Some truth

Someone asked me the other day if I had a blog. Why, yes I do. Do I blog regularly? Absolutely not. In fact, I haven't blogged one time since my precious McCann was born. I am too busy taking care of three little guys to write a grocery list much less a daily account of our life. (Though it would be quite entertaining) Today, on this blessed Easter Sunday I want to offer some truth. Sometimes it is just nice to be real and that is what I am offering. I am reposting something I wrote over a year ago. It will surprise many but not those of you who knew me 10 years ago. Before I start...Happy Easter- HE IS RISEN! (and that is the TRUTH)

I have always been one to hold myself to ungodly standards (yes, I said ungodly). Though I came to know Jesus when I was 15, I did not fully grasp HIS love and devotion until years later. In high school, I measured my success as person on the amount and expense of my clothes and the number of friends I could accumulate. In college, my worth was based on my 3.9 GPA and my desire to please all my professors. I based my perception of myself on my possessions, my friends, my popularity, my grades, and most significantly on my weight. I am not sure of the exact event that sparked the beginning of my obsession with my weight. I do know that as a junior in high school, I was an average size teenager with what I believed was a healthy mom. By the beginning of my senior year, things were dramatically different than the year before. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and my weight became my new fixation. It was a gradual process. I dieted, began to exercise, and liked the newer smaller version of Amy. As I went off to Clemson, leaving behind a sick mom and a situation I could not control, my weight began to plummet. However, no matter how thin I became it was never enough. I limited calories and would at times only eat one meal a day. In addition, I would work out for hours burning the few calories I consumed each day. My mother was dying and I could not do one about thing it. But I could change the way I looked... by starving myself. At the time, I would have never admitted what I was doing. In fact, I even tried to hide my eating disorder. I would adamantly defend myself disputing anyone who even hinted that I might have a problem. My mom was the leader of this group of people. She saw the issue and begged me to change. To this day, I regret not getting help while she was still alive. After 4 years of college, I graduated from Clemson University. Soon after graduation, I met my future husband and fell in love. Even with a new man and a wedding to plan, nothing could distract me from my weight obsession. I knew Kevin thought I was beautiful and I even knew he would like me better if I was not so thin. I wanted to change. I did not want him to worry about his bride. I just could not stop the roller coaster that was my life. At our wedding, I weighed 112 lbs (this was not my lowest weight and I am 5'8), almost 30 pounds less than my ideal weight by medical standards. I did not have regular menstrual periods and I was starving most of the time. I chewed gum constantly in order to keep my hunger at bay. Two months before our first anniversary, my mom’s cancer had moved from breast to bone to lungs and now finally to her brain. My sweet momma went to be with Jesus that April. I lost my best friend and biggest fan that Good Friday morning. The next year passed in a blur of sadness and memories. I was still focused on my weight and I was having a harder time staying as small as I once had been. Then in summer of 2007 something miraculous happened. I got pregnant. I always thought I would have a hard time conceiving. Looking back I know God blessed me with those frustrating extra pounds to allow my body to become pregnant. This was the beginning of the end of my disease. I had a brand new life within me and I was responsible for nourishing this sweet baby. I took my job seriously. I gained a healthy 28 lbs and delivered a 7 and a half pound baby boy. I nursed Manning for a year and rarely thought about my weight. I still cared but I had so much more to think about than the size of my pants. I was 121 lbs when I got pregnant with my second son in the summer of 2009. After a 50 plus weight gain, I delivered an almost 9lbs baby boy. 12 months later, I am still nursing Myers. I am at a healthy weight for my height and I am happy with the way I look in the mirror. Do I miss being rail thin and having a perfectly flat stomach? I would be lying if I said no. There are times I step on the scale compulsively hoping pounds will disappear. But you know what? There is more to life than exercise, diets, and weight. There is life and God wants us to live it abundantly. God loves me because I am Amy. His daughter. He does not love me any more at 110 lbs than he does at 130lbs. I wish I could take all the time I wasted being consumed about my weight and return it. I wish I could live all those years again exerting all the energy I used on my obsessions with spreading God’s love. I hate to think about the people that I didn’t witness to because I was too absorbed in myself. I am not proud of those years, but I am grateful for them.

That's where I stopped. I am not sure if I was finished or if the babies were crying and I just quit writing. Either way, I am truly thankful the journey of anorexia is over. I am happy with the body I have. Not because it is perfect, but because it is God's temple. It has carried 3 of God's most wonderful blessings.