Living on purpose.

I wish Carmelita was a massage therapist. Just feeling the "need" for a neck massage after a long day at work.

Got to thinking about the work I do. Is this the career path I was thinking of when I endured Nursing School? What is it that gets me out of bed and down the road to my place of employment each day? Is it just the paycheck? Is it because the work itself is rewarding? Was I coming up with all these questions because I had too much caffeine this morning?

As I went from one meeting to another today, I walked through the Middle School campus during lunch today. As I walked through, I was swarmed by the kids who know me ... "Nurse Ann! Nurse Ann!".... At one point I had about 10 girls around me each popping in with a question or comment. As I asked each one how their summer was or how school was going, and as I looked into their young faces and sweet eyes, I knew I was being given a look at my purpose in working there. It wasn't about coordinating health care for kids or talking with doctors about medications. It wasn't about teaching CPR and First Aid to staff members. I was overwhelmed that I was looking at my primary mission for being a school nurse: Connection with young lives.

It is an incredible privilege to be able to love my students. I have become quite aware that many of them have really tough lives. There are times where I am given the opportunity to be the only one to ever show them they are worthy of love. I might be the only one to ever show them that love! Certainly for many, I am the only person who may ever show them Jesus. It nearly brings me to tears to know that God has given me this incredible mission. He has entrusted to me these amazing young people. I get to see them and love them and teach them that they have greatness in them.

I'm grateful for my job for what it provides for my family - money, benefits, a great schedule that keeps me home in the summer. I am humbled by God's purpose for me to be there. What a privilege. What a joy.

Tonight's dinner

If there's one thing Carmelita knows, it is food. And tonight we're having some comfort food goodness called Chicken Spaghetti. Remember, "comfort food" usually means "not healthy, but really yummy food" and tonight is no different.

Here's the recipe:

Chicken Spaghetti

6 chicken breasts
2 cans Rotel undrained
1 can Cream of Chicken soup undiluted
16oz Velveeta cheese
Salt and Pepper to taste

Place chicken, Rotel and soup in crockpot and cook all day on low.

About 30 minutes before dinner time, cook spaghetti noodles. At same time, cut Velveeta into cubes and add to crock pot to melt. After Velveeta melts, mix chicken mixture with noodles. If you like things a little spicier, you can add cayenne pepper or tabasco sauce to the mixture.

Pour into greased baking pan and bake for 20 minutes at 350.

Thanks Carmelita!

That Carmelita.

My husband Dave and I have a housekeeper named Carmelita. She has been with us for as long as we can remember. She is not a very good housekeeper, unfortunately. In fact, she is quite lazy.

There have been many times over the years that we decided to fire Carmelita. She doesn't keep things clean, she never gets the laundry done. We've often discovered that she just sits around eating BonBons and watching Oprah. Yet, we just don't have the heart to let her go.

She is such a part of our lives. The kids have grown to love her as much as we do! Even though she does the worst job on their bedrooms (I think she may be afraid to go in there), even they don't want us to fire her.

I wish I had a photo of her to post here, but I guess we've never taken one. She is a bit camera shy, likely due to her weight issues. Poor thing is quite large. I think it is all the BonBons and sitting around.

Carmelita has been married a few times. Not sure what that is about, but Dave and I suspect she is on her 4th or 5th husband. We aren't even sure which child goes with which daddy! I forgot to mention, Carmelita has 7 kids. No wait, I think its 8 now.

One thing I should let you know about - Carmelita is imaginary. She is and always has been our scape goat for a messy house. You see, when the house gets out of hand we say "That Carmelita, she's fired" or "Dang lazy housekeeper, what was she doing, eating BonBons and watching Oprah all day?".

Hey, don't scoff, it helps us cope. Life is busy, houses get messy and who has the energy to keep up with it all? Certainly not Carmelita!

Battlefield of the Mind

From the beginning of this journey I've talked about how I have had to shift my thinking. I created a paradigm shift from hating how I look to loving myself as I am. It was life-changing! I felt I had slayed the giant - my mind.

However, I've learned as the months have gone by that while I overcame the dislike of my body, my mind is still actively at battle. I can look in the mirror and say "I love my body", yet when I look at a number on the scale the battle rages! I am astonished at how that number affects me.

I do continue to weigh myself daily. I know there are several schools of thought on that practice, however for me, stepping on the scale daily keeps me accountable to my daily eating behaviors.

Here's the amazing thing about my mind. In a range of just 4-5 pounds, my mind can have a raging battle! Example: at one point I was weighing 196 pounds, the next day 195, the next 196. But then the next day, the scale dropped to 192. You might think that would be cause for rejoicing... but no, the battle raged and immediately I thought something must be wrong with me to lose so much so fast. I spent the entire day thinking "how can that be" (and yes I weighed myself 3 times to check). I worried that maybe my weight loss has been a fairly easy road because some medical condition is making me lose weight. Yet, as quickly as I started having those thoughts, the next day my weight was 195, then the next 196. When I hit 196, I was immediately thinking (again) "I'm never going to lose this weight" and "I'm probably going to be 200 pounds the rest of my life" and "I am failing".... UGH!

Several years ago I did a Bible study with several other women with Joyce Meyers' "Battlefield of the Mind". This study taught me that I am not alone in allowing my thoughts to run rampant. It is a signal to me that I am not letting God be in complete control, and that I am hanging on tightly to anxiety and worry instead of full submission.

So for the last few weeks since this started, I've been asking the Lord to help me avoid the battlefield of thoughts. It has been working. I have asked him to give me the courage to rejoice over weight loss, and to accept any weight gain. I've learned to look at the actual reasons behind weight fluctuations instead of letting my mind take over. The Lord has given me the strength to accept backslides and the ability to rejoice when the numbers go down - thanking HIM for the changes, no matter what they are.

There is one thing I know about myself. Staying away from the battlefield is a daily (sometimes hourly!) process. Each day I must ask God for the strength, for his power to ovecome. Each day is new, and each day I am given all I need from God who loves me - no matter the number on the scale!

So, then what happened?

The rest of the story is what most of you know. I went back to college and graduated. I travelled a bit and worked for awhile. I met a wonderful man to whom I've been married for 20 years. I went back to school early in our marriage and became an RN. We have been blessed with 2 amazing kids and have a beautiful home. And yet, with all that, and although by appearance I seemed fine, something was not right for me - I struggled with depression, anxiety and compulsive overeating over the years.





It was within the last year's time - after 2 years of counseling - that I discovered that the adoption is part of why I eat to bury emotions. Heck, it was in the process of counseling that I discovered that those deeply hidden emotions even existed! I still do not consider my choice a "bad thing" that happened to me. Far from it! The part where I began to bury things is rooted in the fact that it was all veiled in secrecy. Never being able to talk or share about an event of such magnitude was detrimental to me, even though I wasn't aware of it.





As I look back over the last decades, I think my pain began to affect me when my own children came along. I think my "mommy heart" subconsciously realized that having had a child before and allowing them to be adopted was actually painful, something that was deserving of a proper grief time. And yet, in the amazing moments of becoming a parent and being so happy to have my own children, it was automatic to stuff that pain and grief away. After all, I had moved on, I had a wonderful life! (I did, and I still do!)





So in the 16 1/2 years since I became a mom, blessed with 2 amazing children, I have kept an unidentified emotion tucked deep and far away. It started to manifest itself in depression followed shortly after by compulsive overeating. And, it wasn'tuntil I decided that I had had enough with depression and enough with abusing food, that I discovered the pain hidden so far away within my being. I've worked through that pain - from being unaware, to identifying it, to letting my real emotions over the event to surface, to the joy of sharing the "secret" with my children (yes it was a joy - to have a secret from them was destroying me), to hope of one day reuniting with that child, to finding freedom from the pain after 28+ years.



Freedom has given me strength. Freedom has given me hope. Freedom has allowed me to love myself again. Freedom is letting me discover who I am. Freedom is bringing me closer to God. It is such a blessing to be free.



Onward!

A long time coming

It has been awhile since I've posted. It hasn't been writer's block, it has been courage block.




You see, weeks ago as I prayed about my next entry, the Lord asked me to talk about the reasons why I have buried "stuff" with my eating. "What else ya got, Lord?"..... silence. I've spent weeks putting it off, attempting to write about other subjects (nothing comes or it all seems dreadfully empty). And then He reminded me about submission. It isn't on my terms.




Most likely this won't be one post, but a series of posts. I don't know where the Lord will lead me to write or how long it will be. Yet I pray, it will provide you encouragement.




PAIN




Everyone experiences pain. It is a fact of life. Some experience pain more than others. Some have physical pain, others emotional pain. Some have both. Some embrace it when they can, others deny it when they can. Physical pain may be difficult to ignore, emotional pain may be easy to bury.




After many years of battling depression which eventually led to physical pain and my desire to overeat, I was finally able to identify a source of emotional pain. When I tell the story it may seem brutally obvious to the reader, however through denial and a desire to appear "normal" or "OK", I was able to bury the pain, and bury it deep.





I suppose if we could really bury pain on our own, it would just be buried and not influence our life in any way. However, we are not able to bury our pain. Oh, we try to push it aside, ignore it, skirt around it, focus on others worse off than ourselves, etc - but the pain is there. It lingers. It eats away at us. It triggers behaviors and feelings in us that lead to other issues in our life. Issues like compulsive overeating.







I was so able to put my own pain aside that even when God gave me a gift of discerning others' pain, I was not able to identify my own. You may wonder why I call it a "gift" to discern that others are in pain, as that seems very morose. Yet it is a gift - it gives me the opportunity to love others as Christ loves and to hopefully, ultimately help them out of pain. And yet, with that, I was still in denial, still making attempts to not let anyone know (especially myself!) that I had a broken heart in desperate need of healing.




Birth of Buried Pain

(You may want to grab a cup of tea and put your feet up... this could be awhile)

At the age of 17, at the end of my Senior year in High School I became pregnant. It is there that denial began in my life and in this story. I was in complete denial. I really hoped it would just "go away". Yeah, funny thing, it didn't. And while the pregnancy didn't go away, my boyfriend didn't stay. He bolted. He had a new girlfriend (if he were honest I would probably find out that we over-lapped). He wanted nothing to do with me or with the child I was carrying.

Today, 28 years later, and after years of therapy, I can see that this is where I first started to tuck my pain away. Nice and neat - tucked away for no one to see. I was strong and I was determined. And, I was still in major denial. When he bolted I felt completely alone and had no idea how I could possibly tell anyone, let alone my parents. I knew I had disappointed them and hoped for a way out without them ever knowing (yeah, at 17 you really aren't mature no matter what you think).

So I did what any reasonable person would do: I didn't tell them and went off to college as planned. After all, maybe this would all "just go away". I told no one, and I hid my growing tummy.

I remember a moment at college that Fall when it must have finally sunk in that this was very real and happening to me. I sat and sobbed and held my pregnant belly and said to my unborn child "we will get through this together". In that moment I chose to have the child adopted and I had no clue what to do, but in that moment I knew it would be ok. In my wildest dreams I would never have known that "ok" for me would come almost 3 decades later (and, one day at a time at that!).

My parents, who have always let me know I am loved, never expressed the disapointment I felt I deserved. No, instead, they loved me through a very difficult situation. My mom was gentle with me when I spilled the beans, concerned mostly for my health. When she said she was going to the other room to tell my dad, I cried "He is going to kill me!". My dad came into the room, said "I love you" and held me while I sobbed. Immediately they went into action deciding how this would be handled. You see, it was 1981, a time when a pregnant daughter from a "good family" was something to be kept secret. And while this made sense to me from a social norm and from my parent's viewpoint, I see now that this was the next step in burying pain. Just tuck the shame right down there with the pain, and keep up appearances. I don't blame my parents, it is just how this situation was handled in that era.

I was sent from Washington State to live with close friends in Arkansas. The baby was born on March 25, 1981. The events surrounding the birth and relinquishment are very surreal. I was placed in a sleep state and remember nothing of the delivery. I did not see nor hold my baby. I was not told if it was a boy or a girl. The following day, papers were placed before me, I was asked to sign and it was done. I put on a brave face and moved on with my life. It was never talked about again in my family and I was never offered any ongoing emotional support. This, again, is just "how it was done" at that time. Keep it a secret, get it over with, move on and don't speak of it again.

Now, don't get me wrong. My life since that time has been incredibly blessed. I met and married a wonderful man, I have 2 amazing children, a beautiful home and a really cool career. Ten years ago I learned that Jesus wanted a relationship with me, that he died for my sins and I chose to follow him for the rest of my life. But Jesus can only deliver us from that which we acknowledge and confess to him, otherwise we are hanging on to it. That is the case for the pain of my adoption story. I was in so much denial about that pain (to the point where I believed that it wasn't painful!). I buried it so well, that it became invisible even to me - except for the fact that I was compusively eating. Even I did not know why I ate, I just knew I was out of control and felt helpless in this one area of my life. I had periods over the last 15 years or so when I could control my eating for a time, but that was soon followed by eating more and gaining more weight. If stress came my way, so did eating.

More later.....

ONWARD!!!

Border Patrol

An amazing thing happened this weekend. We crossed the border to the Great White North, Canada. The "old me" would have taken this opportunity to overeat. The new me had no desire to overeat. I wanted to shout from the mountaintops!

There were a couple of occasions where there was ample opportunity to make poor eating choices. The first was when we were informed that the small town we were in was famous for their "honey doughnuts". Oh my goodness.... these were regular donuts that were then soaked in honey and then deep fried again. Several of us moms walked to the bakery to get some for the rowers who were rigging all the boats. When we brought them back, other moms were trying them. I wasn't tempted, even then. Then Meg asked if I wanted to try a bite of hers. I said I would take a small morsel. And here's where the amazing thing happened. I put the tiny bit of donut up to my lips and the flavor was so oversweet it was not enjoyable to me - I didn't even eat it! I realized that my weeks of nutritious eating had caused my palate to change - HALLELUIAH!!

The other occasion was when we went to a really amazing restaurant for dinner. In the past I would chose off the menu based on "comfort food" or "really yummy food". This time, however, I evaluated choices based on what I thought their calorie count would be. I searched for the healthiest thing I could find. I chose a Mediteranean pasta dish with grilled chicken, feta cheese, olive oil, Kalamata olives and grape tomatoes. It was DELICIOUS and even though it was more pasta than I've had in awhile, it was a fairly healthy choice.

The outcome? I did not lose any weight over the weekend, but I didn't gain! In the past I could come home from a weekend trip like that and have 5 extra pounds on me! I was overjoyed when I weighed in on Monday morning.

I've been giving a lot of thought to why this weekend didn't derail me. It was clear that my habits had changed, and that my mindset was fixed firmly in making healthy choices. I realized that because I have surrendered all of this to the Lord, that he was my "Border Patrol" in keeping me on track. In asking him to guide me, I am allowing his power to guide me in keeping unhealthy foods out of my body. The Border Patrol is at work in keeping me from overeating, from "thinking" I'm hungry even when I'm not. My passport - the Word of God - is what allows me to travel safely into dangerous territory and return to my safe zone without abusing my body with food.

Thanks be to God!

Onward!