Forbidden Love

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.  John 8:36

Elementary school has the amazing potential to influence the course of an impressionable child’s life.  For myself, not only were the seeds of knowledge planted during my years spent within the confines of its walls, but another, more mysterious seed took root.  This seed, if given proper care and carefully controlled, has the potential to grow into a beautiful flowering vine like the wisteria, springing forth to display a symphonic canopy of cascading flowers.  But if left unattended away from the watchful eye of its caretaker this same vine can become deadly.  Tentacles, rapidly growing with reptilian-like stealth, reaching far beyond its source, encircling its prey to squeeze the very life from it.  Not only did elementary school serve to teach reading, writing and arithmetic, but it also introduced me to a love that would quickly grow as rampant, uncontrolled and deadly as a wisteria vine.

My memory fails as to when the daily ritual originated.  Kindergarten?  First grade?  The time is irrelevant.  Away from my mother’s watchful eye and in the company of teachers who could care less, my love affair with food began.  It came in the guise of a small carton and was innocently called mid-morning milk.  Each day, with milk money in hand I waited with anticipation for that beautiful tray to arrive in the classroom.  The display of pint-sized cartons was lovely!  Red and white ones placed alongside the brown and white.   I remember thinking, “Who would want to drink plain old white milk?”  For me, that thick, creamy and sweet concoction of chocolate milk was only a request away.  It soon gripped me with vice-like strength, but thankfully I was able to get my daily fix.  It wasn’t long before I ventured from just the chocolate milk to cookies, cakes and ice cream.  It didn’t matter the form…sugar was my addiction even before I knew such a word existed. 

Looking back I realize my dad was a fellow addict (Note…he died from asbestosis in his early fifties, having never gained freedom from the bondage of food).  Overweight and unable to control his eating habits, I benefitted from his addiction.  Our home not only provided shelter, it also provided an endless supply of sweet treats and junk food.  We never ran out.  As I grew older, I knew I needed to stop.  I wasn’t oblivious to my growing waistline, but stopping seemed impossible so why even try?  I had failed before I began.  Accompanying my weight gain was an ever increasing self-hatred.  Soon, two unlikely bedfellows became my best friends.  I dwelt with the comfort of food addiction and the agony of self-hatred.  

The vicious battle raged on day after day.  My mind said, “Stop!” while my body said, “No!”  I learned to flip the switch of my mind off during meals and snack time and give complete control over to my body.  The rush I felt as I took bite after bite…the sugary and fatty foods stimulating that euphoric sensation…I wanted more…I needed more.  When I was too full to eat another bite, I’d flip the switch to my brain back on and guilt would immediately wash over me.  “You did it again, Sabrina!”  I hated myself for it and vowed to do better next time except when next time came, off went the brain and the body took control.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, it had become an automatic reaction.  Numerous times a day.  Day after day.  The wisteria-like vine of food addiction wrapped its tentacles ever tighter and as I grew older that vine grew into an invincible, monstrous behemoth.

In time, food addiction and self-hatred were joined by depression and self-mutilation.  Each vying for my attention.  Food addiction soothing me.  Self-hatred plunging me deeper into depression.  Self-mutilation taunting me to physically abuse myself because I hated being fat!  It wasn’t long before the voice of suicide chimed in, but thankfully I gave it no heed although the thought of going to sleep and never waking, at times, felt like the only solution.  As I reached my late twenties, another, more powerful voice entered the scene.  His Name?  Jesus!

The years after I met Jesus were filled with much change for the good (and continue to this very day).  Suicide, self-hatred and self-mutilation were banished forever.  Depression continued to visit occasionally, but food addiction never left.  I cried out to God.  I searched scripture.  I thought for sure He could deliver me, but the behemoth refused to budge.  A couple of times I gained mastery over him but he came back full-force.  All seemed hopeless.  It was when God whispered to my heart about the situation that I had an epiphany.  The behemoth didn’t budge because I was too scared to let him go.  All the while wanting him to leave…demanding that he leave…I had chained myself to him.  God wanted to deliver me, but I had to want the deliverance and I had to muster up the courage to release this forbidden lover.  The lover who had comforted me since I was a small child.  This lover who soothed my bad days and brought with him a high that was absolutely divine!  I knew I had to let him go, yet I continued to cling to him.  I questioned myself.  I questioned God.  This behemoth had become an idol replacing God in that area of my life.  I had to let him go.  I couldn’t let him continue to take God’s place anywhere in my life.  I needed a plan of attack then God showed me the way.

God led me to a whole food plant-based way of eating…in short, no oils, eggs, dairy or any other animal products whatsoever.  I live solely on fruits, vegetables, grains, breads and potatoes.  It may sound strict but in actuality I eat a greater variety of foods that I ever have and I feel amazing!  It wasn’t easy in the beginning because there were withdrawals from the sugar and fat that needed to be dealt with, but once I was past that point there was no turning back.  I was finally able to chop down the tendrils of food addiction.  Oh, the joy of not being slave to that behemoth any longer!  In addition, other wonderful things happened. Depression no longer visits.  My skin is smooth and silky and my nails are growing for the first time in my life!  Headaches…gone.  Joint aches and pains…gone.  Forty pounds…gone.  I’ve even had to switch back to an older pair of eyeglasses because my eyesight has improved!  I am fueling my body with the foods that provide health benefits and not death benefits.  And most importantly…food is no longer an idol that I have erected in God’s place.  I still have to be watchful because one small piece of sugar-laden food can invite that monster back.  No thank you…I will continue to walk in the deliverance that God gave me!  Although the battle with food addiction was one of the hardest I’ve faced, I am thankful for it.  It is through all that I’ve experienced that God led me to the field of nutrition.  While it’s not quite been a year that I’ve rid my life of food addiction, I feel more equipped than ever to move forward and be used by God to help others find the road to victory!

The Hard Road Has Its Rewards

Living old fashioned in a modern world isn’t easy at times.  You pretty much have to go against the grain on everything.  The world has a liberal view of things:  if it feels good do it, YOLO (you only live once), throw caution to the wind, take revenge on anyone who hurts you…the list goes on.  I used to live that way, even after I met Jesus.  I toyed around with Him for years.  Talking one way and walking another.

It was the beginning of the demise of my marriage that set my feet on a path that was heart wrenching but became one of my biggest blessings.  It was one of the most difficult times in my life which I liken unto the death of my son, that same grief day after day for seven years.  I couldn’t see past my own pain.  I dulled it with alcohol, but it never went away.  I lived in a perpetual zombie-like state, barely functioning day-to-day.  Like twirling winds, my emotions were so erratic I thought I was losing my mind.  I’d sit, drink, cry and curse…and pray.  I talked to God the whole time.  What did He do with the mess of a woman I was, with my foul mouth and drunken state?  He listened to me, He cried with me, He loved me and He changed me.  He was the only One Who understood.  He took His mighty hand and gently scooped up the ashes of my heart and with the kind of Love only a Father can give, particle by particle, He pieced my heart back together with His love and His tears for my pain.  He knew I had to go through it.  He knew this was a road I had walk, for my own sake and for His glory, and He never left my side.  

He walks with me to this very day. You see, He has a plan for my life and His plan will prevail regardless of my hardships.  Once a caterpillar wrapped in a cocoon of the pain of growth, I emerged a butterfly, spreading my beautiful wings.  I fly carried along by the winds of His Spirit.  His work in me is not finished and won’t be until I draw my last breath.  I live differently now.  I walk each day in an effort to guard my heart in Him.  I beg Him to continue to change me into the woman of God I was born to be and to fulfill His plans and purpose for my life.  I strive to listen for His still small voice to guide my footsteps.   

I am an ambassador for Christ, living for a Higher Calling, setting my wants and my desires at the foot of the Cross of Jesus and trusting Him.  It is a crucifying of my flesh and a dying to myself.  I have areas that keep resurrecting and I keep crucifying.  I lay things at the Cross and turn and pick them up once again.  It is a daily process, sometimes a minute to minute one.  Even when I slip and am unfaithful, He is faithful.  It is in His love, grace and mercy that I reside and it is here that I am safest.