Nothing is wasted.

7am on a Wednesday.

Typically you would find me getting ready to go workout. Or sleeping in if I could. But for a 10am meeting, I have to be up right now. I live 3 miles from the Y, I'm a quick showerer, so why the early rise?

My back injury is the worst in the morning. And I mean, the worst. The steroid shots have helped. I can walk around now, but I am nowhere near where I thought I would be by this point. I had dreams of being able to work out by now. Back in my routine. Better than ever. But I'm not better than ever. Not physically anyway.

Don't worry, I checked. You can't
read my Dear Diary in this photo. I hope.

So when I get up, I can barely walk. My left leg and calf muscle are so tight and in pain that it often wakes me up in the middle of the night (like last night but I watched Sons of Anarchy so it's ok man what a GREAT episode). I've come to realize that in the morning I need to ice my back immediately and take my medicine before I can even shower. Showering is SUPER painful.

And here I am. My new routine. I need to give myself at least two hours in the morning to get ready. I wake up, I hobble downstairs for an ice pack. I make my green smoothie and coffee, take my medicine, and I sit with God. I write to him. I cry to him. I read about him. And I listen to him. It has become a physical necessity for me to start every day this way.

Why did it take a crippling back injury for me to see my need for God like this?

Nothing is wasted. Not even the most painful injury I've ever had (I know that I have been fortunate in life). In this, God is doing something beautiful.

When it comes to God and his meticulous care for us, nothing is wasted.

See you in a couple hours.

-Liz

You don't deserve this.

It's my insides! And needles. Cool.

Do you ever notice how people try to explain death and heartbreak away by blaming it on God? We don't understand why bad things happen to good people. But we don't seem to complain when good things happen to bad people, when good things happen to good people, or when bad things happen to bad people.

I'm just saying...God is not the one behind the crap in our lives. He just isn't.

But I think it's in our DNA to try to assign blame. And I've had a lot of time think about why my back is so screwed up. Why have I been sidelined for months? Why do I have to deal with this? Why me?

We pray, and when God doesn't answer immediately, we either blame God, or think "Well, I must have done something to deserve this."

I'm the first one to admit...the bible is confusing. But that doesn't mean I get to assign my own characteristics of God to match what makes sense to me. God doesn't make sense to me. Because that kind of love doesn't make sense to us. We are much quicker to assign blame to God because it is easier to believe that we deserve heartbreak instead of love.

What the heck?

This back injury is showing me that in action. God didn't "strike me down" because I didn't pray enough one day. He didn't give me this injury to teach me patience. But He is going to make something beautiful out of this crappy season I'm in. 

I get confused by that. I think God is causing me pain. When really...He is gifting me with hope in the MIDST of pain. Think of it this way - you are the victim of a hurricane that devastates you. Your home is destroyed, you lose your home and your possessions. In the middle of the storm, you are rescued, and the storm passes, and you rebuild your home, stronger than ever. God's role in that? Never the storm. Always the rescuer.

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this gracein which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. - Romans 5

I am more hopeful today, after a new treatment plan with my doctors. Today I had a steroid epidural in my spine. It wasn't bad at all! Crazy feeling. So now I wait. I exult in this tribulation, because I know that it leads to hope.

And hope does not disappoint.

-Liz

My kitchen window

I would have to say that a blog isn't worth anything unless I'm willing to blog the ups AND the downs and all the crazy curveballs in between.

My back isn't better. In fact, it's a new strange kind of worse. I have a lot of numbness and weakness in my left leg, walking is difficult, work outs are lame. Today was my first day on the weight room floor in a week. It felt GREAT to be up there, but now I am feeling it in the "please God I hope I didn't overdo it" kind of way.

Party at my house! Sike.

This is my kitchen window sill. I am trying a lot of different doctors. Chiropractors, myofascial release therapy, back specialists, etc. These are all medications that I could take, but am trying my best not to take. I would rather figure out the cause of my pain than medicate it.

Wednesday of next week I am getting a nerve series done on my left leg and hopefully that will show what's happening. If not, it's onto a very expensive MRI and then who knows what...but there is talk of cortisone shots or surgery. If you are a praying person, please pray for me. Until then, I am very limited. There is certainly a silver lining in this cloud, but right now I am pretty much dealing with the cloudy weather.

I'll keep everyone posted. (and P.S. Sunday is pumpkin day at Goodberry's, so get you some. See, I can end this on a positive note!)

-Liz

The view from the sidelines

I am sidelined.

More of the same. Back issue. Not being patient. Becomes another back issue. Not being patient. Becomes a leg issue becomes a nerve issue becomes blah blah blah.

Not the point.

Here's the point: it is good to be sidelined. The view from the sidelines has shown me some amazing things:

1. It has slowed me down. I have had time to rest, to wake up, to sit on my back porch for hours at a time and read my bible, write in my journal, and read a good book. (Love Does, Bob Goff. Get it.)
2. It has given me a better view of the big picture. (note to self: this is a marathon, not a sprint. CHILL OUT.)
3. It has shown me that there are other things than the game that matter. There are the fans, the coaches, the grass, the air, the clouds. (note to self: Even when you are sidelined, the game continues. Therefore, it's not all about me.) 
4. My weight is not the only thing that matters. I matter more to God than anything I can say or do. He loves me right now, where I am, on the sidelines. He doesn't care what the score of the game is. He cares more about how I feel, who I love, and how I love. Not what I can do, not how I can impress Him, not what I can produce. (if you are like me, you might need to read #4 one more time.)

I would like to say with confidence that I am enjoying this "time out." I'm not. It feels like a penalty box and I am clawing my way to get out. But God is saying "Not yet, not yet." I don't know why not yet, but He's the coach, so I can't go till He says it's time. 

This is a process. Like most everything else in life. It's amazing how God is showing me that there really are not checklists when it comes to matters of the heart. I don't care if it's your friendship, your boyfriend or girlfriend, your addictions, your struggles, your loneliness, there is no checklist. And it's naive for me to think that there is. This process goes on because God wants to show me that He loves me every step of the way. In the valley as much as the mountain.

You might be on the sidelines like me. Or, you might be in the game and you're killing it right now. We'll sub in for each other soon enough. But when we do, know that God is with us, behind us, before us, and all around us.

He's tricky like that.

-Liz

Reminder: your body is not a garbage can.

Here's a good one for you.

So, remember the box of food I threw out two weeks ago? What a great process, right? It was like breaking up with an old boyfriend, but it had to be done. Check. On to the next thing.

But my trash men (or, God doing funny things through my trash men) had other things in mind.

Trash day is Friday. Every Friday. No problem. And you take the big green bin to the curb, they dump it, whatever. Now I have trashed lots of things that aren't bagged. Never ONCE in three years has trash not been picked up.

Except two weeks ago, the trash men took everything in my green trash bin. Except for my box of food. When I got back from work Friday night, I pulled my bin to my house. I opened up the lid to make sure it was empty. And they had taken EVERYTHING but my box of food.

Weird. But I had to laugh. I made the decision to toss all those treats and say goodbye forever! But now, even the trash men wouldn't take it.

Then yesterday. I took the trash out. ALL the trash. Some bagged, some not bagged, whatever. Then last night, I go to the curb, bring back the bin. And you guessed it. They took everything BUT the box of food!

I can't figure it out. I don't know why it happened other than to make me laugh. Mostly because last night, I had to turn my trash bin upside down and physically bag up all my FAVORITE junk food that had now been in 90 degree heat for two weeks. Milk duds turned deadly, sour patch kids proved their name, and it turns out there are some things that I just won't do for a liquid Klondike bar.

Sorry, no more food puns.

My friend Mariette was the first person that I ever opened up to about my weight. We started Weight Watchers together and were successful at it. I remember during one teary conversation she told me "Your body is not a garbage can." Meaning...those "clean plate club" and "there are starving children in Africa" excuses that we make to eat beyond being full is just like treating our bodies like garbage cans.

Did God use my trash men to give me a few more weeks to REALLY get what I did? To REALLY show me that the stuff I am using to numb my pain and satisfy my soul will make me sick and is the ultimate cause of the same pain I am trying to medicate?

Or maybe those guys just saw that box of rotten klondike bars and said "Hey, I might be a trash man, but there's still some stuff I won't touch."

So if my trash men won't touch it, I guess it's time for me to stop eating it.

-Liz

(p.s. I sort of wish I could ruin your day by having a way that you could smell these pictures. Gag-worthy indeed.)

What happens after heartbreak?

I have been heartbroken lately. For a lot of reasons. And sort of, in every area of my life. It is a sure sign that God thinks I am stronger than I think I am, because I have experienced loss and debilitating challenge in work, family, health, friendship, on and on. But God knew I could handle it when I didn't.

A sure sign of my heartbreak lately has been watching my food demon resurface. If I trace back the times in my life that I have let food be my comfort, my companion, my escape, my drug...I could write a book. And maybe I still will. But the point is this: it's what we do after heartbreak that matters most.

When there's a bump in the road, I can deal with it pretty well. But when someone takes dynamite and decides to blow the road up and all of the optional detours, well that's when my life scares me. And life has been scary.

And so it was a challenging summer, which is as detailed as I can get in a public blog. But I hope you understand how heavy my heart is as I write that sentence. I did give up on myself for a while there. I know this, because I allowed that demon to comfort me, to be my companion, to give me escape, and to numb my pain.

My new safe place. It's perfect, because
Ben and Jerry can't fit on the bike.

As silly as it sounds, it was the throwing away of that box of food (see my last post) that turned me back around. At the time, it was an impossible request. But I couldn't see the way out. You see, when you do one little thing wrong, the next thing doesn't seem so bad. And then that next thing is a little MORE wrong, but you don't notice it because you're already in it. But before you know it, you're in so deep that you can't imagine turning anything around. It truly seems impossible.

If that's not addiction, I don't know what is.

And so God used my trainer to wake me up. And God has used a few friends to wake me up. And God has allowed some serious pain to all but consume my life over the past few months. But God knows that I am stronger.

I used this in a talk for work once, and I am living it as my reality right now:

There is an ancient Japanese art form called Kinsugi, in which the artist takes beautiful pottery and deliberately breaks it. He then puts the pottery back together again, filling the cracks with gold. The result was that the finished piece of mended pottery became much more valuable than if it was never broken at all.

We are all broken people. And it's what happens after the heartbreak that matters the most. So we have to get back on the horse, or for me, the spin bike. And we have to be able to see the beauty in our broken pieces.

Right?

-Liz

How honest do you want me to get?

I used to follow a blog called "365 days with the 330 pound woman." One random April day, she stopped blogging. Never to be heard from again. Why? Well, I think she gave up.

Another fellow weight loss blogger that I know lost 125 pounds. And then she disappeared, too. But she resurfaced. And she started over, after gaining back about 40 pounds.

I never thought I would be that person to lose a bunch of weight and gain it back. Those statistics were dumb to me. I would NEVER gain weight if I lost it! But I am coming to realize, the only thing worse than never losing weight, is losing it and then gaining it back.

See, it's hard work in the beginning, to lose weight. But everybody is so encouraging! And then the results start to show, and every single day, someone says something about it (some great, some awkward, but you secretly like the attention). But then after a while, you plateau. And they find someone else to encourage, and you're like a washed up teen star. Who wants to eat to numb those feelings. (Oh come on, that's just me? Told you I was getting honest here.)

Don't freak out. I haven't gained 80 pounds. But I've gained some. Enough to make my pants tight. Enough to make me worried. Enough to make me disappear from my blog. How did I let this happen? Let's just say that a back injury paired with bronchitis turned into a cheat meal which turned into a cheat summer. And I ate whatever I wanted. I don't know why. Maybe to see if I could do that.

Well, I can't. Yes, it's true. If you eat like crap, you end up feeling like crap. And those ten seconds of foodie bliss end up to a summer of regret.

See, bad eating is kind of like bad anything. You do a little something bad, then the next thing isn't so bad, and then that next thing doesn't seem as bad, and then before you know it, you're going to two different Kroger's to find the right Krispy Kreme donuts to eat for breakfast.

Yes, that happened.

So fast forward to this morning. I had my first session with my trainer again, after taking the summer off. I was nervous. We didn't weigh in (thank God) because I'm emotionally not ready for that. But she did ask me about my eating. I think the conversation went something like this:

Trainer: "Well, it sounds like you've been working out a bit less because of your back, but has your eating been ok?"

Me: "Nope."

Trainer: "Really?"

Me: "Yeah, I have literally been eating everything in sight. I do good during the day, but then I go home, and it's game on."

So we end up talking this through and she finds out I have junk food at home that I snack on at night. GOOD junk food. Like Sour Patch Kids and Klondike bars and chocolate covered pretzels. So she says six words that sent me reeling.

"You have to throw it away."

Logically, she was right. But let me tell you, when it comes to binge eating, there is no logic. There is emotion. And emotionally, it was like she had asked me to break up with my boyfriend. I realize this sounds ridiculous, but in the moment, I thought "there's no WAY I am doing that! This woman is crazy to ask that of me."



The box of junk food. I had to throw it out rather than give
it out. There was something in the trashing of it that
felt appropriate.

But in God's perfect sense of humor, as we were walking and she says this, there is an old Kinko's box at my feet. She says "take this box, and dump all the food in it and throw it out!" I protested and said "Why can't I just have a little something here and there?" to which she replied:

"You are going to eat your way through it!"

Ouch.

The logical and emotional sides of brain had a fight for about an hour. And I am proud to say, the logical side won. Today. And I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but it's time for me take my life back.

And this box of junk food is the beginning.

-Liz