Stuffing the Pain

In His kindness God called you to share in His eternal glory by means of Christ Jesus. So after you have suffered a little while, He will restore, support, and strengthen you, and He will place you on a firm foundation.  1 Peter 5:10

I am way past childhood, Lord. I am way past puberty and well into adulthood . . . so why do I still do it? Why can’t I outgrow painful habits that started so long ago?

I was born a compliant child ~ fearful, doubtful, and silent . . . except when my head was exploding with pain and I had to cry out. Sometimes the pain was so intense that all I could do was bang my head in frustration on the bars of my crib. Did I learn to stuff myself with food when I was very young? Perhaps when I was barely out of diapers?

Of course, You saw me going back for second helpings then, as You see me do it now. Or the late night eating when no one is watching. All are fast asleep . . . except You. It comforts me from the pain of body and heart for a few minutes anyway.

colored sweets

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Perhaps it’s not really about the food. Perhaps I can relate just slightly to the troubled alcoholic who wants to quit, but the body begs for just one more sip. I want to eat to live and not the other way around, Lord. I have often begged for You to seal my mouth shut with heavenly duct tape or give me new taste buds that abhor donuts and chocolate and ice cream and candy, and, and . . .

Perhaps I stuffed myself as a child instead of “telling it like it is.” That would have been wrong and I would have been scolded for being mouthy. I always knew my opinion did not matter. No one ever heard it anyway.

Others had always spoken louder than me. And I hated being the only one talking . . . and the only one stared at. So silence ruled. And silence led to invisibility and invisibility has followed me all of my days.

Stuff the pain. Stuff the rage. Stuff the sadness. Stuff the ignorance of others. Stuff the cruelty of others. Stuff it down, way down ~ all the feelings that bubble up and beg to have a voice.

Eating is less harmful . . . to others, at least. It only harms me, but not as bad as alcohol, right? It only hurts me on the inside where I can’t see and puts pounds on the outside that I can unfortunately see . . . and hate.

Lord, what is the answer here? Is there one? I hope so. I really do. I desire to be released from the shackles of bad habits and the lack of self-control and to be set free.

I am relieved that You and I can talk so openly and you never scold me, ever.

You love me unconditionally and I love You for that. Thanks, God.

~from Shattered by Suicide


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