His Way No Matter the Weigh-in

So today was the dreaded weigh-in. It wasn’t dreaded at first. In fact, the build up to it had been people preparing me I would most likely need a meal plan increase. Well I woke up this morning bloated and not feeling well. I re-thought the higher fiber meals from yesterday and got scaled for weigh-in and when it happened…everyone was shocked. Even my nutritionist. It was up an uncomfortable amount even in just the past few days. I won’t lie, my first instinct was that I needed to eat completely safe today and increase my exercise. I think for a while that will always be my first instinct. The shame and guilt came too (more on that in a late post as I realized the root to it). But the thing that changed this time was me and my reaction.

All of me wanted to eat all safe items, but already had freedom foods planned and was craving a potato. So unless I wanted to go against my N and my body….I couldn’t eat safe. Then I wanted to increase my exercise amount for the day, but I really didn’t have the time and know my N wouldn’t want me to. So again, it would be giving into ED and disobeying my N. But the options were still there. This time however…I chose to stick to my commitment. My commitment to obedience at least till graduation. To give this my all. My weight was up, but that’s the goal. More than I am comfortable with, but it’s okay. It will all be okay. I couldn’t restrict, I couldn’t overexercise, so I had to cope some other way.

So I reached out to people and then I prayed. In those two actions I got an amazing peace and realization. I realized this weight gain was unexpected to me. But God…He knew it was going to happen. He knew I would face this challenge this morning, but He also knew how I could get through and that I would. Not only that, but God only allows us to go through things that will make us stronger and better even if we can’t see it in the moment. It gave me a peace knowing this was God’s will and thus there was something good to come out of it. I don’t know what but there is. But only if I push through.

If I ran back to ED by overexercise or eating safe, I would give up the opportunity to overcome this challenge. I would go back to the same misery I have always known and would lose out on whatever greatness and strength God desired for me. Or I could push through. As terrifying as it is knowing I am guaranteed victory and strength through it. And so I did the latter. I trusted God and pushed through.

It’s been a roller coaster, but I feel much better now than had I relapsed. Also, I got even greater peace when I realized this means God knew I would lose my dad. I have been missing him a lot lately and the pain has resurfaced. But the Lord knew I would face this challenge too. No, He didn’t want my dad to die. He doesn’t want anyone to die, but it’s a fallen world and death happens. God did know I would face this, but He also knew and will equip me to get through this time and come out stronger. He will help me to cope with this time away from my dad till I am with him and God in Heaven.

So today I trusted in God. In His will. In His understanding. God doesn’t promise life will be easy, in fact He promised trials. But He promises to equip us to get through and that, in the end, it’s for our good. It’s just like training for a 5k. Those speed and hill workouts aren’t fun, but in the end, they get you ready for the run. Or it’s like parenting. You don’t want to show tough love to your kids or to correct them, but in the end, you know it will make them better so you do. So here is to strength and the power that comes only from God. 

When Life Happens

Sometimes life just happens. That was my lesson from today.

Today started off good. I got to co-teach a spin class for the first time and did it as a Recovery/Remembrance Ride for National Eating Disorder Association. Basically I led the ride with positive, encouraging music. It is a very hard workout we planned and the focus was all about the class seeing they have the strength to push through anything. And in the moments they wanted to give up they just remember the millions out the fighting eating disorders and all those who have died in the fight. They push through for those people. For the ones fighting and the ones who can’t fight.

Then, at the end, I did a little mini-speech about how the same strength that got them through the ride could get them through anything in life. Any obstacle, any adversity, anything. That is their strength and they can use it to overcome. And also that they weren’t a size or a weight. There body was more than a number. That they could look at the class and see just what an amazing machine their body is. How capable it is (I even had tons of insights here but more on that tomorrow). And how capable it is of even more than they can imagine. How capable they are. And that they and their bodies deserve love and nourishment…it was amazing. I spoke so much into me and I was the one doing the talking (though really was the Lord speaking through me).

So I was on cloud nine…feeling good…then life happened. I won’t go into all the details, but basically someone reported my blog and my disorder to my school and it worked its way up to the Dean of Students and I was reported to a committee that evaluates people who may be a threat to themselves of others. I received an e-mail that all this had happened, an investigation had been done, but that there was no further intervention. I felt outed and scared because my boss said we needed to meet and I knew (from the CC on the letter) the head of our department had been informed. I didn’t know if he knew the specifics. I didn’t know if everyone now knew about the disorder I have worked so hard to hide. I felt exposed, raw, vulnerable…and I broke down.

You know what my first instinct was too. To restrict. My thought was: “Well I will show them. If they want to report me for my ED I will restrict.” Luckily my wise mind took over and I realized that wasn’t the answer. That would only hurt me. It wouldn’t hurt them or prove anything other than that I needed help. So instead I called my mom, sent out text, and cried. Instead of running from the fear and sadness and anger by restricting…I used words. I said how I felt…I got vulnerable…and I cried.

Long story short…everything ended up working out. My boss just needed to meet to check in on me and still doesn’t know specifics. I talked to the committee that reviewed my case and basically they investigated my blog and were actually more inspired by my vulnerability and the motivation of the blog to show the reality of recovery than they were concerned (though they said they were still concerned about me since it did reveal I have a severe eating disorder). But man…it took a lot of hours for everything to get cleared up and it was draining. But sometimes life happens.

Plus…with all these meetings and having to go run the errands I had planned before all this happened…well my meal timing which has been so stellar…it wasn’t. At first I started to beat myself up. Then I thought..wait..this wasn’t my fault. I have done the best I could. I still faced my fear food for the day…and I am still doing my meal plan…today…life just happened. And in recovery life will happen. But we can’t stop fighting. We can’t use unexpected circumstances to warrant us taking a day of recovery…because then relapse happens. And relapse robs you of life…the good, joyful parts of life.

So when life happens…let recovery happen too. Even if life hurts, even if its unexpected..let recovery happen. Even if life feels like its spinning out of control…control the one thing you can..your recovery. You can’t control relapse once it happens..because relapse is giving up your control. But you can choose not to relapse. You can choose recovery. You can choose to let life happen and keep on living…recovered and free. It won’t be easy. Today wasn’t easy. I still feel guilty. But you know what…that’s okay. Guilt is a feeling…it will pass. But relapse…it feels like an eternity…and one day..it won’t pass..I will. And I am not willing to let that happen. So I am letting life happen…and today…I choose life… Crazy, chaotic, messy life but also freeing, joyful, suprising life. Because life..its better than relapse. Even the worst days in recovery are better than my best days in relapse. So I choose recovery. I choose life. 

Break Free or Set Free

I will expound on this in a few nights when have time to devote to it, but a truth I have been learning to walk in is that I never have or ever will need to break free of the chains of my disorder. Confused? Well here is the thing. The second I accepted God as my savior, HE shattered the chains. He set me free. Now the shackles are broken. Laying loose at my feet.

So when I act in my disorder..it is almost like a phantom pain. It's me thinking I am still chained. So used to the weight of the chain around me that I don't look down and see the shackles are broken. That all I need to do is walk in my freedom. Step out of the shackles. Leave the chains and bondage behind. The step out of the shackles and farther and farther from their shadow comes from obedience. But I don't have to fight. I mean I have to fight temptation, but no matter the temptation I know the truth..I am already free. God is already victorious. The chains are there, but they aren't connected to me.

So today, let's step out of our shackles and into freedom. Look down my brothers and sisters. It may feel you are still chained because that's been your reality for so long. But look. Open your eyes to what the enemy is hiding. The shackles are broken. Your chains have fallen off. All you have to do is step into freedom and out of the broken shackles at your feet. It won't be easy. It will be scary. But the Lord will be there. Every step of the way. And even if you run back a few times, He will be there. If you slip and fall, He will catch you. So just take the step. Step out of those shackles. You are a prisoner no more. You are free!

Pick up your cloak

I had an amazing meeting with my pastor today. It actually came out of the reflections I had last Wed about God and how I didn’t want to run to God, but desperately knew I needed to. I ended up giving it all up to the Lord on Thurs because I felt I had nothing left and I didn’t know what else to do. Let me say..best decision ever. It’s been amazing these past few days. Scary, challenging, but amazing. I feel joy and peace and hope again even though my situations haven’t changed. It feels good to be back in God’s arms.

So back to the meeting. It was amazing. My pastor spoke a lot of truths into me and helped me to let go of the condemnation I was feeling over my dad’s death. Thinking somehow I did something and God took my dad to punish me. I know this isn’t logical at all and isn’t the nature of God…but it was a lie the enemy was speaking into me. Luckily my pastor helped me relinquish that lie. But he went even further. He spoke an amazing truth into me.

He told me he believed the last few years I had with my dad, the way I saw him impact others lives, the ways I saw him overcome his own struggles…those are my inheritance from my dad. The same way my dad changed people’s lives, that is what I am meant to do. I am meant to continue the work my dad started. As my pastor put it…there is a thick jungle ahead of me, but my dad went through and took a machete to it…he cleared the path for me so I could go on my way.

The aspect of the inheritance of my father comes from a story I totally understand now…but when I first heard it didn’t get at all. It is the story of Elijah and Elisha from 2 Kings Chapter 2. Elisha is Ellijah’s student and everyone knows Elijah’s life is coming to an end. That the Lord is going to come and take up Elijah in a chariot. Elisha thinks if he stays with Elijah then this won’t happen. He refuses to leave Elijah’s side. I felt the same way with my dad. I never thought he would die. I spent my days talking to him. Precious moments together with him. I mean no one expected my dad to die so it wasn’t quite the same, but I was still living life like God couldn’t take my dad. I even had a dream a few weeks before my dad passed of my brother calling and telling me he died. But I woke up thinking “well that will never happen.”

Just like me Elisha came to see that no matter what…when it was Elijah’s time the Lord would take him. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

^“11 As they were walking along and talking together, suddenly a chariot of fire and horses of fire appeared and separated the two of them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind. ¹² Elisha saw this and cried out, “My father! My father! The chariots and horsemen of Israel!” And Elisha saw him no more. Then he took hold of his garment and tore it in two.”

I felt the same way  when I found out my dad had passed. I felt like a fire had come down in my life and separated me from the one I loved so dear. I didn’t tear my garment in two as a sign of grief like Elisha, but I did relapse hard which is basically my equivalent. My way to tell the world…look..I’m hurting, I’m grieving, someone help me.

But the thing about this story is that a few days before Elijah is taken up this transpires:

⁹ When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, “Tell me, what can I do for you before I am taken from you?”

“Let me inherit a double portion of your spirit,” Elisha replied.

¹⁰ “You have asked a difficult thing,” Elijah said, “yet if you see me when I am taken from you, it will be yours—otherwise, it will not.”

Of course my father and I didn’t have this conversation because no one saw this coming. But we did talk a lot about my purpose. About how I had the strength to overcome things. I believed I could and was meant to help others because of how I saw my dad helping others. And my dad would speak into me that I could and would help others. That when I was sick and tired of ED I would break free and become who I was meant to be. He told me it would be hard, but he knew it would be possible if I would see the truth.

Now onto the whole inheritance part of this. When Elijah was taken up to heaven…his cloak fell behind.

¹³ Elisha then picked up Elijah’s cloak that had fallen from him and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan. ¹⁴ He took the cloak that had fallen from Elijah and struck the water with it. “Where now is the Lord, the God of Elijah?” he asked. When he struck the water, it divided to the right and to the left, and he crossed over.¹⁵ The company of the prophets from Jericho, who were watching, said, “The spirit of Elijah is resting on Elisha.” And they went to meet him and bowed to the ground before him.

My pastor today told me my father left behind a cloak for me. My father spoke truth of freedom into me and he demonstrated the ability of one life to touch and change so many others through his work life coaching, his interactions with every day people, his unconditional love for his life, and his relationship with me. These are all part of my father’s cloak which he has left behind. My father changed so many lives and he left the generational gift of this lifechanging spirit. The spirit to see others set free by the Truth of God and the love of God…it is my father’s cloak and it’s lying at my feet. All I have to do is pick it up.

This invigorated me. I felt that burning, stirring passion I have felt these past few days. The passion to break free from ED. To step out of the shackles God has already broken off me and be free so I can walk into the cells around me and help others break free too. It is such the desire of my heart. It was the desire of my dad’s heart for me. To see people set free was also the mission and desire of my father. To see people walk in their strength and identity. And he left that cloak for me to pick up. By recovering and letting my story be a message to others.

My pastor told me he was sure of this because of the life he saw in me in that office. When I talked about my dad and my passion for social work. He said there was just an energy…something in my smile that just lit up the room. These were all things my dad told me too. I felt him there with us.

So I sit here wondering what cloaks you all have to pick up. I honestly don’t think you have to lose someone to have a cloak at your feet. Sure, for me, the cloak seemed to fall at my feet to pick up where my dad left off changing this world because I lost him. But I bet if you take a look..there is a cloak at your feet too. Maybe it’s a calling you just know you are supposed to go to. Or maybe it’s a dream you have always wanted to pursue. Maybe it’s the truth that you are set free and just have to walk in that freedom….that the victory is already sealed. I don’t know what it is…but I bet you do. All that’s left to do is pick up the cloak.

You may be scared…heck you may be picking it up angry like Elisha. Angry that it’s all you have right now. For me it’s hard because I have my dad’s cloak but I’m still mad I can’t have my dad. But that won’t stop me from picking up the cloak he left behind. Now take your cloak, go to the water, cry out to God…and see the ocean before you part. See your path, your destiny, your truth before you. Pick up your cloak…and be free. 

Clean Slate, Fresh Start

Well it’s come. The day of commitment. The day to get back on my meal plan. I woke up ready to do it. Even without stepping on the scale, I just wanted to start fresh. This new motivation all started on Thursday actually after getting horrible news. As assistantship everyone told me I was guaranteed to get I ended up getting passed over for. Suddenly this dream I had held onto of grad school seemed to crumble down in front of me. Honestly, at first I was in a very very dark place.

But then I realized something. This assistantship was at a grad school I really didn’t want to go to. I had settled for this grad school because my dream grad school just seemed too much to afford and I was tired of trying to fight to make it work. So I settled. I let go of my true dream and tried to convince myself this other grad school was what I wanted. I told myself their veterinary social work program was close enough to animal assisted social work. I tried to tell myself how nice it would be to only be a state away from home. How nice it would be to go to a school with a big football team like my school does (even though I hate going to football games and usually leave after half time). I even told myself it was meant to be because their mascot was a dog like my schools. But the reality was it wasn’t my dream.

I realized Thurs night this depression and lack of motivation to recover I have had actually hit the same time I decided to turn my back on the University of Denver and instead set my sights on this other school (not saying their name out of respect). I lost my vision for my future. I lost something to care about. I basically lost myself because I was settling for a dream that wasn’t my own. So when the assistantship at the other university fell through…all the sudden Denver became an option again.

I woke up Friday more motivated than ever. Not for recovery per se, but for life in general. I woke up actually wanting to live (part of the reason I’ve been away for so long is I got in a very, very dark place where honestly…I didn’t care if I died. It’s hard to write in such a dark place). I woke up with hope again. I wrote my contact at Denver and through a bunch of tiny miracles all the sudden I found possible funding and (God-willing) a free place to live. I felt as if I was soaring.

So today I woke up with a new perspective. I spent time thinking and contemplating this morning instead of doing my daily routine of jumping on the scale. I wanted to prepare myself. Honestly because I was expecting scale to shoot up because it was horrible timing with my meals Fri. But I decided to sit in my good mood for a little bit before ED through a wrench in it.

I just felt motivated. I didn’t care when..but I felt ready to commit to plan when the time came (aka when hit the ED weight). I just had this new outlook. I could see myself at Denver. I could see myself free. I could see myself throwing the ball with my Australian Shepherd named either Faith or Hope or Phoenix. I could see myself having picnics with my fellow grad students on the lawn outside the GSSW building. I could see myself cycling, running, hiking. Living active and free. Not thinking about food and calories. Just living. Living and using my story to inspire others.

I also realized if I move to Denver I get a fresh slate. No one will know me as Jess with the eating disorder. Or Jess the underweight girl. Or just as the skeletal girl with the weird food allergies. When I go to Denver I can just be Jess. I can let people get to know the true me. Heck, I can get to know the true me. But it will mean not packing up ED with my belongings when I move out there. And the only way that is possible is to commit to recovery. To commit to the team I am blessed to have till graduation and to give it 150%. Yes…even to gain weight. Because let’s be honest. When you are 5’7.5” and weigh in the 80s…well your brain can’t help but only think about food because its starving.

So I was all motivated and happy and thought “Well I am glad I am motivated. That will come in handy if I get to start my plan tomorrow.” And I marched on to my scale. Stepped on ready for ED to deem it another horrible day and me a horrible person…when suddenly…the number was the start number I set. The number I said I had to get to to start the plan. What? Here I was motivated and I got the green light.

You know…I thought the number would make it easier too. But it wasn’t. As excited as I was I was terrified too. And ED tried to point to all the reasons my weight was down and why I couldn’t start. But thanks to the love and support of friends and family…I listened to my heart, my dream, and my God and I started.

I won’t lie. It’s been a rough day. I am lucky to have amazing friends who text me, facebook messaged me, and sent me inspiration the whole day. Friends who were there the 50,000 times I changed my mind and decided I shouldn’t add back the snack. I also have an amazing nutritionist who promptly responded that I needed to take a full rest day. No yoga, no Jillian Michaels, and no spin class I tried to convince her to let me go to.

My friends and family cheering me one :) 

It’s been rough. It’s been a fight. But I am truly proud to say I came out on top. I took a full rest day. I ate what I wanted for my exchanges instead of eating the exact same meals I have the past two days. I ate a larger bagel with a higher calorie topping. And I added back my snack. And I am actually still hungry which is weird.

It feels amazing. IT feels terrifying. It feels exciting. And it feels scary. It’s so many emotions and feelings, but honestly right now the positive are greater than the fear. It’s just nice to feel hope again.

And honestly my fear isn’t really weight gain or anything like that. I am just scared that I actually have to commit. That I have to hand over weight, calories, exchanges….all of it to my nutritionist and therapist. I am no longer allowed to decide whether my meal plan changes. If I choose to step on a scale, the numbers can’t dictate anything unless they are numbers in my nutritionist office. Kind of defeats the purpose of getting on the scale. I am scared that I won’t be able to do it. That I will fail like the times in the past. And then I am scared I will do it, and what that will look like. What will I focus on when numbers aren’t constantly swirling in my head. What will life be like truly free and happy. It’s all so scary, but honestly exciting. Wish me luck…and be looking for my posts (though this is midterms and doctor appt season galore so give me a bit).

Message me any topics you want to see or anything you all are struggling with or succeeding in J Also I am probably going to be posting more bible verses as they come up and inspire me. They may just be little blurbs instead of full on posts :) 

Scared to run to God

I've been writing letters to my dad...I just don't share them because they are more for me than the blog world. But with this one...my mind is still spinning...and I need some input..so I'm gonna share. This letter made me realize I almost put my dad in the place of God when he was alive. I had him fill the roles only God is supposed to. Now he is gone and I left feeling like now all I have is God...like somehow God is lesser than my dad. I feel horrible for feeling that way. And yet..I feel guilty running to God because I'm scared that means replacing my dad. I'm confused..

Dear Dad—

               

  It’s crazy how much I missed you today. Life..it just got hectic. ED took a firm hold of me this morning. Very firm. And I had my mind made up (most likely by him) that no one would make me not commit to lapsing further today. That I had to “take control” back of my weight. This time…I know where this stems from too.

              

  It’s because life seems so out of control right now dad. I still haven’t heard from UTK assistantship. I have lost my passion for Denver. And recovery has become confusing to me. IT has become a mirage I can see, but when I approach, it seems to disappear. I feel scared. Scared because I don’t know what’s ahead. Scared because…well because I have lost myself in these recent lapses.

I may weigh more than I have in past lapses, but I have lost so much more. I feel like  shell of the girl I once was. I have lost hope, lost passions, lost dreams. I am so filled and overcome by fear and stress. I feel the world is spinning, life is moving, and it just won’t stop. It won’t stop and I don’t know where it’s taking me and I don’t like it.

These were the moments I would call you. I would call you freaking out and by the end of even a 5 minute conversation with you I would have peace. Who do I call now dad? I realize my recent lapses and clasping back on the chain of the scale have been my desperate attempt to regain that peace. The peace you brought me. I don’t feel I can replace our phone calls, but I can’t make it through life without the peace they brought. 

Sure I can type these letters, get it all out. But there is a crucial aspect missing: you. The response. The calm that settled the storm. And yet typing this..I hear you responding. I hear you (and others) saying….turn to God. And I know that is why our conversations brought me such peace. You would bring back my hope, my joy, and turn me to God.

When I heard this being spoken to my heart I felt guilty dad…you know what I thought? I thought to myself: but God isn’t enough, I need my daddy. How horrible is that of me? I somehow placed you above God. Honestly, I feel horrible placing you below God because of how much you meant to me. But I know your heart. Your heart for God and for me. You would never want me to place you before God. Because you would know that one day you wouldn’t be there, but for all of my days God would.

But dad…I want you. I want the physical presence of God here on earth and to me that was you. Your smile, your voice, your unconditional love. I don’t know. It’s like if I turn to God for that peace and strength and love…I feel I am letting you go and daddy I don’t want to. I don’t want anything, not even God, to take your place in my life.

But maybe He isn’t. Maybe my relationship with the Lord will enhance my relationship with you in a weird way. God will fill the roles He was always meant to in my life. The roles He filled in your life too. And through watching me and the Lord’s relationship blossom, you will smile down on me. And you are with the Lord..so by getting closer to the Lord..I will get closer to you.

Why am I scared dad? Why am I scared to turn to the Lord? Why am I scared to say..okay..I guess the Lord can bring me peace now. Why do I feel like that means I am giving up…when it doesn’t? Maybe that’s ED. Maybe it’s because I have to admit I am powerless and that I need God. That nothing on this earth can fill the place of God. That not even you could fill the place of God. But dad…I’m scared of a God that big. I am scared to rely on something, someone that isn’t tangible.

But I can’t keep doing this dad. I can’t keep waiting on your phone call. I can’t keep relying on myself to find peace. I can’t keep plowing deeper and deeper into exercise and restriction in a desperate attempt to force my body to low weights so I can feel in control of my start of recovery. All these things take my control away from me. I know…I know what I should do. I should turn to the Lord. I am just so scared daddy.

I miss you. I miss us. I can’t wait till I see you again. Till I can be wrapped in your arms. Till I can fill your peace. Will you help me daddy. Help me turn to the King. Help me put aside my pride, my guilt, my fear. Help me run to the arms of my Abba Father knowing that doesn’t mean I have let go of you. I can’t even pray to God as Father anymore because I feel it is replacing you. And I don’t want to. I’m so confused daddy…but I need God. Without you here, I need God more than ever. So when I run back to God daddy…please, please don’t be hurt. Know I love you still too. I see you smiling...I hear you whispering..."It's okay. I want you to go to God." 

Love,

Jess

What are you fighting AGAINST

What are you fighting for? What's your motivation? Remember why you want recovery. People keep saying this and it gets me down because nothing...not even my dad have been enough. 

Why do I have to be fighting towards a specific thing? I tried to fight for my dad, that didn’t work out. I tried to fight for Denver, then that dream ended. I can’t fight for UTK as its not guaranteed. And fighting for me? That’s just not specific enough or honestly motivating enough.

But why do I have to find some certain thing to fight for? Why can’t I just fight because I am sick and tired of being where I am. I am tired of numbers swirling in my mind. OF the scale determining my day. Of people telling me I need treatment. Sure there is some comfort in these things because its how its been for so long…but today…another weight up day…reminded me the misery of ED and relapse…it reminded me I don’t have to fight for something..I can just fight against ED.

That’s what my dad used to always tell me. That when I got tired enough, I would break free. When I saw ED as the enemy…I would realize I am stronger than him and beat this. Maybe that’s been my issue..I keep trying to fight for something. Then ED comes in and convinces me that can happen with him. Instead..I need to see I am fighting against something….ED.

I am fighting against the death grip numbers have on me. I am fighting against people crying when they see me. I am fighting against being scared of fruits and vegetables. I am fighting against not being able to eat with my family because my precise measurements and food scale use makes prep take too long. I am fighting against not being able to eat what I want because of numbers. I am fighting against every day being determined by the scale. That’s what I am fighting against. I don’t need something to fight for.

I don’t need to wait to get some motivation that is bigger than my fear of weight gain. I just need to get sick, tired, and angry enough at ED that weight gain doesn’t matter. Am I at that point? I’m not sure. But tonight…I’mm pretty damn close.

I am just scared even this won’t be enough. I am scared to fail again. I am scared to again let my nutritionist down. I want to eat normal. So desperately I want joy. Church today reminded me I want to have a family and be married. I want life. I want normalcy. And ED is robbing me of that. I am just scared I won’t be able to do it. So scared I am frozen. Because I know I can’t do it if I cling to the scale and try and control my weight gain..but I am so scared to let that last chain go. I am scared for some reason to not hold myself back.