I like pizza. I like pizza and pasta and chocolate muffins and grilled cheese.

It’s shocking to write that out, much less say out loud. For far too long I’ve lied to myself about food. I created false preferences [I actually like carrots better than chocolate, really] and it wasn’t until recently that I had to face this. Finding myself in the middle of lying to my finance [“I don’t really like pizza that much”] I felt the shame and shock overflow. Where do I even begin to unpack the destruction my lies have caused?

I kept my unhealthy relationship with food a secret for years. In fact, it wasn’t until a year and a half ago that I told another soul of my struggles throughout junior high and high school. The shame of control issues, misplaced worth, and fear of rejection clouded my judgement in seeking help. I feared what people would say if only they knew.

“You don’t look unhealthy; you’re just being dramatic.”

“Don’t you know how much God loves you? Why can’t you just trust Him?”

“You’re not skinny enough for problems like that. Stop trying to get attention.”

I could have done a lot differently. I should have done a lot differently. Even so, I’m learning a lot about freedom in Christ and what love actually looks like. I wish I could say I’m on the other side of this battle, but the truth is, I still face it every day, sometimes, at every meal. You know what? I’m learning to be alright with that. In my weakness, Christ is strong and glorified all the more (2 Corinthians 12:9-10). It’s a choice made daily to trust Christ, running back to Him for my worth. I’m still not very good at it, but the abundant love I’ve received keeps me coming back for more.

In God’s gentle process of peeling back the layers of my lies, I’ve found unconditional love, friends with true empathy, and some small version of humility [still only in select areas, but God’s working on it]. I’ve also found freedom, even the freedom to like pizza. It sounds so trivial, and to many it is. To me, this is transformational. To be loved as a child of God, not bound by faulty perceptions of obedience or perfection is life-giving and freeing (Romans 8:6).

The struggle is real but God is even more real. I’m slowly learning to keep my focus on Him, not the scale, the food, or the workouts-- the only true peace I find in in Him. I’m thankful for friends who keep my accountable because frankly, I still need it. Needing help doesn’t constitute failure. As I remind myself of that, I pray that any of you who find yourself struggling do seek help, even simply a friend to share the burden with. The freedom that comes with it is pretty remarkable.

Truly, for those of you seeking support, guidance, or assistance regarding an eating disorder, addiction, depression, self-harm or a number of other things, check out this amazing ministry.