Spoiler alert:
In the book “Divergent,” the main character—a teenage girl
named Tris—has to endure what is called a Fear Landscape as part of her
training. In a giant simulation room, her biggest fears come to life one by one
around her, and she has to either conquer each one or calm herself down before
she can advance to the next one and eventually exit the simulation.
Enter my own fear landscape. Not all of my fears are
manifesting back-to-back, but I feel like I’m getting a good dose of them at
the moment. In the book, fears that you didn’t even know you had come to life
and make you confront your emotions and stand in the face of them. For the past
week, I’ve been standing in the room with a bum ankle watching my fears surface
and the emotions rise.
There for a while I was doing pretty good. I was celebrating
a year’s worth of recovery, feeling pretty strong in where I was regarding food
and body. But this week I’ve realized that there is still a long way to go.
During the whole process so far—eating more, living,
working, re-emerging—I’ve maintain a high level of exercise. Nothing could hurt
me too badly if I kept running, right? The risks seemed much less severe when I
could torch 800 calories six mornings a week. But they seemed challenging at
the time. Brutal even. But I was always safe and somewhat in control.
Now that control is gone. I’m alone in the arena with no
defense against my fears of gaining weight, being imperfect, not living up to
expectations, being a failure, being rejected, being weak and simply not being
the best. I’m crumbling. I’m cowering. I’m losing.
Last Friday I hurt my ankle so badly that I wound up in the
ER on Saturday morning, unable to walk. I was literally crawling around our
house in tears, unable to put any weight at all on my left foot. The hospital
took X-Rays and found that nothing was broken. And in the course of the last
week I’ve discerned that it’s posterior tibial tendonitis. Unable to get an
appointment with my orthopedic doctor until Friday (tomorrow), I’ve had to sit,
lay or limp on a crutch all day for the last five. My bedroom feels more like a
prison cell at the moment. Forget about working out. It’s hard enough to get to
the bathroom.
Tuesday night (two days ago) was a particularly low point. I
simply couldn’t see a way out of my destiny to get fat, which is to me,
apparently, the worst possible thing that could happen to me…still. “I can’t
run, therefore, I can’t burn off what I eat. I will be in this condition
forever, gain tons of weight, not be pretty, not be valuable, lose all my
fitness and have to start over at square-one with running again.”
Further fueling the discussion in my brain is the voice that
tells me I can’t eat, either. “You aren’t burning anything at all. You can’t
eat. You should only consume vegetables and lean protein. You must go hungry.”
Fear landscape.
Yesterday morning, I had a small breakthrough. I must
surrender. I have to give up and totally give my fears to God.
I don’t know about you, but I never really know what that
means until I’m experiencing it. But what I envisioned was myself trapped in a
net or a snare, thrashing about trying to get free and then suddenly realizing
that it wasn’t doing any good. And then finally stopping. Settling down. “God, there is nothing I can do here. I’m only
making it worse by mentally thrashing around. I’m giving up the fight and
letting You take it.”
It’s not that I resign to just laying on the bed for all
eternity until the inflammation and pain in my ankle goes away, but it does
mean surrendering my fears and emotional upheaval to Him and trusting Him to
make the situation right in His time and in His way.
So that was good.
Then today I experienced another step forward by reading
Philippians 1. In this chapter, Paul is writing a letter from his prison cell
talking about how he’s in a win-win situation. He says that for him to live is
Christ (the opportunity to share Him) and to die is gain (he gets to be with
Him). Paul isn’t scared. He’s not emotionally distraught. He’s fulfilling God’s
plan for him in the middle of adverse circumstances, and he’s not afraid. I
guess when you’ve been shipwrecked, flogged, starved and beaten within an inch
of your life, fewer things tend to rattle you.
What am I really afraid of? What can possibly hurt me? If
God is for me and is working all things together for my good (Romans 8:31 and
8:28), what is there to be upset about?
Courage. That’s what’s manifesting. I’m at my weakest point
in a very long time, and this is where the Word of God is coming to life. When
I am weak, He is strong (2 Corinthians 12:10). I’m strongest when I’m weak. Because
when I have no strength of my own, that’s when His is most clear. When I
operate out of the Holy Spirit and maintain peace, joy and courage in the face
of fear and uncertainty, it can only be attributed to Him. He comes alive. He
shows through. He is glorified. And I am renewed.
I. Will. Not. Fear.
If the worst things I possibly imagine come true, I know God
will still love me. My value is not based on my performance. It is based on the
fact that I’m His child. And whatever physical state I’m in, that will never
change.
Tomorrow I will find out more about the situation and
hopefully find some answers and get a plan of action. But I know the healing is
already taking place. It’s in my heart, soul and mind. And I believe the body
will follow.
- Jill
