My food addiction revelation

     So I'm standing in the mirror, just after a shower and getting frustrated at yet another hive-pimple breakout on my cheek. 
     And I have this ah-ha moment that's kind of depressing. I realize I have to admit something. Not just to myself, but to this blog and to anyone who will listen. Because God told me to share. (Read yesterday's entry.) 
     (Side note: It's really a big DANG IT moment, because I don't know about you, but I HATE admitting my weaknesses. Some people call that prideful. It's genetic in my neck of the woods.) 
     I am addicted to food. Sugary food. Chocolate food. Unhealthy food. All food. 
     I have a real problem. Really. I have a really real problem with food. 
     There. It's out. It hurts. 
     Right before my shower, I hate a fourth of a half-gallon of Praire Farms ice cream. It sat in my fridge for well over a week, and nobody ate it. So today in a moment of weakness that was just like all the others I had in the week that I was somehow able to overcome, I succumbed to it. I don't know why this time was different. I certainly was able to ignore that mouth-watering picture of a cow (Just kidding, cows don't make my mouth water. Well, maybe a little) a dozen other times I opened the freezer this week. But today, I ate it. I intended to eat just two bites. You know, because the "experts" say you really only need a couple bites to satisfy a craving. (What do they know?) 
     I bargained with myself. 
     I'll eat just a little more than that. 
     In my mind, I visually carved out a section that would be "acceptable" to eat. The smaller portion on the left side of the container, which was really just a few more bites than the two I intended. Then I decided I would eat from that carton until the computer finally opened a program I was waiting to use. 
     But the computer was so slow. Another bite. Then another. I was eating as slow as the computer was working. So, you can see, it wasn't really my fault I ate it all, because it was the darn computer. The longer I waited for the computer to open the program, the more frustrated I became. The more frustrated I became, the more I justified the food in my hand. 
     It wasn't my fault, after all. It was the stupid computer. 
     Then I went to hide the ice cream container in the trash, which was overflowing. So I stuffed it in the bag, put something bigger over it and took the trash out to the garage. 
     I dusted off my hands — mission covert food addiction accomplished — and hopped in the shower. 
     There's NO DOUBT my complexion is related to the sugar or the dairy,  both of which I can hardly tolerate in large amounts. My reflection tells me a truth I don't want to acknowledge, and it doesn't lie. 
     But here's another truth. I'm normally so much better with food choices. I had been freed from the pain and suffering caused by years of abusive eating more than a year ago thanks to my full-body cellular cleansing and fat-burning replenishment system via Isagenix. 
      Well, I thought I was. 
     I used my pregnancy — not as an excuse, because excuses are excusable. Rather I used my pregnancy to justify something I should not be doing. That carried over in breastfeeding. Don't ask how, but in my mind, it all made sense. Extra calories. Pampering my body, which was suffering the ups and downs — mostly downs — of pregnancy and then caring for a newborn. And the struggles of early breastfeeding. 
     You may be wondering why this is any big deal at all. I mean, is ice cream bad? Most people don't think so in the slightest. 
      The truth is, yes and no. This product is made of ingredients that make me sick. They make everyone sick, if we're honest, but they make me sicker than most people. And I KNOW in my heart that I can satisfy that craving with something healthy. I also KNOW I could have stopped at two bites. I also KNOW I could have recognized the signs a few more bites in that I was emotionally eating. I also KNOW that I was playing games to justified my bad choice. 
     I guess I'm making progress, because I'm seeing it more clearly now, even if in retrospective. I understand what I'm doing. I know it's wrong, and I want to make right choices. I want to make right choices because I've cleansed my body, which helped me in all ways with cravings. I know that a clean body wants what it needs, not what's sitting in the freezer. And I know when my body is alkaline and clean, it functions so much better. Gone is the restlessness, the mental fog and the lack of energy throughout the day. My pain was resolved once I made better choices in my diet. My eating habits made my body function better, and I was much happier. That's right, eating good food (which doesn't include Prairie Farms ice cream, believe it or not!) made me happier. Feed the body, fuel the mind!
     Yet here I was stumbling. I had just told my husband two days earlier I had a food addiction. I admitted that I had bought a Reese's PB cup in the store checkout that day. 
     So what, he said. That doesn't mean you're addicted to food.  
     Bless him. He's so nice. He loves me, and he doesn't want me to feel bad about myself. He never has. So in a way, he helps me justify. I don't want him to help me justify. I want to be free again. 
     I hid the wrapper in a zipper pocket of my purse, I said. 

Evidence of my food addiction can be found tucked away in undisclosed locations. 

     It's not like it was the first time, I said, but just in my head this time. 
     I realized that it's a thing I do. It's a thing I've always done. 
     Sure, there are some people who eat giant stacks of Oreos and 65-ounce sodas out in the open. They may know it's bad or that it's unhealthy. Heck, they may even realize they have a food addiction. They may be struggling. I don't know, because they aren't me. I just know my food addiction is a covert one. It's hard for me to admit. I think the ones who do it openly might have more integrity than me. But let's be honest, a food addiction is dangerous and the struggle is real no matter where the battleground is. 
     Even harder than food addiction, at least for me, is admitting that the food controls me. I allow the food to control me. I'm out of control. 
     I said this to my husband, tears streaming down my face. He made some joke about how he was on his second lunch. He was. But both were relatively healthy. I don't see him binging on ice cream. Ever. 
     Besides, I said. I'm not here to condemn or point out anyone else's eating habits. I am here to say, I have a problem, and I need help. 
     The truth is Isagenix was a tool that helped me overcome the food addiction I wasn't even admitting I had a year ago. Now that I KNOW I have a problem, I'm using the fact that I can't cleanse as an excuse to further justify my bad behavior. 
     I still have some tools. The products I can eat have some qualities to assist me with the addiction, plus I can utilize Rod Hairston's wonderful new coaching program for a healthy mind and body. (I'm in heaven about this addition to a company that already stands for integrity and completeness in everything it does!) And I still and always have the power of prayer. Now, I can add to my tools that I have knowledge, which I've been told is power. (Ha! See how I did that there?)
     Much as I hated admitting I'm addicted to food, God — in his infinite wisdom — blessed me with a girl's writing yesterday to confirm that I am SUPPOSED to share this with you. Isabelle Loux has written about her struggles with anxiety and depression, writing I'm blessed that she's allowing to be published in Mighty Strong Girls. But the truth is, her perspective has blessed me as the writing of so many girls in this ministry has! 
     They constantly remind me that we don't get help in the dark. We MUST bring our struggles into the light. There, we find hope, mercy, Jesus, forgiveness and community. We discover we aren't alone, and mostly importantly, we help one another. 
     If this resonates with you, then join me, please. Help me be accountable, and I'll help you. Let's live this struggle out — in the light. Let this post be the start of a conversation, and let's get really real with one another!

Breastfeeding in military uniform: Really? Who cares?

I recently blogged about the Time magazine cover on breastfeeding, and then linked to the story about these military moms nursing on Facebook. 


But I just can't get the story out of my head. Because there's more I want to say. Because darn it, my opinion and our attention shouldn't be on breastfeeding. It shouldn't be focused on a "controversial" military policy. My innermost desire is that we would hone in on basic human rights. That we would be aware. That we would drop petty opinions in lieu of "bigger issues" on our globe that should DEMAND our attention. And yet time after time, we turn a blind eye on what really matters and get fired up over some of the most ridiculous so-called problems in the world.  


Yes, breastfeeding is wonderful. I think it's the best way to feed babies. For some moms, it's the only way. Breasts have been over-sexualized, in my opinion, in America, to the point of ridiculousness. But like I said, it's not about breastfeeding. 


Yes, the military has a policy. And yes, these gals have disregarded it. Does it mean they disrespect their country? For God's sake, of course not! That's a huge leap! If they did, would they be serving in the military? Personally, I would not violate a dress code. Because to me, a job is a job, and if they can't provide me basic privileges to nurse or pump as a human being, it's simply not worth working for that employer. I'm a quitter, not a policy fighter. Never have been. But for the sake of argument, maybe these moms found the dress policy to be reasonable when they signed up for the military and then discovered how impractical and inconvenient it was once they were nursing. God knows my perspective on a lot of things changed once I became a mom. Should we assume they have no respect for the Air Force or their country because they nurse their babies in uniform? Because they seem to be fighting a policy that -- whether proven true or not -- they believe inherently discriminates against women? Should we encourage or participate in berating them? Really? Seek first the plank in your own eye before going after the speck in your sister's! I certainly couldn't throw the first stone, lest someone pick up a stone and examine my sinful life!


This also seems like another "excuse" to question whether women should even be in the military, not that I would ever want to fight side-by-side with men in combat. But today a woman can choose to, and the truth is the gender of a pilot dropping bombs on another country is hardly consequential, is it? The fact is they are there because they want to be there, and that policy was more than likely written before breastfeeding moms were allowed to serve in the military. Sometimes policies need to be changed and updated based on new circumstances. Period. 


But I also said it's not about military policy. 


Because the truth is eating is a basic human right. And to deny a baby the opportunity to eat because of a dress code is deplorable, especially as mothers in developing countries give birth and then cannot even produce breast milk because of malnutrition. Honestly, they and their babies are dying. Right now. One reason among many that are completely preventable: Starvation. So pardon me if I suggest that we divert our attention from this so-called controversy and look toward one worthy of our attention.


Here's a glimpse of what I mean by "bigger issues:"


Each year in Africa, 30 million women become pregnant, and 18 million give birth at home without skilled care.

Each day in Africa:
• 700 women die of pregnancy-related causes.
• 3,100 newborns die, and another 2,400 are stillborn.
• 9,600 children, after their first month of life and before their fifth birthday, die.


This is according to Opportunities for African Newborns, a publication developed by a partnership of UN agencies, donors, NGOs, professional organisations and individuals to be useful for all those who are committed to accelerating progress to save the lives of African mothers, newborns, and children.

"At least two thirds of newborns and a similar proportion of mothers and children could be saved with cost-effective interventions that already exist in the policies of most countries, but do not reach the poor," said Dr. Gertrude I. Mongella, President, Pan African Parliament, African Union. "Strengthening newborn health is a win-win-win for mothers, babies, and children. The price is affordable at an extra US$1.39 per person. Imagine if all the funds used for destruction and conflict in Africa were redirected to the health and survival of newborns."


Do we have enough people in our very country with $1.39 they could spare to save a life? That's a bigger issue.


Let's focus our energy on partnerships for a better world for babies who didn't choose the circumstances they were born into, not silly bickering over controversial breastfeeding images and whether or not someone's violation of a dress code makes them somehow less than human! 

A malnourished boy eagerly eating a meal of rice in Africa.

Go for the SHOCK factor!

I've been emotionally charged and fired up since I first saw the Time magazine cover with a 3-year-old boy standing on a stool breastfeeding. Yet every time I've taken pen to paper, I can't find the words. 


The truth is the 'old me' could spew venom with words alongside the best of them. Just ask anyone who's been the recipient of one of my stinging emails in the past! They'll tell you. It's true. I can fire up hate in the written format. 


Or at least I could. But lately it seems God's given me this gift to mince words. Instead of reacting, I stop, breathe and contemplate my next move. Which always seems to be prayer. And then I'm suddenly at peace and don't feel the need to say or write anything, least of all hateful words. 


Well, at least I've perceived this as a gift until now. Because I'm angry about this, and it's causing some serious writer's block...and possibly profanity. Sorry about that. I'm so angry that I really want to write something using lots of four-letter words. You see I'm still struggling to find the right words, so please bear with me!


I have been praying, and I have been reading what others have to say about this intentionally shocking photograph. And it's interesting really, the conversations that are occurring. 


Sadly, all too often they're the wrong ones. Since I've stopped, breathed and prayed and still feel the need to voice my opinion, here it is. Take it or leave it. I don't care. It simply needs to come out. 


The supposed issue at hand in this divisive mothering article: attachment parenting. Good or not good?


I'm so sick and tired of the criticisms of moms and women, scattered throughout advertising and media in our country. Pitting woman against woman, forcing us to decide one way or another. As if there's only ONE right way to be a mom. Why have we not embraced the beauty of motherhood in all its diversity? 


I'll tell you why not. 


Time selected a 90-pound mother in skinny jeans for the cover shot. What an unrealistic portrayal of mother to begin with. What is the message we're sending here? The ONE right way to be a woman so typically and disgustingly predictable of the media. Thin. Fashionable. Blemish-free. Calm. In a word: Perfect. Just like these 'mommy wars' suggest there's only one way you can be the perfect mom. 


Pardon me, but it's simply bullshit.

No wonder our teenage girls are suffering from so many mental health issues that they carry right on into adulthood. 


Mind you I just returned from Africa, where literally a village will help raise a child because a mother couldn't possibly be expected to do it alone. Because that's the reality! There's no taboo about a woman exposing her breasts in public to nurse her baby, or toddler, or preschooler. Oh, the joy and beauty of open-mindedness!


So let's talk about the real issue here: we live in a society that thrives on comparisons and criticisms. If the so-called Joneses have it, then it must be good and we must all go get it. If you don't have what the Joneses have, there absolutely must be something wrong with you.


And so, here is my wish list for what the Joneses would get so the rest of us will go chasing it, too. Don't worry, it's not a long list. Are you ready?






























EYES LIKE GOD'S. 


So women will see themselves as the beautiful creations they are. 


So the media moguls will begin to portray women for what they really are: diverse and amazing. 


So we will stop picking at the specks in our sister's or brother's eyes. 


So we will help our neighbor in need. 


So we will serve one another the way Jesus so lovingly illustrated for us. 


So we will all be MOM ENOUGH! To love unconditionally. To care for, embrace and encourage ALL children, not just our own. 'Cause that's what women here used to do, you know, until we as a society decided there's something morally wrong with us helping one another out in this incredibly challenging task of raising our children to be the best they can be. 


Let's stop picking on moms. Because the truth is there are 143 million+ orphans who would take a mom regardless of whether or not she supports attachment parenting, prefers formula over breastfeeding, works outside the home or stays home, uses clothe diapers or disposable ones, allows her kids to have a cell phone or not. 


Do you see what I'm saying? These are NOT the real issues! 


According to UNICEF, there are more orphans than the entire population of Russia. 


Did you know....


Every day, 5,760 more children in our world become orphans? 


Every 2.2 seconds, an orphan ages out with no family or home. 


Older orphans are often victimized. They are prone to abuse, suicide, prostitution, slavery, being turned into child soldiers and immorality. 


If you think for a moment this isn't your problem, this is where you're wrong. These children aren't all in developing countries. There are hundreds of thousands of them in the foster care system in the United States. There are neglected and abused children and orphans in your community.


Every year, about 25,000 children age out of foster care at age 18. Of them: 
* 25 percent become homeless. 
* 56 percent enter the unemployment ranks. 
* 27 percent of emancipated male foster children end up in jail. 
* 30 percent of emancipated female foster children experience early parenthood. 


What if we took all the energy that is necessary to perpetuate these myths, these lies about womanhood and motherhood and used them to create good? 


Time magazine isn't the only one that can go for the shock factor. Let's start a movement that goes against the expectations for humankind! Let's BE MOM ENOUGH to change these statistics. 


Because the truth is if we really have eyes like God, together we can change the numbers. 




“Defend the cause of the weak and the fatherless; Maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed. Deliver the weak and needy from the hand of the wicked.” Psalm 82:3-4