It's been a while.

It’s been a while, for many things. In light of Covid it’s been a while since church and gatherings where we didn’t second guess if it was okay to hug each other or not. It’s been a while since grocery outings didn’t seem so intimidating, floors now marked with arrows and the plexiglass that now separates us even more from the cashiers. It’s been a while since I’ve written on here, but not without many attempts made. 

I’ve been stumbling over my words, the ones that I type write now, wanting to be able to say what I have to say without being afraid or ashamed. To fling the doors wide open, as if they weren’t already and shine the spotlight on things that some people might wonder if I should be already. 

An added thing in my life over these last five months has been a psychiatrist. And as I face some things head on one thing that keeps coming up again and again is me. (well no duh.) But in actuality, I am my greatest obstacle. I am the one to question myself and my ability again and again and again. And it is draining as all heck. 

But I think this is something we all do. We let ourselves, our busy schedules, our pursuit of health and happiness stand in the way of slowing down, letting everything catch up to us - including ourselves. But moreover, the part of ourselves that we don’t like. The things we hide behind steel doors, hoping no one pays close enough attention to the fact that they’re right there in our living rooms; the proverbial elephant in the room. 

Especially lately. The rise in mental health related issues has been made clear since the start of the pandemic. We’ve been encouraged to isolate ourselves, and in some circumstances forced. While at first it may have seemed good, the longer it goes on, the more effect it will have. We have a lot of time on our hands, and depending on your situation that is either a positive thing, or very negative. And not even to begin to mention the loss of jobs...

So, how has it affected me? Oh man, just you wait till you hear! When the official announcement of “Global Pandemic” came, I was an in-patient at the U of A Eating Disorders Program, so in all honesty, it didn’t really make a huge difference for me. Other than the fact I could no longer leave our unit, the nurses were constantly in masks and their usual street clothes had now turned to scrubs. I felt very institutionalized. Which, it was shocking enough, suddenly finding myself living in a hospital room with a roommate, an ugly curtain our only option for privacy and doors that did not lock, with exception of the bathrooms, but for obvious reasons we were not able to lock those. They were locked for us.

Okay, now, yes, this is all true. I have made mention in posts before about the many layers of my life that were being dealt with and well, surprise! This is one of them! As if diabetes and depression and anxiety weren’t enough, an eating disorder felt like just the thing to also be dealing with, all along with grief.

What can I say, go big or go home? 

Okay, no, please note I am in a place where I can easily make jokes about my situation. But those 100 days that I spent in-patient were the most 100 difficult days of my life. Food was my biggest vice. Manipulating my insulin gave me the control I needed in areas where I felt I had no control. Within the first 48 hours on the unit I was a hot mess because for the first time in a long time I was no longer in control of those things. Not only that, but grief - which I thought I was pretty good at by now - came crashing in and it was as if I were grieving my brother all over again. Let me tell you, it was so much fun! Okay, I’m being sarcastic here. It was hell. 

It was also very sobering. Realizing how out of control I felt and all the vices I normally could turn to were now no longer an option and it’s here where I realized how sick I was and in need of help. So while I was very emotionally distressed, at the same time I was thankful for the fact that I couldn't leave. (Even though I could have at any moment. I just took that option away from myself.) Because I knew how at risk I was. 

Recovering from an eating disorder is something that I would wish on no one. It’s something that just straight up messes (not my first word choice) with your mind. Things that you’d think to be logical no longer are. Like taking care of myself? What?! Why on earth would I do that?! And eating normally? What the heck is this you speak of? Especially with fads like Keto and Intermittent Fasting, I’m just you know, keeping up with the norm! (Please note the clear digs I’m making to these things, but that’s another post on it’s own.) 

I’ve been out in ‘the real world’ now for seven weeks. I am now a part of the day program that runs here, so it's still not quite ‘normal’. But what even is normal? Especially with Covid, what is even happening any more? Because I sure as hell have no idea. 

I will be honest in saying the struggle is real. It’s not as if I left the hospital that wednesday morning and was like, “I’m forever fixed! Yahoo!! No more struggle for meeee!!!!”. Yeah, no, I only wish. It feels as though I’ve only hit wall after wall, which causes me to question myself and my ability again and again.

This is where we factor in the reality that I am the biggest obstacle in the way on this road to recovery and health. 

I am the one to question my belonging, my purpose and any sense of hope. Here’s the thing, I’m really great at shouting hope from the rooftops for all to hear, but when it comes to my own life, I’m suddenly like, “what is this word you are saying?” 

So, therefore, this is an attempt at getting out of my own way. I know I’m meant to write. This is something that not only has God spoken over my life, but I literally feel it to the very core of who I am. But fear. But shame. But second guessing. 

Oh yeah, and faith. I would not say that in this current moment I do not believe in God. But I will say this is the strangest, hardest place I’ve been in with my faith. I know God is real - but so much in my life has changed - and while He is never changing - it just seems different. And this is something that was stopping me from writing too. How could Marisa, the strong, christian girl be saying this?

But, for the sake of continued vulnerability and the fact that especially with all that is happening, I know I am not the only one who struggles. A part of it is due to lack of intentional time spent with Jesus. But that’s just it, it’s not always easy. It’s hard. And yes, I definitely need to step up my quiet time game. 

Let’s put it this way, every stone in my life has been flipped, revealing this new design, one that I am both familiar with but also have never seen before. Change has affected every part of my life. Nothing is really as it was since before I entered treatment. I knew things would change, but not this much. (Damn Covid.)

Things seem uncertain. Things seem strange and I never know what to believe any more as far as Covid goes. Not to mention my ongoing struggle through recovery and trying to figure out what’s next. And yet, as He always does, God showed up in a way that was like, “Stop stressing about the future. Just worry about now.” And I’m undone because I feel like such a failure as far as faith goes, but I know there is only grace. And when it comes to faith, you can’t really fail - maybe unless you stop believing…

And so yes, it’s been a while for me and my time for Jesus. It’s been a little while since I’ve really felt confident and capable on this road that is recovery. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so hopeful it overrides any doubt. 

But you know what? This is life. It’s the ebbs and flows of struggle and triumph. It’s more unknowns rather than knowings. It’s admitting to hard things like needing help as well as being afraid to ask for it. It’s failures leading to successes. To me it’s being an over sharer who now has an incredible dark sense of humour. But hey, I must admit I am even just a little bit funny so… that’s cool.

So, from my heart to yours, here’s to maybe admitting to struggling in our day to days. Here’s to asking for help. Here’s also to fresh starts, even with the many unknowns coming with them. Here’s to also being extremely done with the reality of a pandemic happening. 

And here’s to a God, who is so gracious, so loving that there is no need for shame. Feeling ashamed because I feel like I don’t have enough faith, or I’m not doing enough for Him. Because life with Jesus isn’t about that. It’s about an ongoing relationship, an ongoing process. There is no final place to reach within faith, but it’s just continual day by day growth. Small steps. For me it’s baby steps like listening to a podcast or even just reading the daily verse on my Bible app. But it starts somewhere. 

It’s just a matter of actually taking that step, admitting that things aren’t perfect because they can never be perfect. But man, that is so totally okay - and so incredibly freeing. (I just need to believe that more. Raise your hand if you too are a recovering perfectionist.)

So while it has been a while, I’m so glad to be back. 

**Photo credit to my friend Haley Nicas