Musing: Post-post-pregnancy and EDs

I last blogged about my journey as a former eating disorder sufferer here: Post-pregnancy and EDs.

It has been 8 months since I sat down purposely to ponder on my experiences pertaining to my EDs. I thought I'd do it more often, but life went on and I didn't. The fact that it has been 8 long months says a lot about how intimate I am with my sufferings nowadays. Or perhaps, I have, by the grace of God, made peace with my intrusive thoughts, and have accepted them as "normal" and negligible as long as I do not act on them.

Speaking of which, I think that recovery from EDs requires the sufferer to have realistic expectations of the kind of thought life that one should possess in order to qualify as "recovered". This involves accepting the new "normal" in the sense that it is OK to struggle inwardly with certain issues as long as one still does his/her best to be helped, live healthily, integrate into society, and focus on bigger and more important things - such as living one's passion(s) and potential to the fullest. There will always be temptations. You will tend to scrutinise your body and imperfections more (and often, more than others do). You might be more easily offended when anybody makes light of eating disorders or teases an overweight friend... or an overweight child in my case, because it brings back memories of my childhood and makes me paranoid that that child whom you are calling "fat"/"chubby" would grow up to be me. (I was not that overweight though.) You might still take a long time to decide on what to eat when eating out. And it might still drive you crazy whenever your husband tells you that "I've got no plans for tomorrow... let's play by ear... free and easy" - because a predictable routine and structure makes you feel safer and in control. This is what "normal" is like for me. By not fighting or denying it, and learning to live with it, I empower myself to make the right choices, let go, and live. By not obsessing over the very mindsets that I've learned are wrong - I acknowledge that I am human, in need of God's transformative work in my life. By not trying to eliminate the unfounded fears because they will somehow return to lurk in the battlefield of the mind and challenge what you believe, but rather, soaking in God's truth and the affirmations of loved ones, I find myself forgetting to fear. The fears drown with time. This is what being a recovered ED sufferer looks like - at least for me.

Anyway, it has been 8 months. I may have stopped fearing for myself, but being mom to a blossoming girl toddler, I catch myself being afraid for her at the randomest times of the day - for instance whenever she walks up to me with a trusting smile on her face, or immerses happily in a warm bath with her floating ducks and water balloons. I wonder if my own mother ever foresaw the dark years I would enter as an adolescent, desperate for acceptance and rituals (and ultimately, a malignant lifestyle) to neutralise the disgust I had for my imperfect body and self. As I tell Sophie how beautiful she is to us - how loved and delightful - I wonder if my mother ever hoped that THE DAY when I would stop believing in those very same affirmations would never come. As I drink in Sophie's happy oblivion to our societal ideals of beauty and success, I fear that she might one day be engulfed by them. To think that I am responsible to guide her so that she would grow up to cherish her worth in Christ, be fully alive in Him, and not self-harm in the name of beauty/acceptance. What a mammoth responsibility! I pray that I would not fail. Let me finish well.

Let It Go

No, I am not thinking of Frozen (2013), by the Walt Disney Animation Studios. 

Rather, I am having difficulties moving on a chapter in life - and I am aware that it is due to my reluctance to let certain things go. I am not even sure why I am so afraid of losing what I foresee myself losing and I resent the situation I am in. I am trying to rejoice over my gain(s) rather than grieve too hard over the loss(es). I have hoped to convince myself that the gains are better than the losses. However, something always crops up to disillusion and discourage me, and I go back to square one, feeling defeated.    

In times like this, I remember my battle with eating disorders years back. I wonder how I would have made it to where I am now without God's gracious help. It may sound so religious of me, but I say this because I am often my worst enemy. The number of times I have sabotaged myself by allowing fear to creep in, giving in to temptations and condemning myself later are countless. Trusting in God? Right. I was terrible at it, to be honest. It was tough believing that there could be something better and more life-giving than the counterfeit that I was clinging on to so desperately. God's lovingkindness and help did lead me to trust Him eventually. Nevertheless, it was all too easy to take my eyes off Christ and sink back into the pit. I am, after all, human. My mind was a constant battlefield. I was way too easy on myself. Or was I?  

I need that same grace now. The grace (and the strength) to cast my burden upon the Lord so that I might find rest for my soul. (I blogged yesterday's post with my struggles in mind.) The grace to trust that He knows what He is doing and where He is leading me.

I feel so Jonah. In the belly of the whale. 

Post-pregnancy and EDs

I haven't blogged about body issues for a while now - but I believe that those of you who have been following my blog (even since the Xanga or Grace Points days) know that I have a history of eating disorders which plagued me throughout my teenage and young adult years. I went to school, college and university with them. They tinged my happiest moments with shadows, my relationships with distrust and my readiness to live life to the fullest with fear. But they were who I was - or at least I thought so. You see, my eating disorders, tormenting as they were, gave me a sense of false security; They made me feel special, exceptional - like I was in full control of life when I was, in fact, never in control. I feared that losing them would mean losing my identity.

Lies. I believed in them. But thank God, my pursuit of Christ exposed them. As I encountered Him, I got to know the me I never knew. The me that could be so much more alive in Him. The me that was worth so much more than I thought - not because of anything I had done (or the way I looked), but because God, Creator of Heaven and Earth, had fashioned me as a masterpiece and provided for my reconciliation with Himself. The me that Jesus loves and died for. The me who had been slave to a master so much weaker than Christ and yet, one who had me in his chains because I was so deceived to think that they were the most beautiful things in the world. And the lies lost their appeal.

Having said that, it would be naive for any eating disorder sufferer to think that enlightenment, with regards to those lies, guaranteed an immediate return to life as it was before EDs. It does not. (And life post-ED will never be anything like life pre-ED. It is rather like losing your virginity - pardon the crude comparison, if it is.) Enlightenment is only the first step of a long journey - the evocative path of which meanders through a sort of wilderness, uprooting, testing and excavating. I don't know how any sufferer can finish the journey well without the rod and staff of the Shepherd (cf. Psalm 23) - I certainly couldn't have, myself.

Those lies may have lost their appeal. However, they do return in crafty ways and at one's most vulnerable moments - in attempt to seduce and catch a recovering sufferer off-guard. To paralyse and enslave again.

For me, they were around throughout my pregnancy. Thankfully, I was expecting them - and hence, by God's help (and the encouragement and prayers of the most important people in my life), they were stopped in their tracks. Besides, being pregnant with Sophie made me feel beautiful and pretty. I couldn't have given a damn.

Now that I am no longer pregnant, they lurk again in the air. They mock the flabbiness, the stubborn fat that has lodged itself in the most unflattering places, my inability to fit into my pre-pregnancy wardrobe and etc. They point me to the advertisements of slimming centers and "miracle" slimming pills - and they advocate the fad diets that celebrities subscribe to. While subtle, they also criticise the decisions I make as a mother - for example, to breastfeed my daughter (can't go on low carb diets or skip meals - what have you - when you want to breastfeed) and to be a stay-at-home-mom rather than pursue my ambitions (I do have quite a few which do not go with being a SAHM).

While I struggle, I do realise how important it is for me to stay close to the Lord so that I can have things in the right perspective.

While it would be nice, I do not need to be a size 8 (what I was before) to prove myself to the world.

I do not need a PhD to prove myself to the world. Neither do I need to be called "Doctor".

I do not need to be "out there", performing and being applauded, in order to be worthy of acceptance. God's acceptance in Christ is enough. Sophie's smile and excited cry when I pick her up are enough. My husband's tolerance of my quirks and admiration despite my eccentricities are enough. The enthusiasm of my closest friends over my new mama priorities is enough.

I do not need to be ill (with EDs) to be loved. God has blessed me with friends and family who love me even when I am unlovable.

I do not need to have EDs to be a somebody. I am a child of God.

Saturday

I hardly blog on Saturday nights.

However, since my husband is away at someone's wedding dinner (one which we both decided that I would be spared from showing up, no offense to anybody) and there is no cell group tonight... I have succumbed to my blogging itch. I guess, I am blogging partially because I am bored, taking a break from TV and home alone too.

Despite (1) a terrible cramp in my right calve that got me howling in the middle of last night, much to Ben's fright and panic - because he thought that I was about to go into labour, haha; (2) a very sad dream following the cramp that left me teary-eyed and unsettled - the only consolation I had waking up in the morning was my baby pressing herself reassuringly against me; (3) the nagging pain in my right leg since the cramp especially when I walk; (4) the insane weekend traffic jams all over Penang island; and (5) the zeal-zapping heat and the non-appearance of rain.... there are still reasons to be thankful tonight. And so, to keep myself from murmuring and lapsing into a sulky mood, I thought I would mull over those good things and give glory to God instead.

Ok, maybe three things for tonight....

1. Work. There is something mysteriously sacramental about it - whether in its ordering of my time and weekdays, in the glorious view of rocks, hills and trees (birds and monkeys too) from my office window, in the simple furnishings of my work space, in the relationships I have with my colleagues, in the exhortations of my boss or in the fulfillment of finding myself happily lost in my labours.

2. Pregnancy and its boosting of my self-image ~ somehow. Having had a history of eating disorders and while I have already put them far behind me, it was still hard to imagine how I would be able to cope with watching myself grow from week to week. However, I have been surprised and delighted to realise that I actually love and appreciate myself much more nowadays - especially with that sacred awareness that I do not only bear the image of God, but I have been blessed to be the mother of yet another of His image-bearers - one who is just as fearfully and wonderfully made. Life is indeed beautiful and exciting, my growing baby teaches me. Life is more than the numbers on your scale, how big or small you are, or trying to conform to the world's ideals. Rather, life is for expressing your authenticity as passionately as you can - and enjoying the pleasure you bring to your Maker, who is to be known, loved and trusted.

3. My husband. The man who works hard to earn his "paternity leave" (guess who is going to be my "confinement nanny"?), tries his best to entertain my whims and fancies (no matter how ridiculous), trims my toenails because they are too far out of my reach, takes over my housework when I am overheated (and lazy), massages the cramps out of my legs in the middle of the night, enjoys my cooking, drops me loving texts while I am at work, kisses my belly every night, etc, etc, etc. I thank God that I married a good man - and a good father-to-be.

23 weeks: loving the body

It is a known fact: Pregnancy is when the body changes drastically.

My feet seem strangely distant now. For the first time in my life, trimming my toenails felt awkward. I had to trim them at a very different angle from that which I am used to - and so I misjudged, over-did the trimming and there was an iron-leak. I guess, the hubby will be the one trimming my toenails for me in a few weeks time. Scary thought. It is a bit like anticipating a trip to the dentist's. Seriously.

The most drastic bodily change of all? New curves. They say that the maternal shape is a sensuous one... and I am sure that most of you will agree. However, I fluctuate between feeling gorgeous and... fat. No matter how passionate are the praises that my hubby sings of my glow and bloom, there are days when I find it a little more difficult to appreciate my reflection in the mirror. The roundness of all things (and not just my belly) can be quite intimidating. What helps? (1) my monthly visits to the obstetrician's clinic - where I can immerse myself gracefully into that gracious, comfortable world in which most people have swollen, puffy feet, are round everywhere and still look blissful; (2) pampering myself with scented body scrubs and other beauty treatments (even the simplest ones - like slathering myself with milky lotion) just because they make me enjoy being in my skin much, much more; (3) beating my tendency to be anti-social whenever I feel fat by going out with close friends... and this makes a whole lot of difference to my self-esteem; (4) eating my favourite foods; (5) cooking (particularly those soul-warming soups and porridges); and last but not least (6) talking to my baby.

I am beautiful.

Singapore Days 2 and 3

Some random highlights....

Thursday: Spent most of the day riding trains on my own, visiting long-forgotten places, eating, reading and mourning over my apt to tire easily. This was partially owed to the sleepless night I had the night before, being distracted, a little disorientated (pregnancy does play havoc with a person so seasoned a traveller) and discouraged in my best efforts to tame my congested nose.

The day ended with Ji, Patricia (missionary from the Philippines) and I dining at a Hong Kong place at the grand Star Vista. It was good to chat about the work of God in foreign lands as well as to encourage one another, in contemplating on the many possibilities of joining God in His mission. Patricia, who was to return to her homeland the next day, graced us with her prayers and the contagion of her joy and enthusiasm in the simplest things. Ah, it has been fun having her stay with us, even though just for a short while.

Friday: Met up with Val, the sweets of whose friendship was somehow availed to me through our common but thankfully former struggles with eating disorders. How we got acquainted with each other was nothing less than miraculous; but I guess I won't share it here. It's too long a story.

We ate at The Soup Spoon in Vivo Mall. Although there was a thick envelope of chatter around us emanating from the hungry lunchtime crowd, it was still amazing to catch up with one another after so long. We also chatted about our challenges as married women and former ED sufferers, as well as our hopes for more Church based ministries which might reach out to young women with body image issues. I felt.... blessed and encouraged. Not to mention wildly happy at the fact that I have found yet another food that I can eat without feeling sick - a tuna and mayo sandwich. Thank God! (Yesterday evening, the HK prawn dumpling noodles and I had a tiff.)

Well then, the weekend is here! Have a good one, folks.

When Simplicity is Not so Simple

One of the kinds of people whom I find very exhausting and trying when I'm either hurting or stuck in a rut...

...are those who make my problems sound so "simple" - and they are really convincing too, in the sense that they can even make me think of myself as weak and stupid for not being able to deal with such "simple" stuff.

"You should do this... I've/So-and-so has been through this situation X... Y was done and it worked, hallelujah! And then there was another situation Z... Y was done and it also worked. So easy. Don't worry. Trust God."

And then I go home and try Y for a while... it doesn't necessarily work... and in such cases, I finally give up, more discouraged than ever.

When I had eating disorders, I hated it most when people kept telling me to EAT. "Eat properly - don't count calories, stop yourself, just focus on balanced meals - Don't purge your food, the acid will damage your teeth and throat - You are beautiful the way you are, you don't need to be skinny." (Today, I still get annoyed whenever people scrutinise my eating habits and make uncalled-for comments.) As if it were so simple! I sometimes catch myself saying these things to sufferers and end up gnashing my teeth. The truth be told, most ED-sufferers know what is right and what is wrong. It's just hard to do the right thing. Sometimes you can't. Sometimes you don't want to - for various reasons. Sometimes you fear doing the right thing. Or sometimes, an underlying issue needs to be dealt with before one unlearns destructive acts. Simple but hard. I took more than ten years to get well. If it weren't for God's grace, I would have taken twice the number of years at least.

Empathise, people! Listen and emphathise. Don't judge. And you don't need to prove the simplicity of the problems faced by that unfortunate being (or solve them). Just pray and listen and empathise. Let God work.

I'm learning as well... to be kind.

Grace's Book of Waiting Records and EDs

Today, Dr. White preached a thoughtful sermon at chapel, which was nutshelled by his introductory words right at the beginning: "...If missions are to be revitalised, we must wait on God. God is GOD. His time is not our time. His ways are not our ways..." He went on to give us examples of how 3 Biblical characters, who had been called to do great things, waited long and hard on God before the time was ripe. Before God's time came to its fullness.

Very well then. 

I was momentarily and gracefully distracted there by my own random thoughts. Very Grace-like indeed. 

Sorry, Dr. White.

Pic source

Well, Grace, I thought... A huge part of your life was spent waiting. Waiting to "grow up". Waiting for things to fall in place. Waiting for open doors. Waiting for good things to happen. Waiting for bad things to cease. Waiting for hurts to heal. Waiting for people. Waiting to be loved by a guy who would accept you the way you are - nerdy and geeky. And then, you came to wait for answered prayers. You came to wait on God - for His time, His place, His ways. Most of the time, you thought that you would die waiting. It took you a long time to appreciate those two words - "Too late" - because almost everything was apparently too late... Baa baa...

Here, I remembered to switch myself back to "good student" mode. Back with Dr. White. 

I think that I have mentioned before that waiting was not my forte. Waiting still isn't that much easier for me now.

To pass time while waiting, I have been keeping a book of waiting records for the past 10 years or so. Kind of. It has many parts - and each part records (and journals) the waits that I've had to engage in for a  particular season within the decade. The less-than-private parts (mostly related to med-school, seminary and church/missions/ministries) were posted up on my blogs - as a way of keeping myself accountable to my family and friends. And my mentors.

I thought about Grace's Book of Waiting Records again later in the day - and amused myself by recalling and defining some record-breaking waits. The funniest wait. The most exasperating wait. The most miserable wait. The most embarrassing wait. The most assured/faith-filled wait. You name it. I was thoroughly amused. My mouth kept grinning. A fun brain exercise - and definitely more meaningful than my near-unconscious habit of adding up numbers on car license plates when I hit the roads. (A friend told me recently that I should save up more of my brain bandwidth for my course assignments. I quite agree with her. I would lose a lot less hair.)

My thoughts fell on the longest wait. The hardest wait too. 

The longest and hardest wait began way before I started blogging or journaling. When exactly it began, I do not really know. I was young - probably in my early teens. I am also unclear as to when exactly the wait ended. Or if it has ended completely. I just know... that I don't really feel like I am waiting any more. Perhaps, waiting for that grand finale has become a way of life that it feels normal.

I was formally diagnosed with eating disorders when I was 16. That was also when my journey to recovery formally began. 

I shared in Aug 2012 (12 years later) that I no longer qualify today as an eating disordered person according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition or DSM-IV. That is true. However, I am still working hard on tying up many loose ends. Realistically speaking, the uprooting of bad roots and the unlearning of bad emotional habits still have to go on. While I no longer obsess over calories, exercise compulsively, binge or purge - and indeed, I have come a long way by God's grace - I am yet a work in progress. By the look of things, this status quo will carry on for a long while more. Perhaps, I am living out the Coda of the whole symphony. But one thing is for sure - my more-than-a-decade-long journey to recovery has eventually made me passionate. Passionate about the fragile life that I yet possess - that was not lost despite the terrible illness. Passionate to live this fragile life to the fullest. Passionate to see others live their lives to the fullest. Period.

Going back to Dr. White's sermon - I was encouraged somehow, that long waits are not necessarily bad. They may not necessarily mean that you are weak or not pro-active enough or not trying hard enough. They may just mean that God's time is not our time - and He doesn't do short-cuts. I guess, when a person makes up his mind to follow Christ, one can be comforted and assured that God would certainly accomplish His purposes in the fullness of His time.

Another interview on EDs

I have been privileged to give talks on my former battle with eating disorders since year 2009. My audience consists mainly of Christian youth and women.

Speaking is both exciting and nerve-wrecking. Exciting - because it is God who graces me with such opportunities to participate in His ministry to the silent ED sufferers/potential sufferers among my audience; and it is God who makes me effective. I may not give the best of speeches - but the responses often overwhelm me with awe. Apart from Christ, I could have done nothing. Nerve-wrecking -- because (1) I am not very comfortable being cast in the role of a tragic figure in public, and (2) the initial stage-fright is a dreadful experience indeed. 

Nerves aside, speaking out is something that I am passionate about. It pains me to know that lives are being robbed everyday by this deadly illness (and ultimately by the Enemy, who uses it to his advantage). It frightens me to realise that many women in the Church are at risk of eating disorders, which cripple and hold them back from wholehearted worship. I am saddened by the complacent (and sometimes cynical) responses of the society to the illness. Well, I suppose we can't fully fault society for ignorance. Awareness of the illness and its dangers do need to be bred and nurtured more consistently among my fellow Malaysians. I am grateful for every little chance do my part. Ultimately, I hope to direct my audience to God's love, which inspires faith - and faith, hope.

 

Well, my territories are enlarging gradually. Earlier this year, I was interviewed for a feature in a local newspaper on eating disorders and the influence of social media on the body images of young people today. This week, I received a gracious invitation to be interviewed for another feature on eating disorders in Malaysia - this time, to be published in a women's lifestyle magazine. 

And so... I spent a major part of my Wednesday answering interview questions. 

It was fun! I enjoyed myself thoroughly (even while I was aware of my obligation to be very honest and careful at the same time). 

May Christ - my Saviour - be ultimately glorified.

All glory be unto God

A part of my life story went onto the local newspaper today. Thanks, Amanda Soo ~ for giving me the privilege to share. 

May Jesus Christ, my Lord and Saviour, be glorified ~ He who was crucified for the sins of the world on this day (or rather yesterday - if you are from the East side of the Globe), many many many years ago.

Indeed, in Christ, there is life. He died so that we may live. Whoever believes in Him should not perish - but have eternal life. (John 3:16, 10:10) Hope.

Why? Because He has risen. 

He lives. And He will come again.

You can read it at this link. This is the online version.

Blessed Good Friday, to all my Christian readers. And a blessed Easter too.

On being pai-seh and etcetera

I've been realising recently that I have been more pai-seh (self-conscious) than ever when it comes to asking for favours from people. Or asking for help. Or when it comes to saying things like, "Can I join you guys?" If I actually do ask for any of these, I will feel very bad and guilty after that.

I just feel like I am pushing myself forward a little too much. Why do I have a tendency to need to appear independent, macho and strong? Or is it because I am afraid of rejection? Perhaps, this has got something to do with my childhood experiences. Back in primary school (when the "I-don't-want-to-friend-you" was popular), I was often rejected by my friends. Not all, but some (and mostly the group which I really wanted to be part of). They unfriended me whenever they wanted, they called me "fat" when they knew that I hated it... but they would also befriend me again when I pleased them. I got pretty conscious about the things I said or did - and when I entered secondary school, I had gotten pretty good (at least I think so) at wearing masks in whatever way that pleased people. I thank God that I got to know Jesus ~ or I could have a multiple personality tendency. Today, the first impression people get of me is that I am prim and proper. I have gotten so used to being prim and proper that I can't tell if it is my nature or if it is a mask. Haha. The truth be told, I do wish that I was more "free" to be less prim and proper - and yet NOT feel bad about it. I also hate being painfully shy. It is a kind of pride, really.

But then again, there is nothing wrong with asking, right? It should be OK for me to ask for favours or ask if I could join others on a group thingy. Right? It should be fine for me to appear weak and admit that I am depressed/lonely (and that I am in need of good company). I pray for the courage to be vulnerable... to allow myself to be vulnerable.

As a result of me keeping my silence, I have suffered a lot. Self-condemnation, a sense of abandonment and the likes. I have much pent-up agony too. I sometimes feel very unwanted and unwelcome - even when logically speaking, I can think of many people who love and like me. Reflect deeper into this - I have concluded that I may not like myself very much. My husband mentioned, in a discussion we had tonight - that for some time, he observed that I had labeled myself as a "Dum-dum". (a.k.a. stupid) And then, I became more clumsy than ever, more timid than ever, more self-conscious, more depressed, more anti-social and more absent-minded. I would say that I became weirder than ever too. I could feel my weird-juices oozing out. No kidding.

But, the truth is, I am NOT a dum-dum! I was not meant to be a dum-dum. I don't think anyone is meant to be dum-dum anyway. We were all fearfully and wonderfully made by God. We were made in love.

Anyway... how I came to muse on this was because I have grown very tired of the phase I am currently in.

I have grown very tired of feeling exhausted every single day because I felt that I didn't match up to the expectations of people. I am tired of those sleepless nights of wondering what I could have done better.

I have grown very tired of wearing my masks - which are becoming heavier and heavier as the days go by. I feel like I am suffocating under them, in fact.

I have grown very tired of suspecting that so-and-so doesn't like me... OK, maybe so-and-so DOES not like me - but I would like to not give a damn about it. I would like to remember, when I feel someone's disapproval, that I do not have to apologise for being ME... that everybody makes mistakes once in a while. 

 I have grown very tired of my lack of confidence and insecurities - which lead me to say and do the most horrifying things, in hindsight. 

Oh God, help me.

Shallow Hal

Watched an old romantic comedy film ~ "Shallow Hal" ~ which was released in the year of 2001, back in those days when I neither watched movies nor knew movie stars such as Jack Black or Gwyneth Paltrow existed. (I only began watching movies after I had entered college... and that was past a point of no return. I really like watching movies now ~ good movies, that is.)

Basically, "Shallow Hal" is about a shallow, superficial, single, playboy, male chauvinist falling in love with a woman (Rosemary) who did not fit his worldly ideals on what beautiful was. 

I enjoyed the movie because I could really relate to the character of Rosemary - who weighed 300 pounds - even though I have never weighed 300 pounds... and Ben wasn't really like shallow Hal either. 

Rather, I imagined what Rosemary would have felt when a guy finally looked past what any other worldly guy would have been programmed to scorn (namely her obesity) and saw her heart. Besides, he truly enjoyed being with her and affirmed her strengths. I empathized deeply with her at the part whereby she did not believe Hal when he first told her that she was beautiful - simply because she had accepted, after many years of getting hurt, that she was unattractive and was unlikely to be admired by guys. I rejoiced when she eventually believed him. 

In my many years of battling eating disorders, I have gone from an emaciated anorexic to a normal-weight bulimic to a very overweight compulsive eater. I wasn't too concerned about being attractive to guys when I was anorexic and bulimic ~ but after I had overgrown my usual S/M sized clothing due to compulsive eating (and eventually, I couldn't find anything that fit me in the Asian shopping malls ~ not even the "extra-large" clothing), my concern grew larger than life. I have never really considered myself pretty or beautiful prior to that ~ but during that season of my life, I was convinced that I was right down ugly. Not only ugly - but also inferior to other girls in every way. (It didn't help that I was also incredibly nerdy and geeky!) The guys whom I secretly admired (and by whom I wished to be noticed) went on to date very beautiful ladies (and I say this very sincerely, that they are indeed beautiful - on the outside as well as on the inside). Because of my depression, I binged even more and gained even more weight. I also ceased to care about how I looked - and my dressing and make-up were abominable. I went on one too many failed (and backfired) fad diets that I finally grew fed up of diet-ing. Of course, by God's grace and healing (as well as the encouragement of close friends), I came to desire to honor God with my body - and therefore, good health. And so, while I still dressed carelessly and badly (and still looked nerdy and geeky), I began exercising and eating healthier to get back to my normal weight range. Meanwhile, failed relationships and heartbreaks (over the guys I mean) still happened. But I must say that it was through these sufferings, I grew close to God. I even began to enjoy my singlehood.

That was when Ben and I got to know one another (thanks to Lucas and Esther ~ I must have told you the story before). We became friends. And then, good friends.

Somehow, by God's grace and mercy (really!) Ben saw me very differently. (To appreciate this paragraph better, you'd have to look up my picture in the TMC 50th Anniversary book.) He was enabled to look past my unattractive outer appearance, geekiness, clumsiness and etc....to see my heart. He got captivated by who I am and the strengths he saw ~ rather than merely how I looked. Because of Ben's love and acceptance, I blossomed. I was transformed. I began to believe that I am beautiful. And the rest was history. Aside from the 300 pounds and shallow Hal, I could pretty much stand in Rosemary's shoes.  

"Shallow Hal" got me to reminisce those long-gone but yet fondly cherished days of courtship. More than anything, the movie reminded me of how blessed I am to be married to Ben. He is indeed a wonderful man... with a funny bone too.

I love you, hubby. Looking forward to making many more wonderful memories with you over the year of 2013. By the help of our God.

Post-Christmas and the eve of New Year's Eve

Pic credit: Uncle Geam Liang

Pic credit: Tairven

The weekend did not feel like a weekend ~ because I did not go to work the whole of last week (again). Thanks to the Christmas hols.

I feel like such a bum. I don't even feel like doing my assignments. But then again, my seminary life is resuming in a week's time. Since I am trying to graduate in 2013, it will be a very packed/exhausting year for me - and therefore, loads of rest is good. (Of course, I'd like to walk in the center of God's will. If it is not His will for me to graduate next year, I won't...even if it kinda kills me.)

Being free-er than usual meant that I had more (unwelcome) opportunities to dwell on negative or melancholic thoughts *le sigh*. It would have been good if those melancholies had been channeled into songs, but I did not write any. Anyway ~ I still am thankful. I am thankful that God is the God whom I can cry out to anytime, anywhere. When even the randomest thoughts become so burdensome and heart-breaking, I am thankful that I can cry out to God to save me from my weak, wavering self... and He would hear me. Need to guard my heart and mind in Christ ~ and only His peace can enable me to do so. 

New Year resolutions.... I am not one to make them; since I entered my 20s, I stopped making them because I just simply have never been very good at keeping them. However, if I were to really make just one resolution for next year, it wouldn't be losing weight, saving more money or even finishing the Bible in one year! It would probably be working on improving my emotional health, by God's help and grace. Poor emotional health is sort of the root of all evils, at least for me. And the Enemy uses it often to steal, kill and destroy. I have been working on this... but I could definitely work harder. And no, it's not like I can do anything much on my own ~ what I've got to work harder on is surrendering my emotions to God. That is still one of the hardest parts.   

Meant to blog a little more ~ but I have suddenly lost my train of thought. I guess this means bedtime.

Weight gain...

My joy and laughter despite it is a monument to the healing I have received from God for my eating disorders.

Yesterday, some people asked me, "Did you put on some weight or something? You look chubbier..." One friend even asked if I am pregnant. :S

Today, Stella asked me if I had put on weight ~ further allaying my recent suspicions of visual hallucinations with regards to my reflection in the mirror. She made a remark: "It must be the marital bliss...." 

Perhaps marital bliss too. But I think the real reasons for my weight-gain have got to do with PMS-y hormones, some peckish episodes (oopsie) and more happy eating than usual (because I was with wonderful company).

Years ago, I would have gone berserk, mourned in sackcloth and ashes (so you get the picture)... and quickly devised one of my killer plans for a fad diet. 

Today, I was surprised at how I could still smile at my reflection in the school bathroom mirror... and admire how pleasant the roundness made me look somehow. I was affirmed by the little voice in me... "Hey, this is still the Grace whom those who love you LOVE. You are loved. You are esteemed. You are beautiful."

And then I ate lunch at Mc-donald's.

EDs and voice training

Like I mentioned in some previous posts, I have a history of eating disorders (EDs). (You can click on "Eating Disorders" under the EASY LINKS section on the right side of my blog-page to read more of my "writes" on it.)

For those who only recently began following my blog... my EDs in a sort of nutshell: I had them for over a decade ~ anorexia nervosa, bulimia, compulsive eating and the likes. You could always ask me personally and I will be glad to elaborate (don't want to go into details here). Today, I still struggle a bit from time to time with self/body-acceptance ~ but I don't live the lifestyle or possess the mindset of an eating disordered person; and therefore I don't qualify as an eating disordered person anymore. 

I owe every part of my journey to recovery to Jesus Christ. 

It was only by looking at my illness in the light of my salvation in Him that I was able to truly hope, persevere and choose life over death. It was through His power, grace and the unconditional love He had shown me through my church friends that I was able to transform and heal... and the healing process continues, even today. For this season in time, against the backdrop of voice training...

Regarding voice training... 

Recently, I realized that it has become much easier to love and accept my body since I took up voice training. I don't see it as singing lessons - because it does so much more for me than merely helping me to sing better. Our voices are a total of who we are beyond skin-deep. Our voices reflect the well-being of our bodily functions, the regular meditations of our hearts and minds, as well as our spiritual landscape. Voice training ultimately leads one (while he/she engages in the process of setting his/her voice free) to appreciate the human anatomy; deal with the skeletons in one's closet; and most importantly, draw near to God (who has given us the breathing mechanisms into which we tap when singing). These aspects are valuable for  recovery from eating disorders - especially for those who have warped body images. 

Furthermore, since I'm a med school graduate, my voice teacher loves talking physiology at lengths with me - and so, we've explored some physiological mechanics of the musculoskeletal and nervous systems of the body in the light of singing. Via practical experiments and experiential awareness. (How did I get myself into such a nerdy situation? 8-P) I now love my body much more (despite the imperfections and fat) because I've reconciled with it more than ever - thanks to voice training. We are good friends now.

Friday's muse

Had a delightful lunch and fellowship with Wee Lyn this afternoon. How refreshing!

I have come a long way.

Back in my ED days, I was so paranoid with my food that I turned down all invitations out to lunch/parties/dinners/etc. Firstly, I hated unpredictability especially with regards to what I ate ~ and eating out with friends is all about being unpredictable. Period. Secondly, I was aware of how freaky my eating habits were to the onlookers ~ I didn't want to scare anybody even while I couldn't stop myself. Thirdly, I dreaded the severe stress and trauma from post-meal guilt... and sometimes, the purges.

Today, I thank God for His deliverance ~ that I no longer qualify (according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition or DSM-IV) as an eating disordered person. I thank God that I can enjoy the sweetness of being able to fellowship with my friends and loved ones over a sumptuous meal ~ something that we take for granted sometimes. I thank God that my loved ones do not need to worry about me and my EDs anymore. It has been a rough journey for them while I was struggling for those many years ~ and regardless of how bad I felt for them, I couldn't do anything much about it because I was consumed in my own battles. And I thank God even, for the new freedom/life that came out of my struggles. I feel even better about life now than I did before I had my EDs.

I was too clever for my psychiatrist

I have such a battle with mood sometimes.

Depression is something that I've struggled with since my late-teens ~ and it tends to last for much longer and darker periods of time than your typical sad and lonely. During such periods, I find it terribly difficult to live my life to the fullest because depression zaps away my passion, zeal, creativity and resourcefulness. I can still work and function (and because of the perfectionist in me, I can be excellent) - but everything just feels bland and robotic. Partially to be blamed is my melancholic personality; many things (songs, movies, thoughts, life situations, people's words, etc) send me walking down that lane of "emo"-ness that leads to trouble.

I've tried anti-depressants before (when I was diagnosed with eating disorders) - my psychiatrist prescribed them. However, they did not work too well for me. Also unfortunately, I got too clever for my psychiatrist - I told her what she wanted to hear and pretended well enough to get me out of treatment before I really recovered. (I should have been an actress.) It was not my psychiatrist's fault, but mine. I did not want to deal with the painful roots of my depression back then; I guess I wasn't ready... and there was nothing anyone could do about that. Eating disorders complicated the picture - and so, I am very glad that EDs are not a big part of my life anymore. Thank God.

The only thing that really helps me is being with people (even though I despise meeting any when I am down) ~ the right kind of people, that is! Friends who pray with me, encourage me and help me to see things in a different light. You will more or less know when I am badly depressed, because I tend to withdraw from people and stop communicating. More than anything, I have been learning, in the past 10 years or so, to draw near to God. This has involved knowing His love for me and being assured that He does not despise/mock a contrite heart. To draw near to God - I blog, I read the Bible, I make it a point to spend time alone with Him, talk to Him, cry out to Him, ponder on nature (where God's fingerprints are so apparent), and not lose touch with my church/Christian/seminary community. It takes a lot of discipline for me (only by God's grace have I ever succeeded) - but it works miracles. Of course, now that I am married, my husband has often done a brilliant job in helping me. Even so, our marriage sometimes suffers the brunt of my depression episodes - because of my dread for intimacy when I'm depressed. I am just so thankful for God's grace and love availed through my husband.

I would additionally recommend anyone with depression to take good care of his/her health and appearance. Exercise, eat healthily (instead of emotional binges on junk food - been there, done that... Food can really affect the chemical balance responsible for mood), self-groom, self-love, invest in good skin-care and make-up, etc. Treat yourself to excursions into the nature, a trip to the beach, a spa, a manicure or a holiday if it helps. These things, although so difficult to initiate, can make such a difference. I can testify.

WebMD lists some symptoms of clinical depression, which I'll quote here just in case some of my readers can identify with them and find a cause for seeking help:

• difficulty concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions
• fatigue and decreased energy
• feelings of guilt, worthlessness, and/or helplessness
• feelings of hopelessness and/or pessimism
• insomnia, early-morning wakefulness, or excessive sleeping
• irritability, restlessness
• loss of interest in activities or hobbies once pleasurable, including sex
• overeating or appetite loss
• persistent aches or pains, headaches, cramps, or digestive problems (including IBS) that do not ease even with treatment (I get this often.)
• persistent sad, anxious, or "empty" feelings
• thoughts of suicide, suicide attempts ---> more than 1 in 10 majorly depressed people get into this.

Other than thoughts of suicide/suicide attempts (which I've outgrown since I stepped into my twenties, thank God), I have most of the above symptoms during any depression period. I am still considering whether it is best to take anti-depressants at the rate I am going. Maybe I'll pass them for the time being, because conservative therapy yet works for me.

The blogger is struggling with an episode of depression while putting up this blog-post. Prayers would be much appreciated.

Monday

Sipping my cup of Dr. Stuart's Tea, listening to my phone playlist of Korean songs and trying to prepare myself for the next few days of school.

I have grown to love the routine of going to the seminary in the mornings. I'm not sure (and I don't intend to contemplate on it right now) of how it will be like when I have to finally stop going there or if I will ever stop, haha. All I know is that I would probably be continuing some form of part-time/long-distance theological education even while I work, minister and engage in marriage + motherhood. That is my commitment to God ~ to never stop equipping myself to give and serve Him better, even when I find it demanding. Be it theologically or with regards to other skills (including language ones). Of course, in His timing and according to His will. By His strength and grace.

Did some stretches and tried dancing again today (after many years of rest). Loved the feel of my body expressing heart-felt emotions. Pushing and controlling it in order to move gracefully and lyrically afforded me much joy. Observing my reflection in the wall mirror while I danced filled me with wonder. The last time I danced, I was still in that deep pit of my eating disorders. Today, it felt good dancing out of the miry clay. I thank God for His deliverance. Going forth, may I dance with more freedom ~ for the glory of God.

Sunday

What began with a nightmare ended with lots of laughter over Ji's and Hwa's dining table and a celebratory choc-chip cupcake (courtesy of Kimmy).

Nightmare ~ Ji claims that it was because of my stress (over the talk I was to give today) that the nightmare was shaped. Rather, I think that it was a result of all the pizza I ate the previous night at the gathering! Whatever the cause, I woke up this morning with deep anguish of the soul and profuse perspiration. Attending the service at TOC (Tabernacle of Christ) afforded me much comfort. Nothing beats encountering God first thing in the morning, after a semi-sad, semi-shocking dream in the night. While Ji did not come to church with me (because she had to be on-call today), I was glad of Ewan and Laura's company - otherwise I would have felt very alone. I hardly know anyone at TOC!

The sharing with the TOC youth on eating disorders went OK. Nothing much to be said about it, except that I was extremely nervous before and after I gave the talk, haha. The agitation of nerves had already begun 2 days prior; and so, can you imagine my immense, immense RELIEF now that everything is over? :P My greatest desire is that God would use my sharing in His own way (despite its many inadequacies) to touch or even heal at least one heart. Or to empower someone to minister to his/her friend who is suffering from EDs. Or whatever. God, may Your will be done. It must have been a divine appointment for me to share this weekend - random as it may have seemed to the youths and myself. God, I trust You.

Spent a good few hours just pondering on Pst. Francis' sermon, talking to God and reflecting on life in the evening (over cafe latte at Gloria Jeans). Apparently, through the two sermons preached on two different nights this weekend by two different pastors of two different churches (on two different topics too), God seemed to have spoken to me these same words: "Your life is not found in ministry, but in the relationship you have with the Father." It was really a confirmation of/complement to what God had spoken to me in the past week - my life should be in God and my world should be God.

Yups, I am certainly not done reflecting on the significance of those words yet, as well as the ultimate reason I am in Singapore this week. So God, please show me.

I was telling Ben how much this trip to Singapore has helped me. But I am really missing my husband now...so I look forward to going back to Penang the coming Tuesday - although I'd be sad bidding my friends farewell.

Reporting from the school-of-hard-knocks...

PERFECTIONISM. I have known myself to have a severe case of it since my days in Dublin.

My student pastor alerted me to it. From my behavior, tendencies and violent struggles with bulimia at that time, he had already detected it. "Perfectionism kills," he had warned.

I don't think I took him that seriously. I was after all a half-baked, naive, junior medical student. Thinking that the world is my oyster.... which I with my perfectionism would open! ("Perfectionism" as opposed to Pistol's "sword" in Shakespeare's play ~ The Merry Wives of Windsor -1600)

Praise God - I have matured ever since... and part of the maturing process requires that I am transformed by the renewing of the mind. And having renewed my mind, I now see that there is something wickedly, grotesquely twisted about perfectionism. I really need to get perfectionism out of my system.

Anyway, I was talking to Ben today about some weird tendencies that I still am unable to kick. I tend to be too hard on myself. Too critical of my performances. And I give myself too high expectations that I am unlikely to achieve.

We were actually talking about the possibility of me in the preaching ministry someday (yikes) - and I was expressing much reluctance because I don't have much confidence (yet) when it comes to talking before a sea of faces. I recounted one of those talks I gave to the youths once and shuddered as I remember my own perception of my performance. I remember myself walking away from the microphone feeling extremely frustrated with myself for not having done better. My mistakes, although mostly forgotten by others, glared at me from my near past - almost in a mocking manner. The youths are probably laughing behind my back now, I thought. Imagine my surprise when Uncle GL - one of the youth coordinators - came up to me with a sheet of paper where he had jotted down some observations. And guess what, most of the feedback I received was positive. Half-encouraged, I still thought that Uncle GL was being too kind.

"But you were good," Ben affirmed.

Fast forward back to my conversation with Ben this evening; having recalled the effects of the youth-talk on my confidence to speak publicly (gah!!!), I was led to reflect on my working style.

Whenever I work on something - be it an academic paper, an artwork, song-writing, a performance or preparations to do upfront ministries - if I make just one mistake OR if I feel dissatisfied with my work.... one of the following 3 things usually happens:

1. If it is a personal-project kind of thing (think artwork, song-writing) - I would be very upset/discouraged and not want to continue, feeling mediocre. Unless someone convinces me good - and it must be someone whom I trust to not flatter!

2. If it is a project with deadline (think academic paper or prep for upfront ministries) - I would be very upset/discouraged and keep going back to where I began (over and over again) to see if I can tweak something to make it better. And then I would keep checking and re-checking to see if it all "flows". This obsession drives me up the wall and yet I often feel some SICK sense of satisfaction when I engage in it. It's like a love-hate affair. 

3. If it is a performance (say, playing the piano or singing solo for an audience) - I would feel very upset/discouraged on the spot. This would sear my confidence and potentially cripple the rest of my performance. And then I'd get even more depressed. It is a vicious cycle. 

*Sigh* No wonder God is refining me by putting me to work in teams. It is hard to be an individual perfectionist while engaging in team-work. You would be busy getting mad at the imperfections of people or making enemies while expecting perfection out of your team-mates. OR you could burn-out trying to edit others' work to perfection.

Anyone can relate to this? :P

Of course there are many other weird behaviors, but I won't elaborate on them here. Related to my perfectionism and eating disorders, I am a person who finds it very difficult to stand in between two extremes. (I must have blogged about this sometime ago - all that "de ja vu" suddenly! xD) Neither do I feel comfortable in the middle of two extremes. Whenever I find myself there, I tend to attempt to slide back to either one of the extremes. In between the extremes of "perfect" and "absolutely mediocre", once I perceive myself away from "perfect" and nearer to "absolutely mediocre" than the distance between these two extremes... I kill myself (figuratively) trying to make my way to "perfect". Even when I am at "imperfect but good". This is quite silly actually, when deep down inside, I recognize that I can never be perfect ~ and that I am wasting too much time trying to be what I can never be.

No wonder, I suffer from so much depression. Silly melancholic girl!

To quote Ben: "Perfectionism may produce excellent work, but it is a sickness to yourself." I really need to learn how to draw the line between excellence that comes from living life to the fullest ~ and the perfectionism that kills. To differentiate between excelling in order to honor God and excelling in order not to feel mediocre. To joyfully celebrate with Christ whether I excel or fail to do so.

May God help me in His merciful and gracious ways.