Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.
I grew up in a traditional, Catholic family. My parents had me baptized, placed me in Catholic school, and brought me to church every Sunday morning. I went to church because, truthfully, I didn't have much choice in the matter. In 5th grade, I read the New Testament because my dad offered to pay me $100 if I did. Though I was an avid reader growing up, consuming books like a boa constrictor devours dinner, I recall sitting in my favorite recliner and barely making it through two pages before my eyelids began to droop, and I'd literally have to smack myself in the face to stay alert. In the five months it took me to read that half of the Bible, I can't tell you the number of times I was tempted to pretend-read while systematically turning pages at the appropriate time increments. And yet, somehow I felt as though the Bible contained the very eyes of God, and He'd undoubtably notice if I cheated my way through reading His book. What a glorious day it was when I finally read the last chapter, the final verse and collected my $100 reward. From a small child to young adult, I grew up singing to God, praying to God, loving, and fearing God. Then, I began questioning God.
Photo Credit: Jewels of Judaism
"Who is God, really?” I wondered. I started calling God “She” because what right did the Bible have to personify God as masculine? Then, even the name “God” didn't feel right. I started experimenting with a variety of titles - Higher Power & Great Creator. The word “God” felt too constricting, a cell of solitary confinement that I feared would bring separation and alienation from people as I worked to expand my friendships and connections in college and in the “real-world.” My Sunday church going rapidly dwindled from every Sunday to every other week to “I'll just go when it's convenient.” From the age of 18 to 25, convenient came to mean Christmas and Easter – maybe. And, that was simply because it was a family affair and part of the holiday tradition, not because I had a real desire to attend.
Around my junior and senior year of university, I began to sense a void. Something seemed to be missing and no amount of focus on schoolwork, dating, travel or social activities seemed to fill the empty space that I felt in my very soul. Intuitively, I knew I was missing the spiritual component to my life, and yet, the thought of dragging myself to another Catholic Sunday service was disheartening, to say the least. I had so many questions surrounding God (or, could it be gods?) and my life's purpose. I feared that no faith community existed which would welcome my doubting and inquisitive mind. I wasn't even entirely sure that I believed in a god anymore. Yet, the universal belief that something bigger, more beautiful, and more powerful than I could possibly fathom existed was something I felt I could trust in. So, I simply chose to start there.
During my senior year, I tested out a few church services in my college community, dappled in a couple Bible studies, and trusted my gut. I left some churches feeling like I had just gotten a touch of food poisoning, so I left those alone and moved on. I had a whole slew of churchy folk shove pamphlets and booklets into my hands and attempt to cram Bible verses and teachings past my tightly zipped lips and down my throat, as though shear force would *POOF!* turn me Christian. My curiosity in religion was a magnet for well meaning, God-happy people. It didn't repel me completely from my spiritual quest, but I certainly could not authentically mirror their enthusiasm. Eventually, with graduation approaching and a hunger for world travel, I placed my church-hopping on the back burner and, instead, set my sights on international exploration in attempts to continue my soul searching.
Ignoring the majority of church doctrine, I simply tried to live life in the best way I knew how with the tools I had been given and lessoned I had learned. During my travel abroad, I relied much on instant gratification and finding short-lived pleasure through food, adrenaline rush activities, quick friendships, sex, and being gloriously independent. I felt very much in control of my own happiness. I was living life my way and getting a lot of satisfaction from it. So, I felt like I was happy. Thus, I acted like I was happy. And therefore, I looked like I was happy. My travel blogs and Facebook albums showed an enviable life of a fearless woman who wasn't afraid to take life by the balls and LIVE IT UP.
A favorite quote by Lawrence K. Fish became my daily mantra - “Exhaust {myself} in the glorious pursuit of life.”
Photo Credit: Susan's Books and Gifts
I was succeeding. I was exhausted. And I desperately needed my tank refilled.
No comments:
Post a Comment