You Don’t Have to Hit Rock Bottom Before You Ask for Help.

I feel like in society, there’s this idea that we can’t ask for help until all hell breaks loose, until we’re in complete crisis, until we’re having a major meltdown, until the shit hits the fan… However you want to put it, our pride can often stop us from asking for help until we absolutely need it. We wait until we’re at rock bottom before asking for advice, asking for a hand with our uni work, asking for a shoulder to cry on, asking for help to follow our meal plan, asking for accountability for something we may be struggling with. This isn’t even specific to eating disorders – I think to some degree, this can be true of us all at various times throughout our lives. Continue reading


So much change in one year – God is gracious.

I’ve been away at Women’s Convention this weekend and have been deeply challenged and encouraged and … blessed. Plus, there were a few excellent speakers (here’s one of them!) and I was able to spend time with 8 other ladies from church – lots of talking and eating and sharing with each other. It was lovely. This years Women’s Convention was hugely different for me, eating disorder wise – so I just wanted to share some of that very briefly with you all 🙂 Continue reading

T is for Thankfulness

I’m pretty sure I’ve written a blog post about thankfulness before. I’ve also written a post on ‘Small Things’ that I had achieved back in November last year that I was feeling pretty pleased about. But I feel the need to write yet another post today on thankfulness because a) we can’t ever run out of things to be thankful for and b) this is my 100th blog post (Yay!) and c) today I feel very, very thankful for lots and lots and lots of things and hope to share them with you. Continue reading

a stereotypical letter to my ex-eating disorder.

I’m sitting on my bed at the moment, casually eating chocolate, yoghurt and an apple for dinner / supper (I’ve been sick this week, no judgings!) thinking about the exam that I really need to be studying for that’s occurring tomorrow but getting epic urges to be blogging and song-writing and laying down horizontal in my bed sleeping away festy infections – so I’m shoving the studying and the sleeping aside for the next half hour or so and getting rid of the writing cravings and dropping chocolate crumbs on my laptop in the meantime.

Oh, by the way. This is one of those epic, ranty, stereotypical “I hate ye eating disorder!” *waves fist angrily* letters, yeah. Grab your own chocolate and make sure you’re comfortable and your brain is in gear – blog post may contain ramblings and chocolate crumbs and a wee bit of joy and perhaps a pinch of sadness.

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Sneaky scales: are they an essential?

This morning I’m talking about the good ol’ scales. You might be in recovery from an eating disorder and still have a sneaky pair of scales that you cart around everywhere. You might be a friend of someone who weighs themselves all the damn time. Or you might not have an eating disorder but still have a pair of scales in your bathroom that every now and then you feel the impulse to stand on and disappoint yourself every time. Here’s the thing: I don’t think one recovering from an eating disorder should be weighing themselves – it’s counterproductive. And I don’t think one can be fully recovered from an eating disorder and still desire to weigh themselves incessantly. Obviously, the urge will still come up every now and then but one who is fully recovered – they can make the decision to not weigh, I believe. Continue reading

Make Time For Fun!

I’m currently in the process of writing an essay which I’m 70% sure is due on Monday and listening to Lisa Mitchell sing at the same time – it’s a big distraction! I stop every few minutes and join in with Lisa singing about how sidekicks are important and then I realise I still have a lot of words to write on my essay so heck, why not write a blog post instead.

I feel like I’m doing the HSC all over again.

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I’m a perfectionist. I’m not your average, every day perfectionist, however. I don’t bust my gut day in and day out working above and beyond what your every day average Joe would. My perfectionism comes out in slightly different ways.

When I was in high school, there was a particular subject I thought I was ridiculously stupid at. I thought everyone was far better at it than I was. So I ended up not really trying – I thought to myself “what the heck, I’m going to fail it anyway – so why even bother?” Perfectionists have the glass half empty; they’re down on themselves often. My ED was about being perfect – being good at something for once. I could exercise and restrict and lose weight – I had this need to lose weight. I had to do something right for once in my damn life. This could not be just like any other thing that I had started and failed.

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No longer defined by an eating disorder.

Sitting here eating raisin toast with raspberry jam and honey (and margarine!), wearing a giant jumper and looking sadly at the weather outside. What a strange summer we have had thus far.

Today I looked up eating disorder statistics and whilst I’ve always known that Anorexia Nervosa has the highest death rate of any mental illness, I didn’t realise quite how bad things were. Since 2004, there has been 218 deaths related to eating disorders in the United States alone. Japan is not all that far behind with 186 deaths.  Australia comes in at #8 on the list with 8 deaths, which is obviously a great deal less than the two aforementioned countries. But the point here is that these are deaths that should never have occurred. Regardless if there was 1 death, 500 deaths – this is an issue that needs to be sufficiently dealt with to prevent climbing hospitalisations and death rates – and something that a lot of people are able to help out with and potentially make change in as we continue to raise eating disorder awareness.

During the bulimic days, I never saw a way out. I thought I would either have my eating disorder for the rest of my life (and what a sad life that would be) or I would die. Thankfully, neither outcomes have ensued and I can sit here and type this today with both a healthy body and mind. It is actually possible to recover from this. My eating disorder can no longer prevent me from having healthy relationships, or one day getting married, or having children. It can’t stop me from going to university or bible college or travelling or whatever I decide to do with my life. It no longer dictates and defines me because it now has no control in my life.

God is the one who defines me, and so He will for the rest of my life.

Love, Rebekah X

Writing Lyrics!

I’ve been feeling a little like Jonah as of late. Regardless of if you’re a christian or not, you probably know the story – God says to Jonah “Go to Ninevah!” (paraphrasing by the way). Jonah says ‘uh, don’t think so!” and ends up on his way to Tarshish instead. I feel like God is asking me to do things that I think I can’t do. And so I’m running away and He’s just waiting for me to come crawling back. Hopefully not in the mouth of a whale.

I had a hard morning. I’m moving out from here on the weekend and a) I’m scared and b) I’m terrified. I cannot slow down time. The move is inevitable. And despite being sure that the change will be good and knowing that God will bring so much good out of it: I still don’t want to do it and it doesn’t make it any easier.

So I message L this morning as she’s going to Wollongong and I say sorry for being a turkey head and that I love her and A a lot. To which she replies “Love you too. And don’t ever forget that.” I’m just getting into the shower when I read it and I just sit on the floor of the shower and cry as the water runs over me, asking Him not to make me do this. But He will, because it’s part of His great plan and who I am to dispute that? So I changed my prayer and asked Him to make it easier and to keep reminding me of His goodness throughout this all.

I started to pack some boxes with books and the like when I had this urge to sing. Not just any song – words that were formulating in my head. I grabbed my trusty yellow notebook and a blue pen (which are rather inferior to black pens) and sat down and wrote.

Here it is.

God I don’t know how to do

All these things You have asked of me

But I know I’ll keep holding on

And You will pull me through

                                                   x 2

You took my hand

You saved my life

You are my friend

You loved me

I am forgiv’n

I am Your child

I ran away

You followed me

Now I’m leaving this behind

And I’m moving forward in life

I’m not running away this time

Please never let me go

Please never let me go.


You took my hand

You saved my life

You are my friend

You loved me

I am forgiv’n

I am Your child

I ran away

You followed me

I don’t think it’s quite finished yet, but it does have a tune! I’m a bit of a self-conscious twit however, and may not sing it for anyone yet.

The only thing I want to point out is that God really doesn’t ask a whole heap from us, even though it can so often seem rather overwhelming. I guess at the moment the expectations seem high, but the reality is that they’re non-existent! God asks us to trust in Him, rely on Him, love Him, obey Him and believe in His son. And there’s no way we could ever pay back the great debt we owe by anything we do.

I’m just rambling now (what’s new!) but I really, really urge you to think about what I’ve posted here this afternoon and consider what it means for you right now. Do you know God? Do you trust Him, and trust Him completely? Are you running away from Him?

Where are you at?


Find Your Self-Worth Elsewhere.

I read recently that in Canada, a survey of parents found that 1 in 10 would abort a child if they knew it had a genetic tendency to be fat. I also read in the same article that young girls have indicated in surveys that they are more afraid of becoming fat than they are of cancer, nuclear war or losing their parents.

Do you find these statistics as shocking and appalling as I do? Why are we as a society so scared of fat? Who has drilled this into us – and why have we believed that it’s such a bad thing? I’d like to propose an idea – that we aren’t scared of fat as such, we’re scared of the consequences of fat.

We’re scared of:

  • ill-health (not that weight is the best indicator of health)
  • bullying
  • what others think of us

These things are deeply engrained into us – we highly value our image and our reputation; our pride and self-worth. And for someone to send it all crashing down is unbearable to us.

The statistics I mentioned above are wrong – a distortion of how infinitely valuable we are – regardless of weight, shape, appearance.

Psalm 139:14-15  says:

13 For you created my inmost being;
   you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
   your works are wonderful,
   I know that full well.

The fact that Someone has created us as we are to be who we are should have a profound impact on the way in which we speak and act. If we find our self-worth in the One who has created us, then why should anything else hold any relevance? And if we claim to be in Christ, then worldly issues such as a focus on our outward appearance should not affect us. It doesn’t mean it won’t. But it means that we are worth more than that.

I am, and so are you. Stop looking in the mirror and start praising God for creating you as He did – blameless, lovely and holy in His sight.