It was the beginning of my senior year of High School that I found myself at my lowest point. This should have been the year where I felt like I was in my prime. Yet, instead of finding myself with a slim figure, fast metabolism, and the blissful ignorance of struggling with my looks, I was in a constant love/hate battle with my looks and eating habits.
One day, I found myself lying on my couch after an indulgent hour of my daily food binge. This binge had consisted of left over cheesecake, a bag of my favorite jalapeno-cheddar chips, and other types of junk food I found in the fridge. Though the binging hour was great, the dreaded aftermath was something I could no longer handle.
Lying there on my couch in massive sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt, I knew something had to give. I was in pure and utter bondage to the luring taste, feeling, comfort, and deception of food. Everyday this binge would take place. And every day I’d find myself getting up from the couch, after this hour long binge, to seek out the next diet book, “get fit quick” scheme, “how to lose 10 pounds in a week” article, etc.. Unfortunately, none of these plans lasted longer than a couple of days. After years of striving to get free by myself, I knew this struggle was beyond my ability.
So that day, I lay there on my couch screaming at God until my lungs gave out.
“God!!! When am I going to get free from this?!!! WHY WON’T YOU FREE ME???? WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO FREE ME FROM THIS HELL I’M IN?!” Uncensored and untamed, I yelled at Him as if it was His fault. I needed someone to blame, and since He was the only one who knew of my controlling addiction, He became my scapegoat.
That was the first day I’d ever admitted out loud that I needed help. My earliest memory of dieting was in the first grade when I strategically planned the little amount of calories I could partake in a single day. I had lived since the first grade as a robot, thinking I was powerful enough to do it on my own, and every day trying to break free from something I had been born into.
Though I played a major role in this addiction, I was unaware that there were evil influences in the unseen realm advocating for my self-destruction. My past generational family line screams addiction. Binge eating, alcoholism, chain smoking, drug addiction, and just about anything that involves living according to your cravings has been woven throughout both sides of my family for years. These areas needed the Holy Spirit to expose the darkness, apply the blood of Jesus, and declare freedom over myself, and my future family line.
I wish I could say that day was the day I found total freedom from addiction that is not the case. However, it wasn’t until my mid- twenties, that I found freedom from addiction, and quite frankly, it is still something I have to choose every day. After High School, my addiction no longer manifested itself in food instead it spiraled into other forms of self-destruction that were all rooted in the same thing.
God took me on a journey of exposing the enemy’s plan. The enemy wanted to cripple me; leaving me on that couch feeling powerless and mad at God – though it wasn’t God’s fault. God showed me the root behind the enemy’s scheme, which ultimately gave me eyes to see, so that I could no longer be deceived. God showed me how to no longer be a slave to my appetite, and no I am not just talking about food. I realized self-control is a fruit of the Holy Spirit, and is actually something that I possess. I do not answer to my body. No. My body answers to me.
God had to take me through a process of declaring freedom over my life in these areas, breaking off generational curses, forgiving my mother who passed down this issue to me, and then choosing obedience even when I didn’t feel like it.
If you or a loved one is struggling in the area of addiction, I strongly encourage you to come receive prayer at the Glennon House and allow the healing presence of the Holy Spirit to reveal the root behind the addiction that is afflicting you. Come receive your freedom!