Something that is hard for me to do is to acknowledge when a seemingly little thing upsets me more than I think it should! I’ve been learning, however, that these little things usually carry a big chunk of emotions behind them that I have to work through. If I continue to ignore these heart emotions, I end up avoiding my feelings and trying to cover them over with obsessive thinking. I believe this was the major contributor to my struggling with an eating disorder in my teen years. For me now, this covering over means ruminating thoughts which anxiously call to me repeatedly in my mind. It’s like having ants in my thinking, they run around all over and drive me crazy. It’s a mental diversion that carries a load of anxiety with it (tight feeling in my gut). But they don’t deal with the pain or grief or anger or whatever is going on in my heart.

I grew up in the same house where my parents still live. The house is a ranch style with an addition. Mom and Dad still live there.

Our gar...

Shame is like a smothering cocoon; it seems "safe", and it's not. The only way you can emerge from it is to invite someone else into the space so they can help you break the seal. It shines light into where there was only darkness. And once there is a pinhole from sharing (or confessing, which I honestly believe is a deeper, more intimate action), true healing and transformation can result.

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” -Isaiah 9:2 NIV

I discovered this when I told my husband, after 28 years of marriage, and 32 years of knowing each other, about my past struggles with food & body image. And by making that choice, in 2011, to invite him into that dark, what I thought, ugly space, our relationship deepened and there was more intimacy in our emotional relationship and in our marriage.

I recently lost a friend to an eating disorder. She regularly talked about the guilt & shame she felt over w...

It was the first night of 6th grade science camp. All through elementary school, I looked forward to this week away from home; it meant I was a big kid, and adventure, and meeting new people from other schools in the county.

Although it was decades ago, I still remember the initial feeling of exhilaration as I walked into the mess hall for dinner wearing my favorite clothes- a pale blue short-sleeved sweater with tiny flowers on it, green corduroy pants, and suede saddle shoes (brown tones, not the black & white version). I sat down at a table for 8. I can’t remember if I sat at this table because it was assigned or if, because I was late, it was the only one with an empty seat, but every face sitting there was new to me.

As I took a seat, one of the boys asked, “Are you a boy or a girl?” I remember laughing it off; I thought my short hair was the height of femininity, I mean, couldn’t they tell by my pretty floral sweater that I was a girl?!

“I think we’ll call you ‘Aardvark’”, ...