Faith: Over and Over, Overwhelmed

“Peter replied, ‘Each of you must repent of your sins and turn to God, and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. Then you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.’”

— Acts 2:38

I am redeemed. I am made new. I am born again. I am perfect in His eyes, though I am so broken in this world. I am in need, and I am provided for. I am no longer consumed by the sin that I may still commit. 

I have been saved, set free, and I continue to be molded and shaped and sharpened by the hands of Christ living in my fragile heart. 

Those truths bring tears to my eyes even years after I gave my life to Christ for the first time. I was in fifth grade and didn’t understand much of what a life following my Savior looked like, but I gave Him my life because the words my church leaders used to describe that life sounded pretty darn sweet. Despite my incomplete understanding, I still pursued Christ. 

In tenth grade, my church held a baptism ceremony and the time felt right for me to participate, as my way of demonstrating a slightly more complete understanding of Christ's sacrifice for me and my desire for His presence throughout other areas of my life. My best friend at the time and I were dunked together and it was an awesome experience, but looking back, I realize my confidence and happiness stemmed, in part, out of affirmation from my family, church leaders, and peers. 

Not many people know that, so I've been asked why, as a now devout Christian, I'm getting re-baptized. Answering that question is easy when I'm answering to Christ because I know that he sees my heart and its flaws and its sparkles and its desires and its overwhelmed slur of gratitude, but no one else has eyes for that. So, to answer that question for you, I'm getting re-baptized because I've taken a million of my own steps this way and that way and everywhere else in between since tenth grade. I've lead myself to the peaks of superficially, instantly satisfying "high's" and I've tumbled down to empty, lonely, dangerously terrifying "low's". I've damaged my body, and I've failed to show it the precious love Christ has shown me. 

As I stood in front of the supportive crowd of family and friends today, I thought about my walk with Christ and tried my best to squeeze everything into two or three sentences. Though I didn't actually share (the crowd swelled as each minute passed and my nerves went along with it) with everyone, here's something along the lines of what I would've said, had the fear of public speaking not overwhelmed me and the tears of joy not choked me: 

"Hi, I'm Haley! I'm just so excited to be here today. To make a long story short - umm, I've wrestled with an eating disorder for the past three years, and for anyone who has themselves or knows someone else who has, you can understand me when I say I was searching for something that I still can't pin down. The tinier the size I shrunk into, the heavier the weight crushing me felt, the more intense the pressure became to find whatever it was I'd been searching for. I exhausted myself and couldn't run away from God and towards this selfish desire for something unidentifiable any longer. So, here I am. I'm saying YES to God and promising to never jump out of His arms - the arms that lifted the burdensome weight from my shoulders and cradled me, comforted me, and assured me that I'm the most beautiful version of the woman He'd drawn of me long before my parents ever conceived me. Here I am, promising Christ my whole heart for my whole life. I've learned not to trust myself, so I'm placing my life into His mighty hands and embracing the tears and rapid-beating heart as I watch them gently, safely close together." 

“Those who belong to Christ Jesus have nailed the passions and desires of their sinful nature to His cross and crucified them there. Since we are living by the Spirit, let us follow the Spirit’s leading in every part of our lives.”

— Galations 5:24-25

But, like I said, the crowd was overwhelming and this baptism isn't about my sharing my story with them. It's about me admitting my weaknesses to Christ, letting Him wash me clean of my sins, and saying "I do" to His invitation to eternally hold His mighty hands. 

I walked towards the water, squeezing the arm of one of my best friends who decided at the last minute to be re-baptized, too. We braced ourselves for the cold water, but my heart beat and palms sweat and throat swelled for another reason. These butterflies were butterflies on steroids - the kind I imagine to invade my stomach on my wedding day. I use that analogy lightly, though, because I hope that nothing ever feels this good. I spotted a pair of men with open arms, ready to dunk someone, so I treaded through the freezing cold water towards them. I think they asked my name and introduced themselves, but it's all a blur now. They grabbed my hands and placed one of theirs on each of my shoulders, giving me some directions and praying over me. A few sobs made themselves heard and pulled the corners of my lips into a smile as I sent whispers of grateful excitement up to God. One of the men contribute the last words I can remember hearing before I plugged my nose and felt the piercing shock of the cold water, full of the Holy Spirit's unmistakable presence, "... in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!" 

I came up, caught my breath and ran to one of my best friends, who embraced me in her arms with a warm towel. She didn't let me go as she told me how proud she was, and I let out a few more tears and "thank you's", unable to really form any complete sentences. 

That was the best moment of my entire life. 

I saw a few hundred people today, some familiar faces and some I couldn't recognize, yet I felt no presence stronger than God's. I submerged myself in who-knows-how-cold-water, yet I'd cleanse myself like that for Christ a million and one more times. 

“You will show me the way of life, granting you the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever.”

— Psalms 16:11

My prayer now is that Christ will work in the hearts of those maybe considering baptism or re-baptism, that maybe He'll use some of these words in some way, shape, or form. If you're considering baptism, I'm praying for you and the Holy Spirit is, too. For some, it's a leap of faith, trusting God's will. For others, it's an act of repentance, saying "no" to himself and "yes" to God. For others still, it's both A and B. It's all of the above. 

It's breath-taking and heart-pounding. It's too good for words, so seek the experience for yourself :) 

“I am overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God!
For he has dressed me with the clothing of salvation
and draped me in a robe of righteousness.
I am like a bridegroom dressed for his wedding
or a bride with her jewels.”

— Isaiah 61:10

Thoughts: My Recovery (NED Awareness Week)

You may have already heard, or maybe you just read the title of this post - it's National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. This year is my first time really recognizing its significance, especially in my life, because last year at this time I hadn't come to terms with a) accepting my ED story and b) understanding that (at the time) I wasn't fully recovered. Last summer, I opened up here about my entire story, which you can read here, but I didn't spend much time talking about how I recovered and the effect that left me with. So, let's unwrap that package a little bit more. 

I'll pick up in the middle of my story - just after the doctor diagnosed me. She referred me to a therapist and my mom and I drove to one or two sessions a week for about two weeks. I'd sit like someone stuck a fiery stick up my butt (sorry if that's TMI, but it basically means angry and uncomfortable) and answer each question quickly, without giving much thought to admitting that I really wasn't happy with my body, or the possibility that maybe I was craving a sense of control, power, and outward appearance. My number one goal at these sessions was to prove to the therapist and my mom, as quickly as possible, that I did not have a disorder. Pride wanted to make sure that everyone knew that I had it all together, that I had... control. 

Soon enough, we stopped attending the therapy sessions and instead turned to a nutritionist who designed a meal plan for me. Up the calories, increase the variety, and just keep eating - that was our goal. This definitely pushed me towards steps in the right direction, but I still hadn't confronted the underlying cause of my ED, probably because I wasn't sure exactly what that was. Without her meal plan, I'm sure recovery would have taken even longer, but I've been thinking lately about how my recovery was affected by going about it without therapy. 

To say that I was forced to conquer this battle alone would be a lie - God blessed me with His presence and the support of family and friends from the very beginning. In a way, however, I chose to try to handle much of it on my own, just because I'm stubborn, sometimes prideful and too confident, and as much as I wanted to win this mental/emotional/spiritual battle of an ED, I wanted my prize to magically allow me to stay the same weight and jean size, with the same amount of muscle tone, etc. but without negatively affecting my health like it already was. I didn't want my friends and family to worry anymore, but I didn't want to change or compromise the looks that had me bursting with confidence for the first time in years. 

In other words, I went from anorexia to orthorexia. Constant calorie tracking determined what and how much I ate. Sure, I ate more than I did before, but at this point, it felt worse because I thought each meal - each bite - had to fit within a certain calorie/fat/protein/etc. range. 

Each day and its activities centered around what I would eat. I try not to say that I have regrets or that I wish something hadn't happened, but as I look back on that period of... wow... more than one year of my life, I wish I had opened my eyes to see beyond what was on my plate. To enjoy the richness of relationships, the lusciousness of laughter, the silliness of spontaneity. 

Freedom. More specifically, freedom of surrender. I've called myself a Christian for ten years, but only recently have I begun to fill those shoes and pursue a relationship with God. Communicating with Him, listening to Him, and expressing my gratitude for this simple life have become my daily goals. As I've lifted those to the top of my priorities, I've dropped food (and calories and fat and weight and all that jazz) to a far lower level, even as I transitioned into a vegan lifestyle. I've loosened, if not completely let go of, my grip on food as my source for security, confidence, and happiness. Releasing that grip was terrifying and unknown, but God grabbed me with both of His hands the minute I recognized that they were there. 

“In my desperation I prayed, and the Lord listened; He saved me from all my troubles.”

— Psalm 34:6

To be completely honest, that was about two months ago. I'm a little shocked that I've just realized this, but that means that my eating disorder (anorexia, orthorexia, and all) lasted for almost three years, when I thought I'd recovered two years ago. I held my body back from its full potential for so long, trying condition it to want only x amount of calories, to power through exhausting workouts almost everyday, to squeeze it and mold it into a shape God made for someone else. Just like I've developed my relationship with God, I've opened up a rarely-before-used line of communication with my body. Everything from colds and coughs, to muscle aches and joint pains, to stress and body-shaming thoughts are my body's way of getting my attention, and I'm finally listening.

“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.”

— Romans 12:2

A couple weeks ago, God put it on my heart to write a love letter to my body, and in it, I apologized for this mistreatment, thanked it for its endurance, and reflected on its achievements, despite the challenges I set before it. That letter was, by far, one of the most significant steps I've taken in recovery. 

I just wanted to share with you guys a bit more of my story, because I know that all of ours are unique and if this helps even one person, then that's enough. If you or anyone you know is going through an eating disorder, don't go it alone. No one has to and no one should. By letting down my guard to allow the people God placed in my life to help and to allow Him to fill the holes in my spirit, I was finally able to fully recover. I surrendered, and I found freedom. I found deeper love for myself and for God than I could have ever imagined possible. 

And as for the rest of this post, I want to let God speak. Rid your surroundings of as many distractions as possible right now and allow God's words to speak as loudly as possible. 

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord. ‘They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.’”

— Jeremiah 29:11

“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow - not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below - indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

— Romans 8:38-39

“She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.”

— Psalm 31:25

These are some of the verses I've found most comforting and encouraging throughout the past three years, and I couldn't think of a better way to close off this post than by allowing God to take over, as that's what I've done in kissing my ED goodbye :) 

Please know that you're not alone in your struggle, and there are resources available for you to find help. Turn to family and friends, to teachers and coaches, or click here. God loves you too much to place you here on this earth alone. 

Thoughts: A Love Letter to My Body

Why am I writing a letter to my body? Because I've finally been learning what it really means to listen to my body, and in the spirit of Valentine's Day, I figured what better time to really appreciate the home God has built for me. So, here it goes... 

Body, 

Hi. I don't really know where to begin - with the apologies, with the thanks, with appreciation for our memories together - because we've been doing life together for over nineteen years. Well, I guess it's more correct to attribute life to YOU because how else would I have done anything? So, yeah, I'll begin with the memories :) 

Remember when I was about seven years old and we finally synchronized enough so that I could stay balanced on my bike for more than three seconds? We had just gotten home from the grocery store with Mom and Ben and I jumped on my bike (to avoid unloading groceries) to give it one last try after weeks of frustration, and before I knew it, Ben was calling out, "Mom! Mom! Haley's riding and staying up!!!" Thanks for sparking one of my first moments of real accomplishment. 

Remember when I had to keep pulling teeth out for a few years? Ugh, that sucked. I'm sorry for that pain. And for the dentist appointments.. 

Remember when I discovered how much you love to dance? Even though we weren't amazingly flexible or strong or slim as the other girls, I could feel the passion you poured out through me each time a song came on. 

Remember the first time we actually went for a run? Dad was with us and we went for a three-miler around our neighborhood and through the park before dinner. You loved it, and I became addicted, too. And I think this brings me to the apologies...

I'm sorry for stuffing you with preservative-filled, greasy, synthetic "foods" like buffalo chicken wings, fatty ice cream, sugary candy bars, and, perhaps worst of all, all of those processed meats and cheeses that sent my tastebuds to heaven when I was younger. I have no idea how I ignored your rejections of those foods, and I'm so sorry for forcing you to attempt to digest those and use them for the energy I expected from you. 

I'm sorry for all the late-nights and early-mornings, and for the sickness that followed. We were both obviously tired, but I prioritized the demands of my social life or my grades over your need for rest and nutrition. 

I'm sorry for the sore, achey muscles, for not stretching after workouts, for the shin splints, for the pulled muscles. I was taking care of you by exercising, but forgetting a critical piece of the picture.

I'm sorry for allowing the magazines and websites and pictures of other girls to influence my opinion of your beauty. I'm sorry for thinking that they were perfect, and that you were anything less. I'm sorry for pressuring you to drastically change the way God shaped you so that I felt beautiful through the eyes of others.

Most of all, I'm so deeply sorry for putting you through hell and back for three years - for starving you, for exhausting you, for ignoring you, day in and day out. I'm sorry that I threatened your health and your longevity because I wanted you to fit into a certain jean size. I'm sorry that my pride got in the way of restoring my mind more quickly so that I could treat you the way you deserved to be treated. I'm sorry that I dictated what you needed and didn't need, like I knew all the answers to my health problems. I'm sorry that I pushed your limits so hard for so long. 

And I'll begin the "thank-you's" with this - thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for enduring, for withstanding. Thank you for not breaking down, but also thank you for speaking up loud enough to grab my attention before it was too late. 

Thank you for loving me and taking care of me when those were the last items on my To-Do List. 

Thank you for running all those miles, for dancing your a** off to all those songs, for sitting still when I needed you to, and for telling me to sit still when you needed that from me. Thank you for humbly, kindly making your desires and cravings and basic needs clear to me. Thank you for belly-rumbling laughter - that's probably one of my favorite of your talents :) 

Thank you for being here still. Thank you for walking, running, dancing, biking, swimming, weight-lifting, hiking, laughing (and the list goes on) our way through 19+ years of life. You're one of the biggest blessings God placed in my life, and I'm speechless as to where I'd be without you. I'm speechless in awe of your talents, determination, humility, and strength. 

Oh, and I LOVE YOU! I promise to love you even more than I ever have. Let's keep doing life together, what do you say? :) 

With love, 
Hungry Haley, your best friend

Thoughts: My New Year's Resolutions

I'll begin this with the annual phrase "Wow - I can't believe this year is already over! It went by so fast", because I really do believe it. 2015 encompassed everything from challenging classes, discovering bible studies and best friends, failing a midterm or two, working at my first "real" job, cutting out meat from my diet, finishing my first year of college, igniting friendships I missed out on from high school, enjoying a relaxing summer at home, starting my second year of college, becoming fully vegan, pulling myself closer to God, changing my major, uncovering truths about my eating disorder that I thought no longer existed, and boat loads of crying, laughing, praying, running, hiking, smiling, thanking, and thinking.

A flood of thoughts and emotions have taken over my mind lately, and I know that that's God's way of speaking something of rich importance to me. Instead of going for a run this morning, I convinced myself to just slow down and walk. I plugged in my headphones to only kind of/sort of listened to a few TED talks, meaning I couldn't seem to quiet my thoughts enough to actually absorb what the speakers were saying. Eventually, I unplugged, surrendering to my racing, roaring mind. Battling back and forth between what I am doing, what I feel I should be doing, what I want, what I'm afraid of, and humbling myself to listen to voices inside that I thought had come and gone already. Because I can't really think of another way to effectively express these thoughts, I've organized them into resolutions - New Year's Resolutions. 

These represent my goals for 2016 - goals that will not remain goals, but rather become parts of me, like a team of body parts I can't live without. 

• Relaxing - I'm one who considers exercise her cup of coffee in the morning. Without it, the rest of my day is slow-moving and not as productive as the days that begin even as simple as a 15-minute HIIT workout. I considered that habitual kick-starter a routine I could and should continue for as long as I can, but I realize now that my body has been crying out for relaxation so much so that it's now exhaustedly, humbly sending quiet reminders via sore muscles, baggy eyes, inability to focus, and an irregular menstrual cycle that it's just tired. This realization was not easy to come to and I've battled accepting its urgency for too long. I've feared excess weight gain, unproductive days, and a loss of familiar sensibility, sanity, and stress-release on which I've relied for years. During my trip to Idaho, I set aside time to intentionally workout only once during a 7-day period of time. The other days brought physical activity through skiing, hiking, and simply walking, and surprisingly, I found myself happiest, most productive yet stress-free on those days rather than the ones that start with a 30-minute, muscle-straining, intense workout. I haven't wanted to admit this, even to myself, because exercise has been a seemingly crucial part of my life for, well, forever. But the more I let this realization take its time making marks in my mind, the more I understood the difference in importance between a worldly desire and passion for heart-pumping movement and a vital need for rest and restoration. The past few years have been like a series of nonstop marathons on strenuous downhill and exhausting uphill terrains - beginning with a highly-restrictive ED and transforming to a less-extreme version of orthorexia. I haven't given my body the opportunity to take a much-needed period of healing from the unintentional damage I caused and recovery from the two-year-long marathon I forced it to endure.

  • So I'm kicking off 2016 with the goal of regularly relaxing and resting to restore my health - to regain a regular period, to healthfully move my body, and to de-stress in a restorative, mind-clarifying way. I can't imagine continuing to rely solely on frequent stressful (and potentially harmful) physical activity to de-stress. I'm actually laughing as I type that... silly me. Anyway, that brings me to my next resolution!

• Developing a hand-in-hand, constant relationship with God - I want to depend on God completely. I trust Him, I know that He has a beautiful plan for my life, and I communicate with Him daily, but I want more. I want immeasurable depth, unending conversation, and heart-changing faith in His power in my life. I will make GOD my refuge and source of stress-relief, not exercise, cooking, friends/boyfriends, etc. Wh wouldn't I? More importantly, why haven't I already? In a way, I have - I devote time for communication with Him daily. But at the same time, I ask myself why I feel the need to devote time when I could simply begin my day with it, like a cup of coffee for an instant perky mood, a bowl of sweet nice cream for sweet-tooth-satisfaction, and store it in the front of my mind for all-day fuel.

  • I will still make time to remove myself from distractions and chores each day to listen to and talk to God, but I won't allow for guilt if I for some reason don't read my Jesus Calling devotional sometimes. What's most important is the pure communication, not the reading or the writing.

• Holistcally loving myself - I've been finding myself thankful for my body's abilities lately, and while that is a good thing to be thankful for, I realize that I've ignored the complementary side of that - the need to nurture my body and cater to its needs, to recognize and care for its inabilities. Admitting to any sort of inability has always been a challenge for me, but I'm reminding myself what it means to love someone. I've been in love before and I remember acknowledging both the sparkles and the blemishes, but seeing them both as beautiful parts that make up that person. I couldn't imagine him any different. As I point those feelings toward myself, they illuminate both my abilities and my inabilities as a way to emphasize each one's constant need for love. I'm relaxing and depending on God because I hear my body's and mind's call for those things.

  • I know that before I can love another person, I need to fully love myself. For too long I've disregarded some of my body's communication signals. To me, that translates as ignoring my significant other's needs in a relationship. How could that healthfully encourage our relationship?

  • By loving myself, I am also honoring and expressing gratitude for the woman God is shaping me into.

Alright, this was a lot of serious writing, and a lot about myself, which becomes exhausting and awkward after hours and hours of doing it haha so that's all I have to say for now! If you're making your own resolutions (which I definitely encourage) share them with me :) tag me on instagram, email me if you have any questions, or comment below. I appreciate your time reading this and your support more than you know. To my family, THANK YOU for everything you teach me everyday, for encouraging me, for showing so much and support for this blog. You guys all rock! 

Happiest of Happy New Years to you! :) 

Thoughts: Stress & Worries & Life

I don't like to begin any blog post with a negative statement, but I don't know any other way to begin this story. 

I'm three weeks deep in my second year at Cal Poly and already chasing my load of homework/studying while desperately praying that God would attach just a few mores hours at the end of each day. Between classes, my internship, said homework/studying, blogging, and spending much-needed time with my friends, adjusting to the abrupt transition from summer relaxation to academic hustle and bustle has been exactly that. 

Oh, and I'm going vegan. Last week, I removed animal products from my diet in hopes of a) simply switching things up (I like change and variety and excitement... and food) and b) on a deeper level, truly testing out a fully plant-based lifestyle. Read more about all that here. After about three days, I'd pretty much made up my mind in favor of sticking with veganism long-term, but I reminded myself that three days is just not long enough for my body to adjust to a relatively new set of eating habits. I was thrilled and fueled by the absence of bloating, fatigue, and dietary restrictions, and couldn't wait for the week to be over so I could just make the switch then and there - no questions asked, no turning back. 

But school work started piling up and my To-Do list grew longer and longer. I was sacrificing sleep to make time for shortening that list, memorizing statistics terms, and reading chapters upon chapters for History and Journalism classes. Of course, anxiety and stress tagged right along and stole even more sleep. I noticed that I wasn't as hungry anymore, which was a foreign concept to me - Hungry is my name. What's going on? Is this a side-effect of veganism? I wondered. It can't be. Have you seen how much food vegans can polish off? My confusion probably created more stress. It's a vicious cycle, isn't it? 

Everything around me triggered sensitivity spikes - if friends or family wouldn't respond to a text quick enough, if teachers assigned extra reading or a pop-quiz, if a distracted pedestrian stepped into the bike lane without first looking both ways. I knew I needed to understand what was taking control of me so that I could calm down and rejuvenate. Touchy-tempers, anxiety, and mood-swings are not who I am. 

On Monday morning, right after my workout and just before heading out the door, I opened up "Jesus Calling" to read that day's devotional. "Remember that joy is not dependent on your circumstances," read the first line. I looked around my room, actually suspicious of hidden cameras or microphones somewhere documenting the past few days of my life. OKAY THIS IS WAY TOO ACCURATE, GOD. YOU'RE SCARING ME. Book slammed shut, face buried in my pillow, I was disappointed in myself for forgetting that slice of God's promise (yes, His promise is more delicious than your favorite pie). I prayed for God to work on my heart, to restore the precious positivity I thrived off of only a few days ago, and let the first line of that day's devotional make itself comfortable in my heart and mind. 

And with that, God went to work. He reshaped my attitude, cleaned up my mindset, and rearranged my priorities. "Your midterm, your homework, your expectations, your busy weekend - all of it - give it to me. I want to take care of it because I know what to do with it all. I love you Haley, but you don't know what you're doing when it comes to this stuff," I heard Him say. 

I'm writing this in my journalism notebook somewher eover Colorado, and my previous flight had been delayed a few times. As if I weren't stressed out enough, I'd now have to race to my connecting flight. Hoping to spark up some conversation to ease my worried mind (it tends to worry, if you haven't noticed), I leaned over to the man next to me and said, "These delays can be a little inconvenient, huh?" to which he responded instantly, but with a relaxation I'd been longing for for almost a week, "Well, you can't worry about what you can't control." Later on, I overheard him say he was scheduled for a connection flight even earlier than mine. HA. At that point, I figured it was in my best interest to to just shush up and sink quietly and humbly back into my seat. 

The more I allow life's little "inconveniences" to take up space in my mind, the less I allow myself to enjoy, to rejuvenate, to taste, to sleep, to smile. This is not a lesson I learned solely by subtracting animal products from my diet, or by reading "Jesus Calling" every morning and praying for peace, or by watching YouTube videos on everything from vegan recipes to living in the moment. This is a lesson I learned by listening to my mind, my heart, and my body, by spending more time deep in God's word and presence and love, by humbling myself enough to admit that I need help.

God has curriculum individually designed for each one of us, so the ways in which I came to this realization might be different from the ways in which you already have or will, and that's why I'm sharing this. My experiences with stress do turn out positive at the end, at the finish line celebration, but I'm making it a goal to start the celebration at the beginning of the race and never let it end. *insert "life's too short" quote here*. Just like the guy on the plane said, why should I worry about it, why give it my irreplaceable time and energy if there's nothing I can do about it? 

Embrace it. Soak it up. The valleys we walk through are full of opportunities. When I find myself traversing through those valleys with my eyes closed and head down, I blind myself. I inadvertently ignore the abundance of blessings with which that valley and every other peak and river in life are bursting. 

Stress seems inevitable. That's truth - I know. But read that sentence again. It seems inevitable. Talk to God, confess to Him your fears. Laugh with your friends and family because that's what they're there for. Eat good food - potatoes were meant to baked, PB & J to be the best of friends, and fruits and vegetables to be your number one source of fuel. 

Life is abundant and beaming and bursting and glowing and that's exactly how God designed it for you and me. He doesn't want us to miss out on any of that, so He tells us to find comfort in Him and to bring to Him our worries and fears. When we surrender those, the clouds move away and the sun takes its place high up in the sky. SOAK IT UP :) 

Kissing Perfection a Permanent Goodbye

When people describe me, my heart does a little dance when I hear them say "mature, confident, disciplined, outgoing, humorous" and things like that. Those are all positive qualities, ones I admire in others, too. 

But sometimes, I hear someone chuckle and say, "Perfectionist." The fact that it's a not the best quality to have is noticeable in their eyes and their voice. It's true, though. I've been a perfectionist my whole life, and that's what helped fuel my ED. If you've gone through an ED, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, I guess the best way to describe how I felt was that everything needed to be, well, perfect - no giving in to cravings, no eating more than minimal, no body fat allowed, etc. Perfectionism was even powerful enough to convince me that I can rely on my own desires sometimes, and to distract me from the comfort of trusting in God's will. 

Yes, I've recovered from my ED, but a lingering struggle prevented me from understanding that I. can't. Be. Perfect. And it was in my life even before my ED began - it was the constant self-reminder that I must be flawless when it comes to eating, when it comes to body shape, when it comes to grades and homework and tests and blah blah blah. It's frustrating and it took control of my life for about three years. 

And I'm letting it go. 

Perfectionism has a loud knock, but I choose whether or not to answer the door. When I let it inside, it tells me when and what to eat, how I should look, what size I should be, etc. And who is this so-called "Perfection" to determine all of that for me? 

Just like I found freedom in recovering from my ED, I find peace in letting go of perfection. I am me. I am Haley Elizabeth Hansen. I am 19 years old. I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I am a Cal Poly SLO Mustang. I am single as a pringle. I am constantly curious and forever hungry for delicious food.

And I am the daughter of a gracious, merciful Father who loves me just as I am. Why did I look for comfort and strength showing "perfection" when God's perfect, unchanging, everlasting love is, well, all of those things and more? I don't know the answer to that, and I don't need to, because I've already let go of the need to be sparkly clean. 

This doesn't mean I'll be out drinking and swearing and not giving a fudge about life anymore; it just means that I won't let mistakes, upsets, fear, calories/fat/sugar, and unnecessary distractions get in the of my happiness and, most importantly, this Divine Romance between God and me. 

• I choose an un-planned day full of adventure over a set schedule that makes my happiness as fragile as glass. 
• I choose starting constant communication with my savior over constant self-checks for perfection. 
• I choose homemade scones, juicy veggie burgers, indulgent desserts, and a forever-long food-adventure with one or two extra pounds over restricted "healthy" eating plans and a toned six-pack. 

There are no words to explain how absolutely, breathtakingly amazing this feels. And I'm okay with that, because I always struggle to find sufficient words to describe God's love, too. If you've ever felt or currently are feeling something similar, talk to someone. Don't bottle it up and try to handle it on your own, because it's that mindset of "I can do it on my own" that starts the mess, anyway. It's okay - let your guard down, show a little weakness, and accept and embrace the innumerable beauty marks God has gracefully given you. 

You're flawless in His eyes - striving for perfection on earth is exhausting, emotionally and physically damaging, and, let's face it, impossible. Just be exactly what you are, eat what makes you healthy, energetic and happy, and do what builds your excitement and stretches your smile! 

My Story - Better Late Than Never

This post is long overdue, and I’ve gone back and forth – trying to decide if/when I should post it, how I should say it, etc. My friends and family know the story, and others have seen it in pictures. Maybe you guys have, too. But I’ll tell you the whole story because Hungry Haley would not be here if this story had never been written.

About two and a half years ago, I was diagnosed with an eating disorder. I never went to the hospital or had any serious health concerns, thankfully. But between July and August of 2012, I started losing weight. Sure, the compliments were great – “Wow, you look thin!” and “What have you been up to, girl? You’re so toned!” – things like that. Fitness Magazines piled up on my desk, and my parents made room in the kitchen for me to experiment with new healthy recipes I’d found. I was even performing well in school – I was studying constantly and rewarded with several A’s. My faith was strong, too. I read my bible, connected with my bible-study leader at the time, Jessica, and spent time in God’s word.

But things headed downhill when I lost some control. My friends would all go out for dinner and a movie and I’d politely decline. I convinced all of us (myself, my friends, and my parents) that it was because I had homework and wanted to save money, but I knew that, honestly, it was because I was afraid to eat unhealthy food. 

That was strike 1.

After school everyday, (yes, every single day) I’d head over to the gym for a good, sweaty 45 minutes on the stair-climber and then some mileage on the treadmill. Everyday. Afterwards, I’d shower, steam some veggies and pair it with lean meat like chicken, turkey, or pork, and hit the books for the rest of the night, forgetting about family dinners and unintentionally lighting the match that would begin to char away the thick ropes that tied our relationship together.

That was strike 2.

Soon enough, my breakfast was one egg and a few whites scrambled with spinach, and a banana with peanut butter. My lunch bag held nothing but half a turkey sandwich, carrots, and an apple. And my eating habits only became more and more strict from there. I wasn’t quite aware of it, but something was grabbing a hold of the reigns in my life.

And there is strike 3. 

February of 2013 was the first turning point of many. My heart pounded with fear when my mom told me she scheduled a doctor’s appointment for me. Our family doctor is one of the sweetest, most genuine, caring women I’ve ever met, yet I dreaded this appointment more than anything. I think she knew what was going on before the appointment, even though I thought it was just a check-up. First, she told me I was underweight by almost 10 pounds. Then, she began asking personal questions like why I stayed at home so often, why my grades were so high all of a sudden, why I wasn’t on the track team, etc. And then she and my mom brain-stormed answers they assumed (and read to be) true to all those questions – answers I knew were true, but didn’t want to admit. Tears filled my eyes and everything my doctor said after “You have an eating disorder” was a blur. I remember hearing something about needing therapy, too. 

And the next 5 or 6 months didn’t get any better. And yes, I actually did go to therapy sessions. I sat through (on a surprisingly comfortable couch) the 45-minute periods once or twice a week after school, answering the therapist’s stereotypical questions in all honesty, only reinforcing the fact that I didn’t need this kind of help. 

When my parents realized these sessions were only taking money out of their wallet, time out of our schedules, and the energy, life, and parent-child-trust out of our relationship, we discontinued them. Instead, I came home one day to a book from my mom on my bed about recovering from an ED. Never read it. Not a single page. I’m sorry, Mom, but I couldn’t.

Next came the nutritionist. She was one of my favorite people out of all this, actually. Why? Well, she made me feel normal. She made all of it – the whole eating disorder thing (which I never admitted to until a few months ago) – seem insignificant, as if I just needed to gain a little weight. Thank you, Lindsey, for that. She designed weekly meal plans for me to follow, with enough flexibility for me to mix and match breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks. If I had to pick my favorite part of this 6-month period, this is it. Lindsey proved to me that my body could handle – and needed – all of these calories and nutrients. She introduced me to a variety of foods and recipes, some of which inspired the ones you’ll find on my site. And I’ve never given her credit for that. So, Lindsey, thank you, thank you, thank you for helping to pull me out of the nutrient-deficient hole I was digging myself into - Hungry Haley would not be who she is today without your help. You were one of the strongest pieces of advice I needed in that time. You’re one of the answers God was giving me, and you’re a blessing :) 

After a few weeks, I loved the meal plan. Combining different foods and recipe-ideas everyday made this journey feel like an adventure. I’d wake up excited to choose between oatmeal, pancakes, eggs, or smoothies for breakfast, and then create something yummy and nourishing for lunch and dinner, too. 

I wish I could say that this is where everything ends – that I gained enough weight, that I rebuilt my parents’ trust in my eating habits and mended our relationship, but I can’t say I did. Every night, while I did homework, my parents would come upstairs and ask me to step on the scale in my bathroom. I’ve seen my parents stressed, tired, angry, and scared, but I’d never seen them with this look on their faces. They looked somewhat hurt, like someone had taken a little bit of their excitement away. I’d step on the scale and wait for the electronic numbers to show up in the same order as they had the night before. The numbers may as well have said, “You didn’t gain any weight. Just get off.” I’d step off, eyes not leaving the floor for fear of disappointing my parents and letting their hopes down. Following this came more concern from my parents. And rightfully so. Even I wondered how, on an almost-3000-calorie-diet, none of those extra calories were staying. This is where I felt the most like I had no control over anything. I’d lie in bed and ask God where the heck He was, and what He thought He was doing in all of this, but I couldn’t hear an answer. 

When summer came, my stomach wasn’t happy with this hefty eating plan anymore. By noon everyday, I’d lie on the couch, too stuffed to do anything. The ease with which my parents agreed to let me break from the 3000 calories a day surprised me, but I asked no questions. They saw my effort, and they saw the ED symptoms disappearing. Spending time by the pool, cooking dinner together, and enjoying the dishes we prepared mended the ties that had been almost fried between my parents and I. 

About a month later, I talked to the new track and field coach at school about joining the team for the remainder of the summer and my senior year. When she realized I was the one she’d seen running the same hill-repeats as the team throughout the summer, she didn’t hesitate. The smell of the hot, rubber track and even the weight room, the bonds I immediately formed with my teammates, and the excitement, fulfillment, and self-worth I found on that track were blessings that came at exactly the right time. My parents saw my re-ignited passion for something other than working out, and our relationship became stronger and more joyful. 

I don’t think I can put God’s answer into words exactly, but I know He answered my call for help. He always has, always does, and always will. He provided a learning experience, and an opportunity to strengthen my faith throughout this journey. 

So here I am, two (and almost a half) years later, finishing up this post, seriously considering shortening the distance between my mouth and an ice-cream-cookie sandwich from the coffee shop on the corner. Can you tell things have changed?

But before any of that scrumptiousness happens, I want to thank you for taking the time to read this – I sincerely appreciate it. If my story helped you with something you’re going through, then that’s all I need to hear. Tell me or tell someone else, but just share it. Use it to help someone else, too. Our stories make differences, no matter how insignificant we may think we are. 

My parents were the biggest support system I've had, and I wouldn't have recovered if they hadn't been by my side. Love you, Mom and Dad, more than you'll ever understand, 

and thank you, more times than I'll ever be able to speak.

I just wanted to be honest with everyone. Hungry Haley’s 1st birthday is about a month away, and I needed to make sure her whole story has been told. 

That story is nowhere near over. In fact, more and more is added to it everyday. A little part of me hesitates to admit that I had an eating disorder, but I would never wish it hadn’t happened. God showed me that He can be weird, and often misunderstood, but He can never be wrong. He will never allow anything, anyone, or any trial tear you down. I’m trusting Him and learning more and more about Him, this life He’s blessed me with, and the food that comes with it every single day. Best kind of school ever. 

Thank you again for reading. Love, blessings, and appreciation sent your way :)