Let's Talk about It

If we can talk about cancer and diabetes and all other diseases, why can't we talk about addiction and eating disorders? I think we can and should, and so I do. I know, just like I know I'm not for everyone, this openness is not for everyone. And that is okay. It doesn't make either of us better or worse. It just makes us different. But we are all beloved children of God worthy of dignity and respect no matter what. We have that in common, so I'll respect how you live your scars and wounds and treat you with all the dignity you deserve, please do the same for me.

I do, however, want to say this, and please know I mean it with every fiber of my being. To anyone I may have offended by the seemingly nonchalant way I talk about and/or write about eating disorders and addiction, I wholeheartedly apologize. Really I do. The last thing in the world I want to do is cause anyone who lives in either of these worlds any pain. Those of us who have residency here have enough of that.

I also don't want or need anyone's pity. Cause, see here's the thing, all your pity does is make you feel better about yourself. It makes you feel safe. Your pity builds walls up around you that give you a sense of security--security that you will never face what I and many others have faced. You desperately want those walls to hold strong. Most days I want that for you too, some days I don't. 

So keep your pity to yourself. I don't want it. I don't need it. Empathy, compassion, grace--I'll take an extra heaping of those. 

Here's my truth...

I started struggling with an eating disorder when I was in junior high school. There are days and weeks, occasionally a few months when I don't even think about it, and then something happens and it rears its ugly head. I have people to turn to, people who love me, people who understand, and people who hold me accountable. It's a war I continue to fight. I win lots of battles, and some I don't. The biggest battle I have won and the one I refuse to refight is the one that is about secrecy and shame, and so I write and talk about it. 

We have addiction in our family. Again, there are days I don't think about it and there are days I can't stop thinking about it. There are times I feel light and free and there are times I am consumed with fear and what-ifs. There are still roads I can't drive down, songs I can't listen to, and smells I can't stomach. Those are the wounds scabbing over--some turn to scars, others bleed again. Talking and writing about it helps soothe the ache and bandaids the festering wounds so they can join the others that have already become scars. 

The other thing that helps--remembering that I am not alone, remembering that all those who struggle or love someone who struggles are not alone. We are not alone and we as people are created in the image of God just like everyone else. These addictions (I do believe eating disorders are types of addictions) try to tell us we're not. They try to tell us we're not worthy, we're not enough, we're flawed beyond redemption. And they try to tell us those we love who struggle are not worthy and we are weak and naive to continue to engage and to believe it will ever be different. So I talk and I write because I will challenge every day for the rest of my life these untruths. We are not weak and naive; we are warriors--strong and brave.

I have cried and will cry again. I know that. But I will also laugh, and if laughing sometimes helps me get through the hard times, then it's what I'll do. And while I know not everyone appreciates my approach, it is how I choose to live. The years of secrecy and shame tried to kill my soul. This is the way I make sure it survives. This is the way I let it sing.