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!

Three simple steps to be the smartest girl in the room

     OK, that title is a little misleading. This is actually a blog about three ways to get wisdom. Being smart and being wise are two different traits entirely. I know a lot of really smart, academic, intellectual, conversationally stimulating people. But most of them are unwise. 
     How could that be, you might ask. 
     Because God says so is the simple answer. 
     1 Corinthians 3:18-19a says, "Do not deceive yourselves. If any of you think you are wise by the standards of this age, you should become 'fools' so that you may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God's sight." 
     So the wise are dummies, and God wants us to be fools. I have to admit... I'm still struggling with a complete understanding of this concept.
     But the older I become, the more this comes into focus. 
     I once thought: 
     I NEED A DEGREE
     I NEED A CAREER
     I NEED A SALARY
     I NEED A BIG HOUSE
     I NEED TO LOOK LIKE "HER"
     I NEED TO MAKE MORE MONEY
     and the even more embarassing ones where I subjected friends to what I thought they needed to do. Don't get me started on all the poor, unwise counsel I've doled out over the years. 
     Today, I have two degrees, no career, no salary, a big house (OK, we do live in America, but our family is in the process of downsizing so cut me a little slack!), am content to look just the way I do and well, I still want to make more money. (Just being honest!) 
     What does God's kind of wisdom look like? Here are three ways you can be a so-called fool by today's standards: 
     1. Pray. Seek a relationship with the Lord. If you haven't yet, dive into the Bible every day. Even if you don't believe it or don't like it. The truth is if you want to oppose Christians, you probably ought to know what they believe. Go right to the source. If you are saved, go deeper in your relationship. Read your Bible more. Pray more. 
     2. Find a mentor. Actually a lot of today's standards are beginning to preach this, often based on John Maxwell's books. He's also a Christian. My faith has grown tremendously because of my mentors. Just one word of warning, there can be some Christians who are not exactly looking out for your best interests. (And remember all the horrible advice I've churned out?) Be sure to line up their thoughts with the Bible, and pray to be certain. I've had even well-meaning friends give me some awful advice. Most of what I've learned from mentors wasn't so much from their advice as it was from their example and their encouragement. If you are uncertain of the kind of person your mentor is or they seem to be overly critical, you might want to pray about whether that's a healthy relationship. 
     3.  Get involved in Mighty Strong Girls. Oh my! Who saw that coming... what an awful sales pitch! Actually, the magazine that will be revealed on Sunday is all about WISDOM. We are beginning to theme our publications on the new names the girls get in the God Spa. So we will study for 10-13 weeks about what it means to be wise. If any of my female readers out there think they would like to lead a small group, we are looking to plant more Mighty Strong Connections groups in central Illinois. Women who want to come alongside girls to be available as mentors, to love on them, to help guide them to be who they were created to be in Christ Jesus. As a mom, I'm so thankful that my daughter is in one of these groups where she can explore her own identity when it comes to Biblical wisdom of body, soul and spirit. How we treat our minds, deal with our emotions, handle our physical beings and grow spiritually matters very much to God. 
     In fact, He's begging us to come to Him. James 1:5 says, "If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you." 
    Whoa! That's huge! He has a gift he wants to give to us in heaping portions, and He isn't waiting there with a laundry list of our shortcomings to hold over our heads. Nope, He just wants us to ask. Come and get it. 
     So that's the offer I extend to you. Come and get it. Find out more about Mighty Strong Girls and how you can be a part of or help start a new small group in your home or church. We will be celebrating and selling the new issue of the magazine on WISDOM at 3 p.m. Sunday at Calvary Christian Temple in the Oasis room. Hope to see you there! 

Chasing a gold standard

     I will never forget the time my husband spilled breast milk on the kitchen counter. Ever. 
     Because I cried. And it wasn't just because of my hormones. Being a first-time mom was the most stressful thing that ever happened to me. Despite the plethora of books I had read, classes I had taken and the two college degrees I had, I was fully unprepared. Entirely. Completely. 
     There was one really good thing I knew I could give my daughter, and that was breast milk. I had done my research, and I knew this was the gold standard in baby nutrition. Good for the body and for the brain. 
      I don't know what it was (hmmmm....I don't know, possibly the fact that I was stressed out as a new mom!) but my breast milk production was awful. After the first three months, it was inadequate, and I had to supplement. 
     Still, I persisted. I pumped a ridiculous three times a day at work, plus one side on the drive there and one on the drive home. I took supplements, ate oatmeal and drank tons of water. All this for about four to six total ounces daily. A baby this age takes about 30-40 ounces in a 24-hour period. Looking back, I think I must have been insane to invest all that work for so little. But I was trying to make the best decision with the information I had available to me. I wanted to do what was best for my baby.
     And that's why I cried when my husband dumped over the milk. It represented a huge investment. It was liquid gold all over the counter top that was no unusable! I was crushed! 
     I've been thinking, studying and praying a lot about nutrition lately. I'm hardly an expert, but for some reason when this story came to mind, it reminded me that the best stuff for us isn't always the easiest stuff to come by!  We have to work at it, and even then, we have to study and learn more about it. I had to understand how to adapt my diet to better provide for my baby. I wasn't equipped with this knowledge. It was a process of learning.
     We have simplified food growth to the point where it's all about volume and yield. What was done with the intentions of feeding more with less available space hasn't come with complications, criticisms, controversy and even corruption. What has become less common is man planting seeds and raising his own food or at the very least, knowing exactly where his food came from and how it was grown, processed and packaged. We have sacrificed nurturing in lieu of "faster" and "more." 
     And that's the so-called "natural" food we raise -- produce, meats and poultry, and dairy. Then there's all the fast-food nonsense and packaged goodies, filled with every kind of poison imaginable. Sugar, salt, artificial colors and flavors. Additives intended for yoga mats, additives that happen to be highly addictive. 
     I have spent most of my life eating healthy — comparatively. You know, compared to the majority of people. Not that I like to be in the habit of comparisons, but that's what I was doing. And I felt good about it. Therein lies the BIG PROBLEM with comparisons. Just because I was eating good compared to a statistic did not mean I was eating good for me. I still bought crappy food into my house "for the kids" and then ate it when I knew I shouldn't. I still ate way out of proportion, and I still ate many packaged foods despite homemade dinners every night.
     However, I've been learning lately that is is not good enough. I know better, and I can do better. I HAVE to do better. My body is unhappy; it's raging against the poor quality food I've been dumping in it the last four decades. I've fought "intestinal issues" that cannot firmly be diagnosed for seven years. I have raging endometriosis, migraines, sinus issues and fibromyaligia. The fact that I can even operate most days is miraculous. I've been a walking, talking emotional/mental/spiritual/physical time bomb. I needed a wake-up call. 
      I'm finally listening. 
     I want the spilled milk. I want the good stuff. I want the gold standard of nutrition that fosters mental clarity, stabilizes emotional moodiness, improves my physical well-being and opens me up spiritually. I don't know exactly what that is, so I'm starting with what I do know, which is a lot. I will do the best I can with what I know, committing myself to learning more as I go and forgiving myself for messing up along the way. 
     I'm not an expert. I don't understand everything there is to food. Heck, just when I think I know something, I hear a report that contradicts my knowledge. 
     But I won't be discouraged by that. I will persist. I will grow some of what I can, buy what I know to be the best when I can afford it, eat what's best for me as often as I can and then pray that God will meet me there. 
     It's not a destination. It's a journey of whole health. I will need grace. I will need encouragement. I will need wisdom. Therefore, I will need Jesus. So He will be right at the heart of this new thing.