Spirituality Inhibited by Active Binging

Spirituality Inhibited by Active Binging

I discovered working with a small intimate group discussing recovery that Spiritual healing alone works if you aren’t dealing with a chemical imbalance. We all experienced a blockage from our spirituality when we were active in binge eating. We lived in a self-centered world and yet never ended up with what satisfied us. We learned we can’t give of ourselves because we’re immersed in addictive eating blocking the connection to God. In our self-centered world we’re unable to love ourselves—we’re centered in self-hate.

Healing requires a three prong mindset: physical, emotional, and spiritual. How can we heal our bodies if our mind is toxic from our chemical response to certain foods? In turn, if we are emotionally bankrupt how do we find our way spiritually? Can we be spiritually connected when we’re knee deep in a food binge?

I can only speak for myself and the answer is—not totally. Yes, the binge dropped me to my knees begging for relief; however, once the food partially digested I was ready for another binge. What comes first cleansing from the binge or reaching out to God?

At times when I was loaded with sugar I struggled with negative images of God, feelings of spiritual unworthiness and shame, fear of abandonment by God, intense difficulty surrendering and keeping faith, and dishonesty and deception. I believed in God yet had deep spiritual struggles creating a major impediment to my ability to recover from my eating disorder.

This is not to say there were not previous times in my life where I felt a connection to God and a degree of personal spirituality. I still attended weekly Sunday mass intermittently but lost these connections through the course of my eating disorder. In essence, I realized spiritual healing can happen but first I needed to address my chemical imbalance on a physical, spiritual, and emotional level.

A Summer Afternoon Swim...

A lazy Sunday afternoon swim with thunder rolling in the distance is my idea of a perfect setting. The sun is still shinning, yet dark luminous clouds hang over simultaneously. I marvel at how I swam laps with such ease, yet with urgency knowing a storm is not too far off. I am reminded of last year when I gasped for breath with only 5 laps of swimming.

I never was much of a swimmer. As a child, raised on the beach every summer in Wautoma Wisconsin, enjoying boating, skiing, rowing and catching frogs in the pond, you would think I would be “naturally” a strong swimmer. I even lived with my sister Debbie half our childhood summers smack on the beach in our little tent. Sometimes at night we would take a little night swim, but I never strayed out too far.

And as if living on the beach was not enough to make a swimmer out of me, my grandmother graduated with a degree in physical education and taught swimming as well as competed on swim teams. Go figure! Ma (how we addressed her) even lived in the main house near our cottage on the beach. You would think I would somehow absorb her talent and strength as a swimmer. Nope.

So, the question that begs to be asked is why I had such fear of swimming. I have no idea. I have vivid memories of being stuffed in an orange life jacket and feeling confined. I was not comfortable wearing it nor was I comfortable without it. My siblings joyfully swam out to the raft to play "King of the Raft." The goal was to push everyone off the raft and last person standing was king...or should I say queen. My memory of attempting to swim to the raft screamed of fear. I recall paddling and paddling trying to reach the raft engulfed by dark cold water only to approach the huge barrels holding up the raft and peering at the emptiness underneath it. No...I did not want to be queen of the raft. I wanted to be safe on shore eating something sweet and gooey. I had neither energy nor desire to join my siblings.

I was a skinny scrawny kid, always fatigued. I had zero energy. I preferred junk food over real food. I was anemic and was on daily iron drops. Of course I did not stay skinny long. When I hit my teen years I grew quite voluptuous…and then chunky…and then darn right obese. These were the starting years of my on and off dieting, binging, and fluctuating up and down in weight. I have countless pictures wearing an oversized t-shirt covering my shorts. I never wore a swim suit during my adolescence because I was ashamed of my body.

Now here I am 40 years later at my pool wearing my suit and very comfortable in my own body, no longer binging, no longer with weight up or down. It just stays steadily at a nice comfortable maintained weight. I wish I knew then what I know now as I sit at the edge of my pool taking in a lovely afternoon. Well…until the loud piercing thunder shook me out of my daze and inside the house I went. The sky was quickly darkening and a storm was near at hand. Since Florida is the lightening capital of the world I think it's time to back myself inside and finish this blog.

Chicago Bound...and Back....

I spent the past few days in Chicago. Today is my Dad's 83rd birthday and he continues to work his empire. I am amazed at his strength, motivation, and continuous vision.

Sitting on the plane with my handsome 20 year old son, headed for Chicago in honor of my father’s 83rd birthday, I found myself sandwiched between my son and an adorable, but severely overweight college girl. I was her...once upon a time. As I was settling into my seat, arranging my carry-on with ease, I realized how difficult it was back in the days when my weight was peaked out at 234 pounds. I am flying Spirit airlines, which is known for great economical prices, but also very small seats!

I realized, snug in my seat, how far my life has come. There was a time I would have purchased muffins, candy bars, chips, and coffee before even boarding the plane just to have my “stash” of goodies for the ride. Today, I still need my stash of food, but the nutrients are quite different. I am toting homemade apple-raspberry muffins and a decaffeinated coffee. A far cry from where I had been not so long ago.

I feel snug no longer worried about my last binge, future diet, or future binge. I have my routine in place, always vigilant regarding what is my food, and what is not: never taking chances. While waiting at the airport terminal, I observed so many scurrying to get doughnuts, coffee, muffins (not my “natural” sugar-free muffins). I could see the familiar urgency and frenzy written over their faces and body language. I wondered if they were plotting the upcoming diet, if the guilt and shame set in, or if they were at the euphoric state we addicts reach on the first bite of gooey chocolate laden treat.

As the plane began descending, I embraced the thought of 3 days in Chicago with my family of origin. There will be parties and dinners to attend, and I will partake in all of the festivities, but the difference will be no flour, sugar, or wheat, for me. I will walk in the morning, strolling near lake Michigan observing the neighborhood mansions for my a.m. routine exercise. I will ring in Dad’s 83rd birthday conscious and present, rather than numbed out on sugar, flour, and wheat. This trip was a friendly reminder of where I have been and where I am, and where I am headed. Life is delicious.

Sitting at the airport on my return to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida I am snug and full of joy. My trip was very good. I enjoyed family and what it represents. I did not dream about foods I was not eating, or wishing to eat, or feeling guilty for having eaten them. I am with my fresh salad, topped with chunks of chicken and lemon knowing another day is closing clean and healthy. I have learned to be prepared for my trips and work my routine. The rest is easy. My father and his siblings are all elderly, but you would not know. They are healthy, vibrant, and still working a strong and prosperous business. I have learned many of my good habits from watching them. And of course some things I have to step away from them…like eating the sweets, breads, and pastas…all a part of the Italian way.