Skinny

I became an addict when I was 15. But it wasn’t to drugs or alcohol or pornography, or any of the “usual” addictions that prey on so many. 

Nope. I was addicted to running. 

Weird, right? Running?! Most people don’t even like running! Let alone become addicted to it. But I did.

It was the summer before my junior year of high school. To relieve some stress from feeling some anxiety about things I couldn’t control in my life, I sought relief from working out. 

And I never once thought, “Man, I think I should have an eating disorder.” I never even thought, “Ugh. I am so fat and I need to lose weight.”

I simply thought after every work out, “MAN! That felt GOOD!” And I started craving that feeling of self-discipline and overwhelming release that I experienced during every single run or gym session. I started craving that feeling of total control. 

In a matter of months I became obsessed. OB. SESSED. My whole day would be planned around when I could make it to the gym or go for a jog. And if I couldn’t fit in “enough” miles in my day, my whole day would be ruined.

Oddly enough, I never proactively decided to start being weird about everything I ate. No, it was all a very sub-conscious process. I would just forget to eat sometimes. And then I started to notice how good it felt to feel light. And how much more in control I felt when I devoutly controlled one of the most difficult things there is for any human being to control: my appetite. 

Soon I strictly regulated every single bite that went into my mouth. Every. Single. Bite.

Sometimes I would chew food and then spit it out. Sometimes I would pretend to eat and hurry and throw it away when my date left the table. Sometimes I would tell people I already ate when in reality, the last time I had eaten anything, was five days ago.

I kept a log of my calories every day-both consumed and expended. After several months, the average I ate on a daily basis was about 400 calories. And I would run for three or four hours each day. Sometimes until I passed out. 

I weighed myself multiple times a day and watched the number on the scale drop lower and lower and lower.

But despite all my efforts to maintain my strict diet and exercise regiment, I looked in the mirror every day and realized something horrific: even though I was working out so much and eating so little, I was getting fatter. 

Yes-that phenomenon where an overly thin person looks into the mirror and sees an overweight person is a thing. The human brain is powerful, y'all. 

Every day I became distraught when I saw my reflection. I looked disgusting. Repulsive. Undesirable in every way. My efforts to be in control were not working! 

Like I mentioned, losing weight was not my original motive. Gaining control was. But losing weight was the most visible way of gauging that control. So any ounce gained, or any shred of non-existent cellulite that I somehow saw in the mirror, was my mortal enemy. 

Any bite of food that was not planned on meant that I was a failure. I dreaded birthday parties and dates and all social events with food involved. I became terrified to gain weight. Literally, terrified. 

If I failed to follow my ridiculous routine, I punished myself for days. I put grocery bags under my clothes to sweat more. I would work out triple the amount as the day before. I fasted for up to a week. I had nightmares of eating food. I would wake up in tears because I had a slice of pizza in a dream.

After almost a year of the anorexia, I started developing habits of bulimia. Monday through Friday I was anorexic. And then the weekends came, and I binged and purged. My first binge experience? A whole banana. Yes, at the time, that was considered a binge. But the binges grew bigger, and the purges more dangerous. Yet I still looked in the mirror and saw a big, fat girl who was nothing but a stupid, out of control failure. 

No matter what I did or how desperately I did it, I was spiraling out of control. And the scariest part was, I physically couldn’t stop. To this day I sometimes experience side effects of my actions from years ago. My body and brain rewired to adapt to my toxic habits.

What I didn’t realize was that my eating habits (or lack therof) and my exercise regiment were actually controlling me.

My parents noticed it first. My mom tried to ground me from the gym because she was completely freaked out by my compulsive behaviors. Both she and my dad suggested counseling countless times. I scoffed at that idea. I didn’t have a problem. I did not need to go to counseling. 

One day, after I got home from school, my dad came into my bedroom and broke down in tears, pleading me to see a counselor. So, I finally agreed to go. 

In the midst of trying to overcome this immense problem that had literally overrun my life, my mom heard about a 12-step addiction recovery program through our church that was for addicts of any sort. She thought it would be a good idea for me to check it out.

I was not interested. First of all, probably all of the people there were addicts because they made terrible choices. They chose to put things in their body that were harmful. They chose to be sick and perverse. 

Those addicts were a bunch of sinners. And I knew I was a sinner, too because duh - I'm a human. But MY addiction did not start out through dumb decisions. MY addiction started out through HEALTHY habits.  

MY addiction was not the same as theirs. I was not the same as them. I did not CHOOSE this. THEY, on the other hand, CONSCIOUSLY chose to do something stupid. THEIR fault, I thought. It wasn’t fair that I had to go to the same thing when I had done nothing wrong. 

But after some persuading from my mom, I reluctantly agreed to attend this “AA” equivalent.

We met in an LDS church on a Sunday night. It was a dark night in January, and maybe a dozen people showed up to the meeting. It was held in a small Sunday school room. I was the only girl present. 

I sat in the circle bored and indifferent while the facilitator went over some information. Soon it became time for the “sharing circle” where each person could take a couple minutes to explain how they were personally doing in their journey of recovery. You could offer words of encouragement, give a brief update, or explain your feelings about one of the official 12 steps. You weren't supposed be too graphic about your addiction because the point of sharing wasn’t to focus on the addiction, but the process of beating it. 

The sharing started on the opposite side from where I sat. I would be the last to share. And I had NO idea what to say. You could "pass,” so I decided that would be my strategy. 

Some of the guys talked about how their marriages were failing-or had already failed. Some had been in and out of jail. Some had lost contact with their children. I am certain that every single one of them was suffering from extreme self-loathing, hopelessness, and despair. 

And as I heard each of their stories, my heart softened. In fact, it grew more tender with each account that I felt like it was going to burst. 

I realized in that sharing circle, in a room full of “sinners”, who were complete strangers to me, that God loves us so much more than we are capable of understanding. 

I literally think He was in the room. I LITERALLY do. I have never been so overcome with a feeling so potent, so powerful, and so perfect as I was at that moment. I felt this flood of emotion that was stirred up by something unearthly, something exquisitely divine. I felt this feeling of, “THESE are my children. ALL of them. EVERY single one of them. And I LOVE THEM. I love them. And I love you, Kristen. SO, SO, SO MUCH.”

By the time it was my turn to share, I was SOBBING. When I opened my mouth to say, “Pass”, instead I said through WATERFALLS of tears, “I know I don’t know any of you. But I admire that you’re here. I think you’re really brave. I think you’re really humble. I think you’re really strong - way stronger than you think you are right now. And I love you for that. And I don’t know if you believe in Him or not, but I want you to know that God loves you for that even more than I do.”

I don’t know if they understood any of it, or if they thought I was having a very emotional and bizarre episode of drug withdrawals, but that is what I said. No amount of overly expensive waterproof mascara could have survived that moment. 

And as God’s love literally [LITERALLY] permeated that room full of “sinners”, I realized what a sinner I was too. And not because I was obsessed with being 95 pounds, but because I desperately needed God to help me beat something that was impossible for me to beat on my own. And because I had judged others for struggling with life when I was struggling, too. 

Addiction is one of the most painful things any human can endure. And it is difficult - almost impossible - to shake. Professional help, typically on a number of levels, is CRITICAL. Having a healthy, stable network of positive people who are supportive of you is CRUCIAL. And believing that you matter, that you are of infinite worth to the Creator of the universe - well, that helps too.

Addiction cannot be prayed away or healed overnight. And once you have that addiction, it will always be a struggle for the rest of your life. 

I still find myself obsessing over what I eat or how much I exercise. Sometimes I still think about that tootsie roll that I had at the doctor’s office five days ago. 

I’m not kidding. The struggle is real.

But God is real, too. And He doesn’t just dwell in churches. He attends Addiction Recovery Programs. I have no doubt He was in attendance that lonely, dark January night in Rexburg, Idaho - out of all the places in the world He could have been.

Addiction can be overcome. IF you have the right resources and IF you have a good support system. Like I said, you cannot pray any addiction away. That is ludicrous to think and unhelpful to believe. God knows you need professional help. Go get it. But it is nice to have the Big Man Upstairs on call for some added strength and support. Just my take.  

Struggling with any addiction does not diminish your worth one bit. Addiction just makes it harder for you to see your value. And maybe other people don’t see your value either because they are not looking at you properly. They are looking at the monster that has overtaken your life. But that monster is NOT you. 

I know someone who sees you EXACTLY as you are, and EXACTLY as you can be. And He’s ready to tell you how great, and how beautiful, and how brave you are. Not to mention how capable you are at overcoming hard things, with all the right tools in hand of course.

I know God loves us. I promise you His love for us is unmatched by anything else. And it doesn’t matter what state you’re in or how much of a sinner you are. He ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS loves you.

Whether you’re on Step 1 or Step 12, or you haven’t even taken the first step at all. He just loves you. 

God loves alcoholics, He loves drug addicts. He loves porn addicts. He loves people who have never tasted the agony of addiction, but who have their own struggles.

He loves obsessive-compulsive runners with anorexia and bulimia.

And He even loves weenie dogs. Obviously.