"It is for freedom that Christ has set you free."
Hmmmmm, freedom. What does it really mean to live free? I pondered the question through the morning. I looked up the definition of free in my lovely Webster's Dictionary on my desk.
free: adj 1.not imprisioned or constrained 2. not under necessity or obligation .....
4a.not affected by a specified circumstance or condition......7a. not being occupied or used
freeing 1.to set at liberty 2. to release or rid 3. to untangle or clear
Free. I'm not feeling very free right now. How do I live in the freedom that Christ has given me? How do I live not imprisioned to eating disorders? What exactly does that look like?
Ok, now fast forward to later in the day. I'm surrounded by people who have decided that mexican is the fare for the day. Already struggling, this was a bit of a freaky choice for me but I was bound and determined to get over myself and enjoy the time together. But then they talked about weight, hunger cues, body image, NUMBERS, and everyone had an opinion about eating disorders that they felt the need to share. It isn't what you think it is. It isn't about what you think it is about.
Is it about weight and size? Yes, but not in a vain sort of way, because it isn't actually about weight and size at all. I don't care what the measurements say, what society says, what friends say, I am convinced that my hips are huge. What I see when I look in the mirror, though not truth, is still what I see! It isn't really about society saying skinny is good, but it is about the fact that I feel like the less physical space I take up then the less people will see me. I sometimes really do long to be invisible and let no one see the hurts inside of me.
I texted Hubby, I told him that I wanted to run and hide. I told him that I wanted to curl up under the covers. I told him that I just wanted to get drunk. Yes, go ahead and hold that shocked face and wag your finger at me. Good Christian girls sometimes just want to get drunk to escape their reality too! I wanted to escape but there was no where to escape to.
Did they know that the voices in my head were already loud? Did they know that the conversation made the voices turn to screaming and demeaning? The orange inside of my head hates that I still ate with them. The orange inside of my head is telling me that I'm not worth taking care of. The orange inside of my head is angry, really really angry. And she is letting me know it.
And somehow in the midst of it all, I still find a little part of me that really wants freedom. There is a little part that wants to not live affected by a specified condition. There is a part of me that wants to live not under necessity or obligation. That voice needs to start talking louder than the voice of slavery and quickly. That seed of longing needs to produee something bigger than the seed of hatred that demands that I am not good enough and that I need to be punished.