What My Eating Disorder Taught Me about Christ’s Power to Help Us Heal
I felt trapped in this disorder for years, but Christ led the way to freedom.
Change. It always seems like it should be so easy. But it never really is, is it?
A year and a half ago, as I listened to a cousin talk about some books she’d recently read about eating disorders, I realized I had all the symptoms of one.
Distorted body image? Check.
Calorie counting? Check.
Excessive chewing? Check.
Fear of gaining weight? Check.
And that’s only to name a few.
My dad had been telling me for a while that he thought I had an eating disorder, but I always denied it vehemently, too ashamed of what it could mean. But suddenly I saw myself and my behavior through a new lens and recognized all the little habits and thoughts for what they were: disordered.
This was something that I had lived with for years, but because I wasn’t severely underweight (which was most of what I thought an eating disorder was) and didn’t have extreme symptoms, I had no idea. And up until that point, I didn’t realize that there was any other way of living.
But in that moment, I realized I had a problem, and I finally saw that I could change. I saw that a reality existed in which I could eat more than one piece of bread and a handful of spinach for lunch and be OK. I saw a life where I didn’t have to starve myself to be happy or likable.
Struggling to Change on My Own
Change came quickly at first. I started seeing a therapist and a dietician who helped me increase portion sizes within the first few weeks. After only a month or two, I felt stable enough to keep logs of the food I was eating (so my dietician could know my portion sizes) without feeling the need to restrict or count calories. I felt better.
But then as the months went on and the COVID-19 pandemic hit, I regressed. Without a routine or people around me to make sure I was eating, it became easier to justify starving. I constantly forgot to eat. I didn’t want to eat. Logging my food became difficult. I lost all my progress, and I felt hopeless. I didn’t know how to change—how to make myself get better.
I didn’t stop trying, though. I kept meeting with my dietician. I got a book about recovery. I tried journaling. But nothing seemed to work. I spent days and weeks trying to figure out why nothing was helping, why I couldn’t motivate or force myself to change.
Seeking Help from the Master Healer
That’s when I remembered that Jesus Christ is the Master Healer and that He could make my broken vessel whole (see 3 Nephi 17:9). Hope streamed into my life as I remembered His life and sacrifice and what they meant to me. I had done all that I knew how to do and could do by myself, but if He could turn water into wine, He could take my meager effort and make it sufficient.
Jesus Christ atoned for me so that I could change and be healed. He knows my pain and how difficult this change has been for me—He has “descended below” all things (Doctrine and Covenants 122:8) and understands exactly what I am going through. And He and our Heavenly Father are there for me—no matter how many times I fall back into old habits and patterns—picking me up when I turn to Them. They are always there.
I’m still not fully recovered or even remotely close to it, and some days are better than others. But with Christ’s help, I’m slowly changing. Although I’m not fully changed yet, I have hope because of Christ that someday I can be.
We Can Start Today
So this Easter, I remember Him. During this time of renewal and hope and peace, I can trust in Him to help me change the way I perceive and treat my body, to help me have hope that one day I will be completely healed, to help me so my brain won’t fight against my body but work with it. I can trust in Him to help me find peace with where I am in the process, even if I’m not as far along as I think I should be.
Because of Him, I can change. All of us can change. #Startingtoday.