Moving From a Spectator to a Winning Player

I am that story…you know the one. You’ve heard it a million times. I’m the fat girl, the one you pass and pretend you don’t see. The one you internally feel pity and disgust for all at the same time. I’m the one you see that makes you think to yourself, “Why doesn’t she just quit eating, or why did she let herself get that way?” How profound your questions, but shallow and insensitive, too. I am me, fat, invisible, sloppy, angry, sad, emotionally scarred, misunderstood, reckless, insecure, tired, and buried. That’s right. I said buried.

I’ve been buried in these layers of stinky, nasty, hot fat for years. I’ve been buried within this prison of fat cells and heavy skin for far too long. I’ve buried away my life under layers of fat while letting the fat suck the very desire to exist completely out of me. I have been buried so far beneath the surface of lard that I no longer know the girl hidden beneath.

Did I mention I was tired? I am so tired…and I don’t mean the physical kind of tired that you get from working hard or exercising. I certainly haven’t worked hard, and I darn sure haven’t exercised. I am the kind of tired that makes opening my eyes, thinking, getting out of bed, taking a shower, washing clothes, or having a conversation nearly impossible. The very thought of moving my body through space exhausts me. I am tired of just getting by, but not really getting by. Being buried in a coffin of fat keeps me from even doing the bare essentials.

So, when does this kind of tired become so exhausting that life is no longer livable, you ask? Well, that question is one I am willing to answer. It is now…now; I am too tired to live life any longer buried in a coffin of fat that I have managed to build for myself one cheeseburger, snack cake, and french fry at a time. I am going to dig myself out, not because I have to, but because I want to live…really, really live. Ain’t no living going on in a coffin…just dying…slow, painful, suffocating dying.

So, I guess your next question is, “What are you going to do differently that you haven’t already done before?” I am going to fight the ugliness that clouds my good thoughts and drives my well-intentioned fat fighting train right into the nearest brick wall. I am going to get up, get out, and get the life I was meant to have. Ideally, a change of mind would be enough to cause me to change my life. Realistically, I know just setting my mind to losing weight isn’t enough.

Real success will only come when I pull out one skeleton, one hurt, one bad memory at a time and let them go. Yep, that’s right. I am going to let them all go. I am going to sort through the fat cells that are each really emotional wounds that I have chosen to never let heal in the past. I have picked at the scabs of those wounds and bandaged them with tons of grease and carbs. Never really letting any of them heal, because true healing meant I could no longer bandage them with a pack of chocolate bars or bag of chips. Opening up wounds and exposing them for what they are can only happen when I decide that the pain of dealing with my past is easier than dealing with the pain that will be my future. So, it’s a toss up. I choose to sort through the past, tossing out each fat cell, to make room for real living cells. The kind of living that happens when I can play ball with my kid and not feel like I am going to die after 5 minutes. The kind of living that comes from hiking trails, bike riding, camping, swimming, and sitting in the floor and playing cards. The kind of living that sees life not for what it could have been, but how great it can be.

I have wanted to write so many times. Words were there, and I had plenty to say. The truth is, putting words to paper is impossible when there is truth that begs to be told, but too painful to see in print. And then, it dawned on me today. It wouldn’t matter if the truths of my life, painful as they are, were ever written. The excruciating painful truth is already evident in every dimple of fat on my butt, every roll of lard on my stomach, and in my disgusting, sagging, sweaty breasts. I just couldn’t uncloud my thoughts long enough to let the truths come to light and really expose them to myself for the prison they have created within my own body of morbid fat. Any spectator can see something just isn’t right. No human body is meant to be like this. No one comes to be this gross, miserable, and fat, because they want to be. It just happens, and then one day…like today…you wake up. You wake up and realize you are dying, literally, in a coffin of fat. You wake up and smell the horrific smell of death and see the sight of rotting flesh which has become what you know as life, but isn’t really life at all.

So today, I am prying open the coffin of fat one fingernail at a time. There are glimmers of light, small as they are, creeping through the cracks. I can see them. I have hope. I have hope that today is not just another promise to myself that tomorrow I will do better. No, I have hope in today. It is only today that I can get through. I will deal with tomorrow tomorrow. As I pull myself out of this dark, desperate coffin of fat, I will leave behind, to be buried forever, all of the emotional crap I have stuffed with food so as to avoid dealing with it. Yep, life for me begins today. So, here’s how I got this way…

I cannot remember being skinny…ever. There are pictures of me as a small child in which I was not at all overweight. I don’t know when it actually started…the fat that is. I just know that around 3rd grade, I wasn’t like everyone else…skinny that is. My father would tell me I was the most beautiful girl in the world. The world told me differently. School was hard. No, it wasn’t hard; it was horrific. I was tormented daily. I was called elephant girl, fatty, and big ‘un by my classmates, who I so desperately wanted to like me. They drew pictures of me, picked me last for teams, heckled me, hit me, and made me cry. I hated myself. I hated them. I hated my life at home. I hated everything and everyone around me. And yet, I always smiled, pretended like nothing bothered me, and was the jolly Angie I thought the world wanted me to be, except I was fat. I thought would hide the shelter of fat that would eventually become my grave. My dad, who I lived with, had remarried. My step mom, as much as I wanted to love her, never really bonded with me. I think I was resentful that she had taken my dad away. I manifested that resentment by being an intolerable brat towards her. I am certain I was not easy to love.

My stepbrother, on the other hand, was perfect in every way and bonded quite naturally with my father, which caused even more resentment on my behalf. I was so jealous of him. He was cute, dressed in hip clothes, and was skinny. I, on the other hand, was forced to wear handmade fat clothes that my stepmother sewed. Buying clothes for me in department stores was difficult. I was too fat. The kids at school would heckle me by saying that my mom must have had to use a parachute to make my clothes. Clearly they liked me…ha! Much of junior high school was the same. I ate when I was lonely. I ate when I was happy. I ate when I was sad. I hid my eating and felt tremendous shame. I wasn’t conscious of my emotional eating, because it was all I knew. I was so lonely, and food was my only non-judging friend. I hated food, though. But I loved it, too. After moving away from home, I did what any sensible thinking food addict would do. I went to culinary school. What better way to feed an addiction than to surround yourself with an all-consuming presence of food? I hated it there. Once again, I felt insecure and out of place. I had no desire to learn. I just wanted to eat.

Food has been the only constant in my life. When no one else was there, food was. I have tried to lose weight before...lots of times. I have done every diet there is and done quite well at many. But like so many others, I only cared about losing the weight rather than dealing with what made me gain it all in the first place. 

I have had several good jobs since culinary school. I went back to college, not once but twice. Somewhere in the midst of jumping through hoops in the working world and attempting to complete college, I just gave up...on me. I lost sight of what could be and became complacent with what was my reality...my coffin of fat. 

Nearly 10 years ago, unable to see through my haze of fat and self-loathing, I met a man who showed me some attention...you know the kind of attention any girl wants. He was married. I have always had strong Christian morals, but again...I was just lost and so wanted to have someone...anyone love me even if it was a married man who only wanted one thing.

For one night, I let down my guard and nine months later, I had a child. Now, let me just say right now that I don't condone my behavior one bit. I have wished a million times that I would have had just one ounce of enough self-esteem to stand up for myself and say no. But the truth is, I didn't. The only good thing that came from that night was my beautiful soon-to-be 9 year old son. 

Having gotten pregnant, unmarried, and by a married man of a different race kind of put a strain, to put it nicely, on my relationship with my parents. They severed ties with me when I told them I was pregnant. However, regardless of what I knew I would lose by keeping my son, I loved him whole-heartedly from the moment the doctor shocked me by saying I was pregnant. 

And...well, I have lost everything...everything that is except my weight. I have gained nearly 100 pounds in the last 9 years. I have continued to eat and gain and eat and gain until I am disgusted by the reflection of myself in the mirror. If I thought I could get clean by showering with my clothes on, I'd never get naked. 

I have been homeless, broke, broken, and nearly drove my son and I off a bridge when he was an infant, because I couldn't see how anyone could ever love us. But God...well, God loved us and loves us still. I have seen Him do things that only He could have done. 

So here I am today...I finally have a home with bricks and windows and a working stove and a refrigerator that has an ice and water dispenser. I have a working car and a job that pays the bills. My son has clothes and name brand shoes. I have struggled to get here. Nothing has been easy! Why, then, would I continue to punish myself by living in a coffin of fat? 

Don't I deserve more? Doesn't my son deserve more??? We both do! And I am ready. Yes, I said it. I am ready! I am ready to get off my lazy, tired, sweaty, stinky rear and do something different. 

So why in the world would I put all of this out there into cyber land knowing that someone would see my personal battle? Because I know without a doubt, I am not alone. There are other girls who pretend to be living, but are really dying slowly one fat cell at a time in a coffin of fat. While, I would like to believe that the road ahead will be easy, I already know it won't be. The difference this time, is that I would rather suffer through the journey of trying, then leave my son alone in this world because his fat mama was just too sorry to try.

So here's my journey...all 387 pounds of it. Yep...I really did just put it out there. And for once, I am ok with it, because that is who I am. I am the fat girl. But I don't have to be her anymore. I choose today to  crack open that fat coffin and begin life. It took me nearly 40 years to get to this weight, so I know full well that nothing will happen overnight. But by gosh, I am determined to live. I mean it...really start living. 

I will post here regularly as a way to hold myself accountable. I am what I am, but I have hope and total faith that I can do better. 

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

The earth shattering call

            The phone rings at 12:32 a.m. On the other end of the line is the call…that dreaded call announcing someone you loved has passed. Shock and sadness consume every fiber of your being. The world as you know it will never be the same.
            A doctor’s visit for what was thought to be something insignificant results in a deadly diagnosis of cancer or some other life altering condition. The brakes of your otherwise normal life slam you to a sudden stop leaving you to wonder, “Why me?”
            Someone you trust and thought you knew reveals they aren’t who you thought they were. Deception and anger fill your mind, and questions of who and what they have become plague your thoughts.
            Have you been there? Have you had your world turned upside and rocked to the core by something so overwhelming that taking the next breath is too difficult to fathom?
            Life is like that. It is unpredictable. But there is One who knows and who is never shocked or caught off guard.           
            While I would like to believe that I have everything under control in my little corner of the world, the truth is, I don’t. But God does, and He is bigger than any crisis that comes my way.
            During those times in my life where I couldn’t see past the crisis at hand, and fear and doubt clouded my rational thinking, I can look back and see how God was working. There have been times, that only the prayer of others sustained me. I know that now, but at the time, I was so consumed by pain or fear of the unknown that I was unable to see God for who He was and is.
            I think we often put our understanding of God in a little box placed on the shelf of our existence only to pull it down as a last resort in times of crisis. But God is bigger than that and can’t be boxed.
            God is the same in times of plenty and in times of need. He is God, the creator of life and death and good and bad and joy and pain. He is the greatest of all.
            This week, I have seen and heard things that have shaken the world as I know it, but God is still God. He is the same God today as He was yesterday and will be the same tomorrow as He was today. The only difference is how I choose to handle the situation at hand.           
            So for today, I choose to place my faith in the One who knows far more than I. Today, I choose not to judge those that have been deceitful, but instead pray whole-heartedly for God’s peace to sustain them. Today, I choose to love the Lord with every fiber of my being in solemn prayer that those who are hurting with indescribable pain will find peace in a terrible situation. Today, I will kneel at the foot of the cross and leave my burdens in the hands of the One who can handle them. Today, I pray you will do the same.
            “Seek the Lord and His strength; seek His presence continually!” 1 Chronicles 16:11

Unsewing the Seams of Sin

        She would start with nothing but a pattern and a cut of fabric. Her fingers would measure and cut and pin. The pedal on the machine would click as her foot pressed and released it making the needle pull the delicate string. Her old olive green office chair would creak and moan as she readjusted her posture after hours of sitting in it.
       The fabric, that began, as nothing would soon be a treasured creation of hers to be worn by me on Easter Sunday morning.
        Occasionally, I would hear the seam puller rip through stitches knowing she wasn’t pleased with a seam. It had to be perfect, so she would rip and sew until perfection was reached.
       Her hands would tug and pull and sew and pin the fabric, and the machine would hum and click until, finally, my Easter Sunday dress was just the way she envisioned.
       I would model it and twist and twirl fancying in my Easter best. I loved my dress. But more than the dress, I loved the dressmaker.
       The ripping and cutting and piecing together were time consuming and took patience, and she had it…lots of it. 
        Even when I complained that I was tired of trying on the dress for alterations and hem length measurement, she was diligent in her persistence, so that I would have the perfect dress.
      The process of any creation is often painful. The mending and pulling and ripping away what isn’t useful is hard, but it is necessary in order to create perfection.
       As sinners, our fabric is stained and frayed, and unable to hold a straight stitch. We struggle with straight lines and perfect hems. We pull the thread of sin, winding it deep within our core.
        God is constantly altering our seams. He tugs and pulls the fragments of our imperfect pieces.     His fingers are deliberate as He rips the sins we have sewn into the fabric of our lives. He is the seamstress, and we are His fabric…His creation.
      The perfection process is painful, because He exposes the crookedness of our sin and the zigzag patterns of our thread.
     We get tired of the process of this sewing and mending and pulling. But He keeps on until we give in to His hands…the hands that ultimately create what is perfect and without flaws.
     And I want what He is sewing: A one-piece creation that is woven in Him. In Christ, we are never frayed or torn. All pieces are made whole and new. In Him, we become the perfect Easter dress.
     My step-mother taught me through those Easter dresses about yearning for what is good and righteous...about being patient with the process of perfection. And how sometimes, exposing the ugly seams is painful, but ultimately pulling and tugging at the misshapen fabric that is made from our sin is what brings the glory that He has for us.
     While I am pricked with needle sticks, and my fabric is still frayed, I yearn for His perfect seams and will keep allowing the process of His perfecting the imperfect, so that I will eventually become the perfect Easter dress.
      “...being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

A Must See

A friend of mine just posted this video on her facebook,  and I love it! My favorite lines are "I spent my whole life building this facade of neatness, but now that I know Jesus, I boast in my weakness. Because if grace is water, then the church should be an ocean. It's not a museum for good people, it's a hospital for the broken. Which means I don't have to hide my failure or hide my sin. It doesn't depend on me, it depends on HIM."
http://youtu.be/1IAhDGYlpqY

 

Not Just Spinning My Wheel

I saw a quote of Martin Luther’s this weekend on the back of a t-shirt that I loved. It said, “I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.”

Do you ever have days like that? Do you ever have days when your to-do list seems impossible to complete and overwhelming just to think about?

Do you ever have days when you speed through the day trying to accomplish all there is to do, and when nighttime falls, you wonder exactly what all you did that day?

As a single mother, my plate is often overflowing with things I need to get done. There is laundry, homework, housework, bills that need to be paid, and somewhere in there, I have to work.

I am not complaining at all as I know others that have much more to do than I. But sometimes, the days can just run together, and I end up feeling like I have been running on a hamster wheel…expending lots of energy, but getting nowhere.

There is a distinct difference in the quality of my days when I spend my first waking moments with God reading His word and praying. I am able to slow down and live through the moments of my day with ease and enjoyment rather than hurried and flustered.

On the mornings that I sleep too late and have to rush to get my kid to school and myself to work, I feel like I am missing something all day...like I just can’t seem to get it together. 

I have come to know that I need that time in the morning when it is just God and I…when there is no one else around to distract me. I become centered on His will and am filled with a peace in what can otherwise seem like a crazy day.

I don’t want to look back one day and think, “What was I so busy doing that I didn’t take time to just enjoy life?”

I believe God is about the small details of our lives, as well as the big life-changing details. God wants to be involved in every aspect of our lives.

When my morning time is spent concentrating on a relationship with God, my day becomes less about to-do lists and frantic chaos. I can fully trust that God and I can handle whatever comes my way.

             The Bible says in Philippians 4:6-7, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

The peaceful hand of the one who created us can calm our anxieties and worries.

Our time is short here, and not a moment is guaranteed. I want to make the most of it enjoying the people I love  and learning to seize every moment rather than drowning in the chaos that keeps God at a distance and me in a state of worry.

             This week, I pray you will pencil in on your to-do lists some quiet time with God, so that He can fill you with the peace that transcends all understanding.

Rockin' in a boat of fear

     Imagine with me for a moment, the scene of Jesus and the disciples as they were in a boat on the Sea of Galilee during a horrific storm.
     The Bible details the event as quite frightening to the disciples. Yet, Jesus was asleep during the turbulent waves and rocking of the boat. The waves crashed over the side of the boat, and I can imagine that the disciples feared certain death.
     Several of the disciples were fishermen by trade, so they were used to rocky seas. However, this storm was unlike any they had ever seen.
     The disciples awoke Jesus and asked him if He was just going to let them drown in the horrible storm. 
     There are two things that are important to point out here. First, although Jesus was asleep, He was never unaware of what was happening on that boat. Second, fear overcame the disciples and created doubt in who Jesus claimed to be.
     When Jesus spoke the words, “Quiet! Be still” to the storm in Luke 4:39,  the wind died down and it was completely calm. Jesus then questioned why the disciples had such little faith.
Unfortunately, I have been like the disciples during turbulent times of my life. In the uncertainty of the moment, I have questioned Jesus’ intentions and thought He was surely not paying attention to what was happening in my life.
     The fear of the unknown has riddled me so, that instead of trusting that Jesus knew better than I, I have taken matters into my own hands. Thus, creating bigger messes.
     The Bible clearly tells us that we are to not be afraid of what is to come. By trusting in Jesus and allowing Him to guide us, we can rest fully in the knowledge that He will provide. This is clearly easier said than done.
    Having been homeless, jobless, and penniless at one time, I have seen God do incredible things that only He could do. Has it been easy? Life is never easy, but it is always worth it.
    During the times I have allowed my fears to dictate my actions, I can clearly look back and see how wasted my energies were.
     Wallowing in fear renders us incapable of seeing God’s plan. Fear prevents us from venturing into the unknown and seeing the awesomeness that is God.
     Nothing good comes from fear. Only a personal relationship with Christ can give the peace and calmness we so desire in life.
    Psalm 23:4 says, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
    Clearly this verse shows that we walk THROUGH the valley. Jesus does not just drop us off in the valley and forget us. He promises to see us through it.
    While your lifeboat may be rocky and filling with water, and perhaps, you are fearful you will surely drown, keep in my mind that Jesus provides calm waters. He is never asleep! Just keep paddling and praying.

A Bowl of Tears and A Heap of Mercy

      In the 5th grade, I made a really bad grade on a test that I had not studied for. I had to take it home to have my father sign it. Being afraid of the consequences I would have to suffer from not doing well on the test, I forged my dad’s signature.
     The next day, my teacher having recognized what was clearly a forgery, sent me to the principle’s office. I had to call my father and tell him what I had done. I knew I was in big trouble!
     Later that afternoon, after spending the remainder of the day worrying about my impending punishment, my father picked me up from school and took me to an ice cream shop for a treat.
     Now, on any other day, this would have been quite fun. However, knowing what I had done and how disappointed my dad was in me, I could not enjoy this outing. 
     While tears rolled down my cheeks and splashed into my bowl of pistachio ice cream, I sat at the table in the small shop and waited for what was sure to be some type of horrific punishment.
     I certainly deserved a spanking or perhaps being grounded from television, but I did not receive either of those that day. Instead, I received a few treasured moments about how God’s mercy is great enough to forgive us even when we are least deserving of it.
     My father taught me far more that day than just lessons on honesty. He taught me about mercy.
     One of my favorite examples of Christ’s mercy is told in Luke 7:36-50. A woman, whose name is never told, came to see Jesus at the home of Simon, where Jesus had been invited to dinner.
      She was a sinner woman perceived by Simon as not worthy of Jesus’ forgiveness or even worthy enough to be in His presence.
      I can imagine Simon’s critical thinking, as I have often been quick to judge others at times.
     Upon arriving at Simon’s home, the sinful woman kneeled at Jesus’ feet, washed them with her tears and dried them with her hair. Lastly, she poured expensive perfume on them.
     All of the actions made by this sinful woman were custom in that day. However, because Simon perceived her sins to be so bad, he was appalled that Jesus would allow this trashy woman to behave in this way and even said so to Jesus.
     Jesus was quick to correct Simon in his thinking. Jesus was also quick to forgive this sinful woman by showing her great mercy inspite of her sins. The sinful woman was so broken from her wicked life that all she could do was weep. Can you imagine her joy after Jesus had shown her such compassion and love?
     I am like that sinful woman. We are all like her. We are sinners. We are broken. We are in need of Jesus’ mercy. While my sins may be different from yours, we are still just sinners. I can do nothing to earn forgiveness.
     Christ’s mercy cannot be bought or earned. It was paid for when He died on the cross. All we have to do is ask for it.
     My earthly father was not hesitant in showing me mercy on that day of 5th grade, when I so did not deserve it. My Heavenly Father is never hesitant in showing me mercy by forgiving me of my sins. 
      Just like Christ is quick to forgive each of us, we can show that same mercy to others by being a vessel of forgiveness.
      May you know the peace that comes from His mercy this week and be steadfast in showing it to others.