I think today was a turning point in my recovery.
To this point, I’ve done a lot of work. I’ve fought hard (and less-than-hard), eaten meals through tears, sat on my hands instead of running, journaled through traumatic experiences. I’ve done it all: residential treatment, outpatient therapist, dietitian, Christian Bible study, DBT workbooks, blah blah blah. Yet through it all, I’ve attempted to hold on to some small measure of control.
I had yet to submit.
Today, in a posture of submission, I let friends and pastors pray over me. I trusted that this meeting was ordained, submitted to the truths these dear people were speaking over me.
I listened to these pastors, who have been praying for me privately for weeks, reveal truths to me that God had revealed to them. One of my pastors fought back tears as he described how he felt God wanted some sort of sacrifice. This pastor offered himself in my place, much to his own surprise and mine. I cried at the thought that someone in front of me could love me so very much as to take this from me. I cried at the thought that 2,000 years ago, someone did.
I cried as I confessed the lies I have been believing (I am fat, I am ugly, I am worthless, I am crazy) and fought back tears as I confessed the trauma and abuse that allowed these messages to take hold.
I could not stop the tears as, one by one, they spoke truth over me.
I am beautiful.
The Lord delights in me.
I am not a disappointment.
There is nothing to be ashamed of.
I am an important part the body.
Occasionally, in disbelief, I would look to my dear friend who organized this. Almost reading my thoughts she would whisper, That is truth.
It is truth whether I believe it or not. Whether I continue to engage in ED behaviours or not. It is truth.
Today was a reality check. And I listened to one of my pastors repeat to me, “This is real. This is real.” I didn’t imagine it, didn’t conjure it up to make myself feel better. It is reality.
Today was my first glimpse of true reality in a long time.
I want more.