Amanda’s Story

By guest blogger: Amanda Barber

My mind starts spinning when I think of every amazing thing that God has worked through some really dark places. I am humbly asking Him to give me the words to convey the power of what He has done and continues to do as He walks this journey with me.  I have struggled off and on with an eating disorder for nearly 25 years.  It has taken many forms over this time including periods of better health and a better relationship with food, but the security and comfort (false comfort) of the eating disorder was always there. 

While it may appear that an eating disorder is about food and weight, at the core of it all, it really isn’t.  My eating disorder gave me power and control in situations when I did not have it otherwise.  It numbed me from emotions that seemed wrong to feel when I was supposed to be the “good girl who had it all together”.  It made me feel like I was accomplishing things and earning my place when I felt like I was failing in every other way.  

While other periods of time in my eating disorder have been difficult, nothing can compare to what myself and my family have experienced in the last four years.  In 2016, a life trigger would catapult us into a journey we never saw coming.  Eating disorders don’t just show up one day.  No, they are far more cunning and manipulative than that.  No one ever wakes up one day and chooses to start using eating disorder behaviors.  

Beginning in the fall of that year, I noticed my weight starting to drop and those familiar feelings of power and control coming back with a vengeance.  I was slowly coerced into the alluring draw of the eating disorder.  At the time, I was seeing a counselor to help us with some issues we were having with our daughter, and through those conversations some of my struggle began to surface. 

I started to spiral pretty quickly, and Travis asked that I seek specific eating disorder care. I agreed but could never believe that things were growing as serious as he or others thought.  I could logically see the numbers fall and knew that I was restricting food and exercising a lot but it never seemed “bad enough”.  I literally could not see what everyone else was seeing.  

This was so frustrating to me.  I was smart and capable, so how could I be so wrong?  How could I not see what I was doing to myself and to my family?  For me, I believe this is where shame started to blind me.  I was a wife and a mother.  Eating disorders are supposed to affect teens and college students, right?  I did not know of any other women my age in my season of life struggling in the ways that I was.  This only escalated the denial and clouded my ability to see reality.  

My outpatient providers gave me specific goals to meet over a period of weeks, but I only continued to go downhill.  By October 2017, it was quickly determined that we could no longer put it off - I was going to have to leave my family and enter residential treatment.  

I am not sure that I can accurately portray how horrifying this was.  To say that I felt like a failure as a wife and mother was an understatement.  I was furious at this idea that I had an eating disorder much less one that required such a high level of care.  When I look back at journals and assignments from that time in treatment, I called it “eating stuff." 

I spent nine weeks in treatment before the pain of being away from my family was too much, and I needed to go home before the holidays.  My treatment team was not supportive, believing that I needed to stay another four to six weeks, but they were also incredibly understanding.  I discharged on December 15, 2017, with every intention of really trying to make this work at home while at the same time knowing I really was not ready.  

I came home to the same outpatient providers and tried hard to do what they said.  However, it only took six months before I was in an even more dangerous place than before and no matter how badly I wanted to do it I simply could not.  

I knew things had gotten much bigger than me when I stood in my kitchen with my three precious kiddos running around me knowing that “all” I had to do was eat my meal plan and I could stay home - but I could not do it.  I would lay down my life for these little people, yet I could not do what was needed to keep myself well enough to stay home.  The shame and guilt in that was nearly unbearable.  

I had to look in their eyes for the second time and tell them that I had to go away again.  To say that their reaction was far worse than before would be an understatement.  They knew what it meant this time.  They knew that it meant Mommy was leaving and no one knew when she was coming home.  

On June 25, 2018 I admitted back to the same residential treatment facility where I would end up staying for four months.  While I had a great team, I struggled throughout my stay.  In the end, I was asked to leave in mid-October for noncompliance.  I truly believed everyone, including God, had given up on me.  I can home hopeless and to a husband who was scared to death.  

I spent the next year angry, lost, and completely blinded by my eating disorder.  I continued seeing outpatient providers but was bounced from team to team because each one recommended a higher level of care that I refused to follow.  From what I could see, God had completely abandoned me, but what I did not know was that He was most definitely holding fast to His promises and working in the silence.

It was during this time that I was connected to Bring Your Brokenness, an incredible ministry dedicated to eating disorder recovery through the life-changing power of Jesus Christ.  The amazing woman who founded this ministry, Amie Shields, graciously began walking with me through the absolute hardest year of my life and my family’s lives.  The eating disorder was coming between every relationship in my life - especially my marriage, destroying my health, and stealing every ounce of joy and life within me.  

In a last-ditch effort to “try something different”, I agreed to attend a recovery retreat that Amie and Bring Your Brokenness hosted on Amelia Island. I really had no expectations going into the weekend.  However, God used a few short days and the selfless kindness of strangers to gently show me truth.  It had been nearly a year since I had opened my Bible, but in the safety of this special time I began to find comfort and even a glimmer of hope in those words.  Maybe there was a chance that I wasn’t too far gone for recovery?  

I went home with purpose to follow my meal plan and commit to recovery.  Sadly, I truly could not see how sick I was, and that this illness was more than I could handle.  I desperately wanted to do what I was supposed to do, but I was too malnourished to think rationally and take care of myself.  I also could not bear the thought of leaving my family again.  

However, in this painful darkness, God was so good.  He arranged for admission to a faith-based residential treatment facility in Florida, that only weeks before did not participate with our insurance.  He brought an army of people around my family, especially my children, who held them up when I could not be there.  He hand-picked my treatment team who was perfectly designed to meet every need that only my Heavenly Father could know that I had because I certainly did not. He filled the house with some of the bravest, toughest women I have ever met and gave me the honor of walking beside them through some very hard days and awesome victories.  I will be forever grateful for the ways that each one of them spoke loving (often sarcastic) truth into my life everyday – even when it was the last thing that I wanted to hear.          

I think the difference in this treatment stay was despite how much I did not want to go, I walked in the door on October 17, 2019 (exactly one year after being administratively discharged from treatment before) with an openness (even if it was just a little) to trust the process.  Along the way, I had what I believed were many “rock bottom moments”, but this was truly going to be my last chance.  Do not be mistaken, I did not go to treatment eager to do whatever they asked or believing that I needed to gain weight or that I was “sick enough” to require such a high level of care.  I was guarded, angry, and doubtful, but at the same time willing to trust just enough to let God in and use this place to heal my heart and mind.  I was willing to trust Amie that this place was safe and my very best chance to save my life and restore my family. 

"I had very little hope for full recovery, but God did not need my hope to work a miracle and create life where there was very little left."

In the weeks prior to going to treatment, I had been regularly reading through Psalms and finding so much comfort in their words and promises.  In the quiet of very early mornings in treatment, I continued reading, journaling, and spending precious time talking to God.  Being surrounded by other women who were chasing recovery next to Jesus and clinicians and staff who actively prayed with us and encouraged us through the Word changed everything in my journey to wholeness. 

I learned to claim the food that I was eating simply for what it was and honor if for what it did for my body.  Food started to take on the purpose that God intended for it versus numbers and what it might “do to me” if I did not restrict, perfectly calculate everything I consumed, and justify what I ate through excessive exercise.  I learned the incredible ways that God made our bodies.  That all food in moderation is intended to fuel and nourish bodies and even for enjoyment.  Aside from illnesses such as diabetes or food allergies, there are no "good" or "bad" foods because in His amazing wisdom God created our bodies to know exactly what to do.  He designed our bodies to get rid of anything that is harmful.  God created our bodies to work for us and not against us.  I quickly found the treatment center to be a place where I could safely process feelings without judgement and begin to let God into the tiny corners of my heart that desperately needed healing.  

Although I have grown up in the church, I always struggled to understand the concept of grace.  I could not grasp the idea of what this freely given gift really was.  My identity was largely built on achievements.  I believed that I could and would do everything on my own and needed no one.  I believed that if I strived for perfection, succeeded at everything, ate the most “clean”, worked out the most often and the hardest, I could finally be enough, what everyone needed me to be and be safe.  That if I did everything I could to appear put together on the outside no one would know what a terrible person I was deep down.  This is not the way that God intended us to live.  He did not send his son to die on the cross so that I could spend my life chasing something that could never be.   

The staff at CC graciously allowed me to go to Amie’s house for Thanksgiving with two other friends from treatment.  I was so thankful for this time away.  God used this visit to open my eyes to so much.  For the first time ever, I was able to actually see how sick I had been before treatment.  I was really able to carry on conversations, be engaged and present, remember things that people said, and most importantly take a long walk on the beach with my friends without getting tired or dizzy and fully take in everything around me.  I was not distracted by body image, or counting calories, or thinking about how long I needed to walk.  In this precious time with friends, God reached my heart. 

I finally understood that my body was bought with a price not at all because of anything that I have done or could do but because of who He is.  I cannot work hard enough, be thin enough, eat "clean" enough, exercise enough, be good enough to earn anything.  I finally experienced the beauty of grace.  That I am nothing, that I am not enough on my own - BUT GOD.  Because of Him, I am worthy, loved, deserving, and holy.  It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with who He is, and Jesus never, ever changes.  For the first time ever, I finally experienced real hope. 

"I could see His hand in all of this – how He is redeeming all things and truly restoring me piece by piece." 

I could actually see that this full recovery everyone was talking about could really happen for me.  For a few moments, I sensed the freedom that God so wanted for me.  

Understanding this truth meant approaching recovery from a completely different place.  It meant finally recognizing that I could not recover without Jesus.  I did not have the strength apart from Him.  The self-sufficiency that had propelled me through most of my life had to be dismantled to find peace and freedom.  Trusting God meant really trusting the people that He had put in my life to help me.  It meant being obedient and following my meal plan trusting that it was perfectly designed by professionals to meet my body’s needs - trusting that it is God’s plan for me to nourish my body. 

This trust did not come easy, and to be quite honest, still does not come easy today.  I have been angry, fought, cried, yelled, dug my heels in, and declared many times that I know what is best for me. That I know my body and I know what it needs and everyone should just leave me alone. 

"But my Jesus is relentless." 

The strength of this battle does not surprise Him because He knows it is not against anorexia, or food, or weight, or any single person, but a battle against the enemy who was trying to rob me of everything and stop me from sharing what God has done in my life and helping others.  The beautiful thing is that it is not just me against the enemy.  In my second treatment stay, God gave me the verse, “The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still” (Exodus 14:14).  These words truly came alive when God showed me what being still really looked like.  That I could rest in His unconditional love and favor.  God was not going anywhere – no matter how hard I tried to push away or how stubborn I was.  

I do not want anyone reading this to think that in these moments of clarity, God swooped in and took away all the desires of the eating disorder and that I went home “cured” or “recovered”.  Yes, God brought me further into recovery than I had ever been before, and I can proudly say that I discharged from treatment this time having successfully completed the program.  Of course, our God is beyond capable of plucking the eating disorder out of my life if He wanted to, but I believe that I would be missing out on so much growth and even deeper healing that I can share with others. 

Coming home weight restored has perhaps been the hardest part of this process.  When everyone in my life is just happy to see the “old Amanda back” who looks happy and healthy, I am miserable inside, wrestling with this new body feeling like a visitor in my own skin.  Oddly, coming home to the last place where I had been in a much smaller frame only served to magnify the intensity of the negative body image I was already so struggling with.  The emotions I had so expertly numbed over the years of eating disorder behaviors bubbling at the surface.  The constant debate in my head of whether or not to truly trust these people over what I really believed I was seeing and feeling my size. 

With meal plan in hand, I had very “simple” instructions to meet every single exchange accurately measured because my body required every bit to maintain this healthy weight.  Yet, at the same time, the eating disorder (although it is not always easy to recognize that) constantly yelling at me that I am too big, that I can still be recovered at a smaller size, that I don’t need every single exchange.  

Yes, residential/PHP treatment is hard, but friends, being in recovery is brutal.  It means surrendering to others no matter what, choosing recovery over and over and over again even when everything in you is screaming to do the opposite, and it means actively and constantly stopping that tape in your mind trying to tell you who you are based on things that may have happened to you or what others have said and replacing it with the truth of you are in Jesus. And that, sweet friends, is steadfast and solid.  

Recovery is exhausting.  I have felt hopeless, discouraged, and wondered many, many times why in the world am I fighting so hard.  What is the point of doing all these things that I am “supposed to do” that feel so awful when the eating disorder just will not leave me alone? 

"The point is Jesus." 

Thanks to the gracious guidance of people that God put into my life, I learned that one of the reasons Jesus was put on this earth was to feel every single emotion we would feel.  There is so much comfort in knowing that my Jesus felt the very same shame, hopelessness, discouragement, and even desire to just give up that I have felt.  The point of this fight for me is found in 2 Corinthians, “The God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in affliction, with the same comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  For we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.”  This comfort is understanding and empathy.  It does not judge and condemn. 

I am alive today because of Jesus, and all of the people that He so lovingly brought into my life who crawled into the pit with me and no matter how ugly things got they stayed right in it.  The point of this is to humbly let go and allow God to take what the enemy meant for evil and use it for incredible good, not at all in my strength, but only through Him.