In other news, I did something really bold and uncomfortable today. I went out of my comfort zone and took a leap of faith.
I don't know if I've mentioned it here, I don't think I have actually, but I have this sort of weird eat-sleeping disorder thing. It doesn't have a name, I don't know it's source or why I do it. No one has yet to figure it out nor have they found a solution for it. I've seen doctors, a nutritionist, and a therapist. I've changed my diet, my sleeping habits, taken supplements and tried to get more vitamin D. I exercise, I eat healthy foods, and I'm gluten free. I've tried to talk it out, talk to myself, and ignore it all the same. But nothing seems to work. Absolutely nothing.
So here it is (it's simple really): I wake up, every-single-night after I've fallen asleep to eat. I go straight for the kitchen, have what is sometimes a small snack, sometimes something more hearty. Sometimes I wake up 2-3 times for the same purpose, usually an hour or two after falling asleep. I am aware of what I am doing. I know that I am eating and I generally remember the experience the next morning. However, I am most definitely NOT in control of myself as I do it. What I eat varies each night, having nothing to do really with what or how much I ate prior in the day.
As you can see, this is kind of a weird thing. It's actually really uncomfortable and even embarrassing to talk about. I must admit there is quite a bit of shame involved in the whole thing. It's an area of my life I cannot control. It's weird. It's not normal. And it's very disruptive. Sometimes it ruins my day, starting off on such a negative foot. It used to ALWAYS ruin my day...I'd say the night eating got to it's worst when I was at my worst. I don't know if my depression caused the night eating, or if the night eating caused (in some way) the depression. Either way, they felt one and the same. Thankfully I am no longer struggling with depression. Anxiety on occasion and insecurities more often than I would like to admit. But depression is, in my opinion, a thing of the past.
Which brings me back to today. I've had this feeling in my gut for the last few weeks that I should seek prayer for this issue. I've asked for prayer at various times from various people about it, but never from someone right in front of me who would take time in that very moment to lay hands on me and pray for actual spiritual and physical healing. Today was the day I decided to seek such a thing out.
My church offers every single weekend for people to be prayed over by our church elders for physical and spiritual healing. I've always thought this was great, but never felt I had a reason to go. Until now. I was prayed over by a pastor a few years ago over something in my life, and I remember that time as a very memorable turning point. If it worked then, why wouldn't it work now? I know prayer doesn't work like that necessarily...it's not a "do this then that" kind of thing, but when you get to your wits end with no answer no solution and nowhere to go, it becomes your one and only hope. I know, however, that prayer should be my FIRST go-to, but that's unfortunately not my nature...or anyone's really. It's something I'm working on...
Today, after church, I slowly sauntered over to the space I assumed was reserved for prayer. I wasn't sure how the whole process worked, but I walked in knowing I would soon find out. Immediately I recognized the woman who checked me in--a receptionist at the church. And then before I knew it I saw a good friend and her family walk in. I acted as "normal" as possible, inside feeling more uncomfortable than I have in a while. I swear, it was like buying tampons from the cute check-out boy or running into your mom's friend at the gynecologist's office. I knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, but there it was...shame...popping up at a key time.
The prayer time itself was brief and purposeful. The elder, who also happened to be my boss' husband *awkward* anointed me with oil and prayed over me. I walked out feeling much the same as when I walked in, this time with a greasy forehead and a tiny, minuscule glimmer of hope. Not much...I wish that glimmer was more like a ray, but it's a start. I know my God is more powerful than I could ever possibly imagine and I am choosing to trust that he can and WILL heal me when he so pleases. I am useless. Nothing I do or say will make me more worthy of healing. I am on my hands and knees, giving it all over to him. And I will continue to do so every.single.day.
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