I think at some point what was going on inside of me started to show. I was losing weight. A lot of weight. And my restriction was becoming extremely intense.
“Are you getting anything?”
“No. I’m good. I’m going to eat when I get home.”
I watched my family eat an entire meal at a restaurant that night. My restriction destroying my insides. Destroying the memory I could have had that evening. Destroying my joy. I rarely smiled and always seemed to be eating alone those days.
When I hugged family, they would squeeze my arms. You know the way someone you love squeezes you and reminds you they are there. Kind of like that, except prolonged. They would make their way down the sides of my arms and sometimes at the top of my back. They were feeling my bones. Probably something they had never felt before because growing up I was always the kid who asked for seconds and couldn’t seem to control herself at cookouts. But this new Celeste was skinny. And my family noticed.
“Mija, you need to put some more meat on your bones.”
I would laugh it off. And cry it out later.
It’s interesting that even though people were noticing and what was in the dark now seemed to make its way into the light, nothing changed. I didn’t want to stop living the way I was. I didn’t know how. I couldn’t fathom gaining any weight. I was scared. And still, somehow, alone.
One night, before a family gathering, I lay in bed thinking about the swimsuit I was going to wear the next day. I just remember feeling overwhelmed. The culmination of a year of restriction mixed in with people’s comments about my weight loss and diet choices laid heavy on my chest. I could barely breathe. Then a knock came on my door. Light pierced the black of my room and my dad found his way onto the bed beside me, gently sitting on the edge. He didn’t know the thoughts that had been weighing on me. The thought about what swimsuit I would wear. The feeling that I wasn’t skinny enough to wear a swimsuit. The fear I had about my family commenting on my weight. The food that would be at the party. What I would and would not allow myself to eat. The exercise I needed to do after the party was over. And yet, the Holy Spirit gave my dad one of the most piercing questions he has ever asked me…
“Are you free?”
That is the first and only thing my dad said to me that quiet evening in the spring of 2012. His words caused me to confront the ugly inside of me. And it felt like I was finally able to see the chains I put on every morning. They were an ashen silver. They made their way around my wrists. Another set around my ankles. And the weight I had been feeling finally materialized. It became something tangible that I recognized did not belong. The chains had no part in my life.
I began to cry.
“No. I’m not free. I feel like there’s this stronghold. I’m struggling with food. But I don’t know how not to live like this. It feels like there’s this voice inside my head that keeps telling me to live like this.”
My dad listened and consoled me. Then he prayed for freedom. That night was the beginning. The beginning of my fight for freedom.
I ended up going to the party the next day and wearing one of my swimsuits. It still hurts to this day to see pictures from that easter gathering. At that time, I genuinely believed I needed to lose weight.
I want you to know you are not alone if you are walking through an eating disorder or any other disordered view of yourself. Maybe this is something that was in your past and you feel confident you have overcome it. I feel that at times too, but I sit here under the weight of a day of “bad” eating and I have to again surrender my identity to the Lord. So just know, it’s okay if you still have to fight. It’s a worthy thing to continue surrendering every part of our life to Christ.
My ultimate aim in sharing my story is to speak of the glorious work of Jesus Christ in my life. Every time I would put my chains back on or stumble in my newfound freedom and fall back into restriction, He is the one who intimately sat with me, spoke my beauty into me, and gently began unlocking my chains from my ankles and wrists. Though my pursuit of “beauty” had me doomed for destruction, God’s grace redirected my steps. And I pray He will do the same for you; regardless of what you are seeking, God’s ultimate plan is to redeem and restore you unto Himself.
Are you free?
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