Hungry Heart, Starving Body

Written by Allana Walker, Canada

Editor’s Note: This blog post discusses an eating disorder. If this is something that might be difficult for you to read, please use your discretion. If you’re concerned for yourself or someone you know, please reach out to one of the helplines listed here or speak with your doctor, counsellor or someone you trust.

I lifted the toilet seat lid and hunched over the bowl, trembling.

I have to do this. Just once. Just once.

I stuck two of my fingers into my mouth.

My body heaved.

I pushed my fingers in further.

Stop, Allana! STOP!

I pulled my saliva-covered fingers out of my mouth and sank to the floor. My heart ached as I stared despairingly into the empty bowl. The faint smell of sewer water made my stomach churn.

I tucked myself between the toilet and the wall, curling into an anxious ball.

What is wrong with me? Why in the world did I eat those two slices of pizza for supper?

At nineteen, I was suffocating to death in the crushing grip of an eating disorder.

Who’s Going to Love Me If I’m Fat?

My obsession with food and weight loss stretched back to childhood. For as long as I could remember, I had always been a chubby kid. Most of my family members had never had a healthy relationship with food—or each other—so I had no idea what a healthy, well-balanced life looked like. 

At the age of ten, my whole world started collapsing around me. My parents separated, and my grandparents followed suit two years later. Life became a raging whirlpool, and I was swirling helplessly in its current, sinking deeper and deeper into chaos. I was desperate for someone to reach down and save me, someone to grab my hand and pull me out of the churning waters.

Swept up in the emotional storm of my family crisis, I clawed frantically at anything that might give me some semblance of stability. 

Food was one of those things; although I couldn’t control the chaos around me, I could control what I ate. For a little girl whose childhood was slipping from her grasp, this was better than nothing.

I started starving myself when I was only twelve years old, inventing crazy food rules that were supposed to help me lose weight and pushing myself to exercise every day even when my body was sick or exhausted.

Twelve was also the age I started longing for a boyfriend. It felt like everyone in my family had either abandoned or betrayed me, so I began yearning for a relationship that would provide me with unconditional love.

In my mind, a romantic relationship was the only thing that could satisfy my hungry heart.

But I couldn’t get a boyfriend if I was fat, could I?

For years, I had been told that I was too heavy. If I was going to win that boyfriend I wanted so badly, I needed to lose weight—and I was willing to do just about anything to do so.

But guess what I discovered at nineteen after my first boyfriend and I broke up?

It didn’t matter how much weight I lost. My boyfriend didn’t love me, no matter how skinny I was.

The “numbers game” I had been playing with the scale was supposed to bring me a sense of value. Instead, it left me feeling miserable and worthless.

In the wake of my first break-up, I realised that it would take more than a cute boyfriend or a weight loss goal to heal my broken heart.

I needed something that numbers could never provide. I needed immeasurablelove.

Losing the Numbers Game

I know full well I’m not the only one whose heart hungers for immeasurable love, nor the only one who’s dabbled in “number games”.

Spoiler Alert: They’re all rigged, guys. Trust me on this one.

Everywhere I go, I see people chasing the same things in a vain attempt to satisfy their souls.

It’s like we’re trapped in a hellish game of Snakes ‘n Ladders. No matter how high we climb in pursuit of some promised satisfaction, we inevitably land on a snake just before we reach 100, and then we’re back to square one, empty-handed and broken-hearted.

The roots of my eating disorder were complex and multifaceted, but at its core, it was a desperate cry for perfect, unfathomable, unfailing love—a love that could satiate an insatiable longing.

And I’m not alone.

If there’s one thing I’ve observed about human nature, it’s that ‘enough’ is never enough for us.

That’s why we over-indulge in our favourite comfort foods, or jump from one relationship to the next, searching for our elusive “perfect match”. That’s why we work ourselves to the bone, or spend money as fast as we earn it.

We spend our entire lives scrambling for something to quiet our hungry hearts. And yet, are we ever satisfied?

It seems not. Why else would we constantly be craving more?

There has to be a better way, my friends.

Taste and See

I recently completed Beth Moore’s Breaking Free study for the second time in my life. One of her Bible lessons focused on Psalm 107. The passage was not unfamiliar to me, but a fresh reading brought it to life in a new way:

“Some became fools through their rebellious ways
    and suffered affliction because of their iniquities.
They loathed all food
    and drew near the gates of death.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
    and he saved them from their distress.
He sent out his word and healed them;
    he rescued them from the grave.” (Psalm 107:17-20)

This was me, friends.

If I had persisted with my disordered eating too much longer, I might have literally starved myself to death.

But while I turned to food and weight loss in a vain attempt to control my life, Jesus stretched out His nail-scarred hands to me, yearning to heal my body, mind, and soul so I could experience true freedom.

He didn’t want me to starve myself to death. He wanted me to experience life to the fullest; satisfied, and overflowing with joy.

Once I (reluctantly) released control of my life and surrendered to Him, He tenderly started nursing me back to health.

I didn’t need to lose a single pound before Jesus would love me. He always had, and He always will.

Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus

There’s nothing sinful about enjoying good food or being mindful about what we eat. It’s not wrong for us to be passionate about fitness or care about our physical health. And it’s certainly not a bad thing to long for a loving, intimate relationship.

But we are asking for trouble whenever we turn to anything—any person, passion, or pleasure—for the comfort and security that only the unfailing love of God provides.

There is only one source of immeasurable love, love that continually satisfies every longing.

Love that, to quote the apostle Paul, surpasses our wildest dreams: 

“...And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power . . . to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” (Ephesians 3:17-19)

Jesus is our ultimate source of abundance and satisfaction. If you have not yet embraced the immeasurable love of Christ, I cannot emphasise this enough: Nothing else compares. Nothing.

It is a love that 

heals every wound,

mends every broken heart,

redeems every tarnished life,

restores every shattered dream,

satisfies every longing.

A love that willingly laid down His life for us, dying so we don’t have to. 

The best part?

God extends an open invitation to all those who hunger and thirst, craving something that nothing in this world can supply.

Trust me when I say you don’t want to miss out on this.

“Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.” (Psalm 34:8)

Now That’s What I Call Healing

Yesterday, I pulled two slices of homemade pizza out of the fridge and sat down for lunch.

Halfway through the first slice, I paused mid-bite. I looked down at my plate and hearkened back to two anxiety-inducing slices of cheese pizza I nearly forced myself to purge seven years ago.

A smile flickered at the corner of my lips as the Ghost of Pizza Past flashed before my eyes.

Never again.

Never again would I even consider sticking my fingers down my throat and forcing myself to regurgitate food.

Never again would I intentionally starve myself.

Never again would I allow a bathroom scale to dictate how I felt about my body.

I don’t need to live like that anymore. I have found a love that satiates my insatiable longing.

Allana is a writer and editor from the Canadian East Coast. Besides writing, she loves singing, baking, and thrift shopping. In her literary work, she explores the intersection between Christian theology, mental health, and human flourishing. You can read more of her writing here or connect with her on Instagram: @allanawalker_writer