Little Orphan Anne

From my earliest memory, flawless perfection was my goal. If I made a mistake, shame engulfed me. The God of my childhood loved me in spite of Them. I held a perception, IF a mistake was never made, then God’s ability to love me would be easier. My emotions, opinions and even my body were beyond my control. No matter how hard I tried to be good, obedient and flawless I would end up the same result: failure.

I would pray until sleep came, begging God to deliver me. I cried out:
Be my refuge.
Make me feel safe.
Save me.

Fear and chaos ruled my mind.

At 14 I stepped on a scale. It condemned me to 100 POUNDS.

100 marbles rolling across the floor.
100 people in a room.
100 pounds was heavy to pick up.
100 things was a lot of things

I looked in the mirror and elementary boy words from the many schools I'd transferred through, the pool, neighborhood, etc boys spoke in a Greek Chorus: You’re fat.

I pinched an inch and in the mirror I saw Lulu from HeeHaw.

The way I felt about myself and life up to that moment perceptively became true:
I was fat.
Fat was out of control.
Gluttony was a sin.

I couldn’t admit my chaos within. They told me the Bible said, to be anxious was worry. Worry was a sin. Therefore how I felt was a lack of faith.  If I could control fat, then I could control everything. I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore. I could be safe. I would have enough Faith.

Since Prayer hadn't fixed it, then Fasting would.

Jesus said so. If I could control what I put into my mouth, then Jesus could deliver me. Jesus would heal me. My sin wouldn't keep him away anymore. I spent the next 7 years controlling every thing I put in my mouth to keep my safe number of 98 lbs. When life became too chaotic, a blissful peace of a Fast would bring me peaceful sanity. I lived a lie of control and contrition: a false submission to God.

For me, truth of this dis-ease is Fear.

Fear of losing control
Fear of mistakes.
Fear of all the things that could go wrong.
Fear of what action to take when they do go wrong.
Fear of not being perfect.
Fear of….

I found abstinence by working the 12 Steps in Overeater's Anonymous. In recovery I work at letting go of  the god of my childhood. I learn to be available to a Higher Power who unconditionally loves me. He equips me with what I need to get through each day. I recognize what is within my control and what isn't. Higher Power gives me the wisdom to know the difference. I am led to people who counsel me in true grace. Mistakes and shortcomings are ways of redemption, not prisons.

I call that little voice’s name is Little Orphan Anne. When life gets stressful, Anne has ideas about control. I stop, remind myself that I am powerless over the situation and ask my Higher Power for Its will for me and the power to carry that out. I go to yoga to connect with my body and care for it. I meditate to learn how to be safe in the stillness.

When my clothes don’t fit right and Annie suggests how out of control I am. Higher Power reminds me how perfectly I am loved. The choice to believe the loving voice quiets my fear.

I often remind myself that thinking I was fat was only a symptom. It never was about being fat. For me, it was always about Fear. Anorexia was my medication for anxiety. In learning to face fears, deal with Life on Life's terms and accepting love from a Higher Power, One Day at a Time I find Serenity.

A Nest With A Revolving Door

I was not prepared for this.

I did what they told me to. Those older wise women in ministry as they reflected reverent behavior. They told us not to slander. Not to drink-if you do, not too much. We were admonished to love our husbands and children. To be discreet in our actions, make sure all of our flirtations and obedience was towards our husbands and NOT make friends with other men. Don’t act like Jezebel. Defer all final decisions to the husband. It’s ok to make suggestions, but in the end his word is law.

It was our job, to make sure God wasn’t blasphemed.

Over the last 20ish years of marriage and kids, I’ve watched my friends feel shame when the economy soured and they went back to work. Those who chose to send their kids to school defending it with, “My husband…” Those who did homeschool explain why their kids needed to go to school. I had friends who wouldn’t invite people over because she wasn’t a good housekeeper.

The cycle continues with the younger moms today. They carry a heavy millstone of obligation to everyone else.

And here I sit.

Two kids in college and yesterday I dropped Girly off for classes that we’ve added to the homeschool schedule. This season is coming to a close.

The season of children.
The season of being that hot wife.
The season of running the home.
The season of everyone else’s agenda.

I’ve spent the last year looking forward to this and also dreading it because it exposes a nasty, uncomfortable question:

What about me?

Friendships were directly tied to who the kids were friends with. Now that most of the boys’ friends are off to college, those moms are off on adventure of discovery. Their nest is completely empty while mine still has a fledglings and a rotating door.

I feel lost.

What about me?

Somehow I got the idea through the women’s ministry to not ask that question. It’s about Jesus. It’s about being God’s representative. It’s about the husband. It’s about the kids.

I feel confused. I’m not the kind of mom who wishes the kids were small again. I’ve loved every stage. Every moment that we passed through was savored. I like being their friend and mentor now. I like watching them make decisions and mistakes themselves. The question haunts:

What about me?

I become irritated with myself. The question sounds pathetic.

So…

In my struggle to find an answer I reflect on all of the women’s retreats, bible studies, groups, sermons and mentoring for an answer. It eludes me. I’m not an older woman who could mentor. I am not a younger woman eager to learn home management, child rearing and husband happiness techniques.

I am in a middle and feel a bit abandoned. I have no clear answer. My thoughts fall to my youth, when the focus simply was loving God and serving others. I wonder if that should have been the message all along.