An Intimate Experience with Prayer

 TW: Religious Trauma, Eating Disorder, Church, Suicide, Mental Illness, Privilege,

My hubby took this picture of me at the Field Museum in Chicago.  While I didn't ask him to take a picture, I did ask him to take various shots because I didn't like the previous one(s).

Trauma says I don't include pics of myself in my blog posts.  Healing says that I need to take up space.

Dear Reader,

  An eating disorder is a complex thing.  Many characteristics are shared and that breathes a sigh of relief into my soul.  If my body adapted like their bodies adapted and we can share this journey, I do not have to travel alone.  Yet, there are many characteristics that are unique to me.  My personality, my childhood, my choices.  Me. Me. Me.  Alone.  Feeling unlovable because no one is going to touch this crazy with a ten foot pole.  Wait.  That was my ED speaking and I have concrete evidence that I am not unlovable and am worthy of great things.  (Did you see how easily ED slipped back in there?  I wasn't even intending to make this point but now that I've written it out, I'm not going to delete it.  Welcome to my over analyzing inner dialog.  It can be exhausting.)

 I'm currently reading the book "Wide Open Spaces" by Jim Palmer.  I'm going to add this one to my list of books to read when I'm feeling pressured to conform, be small, and stay safe.  Many of his experiences are putting words to my own thoughts and feelings.  I'm m in chapter nine, "Follow the White Rabbit" where he compares his experience to the movie "The Matrix."  Y'all, I can not even express to you how giddy that made me feel because I have been telling people that my experience with the church and God has felt like I stepped out of the Matrix. I can't unsee what I have seen.

  About a year ago, I had my first severe depressive episode as I got ready for church.  I was alone in our bedroom, getting dressed, when my thoughts began spinning.  I needed some relief, so I began to sing one of my favorite worship songs.  This time, singing made it worse because my thoughts went from spinning to spiraling.  Down, faster, darker, and completely void of hope.  I started crying and couldn't stop.  Fortunately, I am one of the privileged ones.  I had read up on mental and emotional health.  I had a support team already in place.  My husband has first hand experience because of his own anxiety and depression.  We have insurance that includes mental and emotional health in their coverage.  

  I am grateful that so many things were already set up and that that morning did not lead to death by suicide.  On the other side of this pain, I am grateful for an awareness that all mental illnesses are more complex than people give them credit for.  I am grateful that I am on the other side of the event and am able to be more open minded about what others may be experiencing.

There were so many beliefs that I once held that left me feeling unsafe in my own body.  As a young child, I was told that I was only one mistake away from being sent to hell for all eternity. Of course, it was never as direct as this, but when you're read the stories from the Old Testament and told that this God is the same as the Jesus who was tortured and killed for your mistakes/sins... well, it's a little confusing.  And traumatic.    Or when you're told that the Bible is the inerrant word of GOD, that salvation is a gift but you have to do this thing and that thing in order to receive it and keep it.  That our religion is the ONLY way to be saved from an eternal life of fire.  

Even as I write this, I'm thinking "No wonder I struggle with anxiety.  I believed every word that they said."

  While I was in rehab, I wrote a prayer.  I've spent my life saying prayers, writing prayers, journaling, leading in prayers, wondering about prayers, being told about the power of prayer, and told that an acceptable Christian (one who is safe with God) prays.  Yet, this rehab prayer I wrote was the most sincere, life shifting, soul healing prayer I had ever experienced.  The main difference?  I addressed Love.  Not a god who I was afraid of, felt guilt over what I made Him do, or a divine being who manipulates the very rules it created to make me learn a lesson... in love.

  If I pray a prayer to Love and something comes up that doesn't match up with perfect love, then I know it is not in line with Love.  

Now, three months out of rehab, I share with you my second prayer with love.

"God is still a trigger word for me, but Love feels safe.  Love wouldn't demand that I kill one of my children.  Love wouldn't order genocide in order to get what it wanted.  Love wouldn't punish me for being human and for doing the best I could, but always falling short of perfection.  Love would stay with me in my messiness, comfort me, speak truth in love to me, be patient, kind, and compassionate with me.  Love is not separate from me.  Love is my core and nothing can separate me from my core.  Mental illness may have been created due to abuse, trauma, my body adapting to survive... but healing, rest, and life is what Love provides for me."

The love that dwells within me sees the love that dwells within you.  

Wendy

Different cultures and people have words they use to refer to their understanding of the divinity.  The circle I am in uses God.  I feel safe with Love because there is a Bible verse that says that God is Love.  Another one that says that perfect love casts out fear.  When it comes down to it, I think the meaning behind the word is what matters AND I still want to feel safe and acceptable.