was resentful that Gayle had seemingly trapped me into meeting with her. However, through our meetings God began to slowly convince me that I did need help. We soon came to a point where Gayle felt that I needed more than she could offer. She told me that we must tell my parents.

I could have died. I wanted nothing less in this world than to tell my parents that their daughter was not as "perfect" as they thought. Overall I was a good kid. I had never been in trouble at school, I made good grades, and I was involved in a lot of activities. This would surely destroy their image of me. In that moment, I would have rather continued to destroy myself rather than that imaginary image I was trying so hard to become.

Thankfully, God and Gayle pushed me to confess. The road home had never seemed so long. Gayle graciously drove with me and there on a couch I spilled my guts to my parents. They handled it better than I thought. My dad grew silent and my mom began to cry, but it was nothing compared to my worst imaginations.

I began counseling that year. Part of my "recovery process" was to keep a food journal. I was to write down everything I ate throughout the day. That journal was quickly overtaken by large "X's" marking food that I had eaten and then threw up.

Despite my attempts at maintaining control, I always failed. This started becoming clear to me as a result of having to write down my successes or failures each day.

I begin to realize how much control I had lost. I could no longer decide whether or not to keep food in my own body. Counseling continued for several months and I was progressing slowly, but I had lost a huge part of who I really was. The individual gifts that God gives us are swallowed up in an eating disorder. We no longer have the mental energy that it takes to fully express ourselves. Our minds are too consumed with our next meal. I felt my life slipping away and I was left with an incredible amount of sadness. I best expressed myself through writing. Thus, I now have journals chronicling this time.

I wanted to believe my mistakes were in the past. My heart longed for a time when I would be free from this captor. Yet, in the depths of my soul I doubted that time would ever come. Although I did try to be honest, I also knew that unless my counselor gave me a "clean bill of health," my parents would be hesitant in allowing me to go away freely to college. Knowing this, I answered all of the questions not only to the best of my ability, but exactly as I knew I should in order to convince everyone I was "healed." My plan worked. A few months later I was finished with my treatment and about to start college life.

In the midst of convincing others I was healed, I also convinced myself. Despite my lies, some of what my counselor told me must have sunk in. I was able to change a lot of my habits and become more adapted in "normal life." I was so proud when I could sit through a study group and eat a piece of pizza with everyone else. When out with friends, I would purposefully get fries and eat a few just to "prove to myself" I could. Yet, I always knew that the disorder was still there. Regardless of how much I told myself I was healed, deep inside I was always afraid that I could never be fully released. That is when the fear and helplessness arrived.

One brownie changed my life. I was staying with a friend when she decided to make brownies. They looked so good and I was intrigued by how comfortable she looked eating them. Actually, I was more than intrigued, I was jealous. I wanted to be able to eat a brownie and enjoy it without analyzing every crumb. The brownie was not her enemy as it had so long been mine. I went for it, I ate one. Everything was fine until I went to bed.

I could not rest. All I could think about was that brownie lying in my stomach. How it was going to make me "fat." I became so overwhelmed with the desire to go purge myself. Inside I was screaming, "No God, I don't want to do this again." I battled with my own mind. I was suddenly hit with the realization that I could not stop. I had absolutely no control over my own life anymore. Frustrated, I resigned myself to dying.

I threw myself into prayers. My misconception was that I had to "do something" for God to heal me. I must work through a process of some sort. After all, I could not die from this. I felt stupid. People are supposed to die from accidents, cancer, stuff they can not control. I did this to myself. In this line of thinking, I decided that the best thing to do was to "accidentally" end it all.

One night I was sitting with a friend and shared my struggle. She said, "If you can't eat for yourself, can't you eat for others? Think about it Lorie, if you die your family will be upset." Surely I could place my family ahead of me. Yet not even the thought of bringing them pain could stop me. I believed that death was inevitable. Either they could watch me slowly take my life, or believe that it came to a tragic end. The latter seemed to be the best answer.

For weeks, I would speed up while driving home from classes. I knew exactly what spots in the road were known for their high rate of wrecks. If I veered off the road just at the right spot no one would ever know that it was done on purpose. My death would be considered an "accident." I found a strange sense of dignity in dying this way. Otherwise, I would die as a result of my own actions and the entire world would know.

Praise God my plan did not succeed. Each time my foot pressed down on the accelerator and my hands gripped the wheel tighter, something stopped me. Something would not let me go through with my plan. In that moment, I broke. I hated myself. I was hopeless. I thought I was pitiful, I could do nothing right. I could not eat like a normal person, I was too weak to fight the disorder, and now I was too afraid to even kill myself!

This was the lowest moment of my life. I was empty. I had long since walked away from my relationship with God. I had taken Him off the throne of my life in order to substitute myself. Honoring God was impossible as long as I valued the needs of my body more. I knew that in order to fully surrender to Him, I would have to be willing to give up full control. Up into that point, I refused to do so.

After another failed attempt of taking my life, I went home to take a shower. I pulled the radio into the bathroom and turned on music. The local Christian station happened to be set on the radio. Within moments, the song "The Anchor Holds" by Ray Boltz began to play. The words begin to sink in my mind. "The anchor holds, though the ship is battered. The anchor holds, though the sails are torn." That was me. I had become nothing more than a battered being who desperately needed to hold on to my "anchor." The identity I had worked hard to create, based on what the world told me would bring "true happiness" had failed and I was left among the shattered remains of the idol I had built. I collapsed onto the floor of the shower, crumpled and crying. I called out to God, "Oh, Father, I have destroyed my life. I can not go on living as I am I have tried to fix everything and it only gets worse. Please save me."

I experienced a new sense of strength after that moment. A strength that did not come from within me. Rather, strength that can only come from a Holy God who hears the cries of His children. I began to get back into His Word that I had long since put on a shelf since the eating disorder had taken the throne of my life. One day I discovered the chapter, Psalm 116. I love this passage because it begins by saying, "I love the Lord for He heard my voice, He heard my cry for mercy" (NIV). Indeed God heard my cry. As a result, I am alive today.

I immediately began to journal my new found "freedom."

I am so thankful that the answer to my last question is Yes! As His daughters, we can approach God in full confidence laying down all of our requests before Him. God not only rescued me from my battle with bulimia, He rescues me daily from other temptations. Through knowing Him, I have discovered purpose in life. God does not desire that we travel through life as "battered ships." Instead, He offers a greater life than we could ever imagine! True peace and freedom is found in a relationship with the Author of this life, not false imitations.

Allow me to shout it aloud, "Satan is the thief who comes to kill steal and destroy!" He stole several years of my life and came close to killing me. The above is his job description, and he does not take his work lightly. We are powerless to overcome his influence without the power of God in our lives. Without a personal relationship with God through His son Jesus, we will be tossed about by Satan's lies.

There is freedom, but it can not be earned. Despite what the world teaches us, we are unable to be "good enough", "work hard enough" or do anything "enough" to earn the freedom that we so desire. The price was paid years ago by the death of Jesus Christ. Our inability to lead perfect lives is not a shock to God. He knew this and therefore made a perfect arrangement to grant us not only salvation for eternal life, but hope for our life on earth, through the death and resurrection of His Son.

For those of you who are currently wearing your shackled gowns, you can find freedom. God's Word tells us exactly how to find the "key" that will fit those chains. There is only one that will fit. Others try to imitate but eventually lead us to despair. True release is found by confessing your need for God and accepting His plan for your life. That plan includes believing in His Son, Jesus Christ. Our role is to "confess" that Jesus is Lord and "believe" that God raised Him from the dead. (Romans 10:9-10, NIV)

I knew God, yet still struggled through my disorder. God did not change, I did. Rather than clinging to the truths I had learned in Scripture, I began to settle for the lies told by this world. This is why our thought life is so important. All of our actions begin as a thought.

We are wise to fill our thoughts with God's truth. What an amazing truth it is! Scripture says that God's word will demolish every argument that it opposes! One of my favorite truths is found in Isaiah 54:4-5 (NIV):

God is a God of new beginnings. He grants us not only forgiveness and life abundantly, but freedom without shame. Rest in His promise. He is faithful. As a daughter of God, we are ultimately His bride! Isaiah 54:5 refers to God as our "husband." Unlike bulimia, God gives freedom not shame. God gives healing not hurt. We can exchange our gowns soiled by this world, for one pure and awaiting our God!

Run to Him. Rest in Him. Enjoy your position as His bride. You are loved by an incredible, holy God. Let us encourage others to unveil the lies of this world. True beauty is found in Him. His desire is that we all stand before Him as pure brides. The way has been made, we must only accept, trust, and walk in it. I am praying for you that you will embrace His truth and become the "bride" you were created to be.