Unbearable Lightness

I'm going to take a risk here. In front of the blog world, or at least to those people who ever stumble onto my blog. Why? I don't know. I'm feeling the need for honesty right now.

Unbearable Lightness is the name of a book written by Porcha DeRossi about her fight with anorexia and bulimia and the obsession with being thin. I watched an episode of Oprah tonight, (I don't watch it much anymore) that spotlighted this book and it resonated with me on such a deep, core level.

I don't physically resemble Porcha in any way (dang it), yet, I have felt some of the same feelings she describes. When she describes binging and purging food and the ways it filled her void, it sounded like I was hearing my own thoughts. When she describes the inner hate she feels for herself, I hear the words ringing in my own ears. The words I have heard myself say a million times in my own head.

It is a bit scary to admit this kind of naked truth. But I find myself doing it more and more in my journey toward health. It is freeing for me to admit to myself and to others my struggle. I count 13 years of my adult life as years that I found comfort not only in food, but also in bulimia. And in the remaining years, when the bulimia wasn't present, I just found comfort in food; yet emptiness and often panic in my loss of control over it. In order to stay-off the bulimia, I felt I had to give up all control of my issues with food. And so I did. I gave up control... The results weren't pretty. They weren't healthy, they weren't me. But yet, they are what my body has become.

So now the honesty is out there in my world of acquaintances. It's not like anyone would be shocked by the words, but I need to move on to the next step in my life. Sometimes, as private as we would like to think our lives are, they are really very transparent. People can see hurt and pain. Mine shows up in pounds. I tell myself that a smile will cover it and no one will know, but everyone knows.

I don't feel that same pain now, like I did only a short time ago. When I wear a smile it is more genuine than it ever has been before, but the weight continues to linger, as a reminder of hurt and pain that was so real and so damaging.

Fear is not lost inside. I still have fears that would like to take control of me. And in these times I try to remember where I've come from. I try and turn to the Savior to heal that. What else can I do?

It's all a journey, a step by step, moment by moment journey.