Today I need courage and want to ask for those of you who know and love me to pray for me.
I've already had a small army of loved ones rally around me, who support this book Starving Girl.
Among many things, I recognize food addiction, combat the negative body image and negative self-talk I've battled my entire life and learn to stop procrastinating. I learned how the difficult decisions in my life have shaped my greatest potential and that big dreams are only possible if I live in the present. All while I lose weight. Amazing.
I know it's no mistake for my story to come out in a memoir about a 30-day intermittent fast. Fasting is a story all on its own, a most fascinating secret that has incredible mental and spiritual power. What a pleasure to not only experience fasting, but to research and write about it.
Breaking my food addiction finally allowed for the clarity of mind that I needed. As I make the final edits, add the last minute changes and ideas, I am overcome with this epic journey. So many of my life experiences manifested in this 30-day fast. I wrote the book in 30 days and it's taken me almost 9 months to make it sings like a beautiful song. I've cried and rejoiced, tried to hide only to finally be found.
Now, I must find the courage for that next step, to let my words out in the universe and trust I did the best I could not only for myself and my family, but for God. After all, He is the one who designed the fast.
When I first felt impressed to practice 16-18 hour daily fasts for 30-days, I thought it was impossible. Still, I knew I had to do it. Around day 12, I became angry. Time seemed to stand still. My hunger became a nagging beast and I couldn’t understand why I was putting myself through this. It took 3 days, but around day 15, my emotions were finally set free. Food could no longer keep them bottled up. With that freedom, I took on a determination I’ve never experienced. I finally had the faith in myself that I would finish my commitment of the 30-day fast.
But what happened on day 26, I never expected.
I started crying. How could I give it up? My daily communion with God? All the self-discovery? Finally learning to love my body? Experiencing the incredible power of prayer? It was so good. Still, I knew my 30-day orientation was coming to an end.
The last day of my 30-day fast, I wrote:
It was the last day of my fast and I’d had some anxiety about letting go. I knew everything would be fine, but the process of evolving had been amazing. It had been life-changing to peck away at my outer shell the way a chick breaks itself out of an egg. It’s the “breaking out” that develops coordination, strengthens muscle and builds the type of confidence that screams “I know I can do this!” I would miss my own hatching, the ceremony of peck, peck, pecking as I broke away fears, discouragement and hopelessness. What I told myself I could never do, I’d accomplished. What I thought impossible was possible. How did I not know the greatest experiences in life came from doing hard things?
My hunger took on a whole new meaning. I wrote:
While juggling the tasks of motherhood, I spent the day writing. I pushed away the sorrow, the knowing my orientation was finished; my days of growth and self-realization would never be the same. My initial reaction to fasting was to shade my eyes and look away, but I was now staring into the brightness and glowing. Stepping away from such enormous growth felt like a loss. I couldn’t believe the miracles God shared in my life. I wanted Him that big, that present. I wanted Him like the feeling of starving. It was all-consuming, inescapable, and He was what I starved for now.
Thank you for praying for me. I can already feel like I’m ready to spread my wings and fly.