Throwing Rocks

This is a rock. But to me, this rock is much more than just a rock. This rock epitomizes my messy, chaotic, painful, yet beautiful journey this past year.

You see, this is a desert rock. More specifically, an Wickenburg, Arizona rock. My journey took me all the way to Arizona, to the desert, in an effort to find healing and hope.

I started this year with my focus on the word, Trust. I wanted to learn to trust others, to trust myself, but above all, to put my trust in God. Up until October, I looked at the Trust canvas painting on my wall and every day, lamented over how much I was failing my One Word Resolution. I was failing at much more than just my One Word, however. My life had become unmanageable in almost all areas.

This rock embodies my mistakes, the self destruction and punishment of my body by my own hands, and my fierce stubbornness. This is where my story for 2018 begins.

Obviously, my story started well before my frustration at my One Word. The past 2 ½ years have seen me wrestling with invisible demons, only made visible by my self destructive attempts to quiet them. By the beginning of 2018, I had seen numerous emergency rooms, hospitalizations in behavioral health units, therapists, treatment centers, and therapies. I tried to keep my struggles hidden, but to no avail. I carried mounting guilt and shame for missing work and for not being able to be the teacher, friend, daughter, sister, cousin and role model that my overpowering perfectionism told me I needed to be. My life and everything in it felt out of control.

When 2018 started, despite my optimistic New Year’s Facebook post, I was merely existing. I was going through the motions, getting more angry and guilty every day for not being the “perfect” person I told myself I needed to be in order to earn people’s love, admiration, and acceptance. Nothing was right in my world.

I set out on yet another quest to regain control. I was already engaging in behaviors to the detriment of my body that gave me a false sense of control over my seemingly chaotic life. Yet, those things proved to not be enough, so I added other facets to my self-destruction. On top of other risky behaviors, I started restricting food and exercising compulsively. If I made my body beautiful by society’s standards, then maybe the pieces of my life would fall into place as well. The things I thought would help me regain control over my life not only failed, but did so much damage to my brain that I couldn’t function properly and to my body, that my life was in danger. It was October and I was at a very crucial turning point in my life. Cue: The Meadows Ranch. Once again, I would be leaving my job, my friends, my family, and would be putting my life on hold for the sake of my mental health and this time, my physical health as well.

I mentioned that this rock represents my stubbornness. There was a lot of that to go around for most of my time at the Ranch. When I first arrived, I spent a lot of my time staring out into the desert with disdain and questioning whether I was sick enough to even be there. Then came the complaining that nothing was happening, followed by the realization that I indeed needed to be there and the panic that I was not making enough progress. I began working so hard to see tangible progress that it was obsessive. I wrote and wrote and wrote. I sifted through my memories and investigated my past, I did my therapy homework, read books, and wrote some more. I refused to waste any time and only sat still to work and to eat at the giant table with my newfound friends. Otherwise I was pacing, outside in the sun when possible and inside when not, kicking rocks and dust up on the dirt roads during my mindful walks, staring out into the desert at the mountains and cacti. When forced to sit, my leg jiggled up and down, my body refusing to sit still. My brain matched my body’s frantic movement.

I had two weeks left, including my “bonus” week that my treatment team fought hard to make happen after my many pleas that I wasn’t ready to go home. I had filled up 2 ½ notebooks, read multiple books, let people in and trusted them with my story, and finished many difficult therapy assignments. Yet, I still felt as if I had accomplished nothing. Then, one of those “God works in mysterious ways” things happened. A freak accident with a horse during equine therapy resulted in a backboard, an ambulance ride, the Wickenburg ER, and a few hours of living with the thought of being paralyzed. Thankfully, I was able to move, but not much for a few months until my fractured back healed.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." -Romans 8:28

That accident, as terrifying as it was, was God’s way of telling me that I needed to slow down. I couldn’t pace around without pain and my mindful ‘kick-the-rock-walks’ were taken away from me. All of a sudden, life slowed down. I spent time being still. I watched sunrises and sunsets, staring in awe at the splendor of the desert and surrounding mountains. I sat in silence and listened to the sounds of nature and the voices of my friends turned to family. Stillness. Once I slowed down and sat quietly, things started becoming clearer. I finally had clarity and saw the truth about what my life looked like over the past few years and what I wanted it to look like in the future. I started rediscovering, or maybe just discovering, my real, authentic self that had been hidden away. I had meaningful conversations and made deep connections with others. In this stillness, I was able to take a step back and started to truly see the progress I had made and how lucky I was to have gotten the chance to come to the Ranch. I could see the changes that I needed to make in my life so that I could be the person God created me to be.

Most importantly, in that stillness, I was able to stand back and see the whole picture. I was able to see how God had been gently pursuing me and working in my life, even through all the shame and heartbreak. In the times that I felt abandoned and alone, in the times of pain, God was molding me and truly making all things work together for my good. He orchestrated the events leading up to and during my time at the Ranch in the most awesome and beautiful ways. He used my time in the desert, away from everything I knew, as a time to refine my life and to teach me to lean on Him in times of need. Through every situation, conversation, and frustration in those 52 days, His timing was unfailingly perfect.

God also used people at the Ranch to speak to me, and this was perfectly illustrated on the day of my graduation. At the Ranch, every woman gets a bracelet with a word on it chosen by their therapist to take with them as a symbol of their recovery. Fittingly, the word chosen for me was TRUST. My journey over the past year had come full circle. I realized that I had accomplished my One Word for 2018 after all. Throughout this year, God put opportunities in my path to trust others, to trust myself, and in the stillness, to trust Him with my life and my future. When I returned home, I realized that God had given me my One Word for 2019 as well: STILL.

Back to the rock. This rock embodies my self destruction and my stubbornness. I threw hundreds of rocks similar to this one during my time at the Ranch in my anger and frustration at what my life had come to. That’s why my therapist picked this symbolic way of letting go. This rock signified my eating disorder and all the other ways I had been punishing my body over the years. Shortly after this photo was taken, I threw that rock and everything it stood for out into the foggy desert and left it all there.

The note tied to it was a letter to the Ranch. A letter outlining everything the Ranch and its people had done for me. A letter thanking the Ranch for saving my life. I will forever look at this photo as a dramatic ending, but more importantly, a beautiful beginning.

So here’s to our rocks, our reminders that even through the valleys, God is with us and He is waiting. Waiting for us to pick up our rocks, whatever they may symbolize, and throw them out into the desert place, leaving it all there with gratitude for what the valleys have taught us, but in the end, allowing us to throw it all away and start anew.

”The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be STILL” -Exodus 14:14