A Simple Question

This past week Hannah asked me a simple question that made me really stop and think.  I was planning out my food for the day (a way that I keep myself accountable and to safeguard myself when I'm feeling weak).  Hannah asked what I was doing.  I struggled with my response. The real reason is because I have a food addiction and this is one of the ways I've been successful at overcoming it.  But how do you tell your daughter that you have such a struggle? I immediately felt ashamed of the reason. I felt trapped that I may always have to track my food because addiction never really goes away.  I don't want my kids to see this side of me or for it to influence the way my children view food.

But, how will they learn to deal with their own struggles? Yes, I have to come to terms with the fact that my children will deal with sin in their own lives.  I don't like the thought, but it is still the reality.  How do I let my kids see me fail?  I'm supposed to be the role model, the one who has the answers, the one who gets it right.  It's hard for me to share how I'm failing, especially with my kids.

I shared some of this with Matt, and was reminded that there is strength in vulnerability.  One of the most difficult things to do is to tell someone how you have failed.  But that's how we heal.  I started to see healing in my own life when I started sharing about my struggle with food.  The same will be true for my children.  Matt and I want to create an environment where they feel comfortable sharing their failures and struggles.  That starts with us, as parents, in our own home.  We have to be the ones to model that for our children no matter how scary that seems.

Now, here is my question for you (because I need help): How do you teach your children?  How are you vulnerable with them? How have you been most effective in discipling your little ones? I would love to hear your thoughts and also practical ways that this plays out in your families.

Where Do I Go From Here?

Last Wednesday, I finally shared my story and opened my life up in a very new way.  I didn't think I would share my story until I had a solution, or felt that I was completely healed from my addiction.  But I felt compelled to share in the midst of my brokenness and not after I had overcome it.  Many of you have supported me, shown me love, and even expressed similar emotions/struggles.  You have given me strength to keep moving forward.  Thank you for reading, responding, and reaching out.  We empower each other by sharing our stories.

So, now where do I go?  My journey is not over.  My healing is not finished.  I have to keep praying, working, reaching out, and surrounding myself with people that can encourage, challenge, and hold me accountable.  I'm starting a challenge group this Monday for anyone that needs accountability in their life.  Whether that's for eating, fitness, or kicking a habit that you've wanted to leave behind.  One way that I've seen progress in my life is by surrounding myself with people that have similar goals and to ask for accountability.  Would you like to join me?  It's as simple as sending me an email or facebook message.  I won't pretend to have all the answers, but I firmly believe when we open ourselves up to others, we can achieve great things.  The first step is always the hardest!

My Story - God's Healing

Have you ever had something difficult in your life that you feel as if God is telling you to share and you just want to hide instead of following his nudging?  Yeah….I’m right there with ya!

I’ve struggled with addiction for over 20 years.  I had no idea it was an addiction until two years ago; I just thought I was broken and screwed up.  But it’s now time for me to share and continue to heal.

I can remember from very early on (as early as age 8) this uncontrollable urge to eat ALL.THE.TIME.  I ate every meal with my family, but couldn’t wait until I was left alone to eat everything I could get my hands on.  I lived the next 20 years in this pattern. I would wait until everyone was out of the house and steal food from the kitchen.  Cleaning the kitchen was my chore growing up, and it was the perfect opportunity to eat the leftovers, or clean everyones’ plates.  I was ashamed, and told myself over and over that I wasn’t going to do that again.  I thought I just needed more resolve or the willpower to stop.  I would have these binge episodes and then go outside and run around the house to try to burn off the huge amount of calories that I consumed.  

I was overwhelmed with the shame and confusion of my inability to stop.  It continued through my adult life.  I would do well on a new eating plan or diet for a few days, and then one night (totally unexpected) that urge would hit and I would give in to it in a huge way.  It would start simply; a cookie, even cereal, or mashed potatoes, or mac n cheese.  And then it would be all of those things and much more.  I didn’t get it!! Why could I not stop??  I would go into a depression and start shutting everyone out, especially my husband.  

We made a huge and stressful move from Indiana, our jobs, church, friends, new house, to live in Alabama.  This was when my eating was at its worst. The more I would try to control it the more I lost control.  I remember sitting in the living room of our new apartment in Alabama, and I saw a commercial…it listed out everyone of my symptoms and feelings that I had been dealing with for 20 years.  I had a name…B.E.D.  Binge Eating Disorder.  An addiction. An eating disorder.  I don’t think I’ve ever cried like that before.  I was devastated but liberated at the same time.  I wasn't alone!  For the first time, I wasn’t alone.  I wasn’t the only one that struggled in the same way.  

It was a long time before I was able to say that aloud.  Matt was the first one that I told.  He was my rock, my support.  I tried so many things, and failed so many times to overcome this thing that I could finally name.  I wanted to give up, and did on many occasions.  I struggled to be free.  I joined a support group, I prayed, I failed, and I was forgiven…so.many.times.  But I continued to feel stuck, depressed, without hope of ever beating my addiction.

Last year I had a break through.  I felt a freedom that I had never experienced.  I joined an accountability group.  It wasn’t a group specifically for eating disorders. In fact, no one new that I was struggling with a food addiction. But accountability was what I needed to make changes.  I look back over the last two years when I put a name to my struggle with food.  It has not been an easy road, and I’m not finished yet.  Everyday is still a struggle for me.  Some days are easier than others, and somedays I still fail.  But God is forgiving me and healing me more every day.  I feel free from my shame in a way that I didn’t know was possible.  

I’m finally at a point where I feel that it’s time to share my story.  It’s never easy to show people how I’ve failed, or struggled, or sinned.  I still cry when I talk about it.  But it’s a way for me to heal.  God has healed me.  He will continue to heal me.  With God, all things are possible. That’s where my hope comes from.  

http://www.bingeeatingdisorder.com/

Noah's First Haircut

Growing up is hard. Hard for all ages. Noah, my 11 month old, is growing faster than I can keep up with. His hair is growing even faster. Today he got his first "real" hair cut. I've given him a little trim before, and that in itself was a feat. But a real haircut? It was devastating! 

It started out pretty well. He loves his highchair, especially if there's food involved. I used the clippers because I thought pointing sharp items at a forever moving head was a bad idea. This is what he thought of the clippers. 

Poor little guy!!! He was traumatized! It didn't get any better either, no matter how much I sang, danced, played, etc. 

If it were up to Noah, I'm sure he would have chosen his mullet over this experience. I hope I haven't ruined haircuts for this little man. We gave it a break for an hour or so and then tried again with scissors. With a LOT of patience, it worked better this time. No tears :)

Looking at this little face reminds me how fast time flies. I can't believe he'll be a year old next month!! My little stinker :)

My Heart Grew Three Sizes That Day

For the past several months I've been afraid. Afraid that my heart, my arms, and my tummy weren't big enough. Once I found out we were expecting our second child I worried that little Hannah would feel left out or cheated. I was also worried because I couldn't imagine loving someone else as much as I loved her.  These were very real fears that became stronger as the delivery date drew closer. 

I struggled with guilt when I would day dream of little Noah instead of paying attention to Hannah. Or, feel guilty when I hadn't thought about Noah because Hannah was taking up my entire attention. Matt would remind me very gently how my love continued to grow from the day I brought Hannah into the world. Yes, I would love my Noah. It would be different, but it would be just as real and intense as my love for my first born. 

My fear came back so intensely while I was in the delivery room. I fought back tears when the doctor told me it was time to push. Was I going to love him?  Was I going to be able to love them both?  

When they placed Noah Paul on my chest for the first time and I heard him cry, something inside me changed. I feel like my heart grew three sizes that day.  What a wonderful God that created our hearts to grow! I am amazed every day at the intensity of His love for us, and so very grateful that he allows us to feel that love for others.

Welcome to the world Noah Paul. Hannah, my sweet girl, you will always be the bundle of joy that made me Momma. I love you both so very much.