Road to Recovery

Ugly. Fat. Unworthy. Sick. Depressed. Scared. Self-Conscious.

These are a few of the words that fill my head every day that describe myself. For a little over 2 years I have battled a very destructive eating disorder. You may be saying, “oh geez another one of these girls striving for attention?!” If there is one thing I don't want is attention. I am sick. Mentally and physically sick. From the very start of my addiction, I wanted nothing more then to fade away. I wanted to die.

This blog is raw. I'm gonna be honest...some of the things I tell you might make you feel uncomfortable but their honest and from the heart. You need to know that this is a process and I still struggle with it to this day but I have finally come to grips with the fact that I do have a problem and I am seeking help. With and by the grace of God he is healing me to the woman I am meant to be. Living for him every day and exuding his joy and shining his light for the world to see. This is the story of how Christ redeemed my life and woke me up to see just how much I have to offer this world.

It all started senior year of high school. My father had recently passed away from cancer that year and that is the devastating event that triggered it all. My heart was aching for my daddy and I wanted so badly to join him in Heaven. The year before this all started, I became addicted to another substance; alcohol.

The type of cancer that my father had not only affected him physically but also mentally. We basically lost the person before physically losing them. Ask anyone to describe my dad and they would tell you what a loving, compassionate, energetic, and full of life person he was. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would be experiencing my father's tirades where he would be screaming in my face over the smallest thing. One time in particular, I hyperextended my knee in PE class playing soccer, and I called my brother to pick me up from school. Little did I know what I would be coming home to.

My father was absolutely lived with me. He could not believe that I would let myself get hurt in class. An event like this would have NEVER upset my dad, but now because of this evil tumor living in his head, he had become a Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde. You just never knew what to expect. I would try and stay at school as long as possible so I would not have to come home to him.

There were nights that I could not sleep because I could hear him yelling at my mom and brother because they couldn't understand what he wanted. His speech was so broken that it was like playing charades to figure out what he was trying to tell us. From this came frustration and anger. The yelling and screaming was eating away at me. I just wanted to fall asleep and not wake up. The only thing that eased the pain was alcohol. After my family went to bed, I would go downstairs into the liquor cabinet and poor rum in a water bottle and stash it under my bed. I did this same routine for 7 months. Some nights I could live without it, but when the yelling was bad, I confided in my new friend.

Long story short, I suffered from this addiction for quite awhile but got back on my feet February my senior year after a near death experience where I tried to take my life. I can't even express to you the pain and suffering that was eating away at me. I just got to the point where I couldn't continue to live my life. So one night, I locked myself in the bathroom and jumped in the bathtub with a razor in my hand. I had a bottle of aspirin next to me that I was planning on taking after slitting my wrists. I sat in the warm water with the blade in my hand. It was staring back at me saying, “Shannon, it's so easy, just one or two slices and you can join your dad.”

The next thing I knew the razor hit the wall and fell to the floor. That night Jesus Christ saved me from death. I wish you could understand the power of love that I felt that night. It was as if someone was giving me a giant bear hug. I truly believe that Jesus fought the evil one that night. Satan had such a tight grasp on my life for so long that I forgot what it felt like to experience God's love. I can never thank God enough for his grace and mercy that night and for giving me a second chance at life.

Not long after, I started going back to church again. Involving myself with the local high school group. I had missed church so much and my friends as well. That February I went to the church's high school retreat at Dunes Bible Camp in Washington. It was there where I rededicated my life to Christ. I was baptized a month later by a family friend. I was the happiest I had been in a very long time.

Fast forward to my freshman year of college. Things were great. I was making friends, I now had a boyfriend, and I was loving every minute of being away from home. I loved the independence. It was that summer were my hell started. After putting on a little bit of weight my first year at school, I was determined to start taking care of my body by eating healthier and working out more. Little did I know how something as small as dropping a few pounds would lead into a death sentence.

Counting calories was how it all started. I limited my daily food intake and journaling really helped with this. It's amazing to see where the calories you eat are coming from. It made me reconsider some of my food choices. I resorted to lean cuisines, fruit, veggies, and anything that did not have fat on the nutrition label. The lower the amount of fat the better.

This went on for pretty much the whole summer, and then in August was when the Special K craze developed. I ate only special k. Nothing else. No milk, just dry cereal. If I was in a group setting I would order a salad with chicken and no dressing. I made sure there was no extra ingredients, and if there were I would remove them as quickly as possible. Before going to restaurants I would study the online menu to see what options I had or didn't have. If there was nothing on the menu that fit in with my “meal-plan” I would eat my bowl of cereal in the car on the way there.

Watching people eat was and still is absolute torture. I remember envisioning myself eating what they were feasting on and pretending that I was tasting every bite. That's how I got my fix. I did the same thing with watching people on Food Network. By seeing the food, I could pretend that I was savoring the same flavors. Sounds bizarre right? Well this too became part of my daily routine. I would cook food for other people just so I could watch them eat it.

Months went by and slowly I started noticing changes in my appearance. My hair was falling out in clumps, I lost my period, clothes were falling off of me, my heart rate would flutter, I couldn't sleep, and my skin took on an ashen tone. I knew these things were happening to me, yet I saw something completely different in the mirror. In pictures, my bones were protruding out of my body but looking at my self head on I saw myself as looking fit and toned.

People would tell me on a regular basis how I looked like skin and bones and that I needed to gain weight. My own brother said I resembled a prisoner in a concentration camp. And normally those words would cut down to the core, but secretly I loved it. I had created an identity for myself. I was now known as “little Shannon.”

Someone once compared an anorexic patient's appearance to that of a child. You take on the same qualities as you did when you were a little girl. No breasts, a straight up and down frame, petite bones, etc. My fondest memories were when I was a child and I longed to be that age again. Well now I got what I wished for. People mistook me for a 14 year old girl, when I was 21 years old. I loved it.

Working out was the other part of my addiction. There were times were I would turn down dates with friends to go to the gym. My usual trip lasted about 2 ½ hours. An hour cardio and the rest weight lifting. Sometimes when I was on the elliptical my legs would be popping out of joint, yet I wouldn't let that defeat me. Just 10 more minutes and I will have burned 400 calories. There were times when I would have to be at work at 7am and would crawl out of bed at 3am to run around the block because the gym wouldn't open before I had to leave. Pathetic you say? I thought I was so strong for having the determination to work out this early. Again, I'm sick.

One time at school, my boyfriend at the time, and I went to Dutch Bros. to get our caffeine fix and the guy made my drink wrong. He put milk in it. I was unaware and started drinking it and noticed a different taste. I opened my cup and saw the color difference in the drink and immediately I went off. I started cussing saying how I couldn't finish it. I wanted my boyfriend to turn around so I could yell at the employee for doing this to me. Did he know how hard I worked out that morning and now it was tainted! My ex could not believe how I was reacting. I went straight to the gym when we got back to school. I could not let that milk sit in my stomach. I was going to gain weight.

There were many more experiences such as this one. Too many in fact. It became embarrassing to my family and friends when they would be in a public setting and see how I was acting. Everyone knew what was wrong with me, but I refused to discuss it. I was in denial.

As I was reading my Bible a few days ago, I came across a side commentary about dealing with disorders. It said to seek help. Those words lead me to contact my pastor at church. I was in contact with his assistant who actually had prayed with my mom and I the past Sunday. Funny how things weave together. She forwarded my email to the pastor and a friend of hers who is a recovering patient. She suggested that we met that following Sunday after church to pray together. I knew that God was leading me to these girls for a reason. My mom and I, nervously, sat down in the prayer room with these two girls we barely knew. And with God's help I poured out my heart. With tears rolling down my face I exposed everything about my life. From my recent break up with my boyfriend to my father's death. Never have I felt so raw and open. The words, “Shannon you are physically dying,” will forever haunt me. She informed me of how my heart could stop at any moment. That was enough. I had made my decision to seek medical help. My father didn't have a choice when he died, and I do have a choice, and here I am killing myself. And for what reason?

My eating disorder has been present in my life for over 2 ½ years now. I have had my moments of recovery and relapse. It has been a constant wave in my life. How could I let this disease get to this point?! What all started out as wanting to lose a few pounds has resulted into a deadly addiction. On Monday I will be visiting the doctor and from there he will determine if I need to seek help from an outpatient clinic for girls who are struggling with the same illness.

I know this road to recovery is not going to be an easy one and so I ask for your love and support through these trying times. God has a hold on my life and I know that he will bring me out of this hell.

“He took her by the hand, and called, saying, Child, arise.”

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.  Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next. Amen.