Saturday, February 28, 2015

Issues

We all have them...

I am thrilled to introduce to you an honest and vulnerable woman with issues. Food issues. Her story is her own unique memoir, but I guarantee you or someone you know can relate as over 2/3 of American women and girls struggle with food. 

I am honored to introduce Debbie Clevenger, guest author at RE: Defining Beautyful You. Adoptive mother, hospice nurse, fitness enthusiast, mentor, friend, daughter, sister, auntie. She wears many hats. The best of which is Daughter of the King. Her story to a healthier life is inspiring. Dropping nearly 100 pounds and becoming the woman God intended her to be... She's my mom. Check out her story below. 

As far back as I can remember, I heard voices. I was six years old, in kindergarten at the Rider’s Club.

"I don’t have any real friends."
"If I was little people would like me."
"There is nothing about me that makes me special."
"I different and different isn’t good."

I am the fifth of 12 children in my family. I remember feeling overlooked, invisible, and lonely. My whole identity seemed to come from the fact that I was a “Perry girl." Strangely enough, the phrase would invoke feelings of pride, but I often felt lumped together with this large group of people and I didn’t fit. 

My physical appearance is nothing like that of my siblings. I am tall and dark in complexion and hair with green eyes. Many of my siblings are fair, petite and have ocean blue eyes just like my dad. People would joke about my having been adopted or say that I didn’t have the same dad as my siblings. Though I knew it wasn’t the truth, the feelings I experienced when I heard these comments became part of my reality. When I looked in the mirror, different stared back at me. 

And so began my journey of people-pleasing, working to gain approval, and using food to stuff my feelings and anesthetize my pain. I began sneaking food and stealing cookies from the fridge at the Rider’s Club when I was six years old. The voices sounded like my own.

"You’re so ugly."
"No one likes you."
"She is pretending to be your friend."
"If you weren’t so fat…."
"You are SO STUPID."
"If they knew the truth…."
"No one would notice if you were gone."
"You don’t matter."

I heard a continual stream of accusations and I begun to believe every word. Without knowing why, food became my companion. I could shut out the hurt, the people, and the world. Food would not reject me. It soothed my pain. With food, I could experience pleasure and hide my identity. In a food coma, I could no longer feel.

It wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned the continually-looping recording in the background of my mind was not healthy. I was not conscious of it all the time, but it was there, lying to me. A constant companion, berating, belittling, tick marks, wounding my heart. I tried to fix myself. Smile more, work harder, focus on the needs of others. Nothing worked for long. I was fractured and wounded.

I learned there was only one way to be made whole and that would be at the hands of a loving, gentle, all powerful, loving God. The God, whom I learned later, was with me, holding my right hand even as I was feeling rejected by the world and was rejecting myself. God was loving me, carrying me when I felt alone, afraid, used-up, and ugly. He allowed me to experience these things, but never left me alone. 

As you read this, you may be seeing your truth in my words. Let me assure you, you are NOT alone. The Creator of the universe fashioned you in your mother’s womb. Yes, he knows the number of hairs on your head and he has heard every lie ever shouted, or whispered, in your ear. He is Jehovah Rapha, The Lord that heals. 

In order to be transformed, I had to learn how to feel again. God sent a warm, wonderful woman with great love and faith into my life to walk me down the path of healing. He took my broken-little-girl heart and, little by little, brought fullness of joy. He is my Jehovah Rapha, and the healing continues today. He wants to be your healer, your Lord, your Savior. You need only ask and surrender.

Debbie with her personal trainer, Joe, getting work done on her 51st birthday!
Going Deeper

Me: "In your journey to healing, what did it tangibly look like to surrender?"

Debbie: "As my healing transformation began, God walked with me on the path. First, I had to surrender the walls I had built to protect myself from feeling. Next I had to give up the idea that someone "did this to me, caused my pain." I had to let go of blame and forgive. Finally, surrender happens daily, multiple times daily, and most often, it is me acknowledging that I do not have control. I do not NEED control..."

Me: "How would you encourage others who have experienced deep wounds and fill the void with food?"

Debbie: "To encourage others, I often say, 'You are a daughter of the Most High King. He knows you intimately and loves you dearly. Nothing can separate you from him. So when you feel yourself slipping into the fog that allows you to to shutdown emotionally, call out to God, lean into him. Take a moment and listen to the voices in your head and correct the lies with biblical truths.'"

Me: In 5 words or less, what is your definition of beauty?

Debbie: "Courage, kindness, humility, acceptance, my children. I know that was 6. But you kids were the very FIRST thing that came to my mind when I read the question."

Please post comments below. If you are inspired by what you read subscribe to RE: Defining Beautyful You to the right. 

Live wholly, love fully, rejoice daily. 
KC 
xoxo
 
  

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Eating Disorder Awareness Week 2015: Overcoming Bulimia

February 22-28, 2015 is National Eating Disorder Awareness week. Millions struggle with food or know someone who do. 
Please check out my story below.


Please comment below. Let's start the conversation. 

http://nedawareness.org/
http://www.findingbalance.com/

Live wholly, love fully, rejoice daily.
KC
xoxo


Sunday, February 8, 2015

I AM

Then Moses said to God, “If I come to the people of Israel and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” And he said, “Say this to the people of Israel, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” God also said to Moses, “Say this to the people of Israel, ‘The Lord, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’: this is my name for ever, and thus I am to be remembered throughout all generations.”
Exodus 3:13-15


Made in the essence of God (Genesis 1), he purposely and perfectly created me (Psalm 139).
So often, I doubt what he made is good. I hone in on my flaws. I am my worst critic.
But, what if the details I recognize as imperfections are characteristics I must learn to positively utilize...? What if I am ok, as is...? What if God created me with purpose, on purpose...?
I'm changing my mindset and not only accepting myself as is, but celebrating what God has done!

I AM
You are I AM.
You have called me,
so I AM, too.
I AM brilliance.
I AM grace.
I AM enough.
I AM acceptance.
I AM adoration.
I AM just right.
The me you intended me to be
offers something special to this world
that no one else can fulfill.
I must learn to live in the I AM.
The world is missing out on I AM
when I doubt I AM.
I trust I AM.
I know I AM.
I AM, too.


Live wholly, love fully, rejoice daily.
KC

Monday, February 2, 2015

The Negative and the Bad and the Evil vs. The Positive and the Good and the Beautiful

 I never wanted to have an eating disorder. I never woke up and thought to myself, Today is the day I will make myself barf so I can get skinnier. No, it was far more of a gradual process. A journey toward rock bottom.

My eating disorder was the product of heart wrenching hurts, unanswered questions, and choices. Mere choices. I know God has always been a part of my story. Really, He has been the author and main character of my story even when I did not invite him onto the pages. And He is a good God and a protector. He loves me with more zeal than I can possible muster.

But, I have consequences to my choices. So, when I chose to get wasted with people I did not know well, I undoubtedly put myself in situations where I could be hurt. When I heard the voice of God gently calling me to join Him rather than trying to write the story myself and I plugged my ears and ran away, I chose to build walls and put distance between the One who loves unconditionally and my broken, love-starved heart. I chose isolation. I chose to party. I chose my own way. I chose to throw up.

Through my struggle with bulimia, I have come to believe something negative and bad and evil takes over. I remember sitting on the floor next to the toilet having just made myself purge, mascara staining my cheeks, the wretchedly sour smell of bile fumigating the bathroom. I remember hating myself. Hating what I had just done. Hating what I looked like. Hating the mistakes that haunted me, hindering any chance of joy or peace. Disgusted with who I thought I was.

I remember wondering, What is happening to me? How did I get here?

It was a whirlwind. The negative and the bad and the evil slipped in like a bat out of hell. It bombarded me with scary, loud lies and took over my thinking, my emotions, my processing, my rationale. But, I still made the choice to engage with the negative. The bad. The evil.

On countless occasions, I did know what I was doing. And I did not care. To feel control, to be skinnier, to hurt myself was more alluring than feeling and enduring the pain that was associated with my self-hatred and disgust. I could binge, maybe consuming anywhere from 3000-7000 calories (but who is really counting at that point), and ensure I did not gain weight because I would violently induce vomiting and follow that humiliating act with hours of relentless cardio at the gym.

But I also remember moments of pure, blissful VICTORY. Moments when everything in me wanted to binge and purge that all I could think of was food and puking and being skinny and feeling like I was in control of my own life. Moments when I would get in the car, drive to a greasy fast food joint with my order in mind, and turn the car around to return home before ever arriving at the restaurant. I remember a day when I realized, I am of more value than this and I will no longer believe the negative and the bad and the evil.

In this present moment, while I am on a flight from Denver to Orlando, trying to get home to Virginia Beach after an exciting, magical weekend of bridesmaidism and spending quality time with west coast girlfriends, I am not sure why I am even writing this… Writing with vulnerability of this degree is humbling. It is scary. It feels yucky and liberating all at the same time. I think it will be worth it. But, sometimes I do not know. I just have to go with the positive and the good and the beautiful voice that prompts me to share my story and walk in freedom.

National Eating Disorder Awareness (NEDA) week is approaching. The dates this year are February 22-28. NEDA is my passion. Well, one of my passions. I have so many I am no longer sure if I have passions or if I am a passionate person with many, and sometimes fluctuating, interests. I am leaning more toward the latter of the two. I am convinced it is a positive aspect of my obsessive personality—I give my all to whatever gives me excitement.

In my bulimia-recovered, wild, adventurous, sometimes unpredictable world, NEDA week is an opportunity to share the details. The hurts. The victories. The misconceptions. To be honest and vulnerable and open. NEDA week is my reminder to be authentic. To keep healing and to keep pressing and to keep being real.

I do not know what healing will continue to look like or how this process ends. Maybe it does not end. Maybe I am forever wrestling with the tension of giving God control of my life and inviting Him to be the author of the story rather than snatching the pen from him. Maybe I will forever struggle with body image and self-value and feelings of unworthiness until the day I die and meet my Maker and am fully healed in Heaven. I do not know.

But what I do know is I am sold out and fully committed to the process of healing. God made me to be the ultimate anti-quitter. I will not quit. This anti-quitter is on a journey to something better and more stable. I do not know what it looks like, but the positive and the good and the beautiful tells me it is worth it. I am healthier today than I was yesterday. The end is not the goal to keep in mind because the end is not yet written or published.

In this present moment, while I am on this crowded, stale-aired plane from Denver to Orlando, while I am eagerly looking forward to being home, I can hold onto the hope of being healthier and more whole and more healed with each passing day. With each opportunity to listen to the positive and the good and the beautiful, He writes another sentence of this amazing, challenging, incredible story. It is worth it. 

Please share your story! I would LOVE to hear about where you have been and where you are headed. Please email me at k.clevenger@hotmail.com or comment below. I am eager to invite guest writers to share their story on Re: Defining Beautyful You!

Live wholly, love fully, rejoice daily.
KC

Sunday, January 25, 2015

It's Who I Am

I struggle with identity. The knowing-who-I-am kind of identity. So
easily I forget I was made in the essence of God (Genesis 1:27). That is
a pretty big deal. You were made in His essence, too. And that is a big
deal, too.

The things of this world--ranging from female
ideals I see in advertising, to unmet expectations of friends, to my
own battle with perfectionism-- tell me who I should be, how I should
look, what I should pursue. Tangled in the lies of temptation, I forget I
am enough because Jesus said so.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  

2 Corinthians 12:9

This past weekend, I was up to my neck in that forgetfulness, wading through
negative self-talk and doubt. My best friend had pointed out how hard I
had been on myself. I am so thankful for friends who will be real and
vulnerable and honest, but with grace and love and acceptance.
Her insight sparked a prayer, "Lord, show me how to rest in
your love."


God's answer came at the most unexpected moment. Saturday, I watched my dear friend worship Jesus and trust God's plan while sitting in front of her father's casket. She was trusting God had taken her daddy to be home with Himself. It was the epitome of selflessness as she rejoiced that her father was in heaven, healed and whole, even though his passing was leaving a huge void in her own life. Her two grown sons then played this song...



And, then, in the quietness of my heart, I heard, "Your identity is my love. It's who you are."  

He's a good, good Father. It's who He is. 
And I'm loved by Him. It's who I am.

It does not matter what influences I encounter. I am loved by my Father. It's who I am. 
It does not matter who accepts me and who judges me. I am loved by my Father. It's who I am. 
It does not matter if I mess up, am imperfect, or totally suck. I am loved by my Father. It's who I am. 

It's who you are...it's who you are...it's who you are...

You, too, are intimately loved by the God Most High. May you live in abundance, standing on that truth. 

Live wholly, love fully, rejoice daily.
KC

Monday, January 19, 2015

The Truth Will Set You Free

Yesterday, a friend of mine commented on the 'ease' in which I have jumped into community here in Virginia Beach. She claims it is my outgoing personality.

Pssshhhh!!!!

I was just about speechless when she said that because I do not consider myself an outgoing person. I was the wall flower, too self-conscious to talk to anyone. In high school, people thought I was stuck up because I did not speak, but would walk with my head held high. I was merely pretending to be bazillions times more confident than the reality hidden behind the straight face.

I have felt forgotten. Unnoticed. Overlooked. Unappreciated. Never enough.

A myriad of circumstances and situations contributed to my very low self-esteem. But God had a different ending to that story. Those hurts do not define me. Healing has brought great freedom.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.
2 Corinthians 3:17

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
Psalm 147:3

And you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.
John 8:32

Yesterday, when my friend commented on my outgoing personality and I pondered her statement as I drove home from church, I heard a whisper from the Lord...

"I have healed and I continue to heal."

Amen!!!!!!!! If that is not beautiful, I just do not know what is!

If you are the brokenhearted, press in and press on. Psalm 55:22 tells us to give our burdens to God. You can be real with God. He is a real God and made you with real emotions, real questions, real expectations. You can tell him how much your situation sucks. You can tell him you cannot carry the load anymore. He's got you. And, slowly, day by day, as you release control and learn to trust the Maker of the Universe, your hurts begin to heal. And one day, the forgotten, unnoticed, overlooked, unappreciated, never-enough girl has grown into an outgoing, accepting, brave woman. Only by His healing.

Live wholly, love fully, rejoice daily.
KC

Sunday, December 28, 2014

Weird and Scary

Practicing vulnerability is weird and scary. It is weird because it is uncommon. Most people do not know what to do with vulnerability. Those invited into the inmost details of my life may, or may not, treasure the truths that make me me. And, typically, I am not the inviter. God has a way of poking and prodding and nudging until I succumb and share openly because the feeling is too unbearable. Not to mention, this uncomfortable whisper from God is an invitation to join what He is doing to change lives and love on His beloved and I do not want to miss out on His invitations to do Kingdom business. 

I suppose that is why vulnerability is scary, too. First, I do not choose who is invited beneath my timid exterior into the intimate details of my life and past. Secondly, I typically feel rejected when my treasured secrets are exposed and not valued. 
I am a Seattle girl, so a picture of a cup of coffee will, without question, catch my eye and make it on my blog.
Plus, Brené Brown is amazing. Period. 
Brené Brown is one of my all-time favorite authors. Partly because her writing helped me grasp the value of vulnerability and partly because she is real and says bad words. I can relate to her. Sometimes, when I am upset, I get out my Macbook, open a new Word document, and type every mean, cynical, curse-wordy thought that comes to mind. Then I close the document without saving and move on. It is a product of my hurting heart and relieves some of the pain. There I go being all vulnerable again. 

Brené curses and writes about embracing who you really, really, really are meant to be. I started feeling more comfortable with my decision to type all kinds of icky curse-wordy things after listening six or seven times to her TED Talk about vulnerability and reading her book, Daring Greatly. God probably did not make me to be a curse-wordy woman and I may change my ways someday. But, for now, it works for me. 

Back to vulnerability being weird and scary. Apparently, vulnerability and being known are the source of authentic humanness and wholehearted living. (Insert subliminal message here...read Daring Greatly by Brené Brown). I would concur with the above statement. Considering my top-ten-most-meaningful-life-moments-thus-far, vulnerability and authenticity are the roots of memorable and life-changing experiences. 

I was a senior in college the day I decided to be open about having an eating disorder. I opened my mouth and words came out. I do not remember what I said, but the girl I was speaking to responded with, me too. 

Whaaat?!?! You really are going to use this awful, life-sucking journey for good, aren't you, God?! 

My me too college friend got help for her eating disorder. Today, she is healthy. She is married to a man who loves Jesus. She had a baby. I like to think the moment of vulnerability and openness was a risk I was invited by God to take to play a part in His story for her life. By no means am I taking any credit for it. Ohhh, heck no! I am just grateful. God called me onto his team. We did not have a play book or time to practice, but we played hard. Vulnerability and love win. End of story. 

Live wholly, love fully, rejoice daily. 
Kelsey