View from the Deck
I’m sitting on the floor of the kitchen, eyeballing the tiles. Can’t even remember why I came down here. Something to do with floor cleaner. Don’t worry – it’s quite pleasant. No floor cleaning is happening. But the view is illuminating. For starters, the bottom of my cupboards are covered in brown stuff. There’s a sock under the fridge. And a spider across the way who looks a bit freaked out. Hello my hairy friend. I mean you no harm.
Normally, the way I deal with mental clutter is to tidy the physical clutter. But not today. The house is a tip – and so is my brain. Drawers overflowing with pants and thoughts.
I’m having a go at ‘just being’. It’s hard work. My brain’s like a rocket, charging off to organise dinner and check facebook. Come back here, right this minute. And stay there.
I was reading this morning about Jesus sleeping during a massive storm. I haven’t been sailing since I puked my guts up on the Larne-Cairnryan ferry. But I know how it feels to be rocked by waves. And like the disciples, I try to take charge. The way I cope is by doing stuff. Transferring the internal to the external. Cleaning and fussing and staying busy and ticking off tasks. Internally I’m fuming ‘Lord – don’t you care if I drown?’ But when everything else fails, when my brain fries and I melt into an exhausted puddle, I’m forced to turn back to Jesus. His words that still the storm, not my lists.
39 He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. 40 He said to his disciples, ‘Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?’ 41 They were terrified and asked each other, ‘Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!’ (Mark 4:39-41)
I’m still overwhelmed. But when I get back to marvelling, “Who is this?” – it’s not my worries that knock me over: it’s a Person.
Thankyou Emma. I love the song by Struart Townend called ‘the man who calmed the sea’. It reminds me of Jesus’ power with such compelling gentleness that it’s hard not to let hope creep into my soul. I also experience distress but sometimes it is the gnawing anxiety and emptiness inside that desires to be satisfied that compels me to eat rather than feast on the broken body of Christ and the love of my Father.
Now I know I should be holy about this… but I’m really just very encouraged that you have a sock under the fridge. Makes me feel a whole lot better…!
Thank you.
I’ve just been told “recovery” doesn’t mean what I thought it did. Apparently I’ll still struggle with intense emotions, sometimes feel unloveable/unacceptable and still have trouble accepting my body. So, is it worth it? What’s the point? What does “recovery” even mean? Would really value answers from anyone who knows – especially if you think it IS worthwhile to pursue. But if it’s not, tell me know before I bankrupt myself trying to pay for it and before I let go of my dream of being thin.
Oops, typo – “tell me now…” Sorry!
Thanks D+A
Lorraine: I’m googling the song!
PWP: recovery is totally worth it. But it’s recovery from an ED, not from being human. And as far as I can see, normal life will include feeling rubbish sometimes – sad or upset or self-doubting. But what we do learn is not to be scared of these things in themselves. We learn to handle our feelings without them destroying us. We start to live: to enjoy relationships and to fight real battles; not about what’s on our plate, but the stuff that’s really important. We become more of ourselves – and instead of being howled at by obsessions and lies we see ourselves as Christ does: which is a miracle.
PWP,
Let me try the recovery bit:
Recovery means we finally see we are not really God ,like we once thought.
This is embarrassing.
Recovery means we see we are actually our own worst enemy.
This is painful.
Recovery means we have found the source of true life.
This is hopeful.
Recovery means we follow that source where ever He leads us.
This is scary.
Recovery means we find rest in the arms of God.
This is liberating.
Recovery means we choose these things over and over and over, living moment by moment in the strength of Christ alone.