I’ve been reminded several times over the last couple of weeks that I don’t owe anyone an explanation as to what I’m going through in my life right now. I also know that honesty and transparency are two things that I value most in life. So while I know this story doesn’t need to be told, I’ve always felt some kind of healing in writing, and I find comfort in knowing that if my words help one person, then sharing was worth it.
For the last several years, I’ve gone on an international mission trip to India as part of the nonprofit that I work for, Aasha India. This year, when we were gone from late February through early March, I got food poisoning that left me violently ill for 24 hours. That honestly comes with the territory, and it’s something to be expected at this point when going on these trips.
I’ve also been very honest in the past about my struggles with an eating disorder. I’ve written posts about it here and here, and at this point, it’s something in my life that I’ve been able to manage for 20 years while still living a relatively normal life. (What is normal when your entire adult life has been managing this, I do not know.)
That being said, when I got sick in India this year, it really triggered a lot of anxiety and OCD around food. Since March, I have been battling this to the best of my ability on my own, only to get my head above water for a short period of time and then fall back and struggle again.
It’s gotten to the point where I’m watching my world get smaller and smaller. Things that I’ve once loved, like going out to eat with coworkers, friends, family, etc., have been off the table. Eating is fine in my controlled world inside the walls of my home, but I’ve watched my world shrink over the last several months as the rules and anxieties in my mind have taken over and slowly shut me out from the things I once loved.
And those anxieties and fears have morphed into what is being eaten inside my home as well. It’s impacted my physical and mental health to a capacity in which not getting help was no longer an option.
It’s also come at the expense of my spiritual health. As someone who loves God, believes in the power of Jesus’ death on the cross to save and bring freedom to my life, I have felt anything but free. I’ve felt myself torn from the inside out trying to hold onto Jesus with a death grip in one hand, and an eating disorder in the other. It doesn’t feel like the freedom Jesus promises—it feels like being tortured in one of the most painful ways to know that freedom is possible and not being able to get your head above water enough to live into that promised reality.
So where does that leave me? As of this week, I have taken a 30-day unpaid medical leave of absence from work to pursue an intensive outpatient program for eating disorder recovery. What was supposed to start on Monday of this week actually turned into its own dumpster fire, but we were able to make a fast pivot to build a new team and protocol, which starts today and will run through the end of August. I don’t want to speak to all the resources I’m currently using because I don’t want to speak to something I can’t personally vouch for yet, but I can say that God has led me to a handful of Christian faith-based resources that I’m excited about as I walk this path of healing.
I have an army of coworkers and prayer warriors from my church that are rooting me on and praying for me during this time. I’m grateful for them and their graciousness to let me pursue recovery in this way. I also know that there is a responsibility on me to live into the prayers that I’m praying, and that are being prayed over me. I know the lies of the enemy will become quieter in my mind as I do so. It’s always uncomfortable to admit when you have a responsibility over something. Yes, my mental health is an illness happening to me, but I do have the opportunity to choose health, recovery, and healing. While I do believe you can be a victim of the enemy over your mind, I do believe through the power of God your story can have the greatest hero in Jesus.
I find strength in the words from a song I’ve been listening to exclusively on repeat for 3 miles of running each day this week: “Gotta go full send to the end, right through hell and back again, God don’t make me have to go there alone… I need you in the fight of my life.”
It does feel like this is the fight of my life. The fight to leave this at the foot of the cross once and for all. I don’t know that I’ll share more of this through the process, but I’m hopeful at the end there is a post of hope and encouragement, and that I might be able to share the resources I’ve used with you if I find them to be impactful in my healing journey. If you’re in the fight of your life, know you’re in my prayers.
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