As a Christian, I never tied my grief to my over eating. I denied I even felt any grief and blamed my weight issues on stress. While I was in my early twenties, Janet, a petite friend confronted this stress eating that others had called my poor self control.
She saw me exercising, eating healthful meals, but wildly snacking on sugar, yet she said I did not need to diet and backed her words. She lost 15 pounds without dieting. Instead, she grieved her damaged relationship with her dad and sought Christ-centered counseling. Over time the weight fell off, as she allowed Jesus’ healing into her life.
Unlike my friend I had tried every diet. I lost weight, but fell away when stressed. The sugar’s anesthesia numbed some mystery stress I did not choose to identify. Once off a diet, I ate excess sugar daily. As a result, I admired thin people considering them superior and having invisible will power I lacked. Yet my friend disagreed, and her words contradicted family members who told me I just needed a diet not a change in my thinking. A counseling center for people with eating issues said, “Don’t look at past, family issues. Just stay on our diet.” It was nothing but a diet center, disguised. I never could stay on their diet, and I asked if my feelings might be compelling my over eating sugar. They always insisted all I needed was a diet.
People said, “Christians do not over eat sugar. Pray, read the Bible and stay on a diet.” I did and always failed, feeling like a rebellious Christian, even though I loved God. I assumed God condemned me.
Yet Janet implied someone else had sinned, my dad, by mistreating me. She said I did not fail God. God saw beyond curing my overeating and wanted to heal my broken heart. I could work on painful issues, but my “fault” was denial, not the trauma I suffered. I trusted her words, sensing the Holy Spirit over riding all other advice. For the first time, I planned to attack the stress tiger, not the side effects.
I found a counselor, Dr. Harry (not his real name). He recommended H. Norman Wright’s Christian book Always Daddy’s Girl. He prayed for God’s guidance.
My journey felt rocky and unfamiliar. Janet soon moved away, and I didn’t know anyone else doing this. My counselor asked me to face many emotions, while I thought I only had one, happiness. Later I understood this was the only emotion allowed in my home.
My counselor challenged me to welcome emotions. He urged me to consider feelings and jot them down a few times daily.
I imagined my emotions like a timid rabbit I would call to the forest’s edge. Although that sounds silly, I grew up in a home where I was slapped, pinched and spanked and threatened with words like, “That didn’t hurt. I’ll give you something to cry about,” or “God hates your sadness.” I was once spanked until bruised, when I said I could not smile on command.
I was struck for anger too. Family mocked my fears, and I learned to hide all emotions, except happiness. Many people have told me this is just the old fashioned way parents disciplined their children, back then. Many other people have said they were raised this way too. But for me, a person with strong feelings, it was devastating. I don’t call it discipline, and certainly it did not work for me.
When I waited for an emotion to write in my journal, I was horrified. Not a timid rabbit but a roaring lion came to the forest’s edge. I felt rage! This emotion seemed ungodly.
I stopped this journaling of emotions until I saw Dr. Harry again. He laughed gently at my comparison to a lion and told me not to fear anger. He said I had frozen it so long, it overwhelmed me.
I resumed journaling, amazed by my anger. Now memories seeped in. I remembered a professor slandering me in front of class. I smiled, leaving class trembling. Aghast, my friend said I had a right to feel righteous anger. Later the professor received correction for mistreating students. Yet I claimed I felt no anger over her cruel treatment.
With journaling, anger roared to life after two decades of the cruelty I had experienced. Dr. Harry said I had to feel anger the moment it occurred. Having frozen it since my teens, I struggled to express it. Could I feel it and not sin, as Scripture admonishes (Ephesians 4:26 NIV “In your anger do not sin”)? When I felt angry, would I treat others too harshly? I feared I had no balance in my anger.
Sorrow was the strongest emotion I had to face. I denied those years of mistreatment had hurt me. I read Always Daddy’s Girl as a detached observer hearing anecdotes about others. I read the descriptions of father-daughter relationships like a dinner menu, never tugging at my heart.
I lost that comfortable feeling of detachment when the book said I had to compare my relationship to the book’s descriptions. These ranged from the highest: father to daughter respect and vulnerability, to the lowest where the daughter avoids her dad, never telling him her good or bad feelings. That last relationship was based upon fear. I identified my relationship with my angry, work-a-holic dad at the lowest level. I could not imagine the respect and vulnerability a daughter enjoyed at the highest level.
I threw that book across the room and screamed in rage and sorrow. Awash in the worst, most vulnerable emotion I had stuffed, I was grieving. I had never mourned the loss of a father’s relationship nor knew I was allowed to grieve it.
Empty-handed, I faced denial-shattering reality about this essential relationship. Now I sobbed tears I could not stop.
Despite reading the Bible, I had never escaped this vague, chronic pain. I ran from it or dulled it with sugar. I did pick up Wright’s book again. I learned I had misunderstood Scripture, because our human fathers parallel our Heavenly Father. Prior to reading Wright’s book, I read the Bible as if my dad’s anger reflected God’s view of me. Never again did I read Wright’s book like a dictionary. I read it like a survival manual.
I read each exercise and acted upon it. I grieved and found myself in a dangerous place. While I ripped off my veil of denial, people still in denial attacked me.
I called a family member, explaining my book. Shocked at my tears she said “You’re insane. Stop this. Ignore the past.” That slowed my healing. But my precious counselor, Harry, urged me on.
I followed the hardest exercise, to remember my harshest father memory and express my hurt in a letter. Then I shared it with Harry. Next I must share it, in person, with my dad.
Once I was back in Ohio, I told my dad about my letter. A grandfather now, he had mellowed and listened without interrupting. I described what he did (from the memory), how I felt, and how he had hurt me. He said, “I did many wrongs in your childhood. I am sorry.”
This brief apology began my healing, despite instant conflicts. Before my dad even apologized, my mom interrupted. She said I should never bring up my father’s wrongs. She said parents never apologize to their children.
I am thankful my father and I disagreed with her, because that essential father-daughter relationship had been eclipsing my life. The sugar abuse and yo-yo dieting stemmed from it. Gradually I learned to tell my father right when he hurt me. This caused me to trust him more. I asked him to express his love and pride in me. Gradually, he learned to tell me those things, unprompted. I let God be my perfect father, as I grieved the loss of a child’s loving father. I released my dad and learned to seek my Heavenly Father’s love.
Through his wrath, my earthly father implied God held me in wrath. I grieved as I remembered specific memories while working with Harry. I realized Jesus disapproved the maltreatment and neglect from both parents. I realized God treasures, protects and listens to me, loving me perfectly. (Zephaniah 3:17 NIV “The Lord your God is with you, The Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”)
I learned to take my dad out of the God shaped place in my heart and put Jesus there. I loved, respected and forgave my earthly dad. Despite my mom’s protests, we do not disrespect parents when we admit they hurt us. We release them so Jesus can forgive and gather them into His arms. We uncover their sin, yet give them a chance to receive our Lord’s grace. Hiding our shame and theirs, hurts everyone. Even parents need to admit pain. My dad developed a richer life. He overcame fear, stopped living in wrath and leapt into God’s grace. I felt closer to this repentant parent.
Numbing pain gave the devil a stronghold in my life which manifested in uncontrolled sugar binging. Denying sorrow, anger and fear, I created false beliefs like: “I deserve this violence,” and “If I can be good enough, the attacks will stop.” These lies allowed others to exploit me, and I did not speak up.
As a child I did not know I deserved better, but as an adult, I had to stop it. Jesus spoke up against the abuse of the Pharisees and their false money changing. (John NIV 2:15-17). Yet He welcomed the repentant, as He welcomed me. I brought my pain to Him. He never judged me when I grieved and healed. I felt more love than ever felt. By denying pain I stopped Jesus from fully loving me, because I closed my heart to Him. Releasing grief astounded me with so much joy, and this broke Satan’s stronghold.
Now my beliefs changed. I realized God hates all vicious behavior. Like me, Isaiah called out to God. (Isaiah 38:14 NIV “I cried like a swift or thrush, I moaned like a mourning dove. My eyes grew weak as I looked to the heavens. I am being threatened; Lord, come to my aid!”) God values me and does not call me a mistake even when I make mistakes. My grief and anger have melted. I do not feel trapped in those memories or emotions.
I still faced opposition. Some churches said the Apostle Paul had chosen to forget his accomplishments and past, therefore this indicates Paul would oppose any counseling that encourages people to think about their past. (Philippians 3: 4-7 NIV) Dr. Harry said Paul forgot his past so he could not brag to people. Dr. Harry said this is no reason for Christians to deny their pain and traumas and just be happy in Jesus. This misinterprets Scripture. Forgetting traumas will not stop them. God told the Israelites that by denying their wound, they could not be healed. (Jeremiah 6:14 NIV “They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. ‘Peace, peace,’ they say, when there is no peace.”)
Some churches told me not to cry for myself. But if we do not mourn our grief, how can we live out the promises of 2 Corinthians1:3? We mourn to receive comfort and offer it to others. Romans 12:5 NIV says “Mourn with those who mourn.” We must grieve our losses, not deny the pain, so joy can follow. Sadness that lurked in the shadows of my heart, all my life, passed. Matthew 5:4 NIV says “Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.”
I began to binge less. The insatiable hunger cooled. I already enjoyed exercising and healthful foods. But now the sugary junk diminished. Within a year’s time I had lost 20 pounds and kept them off without starving.
I remained careful around sugar until the emotional healing grew stronger. As I dealt with more memories, I handled sweets better. Over the years I gently dieted to lose 10 more pounds and kept off all 30 pounds.
Sometimes I snack too much, and realize I feel stress. I catch myself after one or two evenings and get back on track.
My life span has doubled since that healing. While I bear physical scars from that obsession (stretch marks and loose skin), my heart has peace. Free from gluttony’s shame, my Christian witness is stronger. I tell others about the Lord and pray for unbelievers. God’s grace flows as I comfort hurting women the way my friend, Janet, did. She succeeded without her dad’s apology, because she grieved and released her pain. Her father’s apology did not precipitate healing. God did.
I overcame many lies and now encourage others, showing them healing from compulsive sugary snacking and other strongholds is possible. (Matthew 19:26 NIV “With God all things are possible,”). God wants this healing for all people, and the peaceful results are worth it. I am so glad I faced my grief!
