On Religion

Lord I lift Your name on High
Lord I love to sing Your praises
I'm so glad You're in my life
I'm so glad You came to save us
You came from Heaven to Earth to show the way
From the Earth to the cross, my debt to pay
From the cross to the grave, from the grave to the sky
Lord I lift your name on High

When I was younger I was taught that there was a God who was always watching over me, everything I did, everything I thought, even the things I didn't know about... He did.  I believed with all my heart, I laid in my bed every night and imagined the ceiling opening up and seeing the dark sky painted with stars, I closed my eyes and thought of all I wanted God to know so He could hear me.  I praised Him for being there for so many people.  "Dear God, are you listening?  I need your help; You see there is a lot going on down here on Earth, the world seems to be falling apart.  I want to pray for peace, God.  Can you help?  I know you are up there with all of the Angels, can you send one to watch over me?"  Then I thought of my Grandmother, who was an Angel before I was born, I said, "Grandma, if you can hear me, will you be my Guardian Angel if God is too busy?"

I don't know how, but at some point I gave up.  My nights turned into me running emergency drills in my head and sleeping with a baseball bat and my dearest possessions, Special Bear.  Just in case there was a robbery or a kidnapping or a fire... I was 8 when I started worrying about these things.

Bad things kept happening, I prayed but I didn't believe anymore; I didn't believe that a "God" would have a "perfect plan" for a little girl to see a world the way she did.  'He's not there, He doesn't care about me, He left me alone.'  Then I became angry, but I was never given the chance to be angry at the people who hurt me, no, I let them take all of my power; I turned that anger into hate- self hate.  "Why would God (if He really exists) do this to me?  Why would He do this... I must be bad.  I must deserve this.  I must be punished."  I tried to take control of something so I controlled the dirty, rotten, bad feelings inside me.  I thought I could be clean if I didn't put bad things in me... bad things, bad things like food.

Now why would a religion make someone feel so inferior?  When God forgot about me I felt like I was nothing, like I wasn't even human because "Jesus LOVES the little children, all the children of the world."  But Jesus didn't love me enough to keep me safe, so therefore...  This THING that is meant to give people hope and healing was making me feel worthless. Jesus died on the cross for our sins "Please God, forgive them, for they know not what they've done."  I didn't want to forgive because to me that meant forgetting and I wouldn't let that happen.  Why have these horrible things been forgiven, justified?  It just doesn't seem right.  I felt betrayed and invalidated by the very POWER that was supposed to save me.

Years past of thinking and feeling like this.  Several miserable years.  Still sometimes I couldn't handle Earth on my own and I cried for help... nothing.  A few weeks ago my psychiatrist wanted me to try a "Christian Renewal" Eating Disorders program.  I laughed and said "no" I refused.  A week past and I saw her again even more dead than I was before, she sat in her office with me for well over an hour as I built up the courage to call.  I was being admitted the next day.  When I got there I was set on not changing.  The Eating Disorder had filled the holes that were left when God forgot me.  The Eating Disorder was always there... but it wanted to kill me.  There was chapel morning and evening, 7 days a week.  The first several days I stayed in my room, then one morning my therapist came up and said that she thought I should go, so I walked that direction and sat in the hall and listened.  The Chaplin was talking about how "God loves you no matter what, and He has always been there, He has felt your pain and taken your pain for you." I thought and thought and thought... I thought that something had to change or I was going to die.  So that night I walked in and sat in the back, I allowed myself to take it all in.  I kept going, thinking that if I try hard enough to believe than a miracle will happen.  I'll get better.

One day the Chaplin preached about how you have to have FAITH, you have to believe with your heart that He will heal you and you will be healed.  I spent my second weekend there in the chapel just thinking, trying to make amends and put the pieces back together.  I thought I was making progress and that God really was with me all along, because if he wasn't, than I would surely be dead.  Much worse could have happened, maybe those things happened because people have free-will.  Maybe He has a purpose for me and I had to know what it felt like to be there so that I could help someone else.  I believed and I cried and I prayed and asked for forgiveness because I just wanted to be at peace.  Then Monday came and we got a call from the Insurance company that I was being kicked out that Friday.  Why?  Sabotage.  This is my LIFE, this is not a game of cards.  How could you kick me out of the hospital?  Every time... everytime.

I don't know why but I kept walking into chapel every day and every night.  I worked so hard to be ready to leave early.  All of those fears of abandonment were resurfacing, but the Chaplin told me that God wanted me to forgive the past... look forward, because living in the past is like driving a car backwards; that is not what cars are made for. 

Here I am, day one of my New Beginning.  It's been rough, but I know that it will be worth it.  I have a purpose, and that purpose is not to be fertilizer.