One morning as I opened my eyes, I had a deep knowing that my eating disorder was gone. I just knew. If my eating disorder was a person, I knew that he'd moved out of the house. As I walked down the stairs toward the kitchen, I marveled, "Oh my gosh, it's gone."
It sounds crazy, right? But I just knew. This chain that had kept me bound for seven years was just gone. It had been chopped off and thrown into the pit of hell.
It felt surreal walking into the kitchen without it.
As I poured myself a tall glass of water and cooked some yummy egg whites, the constant feeling that I usually wasn't even aware of was gone.
While I'd love to tell you that I was so full of faith that I knew for certain it wouldn't come back, I wasn't. I couldn't risk that hope. And so I waited.
After a healthy lunch on set that day, I waited to be gripped by the daily, unavoidable urge to binge. But it didn't come. At four o'clock I was still waiting. No urge. I went out with friends from the cast to grab a bite when we finished for the day, expecting that later in the evening I'd be leaning over the toilet.
It never happened.
I wasn't about to trust that having one successful day meant much at all. The following day I waited, with anticipation, for the wily menace that had plagued me for seven years to return.
It didn't.
Even though this was the thing for which I'd prayed for years, begging God to deliver me from, I still couldn't believe that God had done it. And I really believe that the gamechanger was that I'd established a regular rhythm of diving into God's Word. I'm not saying that I did it. In fact, quite the opposite! In his letter to the church in Ephesus, Paul tells the believers about the armor of God that they can wear: the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, feet fitted with the readiness of the gospel, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit (Ephesians 6:14–17). Notice that last one: the sword of the Spirit. That's talking about God's Word. And when I was in my eating disorder, I had no weapon to fight with. I was vulnerable, without any way to defend myself. But being in God's Word and praying God's Word was the protection I needed to finally defeat the enemy that had been killing me. It was my sword.
If you're skeptical that it was God who released me from that prison, I get it. But I am certain that God was my helper because I'd been unable to do it on my own for so long. If it had been a matter of willpower, believe me: I would have freed myself years earlier. And yet in God's timing, that I don't pretend to understand, He set me free.
For a few weeks I had this feeling like someone — my eating disorder — was going to jump out from behind a building and yell, "Surprise! I'm still here!"
It never happened.
Although I'd been reticent to share my struggle with Carlos, I couldn't not share with him my deliverance... He'd had no idea at all that I'd been plagued with this deep shame. He was so supportive, as I knew he would be, and continued to check in to make sure I was okay.
If you or someone you love is battling an eating disorder, the very best thing you can do is to tell someone who loves you about it. Believe me, I know it feels like death. When I was clutched in the grips of my disordered eating, I was terrified about anyone finding out. And that's exactly how the disorder retains its power. It doesn't want you to tell anyone! It knows that when you do, its power begins to dissipate. If you're being bossed around by that sneaky demon today, the best thing you can do is to share your secret with someone who cares. Promise me you will.
~ Alexa PenaVega
Excerpted with permission from What If Love Is the Point? by Carlos & Alexa PenaVega, copyright Carlos & Alexa PenaVega
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