"You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see." — Revelation 3:17-18
The past five weeks have been very uncomfortable. I mean that in every possible interpretation of the word. After nine years of restricting, meal-skipping, binging, and purging, I have had a blessed miracle of five weeks completely free. And I mean free. Sure I've had stretches of time, even long stretches of time, where I haven't "acted" on food temptation. But it wasn't until the Monday after Jude's birthday that I realized just what kind of life of imprisonment I've been living in without any idea I was trapped.
Having even a day without mental bombardment was previously unimaginable. Five weeks later I am in utter awe of the great, miraculous, excessive grace God has showered upon me. And I honestly have no idea why. Why me? Why now? I've prayed for eight years to be free of the beast, but never had a single "yes" until this past month. I can't explain it other than to say that my total breakdown following Jude's birthday pushed me to ask everyone I knew to pray for me, and within 24 hours--literally--I felt like a completely different person.
I had no idea just how wretched I was. I knew I was spiritually impoverished but I had such a short-sighted faith, not believing God desired my true, full, complete recovery. I don't believe that anymore. Even if this is only a season, I am joyfully and uproariously thankful! What love that He---the very one I've been sinning against for nine years--would heal my heart from its own degenerate desires and make me new. I know as believers we speak of these things all of the time, but to actually experience it . . . I mean to go to sleep one limping beggar and awaken running full speed. There aren't words, friends, outside of an endless chorus of "Thank you! Thank you! Thank You!"
"Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price." - Isaiah 55:1
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it." - Isaiah 55:8-11
O.k. so now you're probably asking "why did the title say 'uncomfortable recovery' if everything is sunshine and wee daisies. Well unfortunately, for as joyous as all of the spiritual and mental freedom I am experiencing truly is, my body is still trying to come to terms with this new me. I didn't realize just how twisted my "normal" was until God healed this sickness and allowed me to actually eat a meal without an inner tirade. Looking back, my "healthy" periods were full of restricting. Although God has nearly muted those feelings now, my body still remembers and is thus constantly uncomfortable.
I feel forever too full, nauseated, bloated, and my stomach has a lot of trouble after meals. I have to eat a lot slower and sometimes in more, smaller sessions otherwise I feel incredibly ill. At work, it's been really hard to concentrate after meals. I feel my eyes glazing and my brain focusing on wanting a nap and a LOT of Tums.
I've tried warm milk before bed, diluting coffee with even more cream, tums by the fistful, and even peppermint oil in water before bed. Still I am a miserable mess of indigestion and nausea. I've read / heard from several sources that this is normal in a body that's gone through what I can only call full-out abuse, but that doesn't make me feel all of that much better.
So if you're thinking of me--which I very much doubt considering I've been cloistered from the world this past month--please pray a big "THANK YOU" and ask for a stomach that can get through a meal without angry protestations.