not healed but healing

Ive always fallen victim to comparison. Yes comparing myself to others, but more so comparing myself to myself. I have always struggled with my self-image.

At the beginning of college, I made my fitness/my body/my looks my identity. For the longest time I made myself believe being thin, seeing muscle definition, being in a size 0-2 was beautiful. I worshipped the gym. I worshipped the fitness apps that congratulated me on losing weight by only eating 700 calories a day. I worshipped my looks because it was what turned heads and got me attention. I would take pictures of myself and just stare at how lean and good I looked.

On the outside I knew I looked amazing, but only on the outside. On the inside I struggled with hormonal imbalances, mood swings, a terrible temper, self-destructive thoughts, dietary restrictions so tight I wouldnt be allow myself to enjoy fellowship with loved ones in fear that one meal would ruin all my temporary success, but most importantly I struggled with the lies that I was healthy.

As college progressed, my workout routines stayed pretty consistent, but my eating habits began to change. I started to try and enjoy myself more, let myself eat “normal foods” and snacks. I would basically pep talk myself saying how I will just burn off the treats tomorrow at the gym or I wont eat 2 meals to make up for it. I would try to reason with myself; i was constructing a mindset that it was okay to punish myself for simple enjoyments. As this lie began to get bigger, as I would punish myself more for “eating too much” peanut butter or granola (the really bad stuff), I would have a mental picture of the 148 pound Hayley, skin and muscle, in my head ashamed of the “fat girl” i was becoming.

I began to become obsessed with how my old self looked, all the attention I got, how lean my face and arms would look in photos, how people would just know i worked out; i began to hate who I was now for letting myself out of control. I would talk down to myself that no guy would think im cute because my abs arent as visible. I would change in the closet, away from mirrors, because I didnt want to let myself see the girl i no longer used to idolize. I would scroll through my old photos and cry at how perfect i used to look and how i will never be that small again. I would try clothes on and get sick when they fit differently. My thoughts became a boxer and my body was the punching bag.

As more of college passed, my eating got more out of control. I would sneak chocolates, desserts, cakes, hide extra snacks, and eat them alone, usually in my car, so no one would see me. I would go to a convenient store miles away from home praying no one i know would see me grabbing unhealthy and unreasonable amounts of foods. I became more obsessed with hating myself. I became more obsessed with the old pictures of me. I became more obsessed with punishing myself for not being able to deny my food addictions and cravings. I would continue to never look in the mirror at myself when changing, but i would make up for it by sitting in front of the mirror and cry my eyes out hating the body i was changing into.

This wasn't living, this was not the life God intended for me. I could not continue to destroy my faith with self hate any longer. I knew if i wanted to be healthy, if i wanted to actually love the woman i saw in the mirror, and be proud of the woman God created me to be, if i really wanted to get rid of the baggage weighing me down in the river of my own misery, i had to get help. I wanted to get help. I wanted to go a day without crying, a day without being in a sour mood, a day dedicated to loving where i am at. I had to get out of my own head, out of my own past, out of my own addiction and release myself from this.

I am now a little shy of my fifth month in counseling. I am not ashamed to say I see a therapist. I am not embarrassed to admit i need help. I am so proud of it, actually, may even put it on my tombstone, “hayley janke: sister, friend, went to counseling.” I do not say this to blow up my own ego because i am still struggling. I am still struggling with food addiction, with hating my body, falling victim to the lies leaking into my head, but i am trying to get better. I still see the 148 pound hayley when i look into the mirror, but i also see the 148 pound, miserable, mean, and unhealthy hayley. I am constantly pursuing find more self-love.

There is nothing wrong for wanting better for yourself, for having a motivation to fit into old clothes again or be at that "perfect" body weight, and absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to encourage better food choices for an overall, healthier lifestyle. But that's where the line is often blurred. What actually does a "healthy lifestyle" look like? We are blasted with diets, fat blocking pills, photoshop apps, models in swimsuits, mislabeled clothing sizes. We live in an era that healthy is sadly mistaken for just skinny. and women are not the only ones who fall victim to this!!! Men do not get enough love for their self-image struggles, too.

In this "fitness era" we live in where skinny is good, skinny is pretty, skinny gets you DMs and hookups, we are totally losing sight of what more the world has to offer. Healthy looks different for everyone. healthy does not mean a 16-pack of abs, running a sub 4 minute mile, shopping in the baby section for pants to fit. healthy means you are taking care of yourself. Healthy means your doctor's do not have to break the news to you of diabetes, heart disease, kidney malfunction. Healthy means you are able to do physically driven tasks, SAFELY, efficiently, and do them well. Healthy means you have a few rolls in your stomach when you sit, your thighs melt onto the chair and rip apart when you stand up. Healthy means you allow yourself the enjoyment of going shopping for new shorts if your old ones no longer fit. Healthy means you love yourself and then able to love others. Healthy is more important within the mind than on body for the world to criticize.

When i was 11, i made one of my best friends a birthday card. I drew all the pictures, glued some sick scissorwork, wrote some neat block letters, too. I put all my efforts and works into that birthday card, only to go to her birthday party a few days later and see it ripped to shreds in her trash can. It absolutely broke my heart and shattered my entire being (we are also not really tight anymore...assume what you will ((jk she totally just moved away)).) I kinda get the hint that’s how God feels whenever I, whenever we, fall short of my (our) self-love and choose self-destruction instead. I think about all His hard work in making me- drawing on my personality, glueing on all my features, writing His name on my heart, and how i just go into my bedroom and rip His work to nothing and throw it away.

I am not able to say I am healed from my self comparison, addictions, and disapproval, but i am healing, and for that i am proud.