Below is a post that I wrote to Alyssa Bethke, and amazing blogger who impacted my life with her story, and gave me the courage to share mine as well.
Hi, my name is Emma and I'm a freshman at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York. I love your blog, and read it because it uplifts me so much. I read your blog entitled Put Off. Put On. I posted a comment on that, but when I read this post, it reminded me more of the eating disorder of my past that I commented about on the other
post. I struggled with it for three long years, (which is crazy, because I absolutely love food,) and then after that, a season of anxiety my senior year in high school that lasted 6 long and terrifying months.
In eighth grade, I was in a Home Economics class where we learned about eating disorders. For some reason I had this thought in my mind that I had to be "that girl who struggled" in the video we watched, thinking I'd finally get attention that way. My teacher was talking about the amount of calories we should eat a day and how we should only limit ourselves to a cookie a day. I was nothing like what she described, ate so much (because I had a fast metabolism,) and was so hungry each day when I came home from school. I weighed 86 pounds, and thought I was fat because she told us we should only gain a pound per inch that we grew. I had grown 3 inches after 7th grade, and gained 6 pounds, which freaked me out. Between that weight gain was when my eating disorder began. Trying to stay at 93 pounds I counted calories, only ate 900 per day, exercised, and when my mom made tacos I ate one, still starving, and yelled at her about how I only wanted one when she asked, "are you sure you don't want more?" I always wrote down the calories on paper and once I left it in the bathroom, where my sister who is two years younger than myself saw it and asked me why I did it. I lied, saying, "oh, I was just wondering." She's smart, and knew it wasn't just that. The fear of weight gain continued, especially when we got weighed once each year in the nurses office. I would skip breakfast that day, as well as each day, since I lost weight by only eating two meals a day, and no food two hours prior to going to bed. God forbid I ate last at 8pm, I'd be up until 10pm, shaking my legs or reading to stay awake until I was fully digested. When I realized I was 101 pounds in 9th grade, I continued to starve myself, scared of being over 100 pounds. Any increment of five pounds scared me. It was the summer before 11th grade that I gave my anorexia to Jesus. I prayed for him to help me overcome it and stop counting calories. Not starving myself but still counting calories turned into just counting calories to counting calories only some days, to finally not counting calories. I shared with my two best friends, Skylar and Lindsey, who are still the best to this day, although we are all at separate colleges, and have shared my story with friends when I recently met them at my new church, JHOP, here in NYC. It was so hard, but I can say I'm an overcomer. I can't believe I ever thought I was fat, or that my testimony wasn't "good enough," and wished for it to be something that moved people. Yes, at times I do still feel guilty about thinking being saved since I was 8 isn't a testimony in itself, something that made me realize how blessed I was to have that original testimony by my incredibly wise friend, Vanessa. But, I know now that God uses our past to prepare us for our future and the greater impact we will have on others.
After my junior year in high school, I went through a stage of depression; the fear of college, leaving home, and missing my family really got to me. To the point where I actually longed for depression. Thinking about suicide crossed my mind, I'd randomly start crying while reading a book or drawing because anxiety was taking over my weary heart. Instead of giving my fear to Jesus, I decided to hold onto it myself and make it a bigger problem than it needed to be. I let the enemy in, let him win, and let his damage consume my life. I would wake up in fear and start crying at any given moment. I realized this the first few weeks of my senior year. Instead of this year being a year full of fun memories and joy, it was a time of terrible fear. Fear that paralyzed me, making me cry more tears than I ever knew I had. The only remedy to my madness was singing any Christian song that popped into my head, that reminded me of Jesus, and how he can conquer my fears. There were so many times where I felt like I was going literally insane, and needed to go to the hospital. There were countless times where I'd come downstairs to my amazing mom and be balling my eyes out, telling her how I didn't know what was wrong with me and I couldn't shake the fear. You could tell her heart was aching for me, and she'd explain to me how it was just hormones and I needed to take deep breaths and relax. That's when I started yoga, realizing it calmed me down so much.
Back to the tears. When I'd start tearing up in first period psychology, I'd go to the bathroom and stay there until my tears were dry. I'd think of my mom and instant tears would come. I'd text her because I didn't know what else to do. She'd say to just stay in the bathroom until I stopped crying. Crying. That was the problem, I'd just be a mess again in a few minutes, so I thought about moving class to the bathroom. Wait, that would be awkward and impossible. Back to class I'd go.
In addition to the tears, I would think of my next class and be in a panic of work I had to do or homework, even if there was none. Little did I know that this fear I thought I had brought upon myself was all of God's amazing plan. It prepared me for when my dad poured his heart out to me on Saturday, November 10th, an hour and a half before I went to an Alex Goot concert with my best friend and her friend, telling me so many things that angered me, because why did I have to be his emotional punching bag? Who was I to hold the knowledge that he had, the pain, the depression, and anxiety. It made my dad seem so weak, the father I thought was so strong and fearless. The man who loved watching thunderstorms outside in the downpour because they were "beautiful." But on the way to the concert I let my best friend know what was going on, and explained to her how I'd start crying and cover up the tears pouring down my face on the hour bus rides home, afraid to speak to my dad when he was the only parent home, fearful of him pouring his heart out to me again. I felt alone and afraid to tell her because of what I thought others would think of me. I would certainly start sobbing and everyone would think I was a maniac. She reached out like I never knew a person could. She constantly prayed for me and loved me like Jesus. That's only a glimpse of the reasons I'm thankful for my best friend, Lindsey.
Another part of this year was a girls group at my Church, Chapter 6, named after Romans 6, the chapter of love. These girls are like family to me, and helped me SO much through this long journey. Chrissy, our leader, is amazing. She could go through a long, hot summer day at work and come and bring so much of the Holy Spirit just by a discussion that flowed into a powerful message that we all preached by feeding off each other's Jesus-ness. My dear friend Becca, who has struggled and struggles with so many things that I do, always knew me. We talk, texted, Facebooked, and just GOT each other. We lifted each other up in beauty and prayer for our futures because our present was and still is so similar. We knew that God placed us in each other's lives for such a time as this. To conquer, to overcome, and to continue to hope.
Towards the end of my senior year, while deciding whether or not to attend Pratt, while struggling with the fact that I might not be able to go because my dad refused to let me go into debt and take out loans, and the divorce my parents were thinking about getting after my freshman year of college, (yes, a planned divorce,) all brought me to wits end. Although by that point Jesus let me overcome my anxiety though many prayers, music, church messages that felt directed to me exactly (one after a car-ride-long conversation with my mom about what my dad told me that saturday in november, and how scared and worried I was,) and especially the girls group, helped me through my decisions I had to make, my two ivy league art school rejection letters, and the disconnection I felt from healing by the father, God. At one point during Chapter 6, I asked for prayer for my dad and the tears fell hard. I started sobbing, broken to the core because of the impact all of the major "what ifs" and endless anxiety had on me. This showed me how much fear was controlling my life. The perfect life I wanted wasn't so perfect, as well as my parents' marriage. No matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't let go of the urge I had to keep my parents together. I needed to let go, and let Jesus take control. I always prayed that they wouldn't divorce, and there were so many times where I didn't know what to pray, praying the father's will would be done because I honestly didn't know what I wanted anymore. It was then that our leader and my amazing friend, Chrissy, hugged me, because she understood me impeccably. She KNEW the pain I felt because she dealt with the same situation. She knew how hard it was, but she knew that no matter what happened, it was going to be for the better. She knew that God would RESTORE the years that the locust had eaten. The pain that I went through would be no more, and that I could be brave. This is my story, and my testimony that I am beginning to share with more people. So as I pour my heart out and the tears of those painful memories fall from my tired eyes, I want to thank you, Alyssa Bethke for impacting my life, for teaching me through your posts, and showing me that I can overcome, that I am beautiful, and I am not chained by depression, an eating disorder, or my circumstance. I am free, healed, and changed. Who would have known that behind my candid smiles and bubbly demeanor was a pain so deep that it could cut beliefs and truth like a knife? And forever I will tell my story to help change lives for Jesus because in him there is so much freedom, more than we could ever know. Fear has lost its grip on us.
It just shows that behind a person's appearance is an entire world that you could never know unless you care enough to speak into someone's life and let them pour out their very own heart to you.
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