The Prodigal Daughter

My life has been the exact opposite of what I had hoped for as a child. 

I always wanted the normal, easy and comfortable life. I thought by 30 years old I would be married with two kids, driving an SUV and living comfortably in the suburbs. Instead, I am not married, no kids, no SUV and living in the city. 

The truth is….I don't want the white picket fence home, 2 kids, 1 dog, American Dream life anymore. 

 I grew up in Fort Wayne, Indiana. My dad worked in business and my mom was a first-grade teacher. They always provided for my brother and me and we seemed like the typical middle American family. 

I was happy…until middle school. I began to start comparing myself to my friends. I quickly realized that I was bigger in size than the most of them, not "fat" but definitely "chubby". For the first time, I felt different and inadequate. 

This led to an extreme diet on which I lost 20 pounds in 1 month. Being thin was my drug. It made me feel important, I was noticed, guys thought I was pretty for the first time in my life and I was hooked. 

I vowed to do whatever it took to stay skinny. This mindset turned into Anorexia which then turned into Bulimia. 

I had to eat because my parents started watching my weight and food intake. In order to not gain weight, I would purge everything I put into my body. 

This obsession to stay small ruled every area of my life. I stopped going out with friends, I became full of anger and hate towards everyone that loved me, and I quickly lost all hope for my life. 

The funny thing about eating disorders is that they have nothing to do with food. I was struggling not from wanting to be skinny but from a need for acceptance and love. I learned at an early age that being attractive matters in this world. I believed the lie that being thin was an identity. 

I was exhausted. This addiction followed me wherever I went. Middle school into high school and then through college. Countless therapists and treatment centers only taught me how to beat the system. I was a pro at recovery tactics and I knew every trick in the books. 

The truth was, I didn't want to get rid of my addiction. I wanted help but I wasn't willing to give up the only thing which gave me a sense of control. The effects of bulimia cost me my job, caused me to crash my car, wasted thousands of dollars on food and cost my parents thousands of money for treatments that didn't work. But that still wasn't enough. It wasn't until my life hit rock bottom that I realized I was going to die if I didn't fight to break free from this addiction…and a fight was what it was going to take. 

I was 24, living at home, jobless despite having a degree, severely underweight, depressed and holding on only by a thread. I remember going on a walk with my mom one day when she said something that cut through to my cold heart. 

She said, "Amy, I would give up my life if that meant that you could be free." 

I hadn't cried in 9 years and after that walk, I felt tears start to gather in my eyes. 

For the first time, I realized that this addiction was not only ruining my life, it was ruining other's lives as well. 

I wish I could say that that conversation was enough for me to get serious about recovery, but it didn't. 

After an intense binge purge episode I saw my life flash before my eyes. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't feel my arms, I couldn't feel anything. I was dying and I didn't know how to stop it. I cried out to God for the first time in a long time. I screamed at Him and asked Him why He let me get to this point. Why didn't He stop it? Why didn't He deliver me? I was both fuming and brokenhearted that this addiction took my life. I remember thinking that I hadn't helped any young girls like I wanted to do. I didn't want to die. 

In the midst of my screaming, I heard God say in the loudest/softest voice, "Pray."

I already thought I was dead but I got down on my hands and knees anyway and cried out to Him. I told Him I was sorry.

A beautiful thing happened that night. I didn't die. God kept me alive and He gave me a new hope I had not had in a long time. I knew that the road to recovery was going to be long but I was ready to fight with everything  I had for my life. 

Shortly after that night, I applied to and was accepted by Mercy Ministries (a Christian treatment center) and was on my way to a long road of healing. 

The road has not been easy. I have failed as many times as I have succeeded. But it has gotten easier and I have realized that the best way to get over it is to go through it. I had to confront feelings and emotions that I had not felt in 10 years. The process has been slow but worth it. 

Last year I moved to Nashville to start school at Belmont for a degree in Ministry.

God never gave up on me, even when I hated Him and even when I wanted nothing to do with Him. He had His hand on my life the whole time and refused to let go. He answered my prayer for freedom, not in the way I expected, rather in the way that was necessary for permanent change.