Facing the Wrong Way

Trigger Warning: Eating disorders, Self-harm, and thoughts of suicide are discussed. Read at your discretion.

Picture this: a short, awkward, glasses-wearing, 12-year-old girl still carrying baby weight fumbles with her first middle school locker’s lock, trying not to bother the older boy who had the locker above her. She noticed a crumbled notebook paper falling out of her 6th-grader locker onto her lap. That piece of paper would change her life for the next four years.

That little girl was me. As I opened the note that suspiciously fell, I read the words, “you’re ugly four-eyes.” Shoving that paper into my uniform zip-up jacket pocket, I swiftly wiped the tears pooling in my eyes and walked to my next class. “How could someone say something like that to me?” I thought. I continued my day, hoping that another note would not come again. Oh, how I was so wrong. The following week, another note fell from the locker. Except this one read, “you’re a fat cow.” This began the cycle of weekly notes, which eventually turned into daily notes. Someone was torturing me, and I had no idea who they were.

I found myself walking through life as if I was walking on eggshells. I knew that when I opened up my locker, I would read words that would stick with me throughout the rest of the day. I begged my mother for contacts and asked her to show me how to put on makeup. The words I read made my eyes see myself as anything but beautiful. I felt as if I was losing control. I wanted control of my life. I did not know what the next day held, but I knew I could control one thing, what I ate. Slowly, I began restricting what I ate. I packed a big lunch and only ever ate the applesauce and crackers. I went from being a chubby 12-year-old to a skinny 13-year-old who still thought she was overweight.

In seventh grade, I was hopeful the notes would stop. Unfortunately, I was wrong. When the notes started again, I had no idea what was written on them. I had to look it up online, and I learned about the world's vulgarity. I blamed God. I remember saying, “God, if you really loved me, this would not be happening to me.” This was the moment I felt myself shift away from a relationship with Him. The following two years took me down a dark and twisty road. I discovered self-harm. My hips, ankles, and thighs took the brunt of my pain. Instead of leaning on a firm foundation, I leaned on sinking sand. It was a Friday in April of the eighth grade when I received the note that changed me the most.

It fell out of my locker, and I just stared at it on the floor. I wish I had left it there and never picked it up, but I did. After reading the note, I shoved it into my English binder and went to class. When I got home, I took it out and read it over and over and over. 11 words stared at me and cut me deep to my core. “Go kill yourself. Nobody would miss you if you were gone.” I won’t lie to you; I thought about it. I saw a bottle of Advil in my bathroom and thought, “what if….” Just then, my youngest sister came in, saw me crying, and hugged me. She told me that she loved me and that I was the best big sister. Hearing that patched a little bit of my broken heart. I knew I had become rude and angry in trying to mask my pain, but someone still loved me through it.

In the ninth grade, the notes finally stopped. What I haven’t told you is that I kept every single note in a box under my bed. I read those notes every night. I found my identity in the notes; they told me who I was. In October 2014, my best friend at the time invited me to go to a church camp with him. I did not want to go. In my head, God abandoned me, and why would I want to spend a whole weekend with him? Only being 14 years old, my parents said I was going, so I went. I was separated from my friend since he was a boy. They kept the girls and the boys apart at different times of the day. I felt lonely, anxious, and angry. Why me? I know none of the girls, and my only friend I barely saw.

On the second night, we were at a bond fire. The preacher said, “there is someone here wanting to know where God is.” At that point and time, I had nothing else to lose. I was at rock bottom, thinking I was disguising my pain as an eating disorder and self-harm. I fell to my knees and just cried. I finally got the words out, “God, where are you? I can’t do this anymore.” For the only time in my life, I audibly heard His voice. He said to me, “Naomi, I’m right here; you’re facing the wrong way.” I felt an overwhelming peace fall over me, and I cried and cried. God never left me; I left Him.

Now I wish I could say everything was sunshine and rainbows from that moment on, but it wasn't. I dealt with immense guilt. I felt guilty for what I did to myself and others and how I ignored God. I struggled with forgiveness. I struggled to forgive myself for hurting myself. How could I forgive someone who never showed me their face and probably wasn’t sorry? It took a year for me to find that forgiveness, but God walked me through it. I healed from an eating disorder and self-harm. I healed relationships that I had broken. Most importantly, I healed my relationship with God.

It was my senior graduation when I finally discovered who had tormented me for three years. When she revealed herself to me, I told her I forgave her. She looked at me confused and said, “but I’m not sorry for what I did,” and I told her that it didn’t matter. I forgave her anyways.

This story keeps me going when times get tough. To this day, I won’t say life is easy, but it is easier when you cast your burdens on the Lord. God showed me the story in the Bible of Peter walking on water. When he kept his eyes focused on Jesus, he was successful. The moment he turned his eyes away, he sank. I am too far gone for anyone to convince me God isn’t real. I wouldn’t be writing this right now if He wasn't.

Unfortunately, the friend who took me on the trip and I do not talk anymore. However, if he does ever read this, thank you. For whatever reason, you wanted to take me, and that trip saved my life. I will always be eternally grateful for your yes to the Lord.

If you are struggling, please reach out to me or someone you trust. Time and the Lord heals all broken hearts. Psalm 147:3 says, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”