striving to be whole

So many things are going through my mind right now.

Mark and I just got denied insurance coverage for an individual policy. Why? Because of me, and my pre-existing conditions.

I've had an eating disorder and been depressed since I was 14 years old. That's 9 years. I started treatment for both things just over a year ago, in late 2009. At that time, we were on Union University's group insurance, because that's where Mark was working.

Well, less than a week ago, Mark quit his job for good, to study full time in preperation for our big move to Colorado. We've prayed fervently about this decision, and we have no doubt it's what God wants. Mark has been researching the details of insurance coverage painstakingly for months. I wish I could express how much effort he's put into this. He wants us to be taken care of. He wants me to be taken care of. He's the best husband in the universe.

We just got off the phone with the insurance people from Humana (who, by the way, made it sound like my eating disorder/depression treatment history wouldn't cause a problem. The agent made it seem like NBD - you know, just easy-breezy-lemon-squeezy. Yeah, more like squeeze-the-lemon-juice-in-our-eyes.), who couldn't even tell Mark why they denied me. I know that's a legal thing, but it still makes me feel singled out. Then I pick up the phone, they call me "Mary," (and I want to shout "THAT'S NOT MY NAME"), and they tell me I'm being denied coverage because of my problems that I hate. But to make it "all better," she tells me that I can be reconsidered if I send some proof that I've been recovered from everything for at least 8 years.

8 YEARS? Oh, okay, let me call my doctor really quick.
Yeah, right.

I feel awful about this for so many reasons. On the surface, I feel stupid for even dealing with these things in the first place. Deeper, I feel attacked because this launched a long conversation between Mark and my mom about trying to avoid treatment at all cost. Don't they know how hard it was for me to admit I needed treatment in the first place? Or are they saying my problems aren't serious and they're really trying to hint at my hypochondriac tendencies? And even deeper, I've been in a funk lately, so now all I can think about is how I better figure out a way to get out on my own. (Not to mention how I have a huge, underlying complex that Mark is embarrassed of me because of all the problems I have and because of the things I've been through.)

EEEK. What a mess.

And the worst part about it all is that all these feelings just make me want to quit eating, curl up into a ball, and cry myself to death. So, here we are in this vicious cycle, like a song I hate on repeat. (This brings to my mind the mystery of how "Stay Fly" became one of the songs in my most played list. I don't even like that song.)

Looooooong sigh. Time to pick myself up again.

No matter how big of a mess I am, God is greater. He is bigger, and he wants me to be treated for the things I struggle with, because if I don't get treated, then it will hinder progress of expanding his kingdom. He doesn't want his servants to be incapacitated, starving, weeping nobodies. He wants us to be victorious, holy, WHOLE SOMEBODIES. At the end of the day, that whole somebody is who I want to be.

I have a new dream: I want to start an orphanage/children's home for any neglected children, especially children who have been sex trafficked. This "industry" breaks my heart, and I feel like God is calling me to do something about it. Anything.

And whatever that anything may be, I'm willing for God to make me into the somebody who can do it.

(read more about my struggles and treatment here, here, here, and/or here.)