**Hello Good Loggers! It's been a while! We have all be so busy with life. Resting, too.
About three months ago I became aware that I was severely under-nourishing my body. Eating about half the needed calories for my size and activity level. I am a little under 40 and have 5 busy children that keep me standing or walking all day long. I was hungry all the time but didn't know it. My body had turned off that signal because I ignored it for so long.
At first, I was afraid if I ate more I'd balloon up. It hasn't happened. I'm kind of the same. BUT I'm eating when I'm hungry and eating enough to give me energy thru the day. Energy to keep up with life with all these demands.
Thru sharing my struggle and being accountable to my husband and best friends, I am getting better. It's challenging though...when I feel stressed I fall back into old habits of not listening to my body. My story is a result of decades of listening to everything BUT my body. Here is something I wrote a bit ago as I processed this chapter.
Reach out if you want to chat if you have similar struggles. addie.gerlach@gmail.com **
See that girl? She is starving.
At least the starving Holocaust victims knew the hell in which they were living wasn’t normal, wasn’t God’s intention. At least they didn’t put themselves there. My prison was by accident. I got there by being fed all the wrong things: misunderstanding, restriction, shame. I traded my descending whirlpool for health. I thought I was healthy. I thought I was smart. I was starving.
Starving for affection and attention, I created fights with my loved ones. Hangry—anger coming from hunger. So very angry. Not knowing my boundaries, not knowing where a friend ended and I began. Codependent.
Starving. Experiencing life in sepia, toned down color. Not the vibrancy with which God created this world. Like Dorothy’s emerald glasses, seeing something that was inaccurate and distorted.
Starving. Empty, but full of shame.
But God.
See this girl, now she is changing from the inside out. Listening to her body.
