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This is the story of how some of my life began.
I woke up early. My blood sugar had dropped over the night to emergency lows. I considered an ambulance but was too embarrassed. I called my "bro". Barely able to talk, I told him I needed help. I needed yogurt and juice. I vainly searched my kitchen and it's cabinets all the while nearly collapsing. All I had was a sliced tomato. I tried that and it still didn't help. I called, weakly, with just enough strength to say that I wasn't going to be able to make it in to work that day. Then I had to tackle the 17 stairs in my apartment. 17 stairs with blood sugar levels that would level anyone. I barely made it down. Then I had to make it back up.
I made it up, lied on my couch and was fed yogurt and juice to regain enough strength to be carried out of my apartment with out convulsing. 17 hours later, I was able to go back home. I should have been hospitalized. But I might not have realized then what it was that was to come.
This wasn't the first time that my blood sugar dropped to levels of hospitalization. I guess either I didn't care or the person I was with didn't care. Either way, my life hung in the balance between life and death for more than a year.
My life changed years before when I chose a path that I thought I could control. That outward control became an inward war between the mind, the heart and the spirit against a foe that I never thought I would have ever had to contend with. This foe was me. And it has so many names - a nightmare, evil, ED, an inner child gone AWOL. Whatever it was, I had no idea it's hold it would have on my life for 16 years. I thought we had a pact, a relationship. I loved it, but it hated me back. I wanted it, but it eventually tried to kill me. And it nearly succeeded.
This war, this alter ego, this nightmare is my eating disorder. And so begins the story of the most destructive relationship I have ever had in my life.
There is a list of events that brought up this monster in my life that would soon control every aspect that it nearly killed my mind, spirit and body. In that exact order. Most girls go through some tough growing pains. They start growing in areas that have not been natural to them for almost or more than a decade. Most are cultured, taught, learned to accept and be one with the new bodily arrangements. Some, like me, waited, and waited and were jeered at. I was always one of the smaller kids. Always shorter, was less than adequate to the newly hormonal females around me, I felt like I was out of place. And then it started. I did become out of place. The family tom-boy dressed in smock dresses, being used as a punching bag, I realized that I wasn't the same as anyone else. I tried. And was ostracized.
For a few more years I struggled as being the shortest in the class, the one that everyone picked on, and I went home crying every day. If it wasn't everyday, it was every other day. Life changed. I can pinpoint when I was going to do what and when. But this monster that took hold of over 1/2 my life never reared its ugly head in my mind. Until that one fateful day. I was sick of being the short chunky kid. I wanted to be beautiful like all the others. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to be pretty.
I'll never forget when I first tried. I felt a rush. A relief. A reprieve in my life that I thought would have never come in my short 15 years on this earth. Thanksgiving 1993. A family time that began the wretchedness of the next 16 years.
As the months continued, I dabbled in anorexia and bulimia, but it was Easter/Spring break when it really got a hold of me. I lost 10 pounds in less than a week. I felt joyous! I felt accomplished! I can be skinny! And so it continued. Day after day, week after week, month after month. I was in track and ran for several hours a day only to go home and do thousands of crunches and pushups before bed time. I then started getting noticed. "Rebecca, you have lost weight!" And, "Rebecca, you look great!" This type of encouragement only encouraged me to continue.
Step into my world. I had a horrible life in school. Teachers made fun of me, kids made fun of me, my so-called friends took me down with rumors that flew through the Christian school that I was at. There was nothing that I could escape. Now it's my Junior year.
It was one night at home, we were eating at the kitchen table. Well, mom and dad were. I was picking at my food as my whole life shattered before me. I slumped over, barely even able to sob, and quietly said that I couldn't go on anymore at that school. I had already had to change classes around due to the evil little high schoolers and moronic substitute teachers. The weight of the world crushed my spirit, I felt broken, heavy and ready to pass on into eternal life. I had already tried committing suicide just months earlier and practiced cutting on my wrists. Life, to me, was over. And I was barely 17. And I was beginning to hate my God. How could He? How Dare He let this happen to me!
I almost moved high schools in the middle of my Junior year, but decided to go through open enrollment and hope to God that I was going to be able to go to Villa Park. The call came that summer. I was accepted! Joy, joy, joy! My Senior year was filled with memories, and some bad times, but nothing like it was at Lutheran High. I was still struggling with my weight, trying to be thin, but all was going well until I contracted mono.
Mono almost took me out. I almost didn't pass my Senior year. And get this, the boyfriend wanted to "kiss me so we could suffer together." That is, until he found out what the nickname of the disease is - the kissing disease. I didn't hear enough after that. Oh well. We were not going to last anyhow.
I graduated with flying colors. Had a wonderful Grad night and then I got sucker punched, twice, in a few short weeks. My best friend was killed in a horrendous car accident. And the guy that I grew up with died from spinal meningitis. What a way to start the summer. Then, I chose the college I wanted to go to - in Indianapolis, Indiana. I trudge through the deaths. It was painful, and of all my friends, the most fragile that never spoke of her weakness, was the one that had to help hold everyone else up. Who was that? Me. I silently mourned because everyone else came to me to freak out.
Enter college. It's Fall of 1996. I am now living somewhere in Indiana, in a city called Indianapolis. Yes, it's the capitol of the state, and no, I had NO clue where it was located in the state. And I had no idea that it snowed there, either.
I find the track team and sign up. I worked out with them for about 2 months, was an inch from getting a full ride scholarship when my back goes out. And it doesn't just go out, it spasms to the point that I cannot walk. 8 doctors and several athletic trainers and physical therapists tell me that I can never run competitively again. What?! Are you kidding me!? That's the only time that my mind is off of anything! It was a devastating blow, and I went into the throws of binging and purging. The bulimarexia was getting worse. And now I had no outlet for my emotions. The porcelain god and I saw much more of each other.
Just after finding out that I can't run, my grandmother dies and my dog dies. 4 deaths and the death of my running career in 5 months. What else, God?
Enter Winter break. I go home. I'm mentally and physically exhausted. That was a long semester, and even some of my professors have no idea how I survived. My secret? Ed (eating disorder). I head back for my second semester and my dad's dad passed away in January of 1997. Ok, that's 5 deaths, I can't run anymore, it's colder than hell in Indianapolis, I have very few friends and I can't take one more person dying on me. Ed and I are getting closer and closer.
As I continue with my years of college, I started experimenting with drugs. First, it was acid and ecstasy. Then I moved on to speed. Speed was wonderful. I could work so much more, stay up longer and get more done! And, I didn't eat! What a pair did that make with ed and now a raging addiction. Oh yes, and I was such a wonderful person during those days. NOT. I was bitter, mean, wretched, grades were somewhat affected, parties lasted whole weekends, and I was on my way to looking like hell. Then comes the God squad. I had already been arrested once in Ohio, but that didn't wake me up.
November 2, 2001. 3am in the morning. Mom gets a frantic call from the Alahambra, CA police department. It's me. I had gone out the night before because I was upset that my mom was charging me to look after my older and totally capable sister. And they were packing to move to Birmingham, Alabama. I wanted my speed. So, I went out and found it. And the cops found me. Oops. I spent the night in jail, got out on my own OR, and was immediately talking to a lawyer the next day. While in jail, though, one of the officers looked at me, my extensive education, where I was working and said that I didn't need to be doing what I was doing. He was right. I didn't. I had enough on my plate with Ed and speed wasn't making things any easier.
My lawyer was tough on me, and I was tougher on myself. I went through the PC 1000 class, passed it, and lightened up after I had some clean time under my belt. It took me 6 months to be able to wake up to my alarm and a year to start feeling normal again. I have vowed to never go back down that road. I have been clean ever since and love every moment of it. But, during my clean years, I just couldn't figure out how to get rid of Ed. I was still dealing with an addiction, one that has such a hold on me that I was lost to it.
I had some great jobs, I had to get some dental work done (do you know how hard meth and stomach acids are on teeth? Yeah, very hard.) I was still dealing with Ed, though, and all that dental work was made worthless.
Enter the move to Alabama, March, 2005. I decided that the rat race in Southern California was enough for me. I wanted out. So, I started looking for jobs in the South East. I found one in February, packed up my house, and moved out to Birmingham. I lived with mom and dad for 6 months, then got my own place. I met the man of my dreams (who later became the man of my nightmares) and we were going to get married.
We were going to get married until his bipolar alcoholic self with severe abandonment issues so greatly distressed me that I had to leave him. I was 78 pounds by then in July of 2006. I was house hunting, too. Then, September 11, 2006 comes around. It's 11 in the morning and I was told by my fantastic boss, who knew I was buying a house, that I was let go for no uncertain terms. Oh, how his true colors came through. By this time, I was taking Ativan for my nerves and Lexapro for my depression. Nothing seemed to help. Except for copious amounts of wine and beer after that. Way too much.
Things started to get worse and worse. Brady had already saved me that one fateful morning that my blood sugar was at an all time low, and I had noticed that my blood sugar would consistently drop way too far. Scarily so. But I never said anything. Ed and I were so close that he was taking over. He had total control of me. I was so upset in losing my job and my fiance that the binge-purge episodes got way out of hand. So out of hand that shortly after New Years 2007 I had collapsed at my mom and dad's house and begged for help. Ed had such a hold on me that I was so lost. It was to the point that I could not even tell if a light had turned green, or red, or even yellow. I barely knew that I was moving my body around. Nothing seemed real anymore. It was like I was in a carcass that was being controlled by a puppeteer. And that puppeteer was called Ed. I wanted Ed to go away. Badly. I was ready now. Like the 5 years before that when I got clean. I was ready.
I talked to my counselor and my doctor. They both suggested a few places. Mom and dad looked into some others. I was at the weight that if I lost 1 more pound, I would have to be hospitalized. I was about 90-95 lbs by this time. My counselor suggested a place down in Mississippi in Hattiesburg. Since it was close enough to go visit, that's what we did. We toured the grounds and the women's center. They took my vitals and asked me lots of questions. It was a nice place. They told us the cost for the 90 day program, and if we paid upfront, they would be able to give a discount.
And then, after sitting around for a while while the gentleman walked off to go input some things into his system and find out if there are any openings.. he came back. He had some great news. I could go in the next week, February 15. Well, that's fine! I don't even have a boyfriend!
So, I prepared myself. I was still binging and purging some, but had slipped into the more anorexic state of mind. We went out, bought clothes, figured out what we could do with my condo while I was gone, and tightened up all the loose ends. I packed the night before and drank all night, too. I was drunk in the morning when my mom came to get me. I shouldn't have driven, but I was hell bent on driving my car for the last time for the next few months that I insisted. Stupid me. I could have really done some damage. Well, I was all packed up and we were heading down to Hattiesburg. We stayed the night and the next day, February 15th, I walked through the doors of the Pine Grove Women's Center. I watched my mom and dad drive away through the locked doors. And I was terrified.
They took at my vitals, showed me my room, I had dinner or lunch or whatever it was. But I was too sick to eat. You see, alcohol and Lexapro don't like each other and it caused my hands to tremor. Plus, my anxiety was through the roof. So they prescribed me something to calm my nerves.
90 days. 30 women. And me. I am a stubborn, highly educated, and intelligent female that has struggled to make a name for herself and to be be self sufficient. Most of the women there were married, didn't have a job, or were just out of high school. I didn't really fit in all that well. But, I trudged on. Month 1 was hard. I was still purging until I decided that I was going to stop it. Month 2 I was starting to accept the fact that I could eat and not binge. Month 3 I had Ed conquered and he was getting thrown out of my life. I was feeling free again. I was feeling like I was controlling my life. I was talking to my inner child. I was blooming into a new person. Well, not really, I was blooming into the person that I had always been but couldn't ever be.
Enter May 16th. A bittersweet day. It was the day that I was leaving the Women's Center. They were releasing me back into the world. Oh, dear. But, they had confidence and I had confidence. I knew could do it. They knew I could do it. They also taught me how to save my life.
I still had no job, but 7 months later, I was hired by a restaurant to be a server. I had a strict diet that I stuck to. Eat this then, and this then, and so on. Do you have any clue how hard it is to keep up a diet when you're working in a restaurant? Yes, impossible. I threw out the restrictions, started to eat meat again (I had been a vegetarian for all the years that I had an eating disorder), and enjoyed every bite of the food that they had us try. That job made me realize that I don't have to live a life of absolute restrictions and regimens. I worked there for a year and got back into my career path.
Ever since May 16th, I have lived a lovely life. In those nearly 3 years out of treatment, I have had only 2 hiccups. I learned from them, did not admonish myself, but forgave myself and didn't put myself back in that position. I am the person that I have always wanted to be. And through it all, God was right there. He and I began a new and wonderful relationship when I was in Hattiesburg. We talk all day long, and I make sure He is the first person I talk to in the mornings and the last in the evenings. I know He knows that I can handle a great deal, and He's right. But, then again, He's always right there to help me through.
So, this is my story of battling and overcoming two of the hardest addictions known to mankind, and staying clean and living a wonderful life with a healthy relationship with food.
I made it up, lied on my couch and was fed yogurt and juice to regain enough strength to be carried out of my apartment with out convulsing. 17 hours later, I was able to go back home. I should have been hospitalized. But I might not have realized then what it was that was to come.
This wasn't the first time that my blood sugar dropped to levels of hospitalization. I guess either I didn't care or the person I was with didn't care. Either way, my life hung in the balance between life and death for more than a year.
My life changed years before when I chose a path that I thought I could control. That outward control became an inward war between the mind, the heart and the spirit against a foe that I never thought I would have ever had to contend with. This foe was me. And it has so many names - a nightmare, evil, ED, an inner child gone AWOL. Whatever it was, I had no idea it's hold it would have on my life for 16 years. I thought we had a pact, a relationship. I loved it, but it hated me back. I wanted it, but it eventually tried to kill me. And it nearly succeeded.
This war, this alter ego, this nightmare is my eating disorder. And so begins the story of the most destructive relationship I have ever had in my life.
There is a list of events that brought up this monster in my life that would soon control every aspect that it nearly killed my mind, spirit and body. In that exact order. Most girls go through some tough growing pains. They start growing in areas that have not been natural to them for almost or more than a decade. Most are cultured, taught, learned to accept and be one with the new bodily arrangements. Some, like me, waited, and waited and were jeered at. I was always one of the smaller kids. Always shorter, was less than adequate to the newly hormonal females around me, I felt like I was out of place. And then it started. I did become out of place. The family tom-boy dressed in smock dresses, being used as a punching bag, I realized that I wasn't the same as anyone else. I tried. And was ostracized.
For a few more years I struggled as being the shortest in the class, the one that everyone picked on, and I went home crying every day. If it wasn't everyday, it was every other day. Life changed. I can pinpoint when I was going to do what and when. But this monster that took hold of over 1/2 my life never reared its ugly head in my mind. Until that one fateful day. I was sick of being the short chunky kid. I wanted to be beautiful like all the others. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to be pretty.
I'll never forget when I first tried. I felt a rush. A relief. A reprieve in my life that I thought would have never come in my short 15 years on this earth. Thanksgiving 1993. A family time that began the wretchedness of the next 16 years.
As the months continued, I dabbled in anorexia and bulimia, but it was Easter/Spring break when it really got a hold of me. I lost 10 pounds in less than a week. I felt joyous! I felt accomplished! I can be skinny! And so it continued. Day after day, week after week, month after month. I was in track and ran for several hours a day only to go home and do thousands of crunches and pushups before bed time. I then started getting noticed. "Rebecca, you have lost weight!" And, "Rebecca, you look great!" This type of encouragement only encouraged me to continue.
Step into my world. I had a horrible life in school. Teachers made fun of me, kids made fun of me, my so-called friends took me down with rumors that flew through the Christian school that I was at. There was nothing that I could escape. Now it's my Junior year.
It was one night at home, we were eating at the kitchen table. Well, mom and dad were. I was picking at my food as my whole life shattered before me. I slumped over, barely even able to sob, and quietly said that I couldn't go on anymore at that school. I had already had to change classes around due to the evil little high schoolers and moronic substitute teachers. The weight of the world crushed my spirit, I felt broken, heavy and ready to pass on into eternal life. I had already tried committing suicide just months earlier and practiced cutting on my wrists. Life, to me, was over. And I was barely 17. And I was beginning to hate my God. How could He? How Dare He let this happen to me!
I almost moved high schools in the middle of my Junior year, but decided to go through open enrollment and hope to God that I was going to be able to go to Villa Park. The call came that summer. I was accepted! Joy, joy, joy! My Senior year was filled with memories, and some bad times, but nothing like it was at Lutheran High. I was still struggling with my weight, trying to be thin, but all was going well until I contracted mono.
Mono almost took me out. I almost didn't pass my Senior year. And get this, the boyfriend wanted to "kiss me so we could suffer together." That is, until he found out what the nickname of the disease is - the kissing disease. I didn't hear enough after that. Oh well. We were not going to last anyhow.
I graduated with flying colors. Had a wonderful Grad night and then I got sucker punched, twice, in a few short weeks. My best friend was killed in a horrendous car accident. And the guy that I grew up with died from spinal meningitis. What a way to start the summer. Then, I chose the college I wanted to go to - in Indianapolis, Indiana. I trudge through the deaths. It was painful, and of all my friends, the most fragile that never spoke of her weakness, was the one that had to help hold everyone else up. Who was that? Me. I silently mourned because everyone else came to me to freak out.
Enter college. It's Fall of 1996. I am now living somewhere in Indiana, in a city called Indianapolis. Yes, it's the capitol of the state, and no, I had NO clue where it was located in the state. And I had no idea that it snowed there, either.
I find the track team and sign up. I worked out with them for about 2 months, was an inch from getting a full ride scholarship when my back goes out. And it doesn't just go out, it spasms to the point that I cannot walk. 8 doctors and several athletic trainers and physical therapists tell me that I can never run competitively again. What?! Are you kidding me!? That's the only time that my mind is off of anything! It was a devastating blow, and I went into the throws of binging and purging. The bulimarexia was getting worse. And now I had no outlet for my emotions. The porcelain god and I saw much more of each other.
Just after finding out that I can't run, my grandmother dies and my dog dies. 4 deaths and the death of my running career in 5 months. What else, God?
Enter Winter break. I go home. I'm mentally and physically exhausted. That was a long semester, and even some of my professors have no idea how I survived. My secret? Ed (eating disorder). I head back for my second semester and my dad's dad passed away in January of 1997. Ok, that's 5 deaths, I can't run anymore, it's colder than hell in Indianapolis, I have very few friends and I can't take one more person dying on me. Ed and I are getting closer and closer.
As I continue with my years of college, I started experimenting with drugs. First, it was acid and ecstasy. Then I moved on to speed. Speed was wonderful. I could work so much more, stay up longer and get more done! And, I didn't eat! What a pair did that make with ed and now a raging addiction. Oh yes, and I was such a wonderful person during those days. NOT. I was bitter, mean, wretched, grades were somewhat affected, parties lasted whole weekends, and I was on my way to looking like hell. Then comes the God squad. I had already been arrested once in Ohio, but that didn't wake me up.
November 2, 2001. 3am in the morning. Mom gets a frantic call from the Alahambra, CA police department. It's me. I had gone out the night before because I was upset that my mom was charging me to look after my older and totally capable sister. And they were packing to move to Birmingham, Alabama. I wanted my speed. So, I went out and found it. And the cops found me. Oops. I spent the night in jail, got out on my own OR, and was immediately talking to a lawyer the next day. While in jail, though, one of the officers looked at me, my extensive education, where I was working and said that I didn't need to be doing what I was doing. He was right. I didn't. I had enough on my plate with Ed and speed wasn't making things any easier.
My lawyer was tough on me, and I was tougher on myself. I went through the PC 1000 class, passed it, and lightened up after I had some clean time under my belt. It took me 6 months to be able to wake up to my alarm and a year to start feeling normal again. I have vowed to never go back down that road. I have been clean ever since and love every moment of it. But, during my clean years, I just couldn't figure out how to get rid of Ed. I was still dealing with an addiction, one that has such a hold on me that I was lost to it.
I had some great jobs, I had to get some dental work done (do you know how hard meth and stomach acids are on teeth? Yeah, very hard.) I was still dealing with Ed, though, and all that dental work was made worthless.
Enter the move to Alabama, March, 2005. I decided that the rat race in Southern California was enough for me. I wanted out. So, I started looking for jobs in the South East. I found one in February, packed up my house, and moved out to Birmingham. I lived with mom and dad for 6 months, then got my own place. I met the man of my dreams (who later became the man of my nightmares) and we were going to get married.
We were going to get married until his bipolar alcoholic self with severe abandonment issues so greatly distressed me that I had to leave him. I was 78 pounds by then in July of 2006. I was house hunting, too. Then, September 11, 2006 comes around. It's 11 in the morning and I was told by my fantastic boss, who knew I was buying a house, that I was let go for no uncertain terms. Oh, how his true colors came through. By this time, I was taking Ativan for my nerves and Lexapro for my depression. Nothing seemed to help. Except for copious amounts of wine and beer after that. Way too much.
Things started to get worse and worse. Brady had already saved me that one fateful morning that my blood sugar was at an all time low, and I had noticed that my blood sugar would consistently drop way too far. Scarily so. But I never said anything. Ed and I were so close that he was taking over. He had total control of me. I was so upset in losing my job and my fiance that the binge-purge episodes got way out of hand. So out of hand that shortly after New Years 2007 I had collapsed at my mom and dad's house and begged for help. Ed had such a hold on me that I was so lost. It was to the point that I could not even tell if a light had turned green, or red, or even yellow. I barely knew that I was moving my body around. Nothing seemed real anymore. It was like I was in a carcass that was being controlled by a puppeteer. And that puppeteer was called Ed. I wanted Ed to go away. Badly. I was ready now. Like the 5 years before that when I got clean. I was ready.
I talked to my counselor and my doctor. They both suggested a few places. Mom and dad looked into some others. I was at the weight that if I lost 1 more pound, I would have to be hospitalized. I was about 90-95 lbs by this time. My counselor suggested a place down in Mississippi in Hattiesburg. Since it was close enough to go visit, that's what we did. We toured the grounds and the women's center. They took my vitals and asked me lots of questions. It was a nice place. They told us the cost for the 90 day program, and if we paid upfront, they would be able to give a discount.
And then, after sitting around for a while while the gentleman walked off to go input some things into his system and find out if there are any openings.. he came back. He had some great news. I could go in the next week, February 15. Well, that's fine! I don't even have a boyfriend!
So, I prepared myself. I was still binging and purging some, but had slipped into the more anorexic state of mind. We went out, bought clothes, figured out what we could do with my condo while I was gone, and tightened up all the loose ends. I packed the night before and drank all night, too. I was drunk in the morning when my mom came to get me. I shouldn't have driven, but I was hell bent on driving my car for the last time for the next few months that I insisted. Stupid me. I could have really done some damage. Well, I was all packed up and we were heading down to Hattiesburg. We stayed the night and the next day, February 15th, I walked through the doors of the Pine Grove Women's Center. I watched my mom and dad drive away through the locked doors. And I was terrified.
They took at my vitals, showed me my room, I had dinner or lunch or whatever it was. But I was too sick to eat. You see, alcohol and Lexapro don't like each other and it caused my hands to tremor. Plus, my anxiety was through the roof. So they prescribed me something to calm my nerves.
90 days. 30 women. And me. I am a stubborn, highly educated, and intelligent female that has struggled to make a name for herself and to be be self sufficient. Most of the women there were married, didn't have a job, or were just out of high school. I didn't really fit in all that well. But, I trudged on. Month 1 was hard. I was still purging until I decided that I was going to stop it. Month 2 I was starting to accept the fact that I could eat and not binge. Month 3 I had Ed conquered and he was getting thrown out of my life. I was feeling free again. I was feeling like I was controlling my life. I was talking to my inner child. I was blooming into a new person. Well, not really, I was blooming into the person that I had always been but couldn't ever be.
Enter May 16th. A bittersweet day. It was the day that I was leaving the Women's Center. They were releasing me back into the world. Oh, dear. But, they had confidence and I had confidence. I knew could do it. They knew I could do it. They also taught me how to save my life.
I still had no job, but 7 months later, I was hired by a restaurant to be a server. I had a strict diet that I stuck to. Eat this then, and this then, and so on. Do you have any clue how hard it is to keep up a diet when you're working in a restaurant? Yes, impossible. I threw out the restrictions, started to eat meat again (I had been a vegetarian for all the years that I had an eating disorder), and enjoyed every bite of the food that they had us try. That job made me realize that I don't have to live a life of absolute restrictions and regimens. I worked there for a year and got back into my career path.
Ever since May 16th, I have lived a lovely life. In those nearly 3 years out of treatment, I have had only 2 hiccups. I learned from them, did not admonish myself, but forgave myself and didn't put myself back in that position. I am the person that I have always wanted to be. And through it all, God was right there. He and I began a new and wonderful relationship when I was in Hattiesburg. We talk all day long, and I make sure He is the first person I talk to in the mornings and the last in the evenings. I know He knows that I can handle a great deal, and He's right. But, then again, He's always right there to help me through.
So, this is my story of battling and overcoming two of the hardest addictions known to mankind, and staying clean and living a wonderful life with a healthy relationship with food.
