19 October 2022
In early recovery, I was blessed to be part of a 12-step recovery program, which allowed me to explore the concept of “God” in any way I saw fit. There was no pressure or expectation for my understanding to be any one specific thing. And that resonated with me. I was very anti-church and thought that Christians were the most annoying and self-righteous people on earth.
Whenever engaging with devout Christians, I felt riddled with facades, fakeness, and toxic positivity. So, the fact that I had a chance to establish my relationship with God—without having to define Him according to boxes—was a fundamental key to my recovery.
At first, connecting with God felt like a natural call-out to someone or something that could help me because I had lost all my strength. I had no idea what I was calling out to, but every morning and every night, I would drop to my knees and ask this unseen energy or being to help me. I was desperate. I hated the idea of a Christian God, so I rested in the concept of unconditional love. To this day, when I cease this action of connecting with God, I see my mental health start to slowly crumble around me.
However, when I reconnect spiritually, I can source the infinitely accessible power of light within me, which God plants with His own hands. I realize that this light is never gone, it is available to me in an instant whenever I choose—but that I must choose it. Without actively choosing love, I am prone to fall into hate, shame, guilt, and ego.
I once heard someone say that “holiness” was a derivative of words such as wholeness, healing, and apart from or “other than”.
When I was still unsure what God meant to me, I rested in these words. When I prayed— because it just felt natural to do so—I imagined praying to something that made me whole, that healed me, and that was not me (other than me). Or, at least, other than the darkness I was experiencing. This felt very powerful, because part of the problem of addiction lies around issues of identity. I find out who or what I am by learning what I am not and in being able to relate to that otherness in a healthy way.
I went on to experience incredible and undeniably synchronistic events, witness phenomena that baffled me, and see visions in meditations that shifted the deep darkness within me. My encounters with the spiritual world have left me intrigued and blown away. I even once underwent uncontrollable convulsions as I envisioned light beings (angels) eradicate a dark shadow within my soul.
I won’t get into all the details. The point is that when I reached out spiritually, things would happen that I couldn’t explain. People would enter my life at just the right moment to help me through some trial, or I’d received the right help at the very moment I needed it most. Friends and family would even have dreams about situations I was going through with insights on what might help. The more I opened myself to this Holiness, the easier it became. I moved through urges to binge or purge without acting out, I felt more comfortable in my body, and there was infinitely more peace in my heart.
But if there’s one star tool in my recovery, it’s the act of contemplative prayer.
In the beginning stages, all I knew was a desperate need to remove the darkness from my soul. All I knew was agony and pain and begging God to shift in me that which I could not. I still have these kinds of prayers from time to time. But as my recovery progresses, along with my growing relationship with God, I find contemplative prayer to be an eye opener and game changer.
You see, my thinking is that God created us to be inherently curious. At our purest version of ourselves (as infants) we are constantly in awe of things. We’re always on a mission to find out how something works, or we’re testing our limitations. We’re sponges, wanting to know more and more each day, and we’re open to receiving whatever comes our way. And because of our openness and eagerness, we do just that—learn. Without our curious nature, we would stay stuck as infants.
It's the same in the realm of the spirit. When we engage in curious contemplation, we can find immense growth. This is why being a recovery coach is so fascinating for me. Simply by asking the right questions, I can see people expand before my eyes. I feel stronger when I have moved from a place of desperate seeking to a place of curious contemplation.
In a contemplative prayer, instead of saying “God, take this away from me!” I can move into a space of “God, what is this highlighting for me?” or “What is this situation contributing to my sacred purpose in life?”
It also helps me in the day-to-day practicalities of life. For instance, I tend to get insecure in my relationship at times. In the past, I would get angry and suppress it. I would become defensive and closed off to love. I would feel wounded and take things personally. Today, when I see insecurity arise, I can say “Hmmm, I wonder what part of my ego is being affected here? I wonder what I need to let go of? I wonder how I can embody love in this reaction?” I get curious about the nature of my responses, and therefore I have expansiveness—room to grow, room to play, room to soften my ego desires and move into grace—for myself and others. And when I don’t get it right, I can get curious about that too!
I believe that when we take things to God in active contemplation, we allow ourselves to take action toward a more loving and gracious response. We can improve our relationships, our peace, and our path into purpose.
For me, there is a huge difference between following orders and truly embodying grace. It’s great to ask God for things, but having conversations with God about things, much as you would a friend or parent, is where the true gems lie. That’s what relationship is.
What has this all got to do with eating disorders you might ask? Well, my personal belief is that there is a deeply spiritual element to eating disorders that transcends the physical realm and is even generational in nature. I believe that when we’re facing the demons of an eating disorder, it can feel like we’re carrying thousands of people’s burdens which have been accumulated by those before us over thousands of years. And when we start addressing our spiritual selves (whatever that looks like, as long as it’s a space of wholeness, healing, and love), transformation begins. This has been my experience at least. You will have to try it out for yourself. And remember, I am always open to your insights, thoughts, suggestions, and ideas. Because if I didn’t remain curious about the nature of God, then I would be stagnant, and for me, stagnation is a kind of death.
The antidote is to work toward a different kind of death—one of the egoic self—so I can experience the true essence of God’s will for my life. Therefore, I am consistently working at getting curious about my psyche and my spirit. (Although it doesn’t feel like work because I am empowered and in awe.)
So, I encourage you…
If you have never thought what the nature of your spirit might look like, or what a relationship with something Holy could do in your life, I encourage you to get curious and contemplative. Spend time with the unanswered questions or concerns even if they are scary to sit with.
Make a list.
Simply by sitting with your questions, you open up the space for them to be resolved. If you don’t sit in contemplation about your life, your spirit, or your inner self, you remain stuck with un-answers forever.
So, give yourself the time to be contemplative, and practice doing so in a non-judgmental space (because judgement introduces yet another block to expansive growth). Just as a child gets curious about the simplest thing—and finds awe in these things—you can too. It will change the way you relate to the world, to others, and to yourself. It will transform you from the dark space of disordered eating into a space of infinite possibility for light to enter and transform you.
