St. John Vacation 2015

Yesterday, I packed up my suitcase and-- with great hesitation-- left the island of St. John.  After a week of swimming at the beach; hanging out with my family and tenaciously attacking the hills on my morning runs, it was time to go home.  As I took one last swim in the ocean, I reminisced on the girl who had visited St. John last year.  I was suddenly struck with immense gratitude that the Lord has intervened in my life since then, that He has rescued me from that life.  When I was in the depth of my eating disorder, there was no such thing as a "vacation."  The thoughts didn't stop.  The anxiety didn't dull and the fatigue didn't subside.  As I've said before: I was stuck in motion.


But this year's vacation was different (RELATED: Spring Foward). It was paddleboarding in the ocean and reading on the beach. It was hiking and running and napping when all the activity wore me out.  It was Bananagrams with my family and movie nights full of laughter.  This year was better for so many reasons, but to keep it short and sweet, I've rounded out the top five reasons my trip to St. John was made better by God's grace in my recovery from anorexia. Take a look, and remember: All the glory is to Him:

1. Relaxing with my family
One of the best parts about this past week was the culmination of all the little things.  I enjoyed the ease of being able to hang out with the group, and being able to focus on fun instead of food or exercise.  We had movie nights almost every evening and it was such a blast to be at rest, in every essence of the word.

2. Snorkeling
Snorkeling is hands-down one of my favorite activities! I'm fascinated with the notion of being part of a different world, observing the buzz of life just under the water's surface.  For the past few years though, I could never snorkel for more than twenty minutes because I would get so cold and tired in the water.  But I am physically healthy now, and as if that isn't enough of a miracle, God decided to shower me with blessings while I snorkeled last week.  I saw sting rays, turtles, flounder, squid, pufferfish, eels and thousands of other colorful creatures.  Each one was a little reminder: "I love you Hannah."

3. Food!

This is the Chicken Parmigiana I had at da Livio. 

It may sound crazy, but my family's favorite place to eat on the island is a  little Italian restaurant in the center of town.  It's amazingly authentic and I knew that we would be going there during the trip.  So, with  much apprehension: I sat down with my dietician and told her I wanted to challenge myself to eat dinner at the restaurant-- which has no nutritional information available, sufficiently freaking me out.  She helped me figure out something to fit my mealplan, and let me tell you: my worry drained away after the first bite of my chicken parmesan.  In fact, I looked up in amazement at the faces of everyone else.  Was this what I had been missing?  Every time people say food is "to die for," is this what they mean?!?!  I took a bite of the spaghetti and was equally floored.  Woah.  Food is good guys.  I'm so glad we went out to eat there.  For many reasons: I'll never forget that night.

4. Amazing running
This year, I am healthier than I've been in four years.  That meant I was rearing to get out for a run on the island of St. John (RELATED: St. John 2014).  The roads are nothing more than a series of V's, rising and falling against the backdrop of the sea.  The trails are no different.  So I knew that I was up for a challenge.  I felt stronger than ever.  Even when I had a bad run a couple of times and even though my pace was incredibly slow due to the hills/mountains: I had a blast.  I didn't get discouraged and I kept the mind of an adventurer as I leaped over rocks and roots in the National Park.  I smiled at townspeople, who gave a bewildered look at the tourist running up the mountain at 7:30 a.m.  I gained confidence this past week and I had a blast doing it.  Last year, I was fading out.  This year, God is doing a new thing (RELATED: When I Run, I Feel His Pleasure).

5. Exploring the island
Aside from the running, I thoroughly enjoyed the ability to meaner around the resort and do whatever sounded fun.  Did I want to play frisbee golf?  Did I want to sit and read?  I found myself struggling to be still and not give in to old habits of over-exercise, but I was able to keep up with the good habits I've established and that made the week so enjoyable for me.  We went on a hike as a family and we visited some shops downtown.  Some of that required a lot of physical activity and some of it required long bumpy rides in the Jeep, to get to our destination.  And I was able to do it.  He enabled me to do it.

I can't thank the Lord enough for the blessing of this vacation- for the time with my family and time for relaxation.  It was awesome, and it refueled me in so many ways.  Now it's time to buckle down and get ready for my return to Butler in a few short weeks.  The trip to St. John and my last seven months at home have prepared me.  I'm not done with this recovery process, but I'm going full speed ahead.  I'm learning and growing in every way I can, soaking up this precious time with my family and friends at home, because- like our family vacation- it'll be gone in the blink of an eye.

And please: hang around the blog as I'm planning to publish posts on my favorite running spots, snorkeling spots and hiking trails on St. John USVI.  Until then: Be blessed :)

Love,
Hannah

No Longer Stuck in Motion

God has broken a big barrier in my life.  Thanks to a pesky injury and ten days of severe pain, I have been able to challenge the eating disorder behavior, compulsive movement.

It started with a weird pain in my leg during a run, which I promptly stretched and iced.  But the pain turned out to be terrible inflammation in my SI joint and running, let alone walking, became impossible.  So the anxiety set in, because if I can't walk, then...then...what?  I didn't know and I didn't want to face the possibility that I might have to sit still, which was not even plausible because of the lifestyle I'd developed during my eating disorder, making exercise a huge part of my life.

And it's the part of my recovery journey that I've kept secret....that is, until now.

I've been very vocal about my eating disorder on this blog.  For one, it's my active defiance against shame- of where I am and where I've been.  I also believe in the power of testimony, in showing what God has done in my life- that's how we overcome (Romans 12:11)  I've had little trouble opening up about my challenges with food: Restricting it, skipping it and limiting it.  But I've never formally talked about my struggle with exercise. (RELATED: Why Strong is Not The New Skinny)

Why is that?

Why is it that the idea of being vulnerable leaves me shaky and full of fear.  I know am not given a spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7), but it is so hard when the world is right here and Jesus can seem so far away.  I fear it will discredit my love of running and hiking, that it will make the world laugh in my face.  But then I remember all the good that has come from shedding light on the struggles in my life, and I know that staying silent is not an option.

What's the truth?

The truth is, I've hinted at this struggle to many friends and family, but they don't seem to get it.  The truth is, this week has been miraculous for reasons many of you will never understand.  It has brought me to my knees before the Lord, in the realization that I cannot continue to push my body to the brink of exhaustion.  Even more important: I don't have to.  All my life I've felt like I have to be the tough one, the strong one: But true strength is letting go and surrendering to the hold of the Savior. (RELATED: Surf the Urge)

God has been with me through it all, though.  He was there last fall, when I spent my Friday nights walking the stairwells on campus, with tears in my eyes and terror in my heart.  He was there when I took off across town, sentencing myself to 15 mile bike rides in secret.  He was there when I formed all the rules: No sitting until 9 p.m., I must walk at least two hours in addition to my run, no sitting at meals.  I missed Bible studies; movie outings and nights with friends, all because I was terrified to sit.
Yet, there was one night, in the stairwell, when I hit rock bottom.  It had been a day of lonely failure, and I had retreated to the place I new best: A concrete prison that had become my solace when the sun set.  But my frustration came pouring out, and I eventually collapsed on a step.  All alone, I cried out to God in hopelessness.  It was December and it felt like my world was falling down.

And I sat there and pleaded with the Lord, begging Him to change me and make it all okay.  But then I realized I was sitting, and that "wasn't allowed."  So I wiped the tears and resumed my routine.

A lot has changed since that night, but there is still a measure of fear in me, fear of being "found out."  But when I look back at the old Hannah, I realize just how much God has done in five short months.  And then I look back and am amazed at all He has done in this past week.

The truth is, we are His masterpieces, works in progress.  I've been so hesitant to share this because of the shame, but after the wholeness I have found this week, I can't help but share.  The truth is bursting out of me like a secret I cannot contain.  I was bound up, but now I'm free.  I was once held to rules and laws about when I can rest; now I am beginning to leave those behind for good.

This is my "thing".  We all have one, and we all hide it away so no one can see.  We cloak it in darkness until the Lord brings it to light in a glorious display of our surrender in the hands of His redemption.  I have been so ashamed of this part of my life, but the Lord has worked wonders in me this week, through something I only saw as a terribly unfortunate event.  But amidst all my whining and complaining, I began to see Him orchestrating something marvelous.  I began to see the hands of God in one of the largest struggles I have ever had.  This is my thing.  It's now out for the world to see, published on a little blog in the blogosphere of writing where the world bears its heart.  But in sharing "my thing," I hope to open the door for others, so we can crack this wall of shame and let the light come streaming in. (RELATED: Tear Down the Walls)

I'm no longer stuck in motion, thanks to this glorious grace.  God is good, all the time.

Love,
Hannah

Reaching Out, Remembering Who I Am

It's been a while since I've ventured into the blogosphere.  I've been pretty busy with running, work and nannying (RELATED: Adventures in Babysitting).  Yet, it's been more of an emotional hiatus, in all honesty.  I have been lacking.  Lacking in words to say and thoughts to pour out.  It's not that they aren't there, but rather: The swirling mass in my head has been too daunting to crack into.

It's been weeks of self-pity and anger, followed my success and elation.  It's been good runs and bad runs, great body image and days I've wanted to hide in my closet.  It's been filled with feelings of great loneliness and feelings of camaraderie and connection.  A lot of that is due to the fact that I'm a screwy twenty-year-old who is pretty unsure of her way in this world.  No, I'm not unsure of who I am in Christ and what that means in my life.  But I am pretty diffident when it comes to "being Hannah."

As many of you know, I've spent five years in an eating disorder.  In the midst of all the restriction and isolation, I missed high school.  Schoolwork, relationships and socializing all took a backseat to anorexia.  And I let the monster hide in the closet, covering it up with a bubbly personality and militaristic drive.  I ignored the invitations until they stopped coming, and then it was just me and the eating disorder.  And God.

I've since realized that as much as I tried to distant myself, the Lord has always been right by my side.  Just like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, He was right there when I felt like all my friends had disappeared.  He was right there when I went from a state ranked runner to a washout my senior year.  (RELATED: It is well with my soul) All along, He knew why and He knew me.  And just like He was with me then, He is with me now.  Now, as I try to reestablish friendships; as I, like a fish flopping on the deck, get a glimpse of my world and try to make sense of it.  Unlike the metaphorical fish though, this is where I belong. As much as I feel like an outsider and foreigner in the young-adult world of friends and professionalism and dating, I am created to have connection.  It's easy to forget that, to return to my hiding place and not to the scary world that I'm suddenly apart of again.  But then I remember.

I remember that Christ has created me to be with others, and I- just like you- am fearfully and wonderfully made.

I remember that I am a work in progress, and greatly improved than I was last year.

I remember that anorexia used to be my only friend, but now that door has opened wide and I'm still new to this "social" thing.

I remember that it's ok to be awkward- to trip on my feet, talk too much and to say things I think are funny but are met with a silent stare.

Yep.  That's me.  I have a passion for running (but it's no longer my idol), I love to travel, I have a knack for crossword puzzles and a constant thirst for tea.  I've never seen Harry Potter and I love HGTV.  I'd rather hike a mountain than go shopping and I don't think I'm particularly coordinated- which doesn't go well with the whole "mountain hiking" thing.  And above all: I'm crazy about God.

But it's scary to let the world see me, especially when it seems like everyone else has their life-routine pretty solidified. I mean, how I can't just take a course:  "How to be likable and make friends."  Such is my dilemma.

So as I flop along,  coming to terms with how Hannah fits into society, I also remember that I can be confident in who I am.  I don't have to be afraid of rejection, and I really don't have to "fit in" to society in the first place.  Frankly, I'd rather  flip society on it's head than try and hide away in the masses; a social light rather than a socialite (I like puns too).  (RELATED: Tear Down the Walls)

That being said: Can you all just like me? Yep.  That's what my mind immediately goes to, because I want to be liked and I sure don't want to put myself out there just to be rejected.  Here's the thing though: I'm tired of rejecting myself before I give the world a chance to let me in.  I'm finally taking the leap and it's worth it.  Hanging out with friends reminds me how cool it is to let the world in, and so does getting letters and texts and even requests to pray for others.  It's a reminder, a reminder that I'm a human amongst humans and I belong- as awkward as I am.

I pray that this purging of thoughts and emotions is of some encouragement to you.  I hope it reminds you that you too, have something incredible to offer and that your worries aren't worth the wasted time.  I pray that each of us can recognize God in this moment, before we get to our Emmaus- a fleeting and trivial goal or destination.  Remember, my friend, that you are dearly loved.  And for goodness sakes, the next time the "new kid" makes an attempt to say hello, remember that we're all flawed- and fragile- humans.  Let's not waste anymore of our already-precious time.  (RELATED: My Recovery Bucket List)

Love,
Hannah

Tear the Walls Down and Start Planting

I am extremely good at letter writing and I'm skilled at crossword puzzles.  I also a pro at hula hooping.  True facts.

What I don't admit with as much pride, is the fact that I'm pretty awful at is being secure in who I am.  It's something I've blogged on before and it's one the key reasons I kept the world at bay for so long.  I reasoned that if people didn't know me, they couldn't reject me.  The past few months have been a grand effort to reconnect and rediscover the world around me.  I've been transparent as I can be on this blog, but as God has revealed to me lately: It's not just transparency that matters. (RELATED: My Next Step)

While it's important to let the world in, I believe it is equally important to be a part of it.  What good is is to simply write about my life and what God is showing me, if I do nothing with it in actuality (RELATED: Motivated by Hope)? But the hard part about that is: confidence.  It's something I'm still learning to have, after years of putting up a front as the perfectionist student and athlete.  It is hard to have confidence in the real Hannah, the one who can't think of good Instagram captions and who cries at just about everything.  But confidence- courage-  is what we need in order to make an impact, otherwise we just fade to the background and let history repeat itself.

See, it reminds me of the story in John 5, where we (along with Jesus) meet a paralytic man at the pool of Bethzatha (For the sake of time, click HERE to read the full story).  This man had already taken the first step: He had become transparent in His brokenness.  For thirty odd years, he had most likely camped out at that pool and let the world see how broken, poor and miserable his life was.

Such raw transparency produces one of two things: Peace that leads to confidence OR shame.

As I've seen in my life, breaking down walls is only beneficial if you proceed to toil the ground, to break up the soil (RELATED: Perfect Peace).  I had to break the soil of perfectionism (RELATED: Spiritually Face Washing). I had to rip out the roots of control and fear and patterns that had gripped my existence.  And I had to plant new life, new hope with a firm foundation.  A foundation in Christ.  If we are stripped bare for the world to see and there is nothing planted, that's when shame takes root.  We begin to feel ashamed of our failures; like a naked Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, we seek to hide.  (RELATED: The Other Walls I've Been Dealing With)

 But Jesus- the foundation, the cornerstone- tugs at our hearts.  Just like He does for us, He came  to the paralytic man and whispered hope.  Jesus told that man to pick up his mat and walk, and sure enough, after decades of inactive legs: The man popped to his feet.

Woah.

Can you imagine how fast he must have run from that place?  I can just picture him sprinting through the streets, eyes shining with elation.  He had met the healer.  He had encountered Jesus.

So have we.  We have the Spirit with us every moment.  We have the foundation of Jesus that will hold us up when we tear down these walls that hold us in.  As we tear down walls and toil the ground, shame gives way to peace.  For, I may be laid bare, but I am not barren.  I'm not just being transparent anymore; I'm being a participant in life, one who is not ashamed of brokenness.  

I've experienced Jesus, so you'd better believe I'm going to run for joy.  I've seen Him in my running, something I've been able to do again after so long.  I've seen Him healing relationships, exposing lies and providing comfort when I just need to cry in His arms.  And when we know Him, we know confidence, we know courage.  We know peace.

I'm tearing down the walls.  I'm letting the world in.  Now, watch me as I begin to step out.  Full sail ahead like a boat without an anchor.  I cannot and will not let shame tie me down anymore.  I am going to be transparent and at peace, because I was once paralyzed in fear and now I'm set free.

Ten Random Things I've Done This Week

Sometimes I like to discuss the trials of life....and sometimes my brain gets tired and I like to hang upside down on my bed for no reason except it makes my feet feel tingly.  So in the spirit of random blog posting- it is my blog after all- here's a list of ten random things I've done this past week:

1. Watched far too many episodes of Gilmore Girls on Netflix.  It's my newest guilty pleasure.

2. Taped pictures on my wall with poster tape I found in the house

3. Found a great new blend at Teavana: Cococaramel SeaSalt, Opus Rouge and Honeybush Vanilla!

4. Increased my mileage by 20% after a successful week of recovery and running, had some crappy runs and didn't get discouraged.

5. Took way too many pictures with my dog, Lily

6. Went square dancing

7. Read through my old diaries and old letters I'd written

8. Started a new book: "Beautiful Outlaw" by John Eldridge 

9. Tried a new protein bar (GoMacro) and it was fabulous!

10. Found three new names to add to my list of "Favorite Names" that I've been keeping since I was only twelve.  I have an odd fascination with names, what can I say.

That's all for this week folks!  I've either driven you away or captivated you with my oddity.  Let's hope it's the latter of the two.  

Love,

Hannah 

Motivated by Hope

Last week, I had a fantastic dream in which I plopped down on the floor and "nearly" did the splits. All my friends were doing it, so I just decided to try as well.  In dream logic, it just seemed like the cool thing to do.  Naturally, when I woke up, I had one question on my mind: Could I really get super close to doing the splits?  I even went as far as to act like "dream me" and then, of course, attempt the splits.

Nope.  Nada.  Just a painful ascension from an awkward lunge.  I should've guess as much, right?  I mean, the last time I'd tried was in dance class as a seven year old, and even then I couldn't fully do the splits.  But somehow, I was hopeful that my dream had magically gifted me with the capability.  I mean, just think of all the good I could do the world if I have the talent of doing the splits.....(and then let me know if you can think of anything solid, because I'm drawing a blank)

The point is: I was motivated by hope.

But there's a different kind of motivation- one that's been persistently hounding me lately- and that is: Fear.  While I'm a big proponent of diligence and discipline, I've also spent the past few months in treatment for anorexia, learning that life without reprieve is basically hell on earth.  "Just Do It" just doesn't get it done when the motivation is fear and the body is worn to exhaustion.

Fear says we have to perform in order to measure up to the standards of others.  Fear has driven me to shut the world out, run more than my body could handle, miss out on a lot of fun memories- and that's just the start.  My point is, fear is a pretty awful motivator because it takes precedent over our dreams and hopes.

This past week, I had the chance to go out for a fun shopping and relaxation day.  The enemy brought fear that said no. It said I couldn't eat out for lunch.  It said I couldn't sit in the car that long or try on clothes or do something new.  But there was an inkling of hope in me, hope that gave me a vision of what I want my life to be like.  I want to be free of the fear that binds me.  I want to be able to go on a hike AND sit and watch a movie, walk around the city AND have a "lazy day."  I'm sick of fear.  It doesn't get me anywhere and it is not going to overpower the love of God in my life.  I'm choosing each day to fight the pressure of fear and be motivated by love, by hope.  Last Friday, I did choose hope.  I relaxed and rejuvenated, I found some cute new clothes for the cute new me, I had a delicious lunch.  I don't regret any of it, only the moments that I let my eating disorder have a voice. (RELATED: Wretched Woman I Am)

Moving forward, I'm going to continue to challenge fear as a motivator in my life. (RELATED: Why Strong is Not the New Skinny) And while it's not easy, training the mind to recognize those moments, is worth it.  It is liberating me from the drudgery of failure.   Fear shuts us down when we fail.  It brings a storm of condemnation.  But hope provides a reason to keep going, no matter how hard life gets or how many times we've been shut down.  Trials typically don't wrap up like a Hallmark movie, but when we stand at the gates of Heaven and account for our time on earth, there will be such joy as we remember the times we chose hope over fear.  In that spirit of the Lord, the spirit of hope, there is liberty (2 Corinthians 3:17).  So keep on going because hope is never in vain.  Keep running your race.

Love,
Hannah


~Need more hope tonight?  Read why Christ's resurrection gives us strength to say: "It is well with my soul."  Click HERE.

Wretched Woman That I Am (Romans 7:24)

Sometimes, I get confused at the whir of life.  The speed of it all has a way of drawing me away from God and toward stressful to-do lists.  I hate that.  I hate how somehow I could ever take my eyes off of my Savior and think that recovery or running or work or relaxation are ever as satisfying as the Lord.

I feel like Paul, who realized what a "wretched man" he was, in Romans 7.  He saw how quickly he could fall into the devil's lies, into the trap of sin.  That's kind of how I've felt lately, disappointed in myself and utterly frustrated with lack of progress.  I've been serving the fleshly law of sin, and it's no wonder I've been overcome with condemnation and anxiety.  One minute, I'm contemplating how unlovable I am.  The next minute, I'm freaking out that one bad running day means that I'm spiraling downward again.  And in the frenzy of fear, my eyes turn from God because, if I don't think anyone on earth wants me, why run to a God who is perfect and has a perfect record of all my errors? (RELATED: Building Walls)

Those are some deep thoughts.  And some unsettling ones, at that.  But God showed me last Sunday what was at the root of my sudden flee from God.  It's as if I want to shut myself down before someone else does.  After all, deprecation can seem more manageable because its foreseen and expected.  But I'm realizing it's really just a bunch of crap.  I mean, for lack of a more eloquent synonym: That's what it is.  It's a lie from satan that says I can't let people in, can't let them hurt me.  So, naturally: I wall up and end up wallowing in the truth of  Romans 7:24: "Oh, wretched [woman] that I am.  Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?"

But have you read verse 25?  Paul goes on to praise the Lord, to give thanks that he is saved by the grace of God through Jesus.  Rather than getting caught up in sin and then bogged down by condemnation, he chooses to accept the grace that has already been given.

I want to do that too.

I want to stop listening to satan's lies that I'll never change; I want to stop worrying that a bad run means I've lost my gift; I want to stop despising myself for crying and sinning and growing weary and....well: Being human.

That's where grace comes in.  Radical grace.  Grace that I can't quite understand but that changes the outcome of human history, changes the outlook of my life.  That is the grace that has been gripping me lately.  As I wrestle with recovery and running again and trying to release the fear of man from my heart, this is the grace that I cling to.  I can't say I won't shy away from God again, because I probably will.  I can't say I'll have the great comeback story that is already planned out in my head.  But I do know that I have a Savior who is walking alongside me during this trial, who is paving the way and taking me back with every misstep and tumble along the way.  With that realization, I must- like Paul- proclaim: "Oh thanks be to God!"

Thanks for your continued prayers guys.  I'm making slow and steady progress, and will post an update on my running tomorrow! (RELATED: Why Strong is Not the New Skinny)