Discipline That Heals Me

Blessed is the land . . . whose princes eat at a proper time—for strength and not for drunkenness.

—Ecclesiastes 10:17

I want to be the kind of person who makes peace with her body. I want to live with peace and confidence, without deprivation and shame. I don’t want to live by rules and regulations, but I also don’t want to be ruled by my appetites.

I resist and kick at discipline every chance I get, and then when I break down and do something hard, I find that it builds something in me, that it makes me stronger, not just in that area but in all sorts of areas. So for years I was a dieter, a shame-laden hider, fearful and vibrating with self-loathing. Then I was an eater, finally letting myself make peace with my appetites, wary and defensive about any attempt to limit or control.

And now these days, I’m something else, something new. I try to feed myself with care and attentiveness, without shame, without punishment. In some seasons, I choose discipline, not because I’m out of control, not as a punishment, but because it heals me, helps me, and builds and resets something good inside me.