Our society sometimes seem to have a paranoia about eating disorders. Be on the thin side, skip one meal, and you find yourself accused of being anorexic. And I'm very grateful for the effort to bring eating disorders and image issues to the fighting forefront. It's helped save a lot of people.
But there's those others of us.... that don't dare admit we have issues for fear of a label. I mean we're the good girls, right? We're dependable and great friends and respectful kids and never skip Sunday school.... Or maybe we don't even know we have an issue because we associate disorders with being able to see every rib and being pale and making yourself throw up. Or maybe we are that girl and we just don't know it.
However it is, let's admit it. Even if we don't have a disorder so to speak, our looks still get to us. Despite all our preaching otherwise about inward beauty and how God looks on the inside, let's face it: our looks get to us.
Call us stupid; we'll hit you with our books. Call us lazy; we'll hit you with a wet dish. Call us bad cooks; we'll put a pie in your face. But our looks.... well we will slap you. But then we'll look in the mirror and believe every word of it whether we ever admit to or not. Our confidence is so weak in that area. Most of the time it's the first confidence to go under trauma. It's an established fact that under stress people lose confidence as they're faced with impossible choices and unexpected losses.
And let's face it - something about stress messes with the majority of girls' conception of self-image. Maybe there was a big test and you skipped a few meals out of adrenaline and cramming. Or maybe there was a family issue and you couldn't eat. Then from sheer necessity it falls into an everyday habit. And then you call yourself "fat" or "in need of shedding a few pounds" or maybe you actually like your body for once.... and it becomes a choice. Something you barely think about and yet a choice nevertheless.
Let me illustrate. Confession time. *deep breath* Life was coming together. I was growing up. It was all good. And then it couldn't have wrecked worse if life had been a train and gone crashing against a rock wall. The situations hit at the core of who I thought I was. Suffice it to say there were multiple aspects of life falling apart and specifics are still too painful to talk about except around midnight with a close family member. But I didn't have time to process or grieve or come up with plan Z. Adding to the stress, I had a nightmare of a professor. From a straight A student to trying to barely cling to an A-. Nothing was right. If I went by the syllabus he didn't like it. If I didn't go by the syllabus he didn't like it. I was too vague; I was too specific. I gave too much summary; I didn't give enough summary. It came time to file for graduation and I didn't have a clue what came next. What I thought I'd always do I decided I could not bring myself to. What I really wanted looked impossible. What I thought I'd always wanted I wasn't enthusiastic about. But hey, that's just life. Anyone can handle that. Except life had just spiraled dreadfully out of control and I didn't have times to deal with it for reading Romantic Era poetry and cramming for finals so we wouldn't have to pay the thousands of dollars college enrollment fee again.
So I stopped eating.
I didn't have time so I skipped a meal here or there.
I was busy. I forgot to eat.
And then when tragedy hit, I didn't have time to deal with pain. But you have to grieve somehow. If you don't, your body will do it for you. My body decided to start gagging every time it tried to eat. Even pork chops, my favorite meal. I tried force feeding. It didn't work. Like I said, if you don't take the time to cry your body will do it for you.
Needless to say the various situations had shaken me to a core. Beforehand I'd been growing in confidence as one thing after another fell into place. Not arrogant. Just sure of myself in a quiet sort of way, secure in the feeling that I could see God working one step at a time. College was scary. College courses kept being passed. College social life was like nothing I'd ever experienced. God blessed me with many friends. Travel had always been daunting. I got to fly. But as graduation ticked closer and closer without a clear plan and my inability to really think straight my confidence plummeted. Like most girls I'd always criticized my own looks. Not anything major. I just had always picked on this or that.
And then one day I happened to catch a glance at myself in the mirror. I was always too busy to look on a daily basis and it was really a fluke that I'd caught a glimpse then.
What I saw made me look again.
For the first time in my life I didn't have a "stomach." I was flat where I was "supposed" to be flat and curved where I was "supposed" to be curved. For the first time since I was 14, I saw an hourglass.
I can't explain the boost of confidence that surged through me at that moment. The pain was too bad to express it; the stress too time consuming to. But right there in that moment I felt pretty. In the middle of a falling apart world I couldn't save, something about me was right. At least I could face the chaos with a pulled together front, even if the inside was disintegrating.
I stopped feeling bad when I couldn't eat or forgot a meal.
And that's where the trouble started.
Because eventually we can eat and we have enough time to eat. We just don't want to. Maybe we feel guilty to eat because we think we have a few too many extra pounds. Maybe we're too lazy to workout and skipping lunch has a similar effect. Regardless, let's get to the point of this - insecurity. On some level we're insecure. So we find it, or try to find it, in our bodies, in the looks cast our way, in the compliments, in the flirty conversations.
But that security will always leave you empty.
Trust me. I'm still empty.
I'm only full when I turn to the proper Source. It's not enough to just recite trite comments to ourselves about how "God looks on the inside" or "real men only care about the inside." Face it, the problem isn't where others look. It's where we look. Are we looking at the superficial, the transient, the fleeting? Are we only caring about the flitting comments about the short lasting appearances? Don't get me wrong, hearing we look good is good for us. But peanut butter despite it's high level of protein isn't enough to live off on more than a literal level.
While it's important to view yourself as beautiful because God made you that way, it's also necessary in my experience to tell yourself your good at other things too. Find something you're confident at. Sure, make jokes about your stupidity.... but remember you have that diploma. You know Aunt Jenny's pies are better than yours, but remember yours are still pretty good. Yeah, your friend has a new boyfriend but you were special enough for that other friend to invite you to a movie for a great girls' night out. Learn to find the encouragement and uplifting praise all around you - even if it's just stumbling over a weedflower and saying, "Thank you for thinking of me, Jesus!" I know I'm being simple here, but I mean it.
But most of all.... we have to go to the Source of all confidence. The Source of life. The Source of love and acceptance. We have to love Him. We have to put Him first. And then nothing else matters so much, hurts so much. (need triple) It's baby steps. He'll guide us through. We can't put Him first by ourselves. But one turn and He'll meet you there. Turn, cry out, and He'll be there.
This isn't an easy battle. Nothing happens overnight. We didn't get here overnight. I'm still fighting. Choosing to be hungry when I'm really not. Choosing to eat three meals a day even though I know just skipping one would keep me a few pounds lighter... (yeah, I gain weight weird. ;P) But if the choice is never things will still change - just in the wrong direction.
No comments:
Post a Comment