It feels like I am writing about a different person when I post these entries.  Even though some memories are so vivid (while others are completely gone), it really doesn't feel like it was me who experienced these things.  It is really quite cool that I can even say that now.  There were days when the emotional pain was so bad that I wanted God to take me home.  I didn't really care how, but I just wanted my life in this earth to be over.  That is not the case anymore.  Yes, I still have good days and bad days with emotional highs and lows.  The enemy still tries to woo me with lies; but they don't overtake me.  I don't have to fall prey to them anymore.

One of the major lies that I believed was that I had to be able to see my hip bones to be an acceptable person.  Really stupid.  My mom was with me once in the dressing room when I was trying on skirts, and one particular skirt was kind of silky and shiny.  The way the light hit it, my hip bones were more visible than usual.  My mom was horrified.  She commented on it, and I just kind of shrugged my shoulders, throwing a silent party on the inside.

When I went to the doctor that fall after the weigh in at home, I remember the questions on the intake form being way more difficult than they should have been.  Last menstrual cycle? I hadn't even had my first! You have to be healthy to menstruate, so I guess that is an "N/A" response?

The physician had me put on one of those embarrassing gowns for the exam, and I remember her watching me try to put on my socks when the exam was over.  I was really mad at her for looking at me- in order to keep the gown from falling completely off, I had to use one hand to hold it in place, meaning I was trying to put my socks on with one hand.  If you've never tried to put socks on with one hand, you haven't really lived.  Try it.

I think after the second appointment, the physician had made the diagnosis and referred me to the psychologist I had seen a few years before (she specializes in eating disorder treatment) and to a dietician.  My head was spinning.  It seemed like everything was happening so fast, and I couldn't keep the appointments straight.  I couldn't remember names, only offices.  The office with the exam table is where they listen to my heart to make sure it is still beating; the office with the round table is where we talk about food and nutrition; the office with the love seat and chairs is where I talk about my thoughts (where I refuse to talk about my thoughts.)

Prior to one of the appointments with the physician, she had asked my mom to make a list of the foods that I eat, and the foods I don't eat.  She had the list on the mini counter that all doctors have in their offices, and she was asking me some general questions.  Are you trying to lose weight? The foods you eat all look like foods I would eat if I were dieting.  Just trying to be healthy, I lied.  Do you eat peanut butter? Yes, I said softly.  What do you eat it on? Bread...or crackers(?) I half-said, half-asked. By this point, my head was down, eyes glued on the paper, where I could see clearly in the "Foods Allie does not eat" column in my mom's handwriting, "bread" and "peanut butter."

For embarrassing.  I just told her I eat two things on that list. She knows I am lying. I know I am lying.  But I used to eat peanut butter on bread, so that counts, right? Is this appointment over yet?  I hope she doesn't ask me any more questions.

But she did ask more questions. I have to give her credit for her persistence!  I had this icy stare and a cold silence that was hard to penetrate (more on that in a future post).  She asked me the basics, like if I had thought I was an overweight child, what I liked to do, what I didn't like to do, etc.  You don't like talking about food, do you, she said.  I shook my head and weakly said no.

At the time I remember really disliking her. A LOT. I don't think I had ever disliked anyone as much as I disliked her.  Now that I am looking back, I know it wasn't anything personal.  It was a spirit of anger and self hatred in me.  She was doing her job,and trying to help me get better.  The voice that I referred to earlier that dictated my life didn't like her. Sound crazy?  Probably because it really is.  Listening to any voice other than the Lord's will lead to bondage.  I was in bondage.  I was guilty of idolatry.  And I was letting it kill me and steal my joy.

Here's a shout out to all the people who are brave enough to speak out the truth, to say no to enabling, and to choose life.