Enough
If you look up the definition of enough, Merriam-Webster says it means "occurring in such quantity, quality, or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations." And there are plenty of competing voices telling us that we are enough, that we are more than enough, or that we just aren't good enough. With all these voices sending competing messages, it can be difficult to find contentment in the who's, what's, and where's of our lives. The culture today is one of immediacy; if we can just have more, do more, see more, travel more, earn more, and be more, maybe, just maybe we can find the happiness we are seeking. But the problem with our obsessive quest for the elusive "more," is that it keeps us from appreciating the present, and realizing that what we have and who we are is already enough.
As a type-A, perfectionist, with several OCD tendencies, I have never really been good at the whole relaxing and going with the flow thing. I have gotten a lot better at adapting and being flexible, but change is hard for me, and I set unusually high standards and expectations for myself. While my big goals have motivated me to follow my dreams, they have also made me really hard on myself when I feel like I haven't lived up to my expectations. When I am unsatisfied with something in my life, it can become a slippery slope down in to doubt, shame, fear, and self-hatred.
The semester in college when I struggled with an eating disorder, and the season of life that followed that were the not only the most challenging but also the most formative in my life so far. Because this experience has shaped me so much, it is an integral part of my testimony. A big part of my call to ordained ministry is rooted in the lessons I learned having and recovering from an eating disorder. The hard part about this reality, is that the most central part of my testimony/call story is the one I have the hardest time sharing. I took me at least a year and a half to even say that I had an eating disorder. Up until then I would say that I had struggled with disordered eating or that I had dealt with restrictive eating and compulsive over-exercising. In my mind, there are so many strings attached to the term eating disorder - and it usually evokes images of an emaciated, skeleton-like figure obsessed with being skinny. As a group fitness instructor and exercise science student during college, I felt so disappointed in myself for falling down the eating disorder rabbit hole because I felt like I should have known better and been able to stop myself.
At this stage in my life, I am no longer actively struggling with an eating disorder, but I am walking the daily journey of committing to choose recovery over restriction and calorie counting. This post is not at all a plea for sympathy or a cry for help; it is as much for me as it is for anyone else. This post is a place for me to process through the battle that rages on in my head, and a word of encouragement or hope for anyone else who might be able to relate. It is my attempt to fight the pressure to have a filtered, polished, rose-colored version of myself to paste on social media.
I write this post because I deeply long to actually believe that I am enough - not lacking anything. My head "knows" that I have been fearfully and wonderfully made, created in the image of God, and called beloved child - but my heart doesn't always fully believe that. For interviews, applications, class reflections, and candidacy meetings for ordination, I have had the opportunity to share my call story, which just so happens to be about the lessons I have learned from having and recovering from an eating disorder. And more times than I can count, the question that follows is "how are you doing with that now?" I never really know how to wrap up my answer in a little neat and tidy package, so I usually just say that I am doing fine or well. And I am doing fine/well, but that is not the full story....
The truth is that recovery is freaking hard, and sometimes it really sucks. There are days where I feel really great and don't worry at all about food, weight, or exercise. But there are also a lot of days when it feels like I am swept away by my anxiety and stress about those same things. Having run the Boston Marathon just under a month ago, I have not been running much at all. Some days I love not fitting a run in to my schedule or having to go out in the hot, humid weather - other days I feel like I am lazy for not running or quickly getting out of shape. I convince myself that I am getting slow, fat, and losing all the hard work I put into training this past year. Some of this is related to the fact that I think I have gained some weight since January, and especially since Boston. The rational/logical part of my brain knows that this is probably a good thing, and is more healthy for my long-term health and well-being. But that little voice of insecurity in my head can be very persuasive - I have been borderline dreading a doctor's appointment for weeks because I know I will have to be weighed, I nit-pick at myself about the areas of my body I am not as comfortable with, and I get frustrated with clothes that now fit well when they used to be baggy.
I want to reiterate the fact that I don't share any of this to get pity, or sympathy, or affirmations. I share this so if anyone else has had, or is having any of these thoughts, you can know that you are not alone. My hope is that sharing this can help free me from the shame that sometimes consumes me. I think the shame I so often feel is rooted in feeling like I am not enough because of this part of my testimony. The summer immediately after dealing with an eating disorder, the summer ministry I worked with became worried about my health and mental/emotional well-being. Their concern lead them to send me home for a week, missing one of our four camp weeks, to meet with some doctors and focus on myself. Even though I know they acted with love and the best of intentions, that experience still makes me feel like I will never be "enough" because I have had an eating disorder. Part of me will always have a fear that if people find out I had an eating disorder, they will think less of me, exclude me from doing certain things, reject me for a job, or just see me as irreversibly different. It feels like having an eating disorder stole from me something that I can never fully get back, and I hate that, because God tells me that I am already enough.
What I am learning is that recovery is not a linear journey; it is full of ups, downs, twists, and turns. But am also re-learning every day that even though it is not a linear path onwards and upwards, that doesn't make me any less of a person. There are days that I am insecure, there are days that I am confident, there are days that I feel strong and healthy, and there are days when I feel chubby and out-of-shape. But on each of these days, and every day, I am enough.
I am enough. You are enough. We are enough. Because God is more than enough.
As a type-A, perfectionist, with several OCD tendencies, I have never really been good at the whole relaxing and going with the flow thing. I have gotten a lot better at adapting and being flexible, but change is hard for me, and I set unusually high standards and expectations for myself. While my big goals have motivated me to follow my dreams, they have also made me really hard on myself when I feel like I haven't lived up to my expectations. When I am unsatisfied with something in my life, it can become a slippery slope down in to doubt, shame, fear, and self-hatred.
The semester in college when I struggled with an eating disorder, and the season of life that followed that were the not only the most challenging but also the most formative in my life so far. Because this experience has shaped me so much, it is an integral part of my testimony. A big part of my call to ordained ministry is rooted in the lessons I learned having and recovering from an eating disorder. The hard part about this reality, is that the most central part of my testimony/call story is the one I have the hardest time sharing. I took me at least a year and a half to even say that I had an eating disorder. Up until then I would say that I had struggled with disordered eating or that I had dealt with restrictive eating and compulsive over-exercising. In my mind, there are so many strings attached to the term eating disorder - and it usually evokes images of an emaciated, skeleton-like figure obsessed with being skinny. As a group fitness instructor and exercise science student during college, I felt so disappointed in myself for falling down the eating disorder rabbit hole because I felt like I should have known better and been able to stop myself.
At this stage in my life, I am no longer actively struggling with an eating disorder, but I am walking the daily journey of committing to choose recovery over restriction and calorie counting. This post is not at all a plea for sympathy or a cry for help; it is as much for me as it is for anyone else. This post is a place for me to process through the battle that rages on in my head, and a word of encouragement or hope for anyone else who might be able to relate. It is my attempt to fight the pressure to have a filtered, polished, rose-colored version of myself to paste on social media.
I write this post because I deeply long to actually believe that I am enough - not lacking anything. My head "knows" that I have been fearfully and wonderfully made, created in the image of God, and called beloved child - but my heart doesn't always fully believe that. For interviews, applications, class reflections, and candidacy meetings for ordination, I have had the opportunity to share my call story, which just so happens to be about the lessons I have learned from having and recovering from an eating disorder. And more times than I can count, the question that follows is "how are you doing with that now?" I never really know how to wrap up my answer in a little neat and tidy package, so I usually just say that I am doing fine or well. And I am doing fine/well, but that is not the full story....
The truth is that recovery is freaking hard, and sometimes it really sucks. There are days where I feel really great and don't worry at all about food, weight, or exercise. But there are also a lot of days when it feels like I am swept away by my anxiety and stress about those same things. Having run the Boston Marathon just under a month ago, I have not been running much at all. Some days I love not fitting a run in to my schedule or having to go out in the hot, humid weather - other days I feel like I am lazy for not running or quickly getting out of shape. I convince myself that I am getting slow, fat, and losing all the hard work I put into training this past year. Some of this is related to the fact that I think I have gained some weight since January, and especially since Boston. The rational/logical part of my brain knows that this is probably a good thing, and is more healthy for my long-term health and well-being. But that little voice of insecurity in my head can be very persuasive - I have been borderline dreading a doctor's appointment for weeks because I know I will have to be weighed, I nit-pick at myself about the areas of my body I am not as comfortable with, and I get frustrated with clothes that now fit well when they used to be baggy.
I want to reiterate the fact that I don't share any of this to get pity, or sympathy, or affirmations. I share this so if anyone else has had, or is having any of these thoughts, you can know that you are not alone. My hope is that sharing this can help free me from the shame that sometimes consumes me. I think the shame I so often feel is rooted in feeling like I am not enough because of this part of my testimony. The summer immediately after dealing with an eating disorder, the summer ministry I worked with became worried about my health and mental/emotional well-being. Their concern lead them to send me home for a week, missing one of our four camp weeks, to meet with some doctors and focus on myself. Even though I know they acted with love and the best of intentions, that experience still makes me feel like I will never be "enough" because I have had an eating disorder. Part of me will always have a fear that if people find out I had an eating disorder, they will think less of me, exclude me from doing certain things, reject me for a job, or just see me as irreversibly different. It feels like having an eating disorder stole from me something that I can never fully get back, and I hate that, because God tells me that I am already enough.
What I am learning is that recovery is not a linear journey; it is full of ups, downs, twists, and turns. But am also re-learning every day that even though it is not a linear path onwards and upwards, that doesn't make me any less of a person. There are days that I am insecure, there are days that I am confident, there are days that I feel strong and healthy, and there are days when I feel chubby and out-of-shape. But on each of these days, and every day, I am enough.
I am enough. You are enough. We are enough. Because God is more than enough.
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