Mother Love

motherhood + home + family

ON MINIMALISM + SIMPLIFYING

You guys, seriously…this week has been so incredibly perfect in all it’s rain and clouds and ethereal-ness. (<<< i love that word). I feel like it makes me sound like a melancholic or some sort of gothic-y person to love these kinds of days like I do…but no matter, I appreciate them endlessly and find them incredibly inspiring. Every day since Tuesday has been overcasty and rainy, and every morning I wake up to see the clouds and the mist over the lake, I just want to hug the day.

I just can’t help it.

On such days, all I want to do is be in my kitchen, either experimenting with something new or putting together something I know we love (usually something like this…rain equals muffins). I don’t know what it is about being in the kitchen, but it’s like some kind of therapy for me. I call it my happy place. Food is essential to life, and nothing makes me happier than preparing meals or snacks or treats for Ben and myself, or for a friend or neighbor. It’s satisfying and rewarding to love someone with good food.

Today is another moody day (good moody day, that is), and I’ve been wanting to experiment with popped amaranth (see blog photo) for a while now, and it felt like the right kind of day to do so. It took a bit to get the hang of it, since it’s a little volatile and easily burned, but I managed to get a fairly large container popped without too much incident. Amaranth tastes kind of nutty and earthy, and I like it for topping smoothies or yogurt bowls. I am a big-time toppings girl, which means I basically eat certain things just because I like the toppings I can put on them. Pancakes, waffles, yogurt, toast, cottage cheese…it’s all about the toppings.

I also did some pantry organization and simplifying. I really hate having packaging in the pantry, so I usually transfer anything that comes in a box or bag into a jar or storage container. I don’t have enough at the moment to store everything in containers, but I slowly add to the collection from thrift stores or yard sales.

I’m in major minimalist/simplify mode right now, and when I get like that, nothing is safe…my closet, junk drawers, food we never eat, and anything else around the house that we just never or rarely use. I can throw things out waaaaaaay too easily sometimes, but I also really don’t like clutter and extras and having things take up space that really aren’t essential. Clean and open and organized spaces, that’s what I like.

Of course, the downside to too much minimalism is that there are indeed times when it would have been handy to have saved that one item or realize that clothing item you just got rid of would have went perfectly with an outfit…I guess it’s all about balance, no matter which side of the minimalist/pack-rat side you find yourself on.

What about you: do you find yourself as a minimalist or someone who likes to keeps things around for when you really will eventually need them?

I’d love to hear your thoughts!

WHEN HEALTHY ISN’T, PART TWO

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I have to say thank you again. All of your responses to part one were so overwhelming and encouraging, and it helped tremendously to calm my fears about being misunderstood or being judged or being alone with this battle. Once I pushed the publish button and walked away from the computer, all I wanted to do was run back and delete it away. It felt really vulnerable and really scary…but like I said, it just felt like something I had to do. Thank you for caring and for being an encouragement!
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‘As I said in part one, one of the ways I was affected by my exercise and eating habits was losing my period for over four years. After I had seen a doctor and received results back that showed no real issues or problems that would affect my cycle, I felt like I was back at square one with no answers. I was forced to face the thought of possibly not being able to have babies, and it was hard for me to think of that. My dream was to be a wife to a good man and a mother to his children…that’s what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Since I was in a relationship with the man I knew I wanted to be with forever, the idea of not being able to have his babies was devastating! I know many of you deal with infertility and can understand these thoughts and feelings so well…my heart breaks for you.
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‘I shared all of this with Ben after I had my doctor visit, because I felt it was important for him to know. If we got married and I wasn’t able to get pregnant, this would affect him just as much as me. He was so gracious and kind to me, and I never felt his feelings or love waver even when faced with this possibility. We prayed often that God would heal me, that He would set things right in my body. And I would wait anxiously each month to see that things were healing and that my body was normal again. But months and months passed with nothing changing.

Six months after we started dating, we got engaged, and suddenly the whole idea of starting a family was so real. It was happening! I was at the point where I really did want some answers, but also knew that to pursue anything medically would be extensive and consuming. I didn’t feel like it was something I could concentrate on during the months before our wedding…there was too many others things to think about! We decided to get married, settle in, and then form a plan.

So we did. We got married and had a great honeymoon and moved into our home together and it was wonderful. But there was always this little niggle of sadness in the corner of my mind. It had been so long since my body was normal, and I think a part of me just felt like it was hopeless. After a few weeks of married life, we started talking and praying more about seeing a doctor/specialist about my cycle. It was so unappealing to me to start on that road…it just seemed so overwhelming and tiring. But I know that many times that is the way to go for medical answers and health, and I was ok with that if that was the direction we were supposed to go. We checked into a few different options, but nothing really seemed to be right.

So I started praying, really praying, that the Lord would show me what I can do…that He would show me what I needed to be well again. I asked Him to show me the truth, and He did. It was the last thing I wanted to hear…the last thing I wanted to do. But He had been preparing me, so gently, so surely, to know the truth and to let the truth set me free.

A few days after I had began to pray in earnest asking God to show me what the problem was in my body, I was doing more research online and came across information that clicked…it connected with my spirit so strongly that I couldn’t ignore it or deny it. It was so direct and so strong that I knew immediately it was my answer from God. I found that there is a condition called hypothalamic amenorrhea, which is essentially when your body shuts down it’s ability to conceive because it believes that it is not strong or healthy enough to support another life besides the one it is already supporting in yourself. I’m no medical expert and don’t have a proper biological explanation, but it’s basically this:: by not giving your body enough energy to function properly, it will shut down your menstruation in order to conserve energy and life. This condition can be reversed and healed most times, although there are instances of women in their twenties or thirties who do actually go into menopause because of extreme dieting, over exercising, and low body weight.

I didn’t receive any type of official diagnosis from a doctor in this…but the Physician of Heaven showed me. He opened my heart, He opened my eyes. Finally…I saw it. Finally, truth was beginning to set me free.

That moment of truth was the start of a most incredible, painful, and beautiful journey.

I knew what I had to do…and that meant walking straight into the thing I feared the most. I had to gain weight. I had to give my body the energy it needed, and allow it to heal and become strong again. I had to walk out from under the stronghold that had held me in for so long. I had to somehow ignore the voices that called me “fat fat fat” and listen to the Voice that speaks kindly. I had to give up the comfort of my control that I had held onto for years.

I cannot tell you how many tears I cried those first few days and weeks. I cried because of sorrow and regret of what I done to myself and to my body. I cried because I was losing something that meant so much to me. I cried because I wanted to be beautiful and it felt like I was losing everything that made me so. I cried because I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to go through it. I cried because I saw the numbers on the scale go up and up and up. I cried because I felt like I was living in the middle of my worst nightmare. But I also cried because I caught glimpses of freedom…glimpses of a way so much better and higher than what I had known. I cried because I caught glimpses of a definition of beautiful that had nothing to do with my body or the way I looked.

I gained weight really quickly once I started trying to, which was the strangest mental shift after years of trying to lose weight! And two weeks after I actively started eating to gain, I was twenty pounds heavier. Twenty pounds. The majority of this weight was primarily due to water weight, which I explain this way:: in the same way that an ankle will swell up when you sprain it to give protection to the joint/muscle as it heals, the same thing happens when anything else in your body is trying to repair itself. The body has to get energy to stay alive, and if it’s not getting it from the food and nutrients that you eat (or don’t eat), then it has to take it from somewhere else. If you under-eat long enough, it will eventually start to take energy from internal fat and organs. Clearly this isn’t a good thing, and will eventually cause serious health problems and/or death if a person doesn’t start to take care of themselves.

It was good I was gaining weight, because that’s what I needed…but it felt awful. Horrible. Like my worst nightmare. There were many times that I was ready to give up…to ignore what I knew…to run back to where I could be in control and have what I wanted. There were many times where I hardly cared about the prison I was being delivered from, hardly cared about the promised life and freedom on the other side…all I wanted was my skinny back. There were so many times where my husband would hold me, cry with me, and fight for me in prayer and in truth.

The first two weeks of gaining weight were the hardest for me, physically. Like as in actually hard physically…my entire body ached all over and I barely had enough energy to do minimal household chores. I felt like a train with five-hundred cars had run over me, and then backed up and did it again. It was the strangest thing to be feeling so awful and sick just from eating more food, but it was also a clear sign that all those nutrients were going to work and doing some good things inside. After a few weeks, the exhaustion and nausea started to disappear and only kept improving as time went on.

Because of all the immediate water retention, I looked extremely puffy and swollen. This puffiness took months to dissipate, and seeing this every day was probably one of the hardest things to deal with mentally. Everything got swollen. I remember one day trying to find one thing that was still normal on me, one thing I wouldn’t have to feel embarrassed about…and decided that my wrists were still ok. But then the next day they too were puffed and swollen. It was like everything I had was being taken from me. I knew it needed to. I knew I needed to die to find life, but it was really, really hard. I was so embarrassed because I was never going to be that bride who lets herself go and no longer tries to be attractive or care for herself after she gets married. And here I was…two months as a new bride and twenty pounds heavier. I knew what it looked like…and I hated it. I knew it was what I had to do…but I hated it all the same.

This might all sound just shallow and carnal, and I guess you could call it that. But it was a very real thing for me…it was an identity issue. I had wrapped up my value, worth, and beauty in my body, and I had to lose that in order to find my real identity. I put it this way:: I didn’t gain weight because I didn’t care; I gained weight because I cared too much.

BUT…three weeks after this journey began, I was healed. After four years of waiting, I GOT MY PERIOD. Gaining that weight was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I did it…and to this day, my cycle is normal and healthy. For a lot of women who deal with this same issue, it can often take months or years before their cycle returns normally. God did it for me in three weeks. I am so grateful for that…for His touch and miracle healing for me. It gave me courage to believe in what He had showed me and to continue the fight against the lies.

Physical healing didn’t make the battle go away or even make it any easier. I still fight with the feelings of inadequacy and “fat.” I still fight against the impossible standard of perfection that our world gives us as women, a standard that I had taken up as my own. I still fight with being ok with the body and build I’ve been created with, and I still fight with being tempted to diet myself back down to where I was. Some days I want to do anything, ANYTHING, to feel skinny again…some days I can hear that familiar prison calling my name and I’m tempted to go running back to where I could use my iron will and control to get me what I want. But those days are the days when the grace of the Lord covers me. In so many moments of weakness, I feel that gentle voice of truth and kindness remind me of who I am. And He restores peace. Sometimes He does this several times a day or several times an hour…but He does it.

He’s helping me win.

I share all of this to perhaps encourage anyone else who is facing the same fight to take hope. I share all of this because I know there are other girls and women out there who face this same thing, and I want them to know that there is something better, that there is a different way that is free and full of joy. There is a way that doesn’t make you a slave to the mirror or the scale or the size of your clothes, or how much you worked out or how little you ate. Jesus really does offer a way that is better than the prison of an eating disorder. It doesn’t always feel like that…but it is the Truth.

And that Truth is what sets us free.

Thank you, friends, for reading my story, and for caring. You’ve inspired me to greater courage. If you know of anyone in your life who faces this same battle, the best thing you can do is pray for them. Pray that the eyes of their heart will be opened to understanding and to Truth, and that the true definition of beautiful will make its way from head to heart.

More to read::