Today’s Post By: Hannah Hartzell
What is the difference between existing and living?
It was a question that came up in group today. It spread out like smoke, swirling its way around the room and causing many of us to uncomfortably recall what had landed us in an eating disorder program in the first place. I, for one, have missed countless parties and celebrations. I’ve neglected relationships, obsessed over food, pushed my muscles to the point of exhaustion. For many years, I hid behind my walls and tried to just survive, to keep going. As I looked around the room, I realized that I’m not that girl anymore.
As a young child, my biggest fear was that I’d miss the school bus. But after my parents divorced when I was a preteen, my thoughts shifted to questions of worth and doubt. I was raised in the church and developed a close relationship with Christ, but my heart was aching.
And I wondered: Would I be abandoned? Just like my mom and dad stopped loving each other, would they stop loving me?
So I began to live for the control, striving for perfection in everything. My passion for running turned into an obsession with punishing my body and food became the enemy. I stopped eating and I stopped letting the world in. I was hiding behind a mask of flawless achievement that left me feeling inadequate all the same.
I was existing.
I am currently in treatment after a relapse, and I can easily see the red flags now. But back then, I was just a little girl who didn’t know what to do when her world was falling apart. I thought I had to make myself as tough as I could, so no one could hurt me. What I found was that I was my own enemy. By giving into Satan’s lie that I couldn’t trust God, I was killing myself. When I finally reached rock bottom after relapsing last year, the only name I could cry was Jesus. The only one who could hold me was Jesus. I realized that I didn’t know what living was, but that He alone was- and is- the source of life.
So I began to truly search for my identity, who I really am. As I searched the scriptures, I came again to a passage I had first studied three years before, lying in a hospital, malnourished and terrified. I read about my namesake, Hannah, who clung to the Lord through great trial. I too wanted to be able to say:
“…My heart rejoices in the Lord; my horn is exalted high because of the Lord. I loudly denounce my enemies, for I am happy that you delivered me.” (1 Samuel 2:1)
Christ didn’t die just so we would have a “Get out of Hell Free” card. He came so we could live in full joy of His presence both now and forever. As Children of God, our identity and worth are locked up tight in the arms of Jesus. We are nothing without Him, but with Him we can denounce enemies and demolish strongholds. That is what it means to be alive. That is the difference between merely existing and truly living.
As I continue to walk the bumpy road of recovery from anorexia, I’m starting to live again. The chains are falling and the Lord is delivering me as I surrender myself to Him. It is a beautiful, yet frightening process to step back into the light and let my walls tumble down. But my heart rejoices, as Hannah’s did, for I know the Lord has delivered me. As He is alive, so am I.
