Desperate Disorders Call For Desperate Actions? (Thin Enough)
“For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice: but what I hate, that I do.”
Romans 7:15
College can often rupture disordered eating, food, and body image issues that have been lying more dormant for years.
Anorexia was the undeniable and explosive expression of family dysfunction, abuse, and toxic secrecy.
And when I was at the height of my Anorexic state, tipping over into My Bulimic behaviors, I was desperate.
I did things that I didn’t believe I’d ever do.
Desperate.
I was desperate.
With the prospect of young people going off to college, what desperation is already present, just not discussed?
(Thin Enough Book Excerpt):
Question: Are you angry with anyone, especially when they mention your eating habits and weight?
By the end of the summer, Mom’s pressure to eat was increasing. She made more hospitalization threats, telling me I was crazy. Anger welled up in me when she’d say things like that. I wanted to lash out at her, to hurt her back by screaming at her, “You’re what is wrong with me! The fact that I have to do this for you to pay attention to me, the fact that I have to work to earn your love and attention—that’s what’s wrong with me!” However, I just kept quiet, strengthening my resolve and waiting until glorious September when I would be free.
College finally came. I felt hope at the thought of freedom on my own terms. Things would be different. Now I could concentrate and be happy. I moved into an apartment with three roommates. Miraculously, I was able to be a functioning student, keep good grades and regularly attend my classes. I kept up the “okay” facade.
However, I couldn’t stop the changes going on in my body. It started out with a shift in my thinking. I found myself more obsessed and tortured by food. Suddenly I wanted food right now! And after all, I was eighty pounds. I could afford a little something to eat, right?
I was nervous. This went against everything I’d been working for. Do something on my forbidden list? Put weight on instead of taking it off? I would move closer to the fat, unacceptable me that I was trying so hard not to be. But my hunger went beyond a growling stomach. True starvation will make you entertain thoughts you wouldn’t dare think otherwise.
Question: Is food constantly on your mind?
Nothing else mattered anymore. Everything else was fuzzy around me: right and wrong, other people, God, consequences. Just food mattered. But things were different now. Innocence toward food was gone. I couldn’t simply “just eat” again. You can’t go back once you’ve been down my road. It’s never again quite as simple as “eat.”
I suddenly became aware of all the food around me: food that I had sworn off, food I’d forbidden. When my alone in our apartment, I was tortured by my roommates’ food. I was hungry. And I was tempted.
“Come on, just this once, and then you’ll get back on track.”
“Come on, your roommates will never miss this food. They’ll never know it’s gone. Besides, it’s just this once, and then you’ll get back on track.”
I’d always believed that stealing was wrong, one of the commandments, right? But I was so hungry, right and wrong didn’t matter.
Question: Do you want to eat but feel you don’t deserve food?
When I began eating (stealing) my roommates’ food, I felt warring emotions. Feasting on boxes of rice and crackers, granola bars, fistfuls of cereals, and ice cream bars felt wonderful. But I began to panic. Where would all of this show up on me? My straight hips? My twenty-inch waist? My hollow cheekbones? I wanted to protect the product of my hard work. Still, I couldn’t stop eating. Every time, I repeated my new vow, “I’ll do this just one time.” One time became always.
Question: Do you binge on food whenever you experience negative feelings?
“For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice: but what I hate, that I do.”
—The Apostle Paul in Romans 7:15
After each feast, I felt exhaustion, guilt, shame, and pain. My body wasn’t able to deal with this violent attack of food. I was literally stuffed with food. My stomach was extremely distended. I looked like a pregnant, malnourished refugee. My stomach was rock-hard and stretched beyond its limits. I was uncomfortable standing, sitting, walking, and breathing. I paced back and forth in my apartment, trying to get comfortable. I hated myself, and felt like the most horrible, disgusting person in the world. Who would want and love me now? What boy? What man? I even started to question—What God?
I moved into a new eating disorder. Every day, I’d start out weighing 80-something pounds. I would be tempted, gorge, panic, binge and weigh myself. Each time, I would shoot back up to ninety pounds again. My urgent prayer became “Oh God, no, help me. You know I can’t weigh this.”…
The Big Picture
Let’s talk about what we think we see.
Look at these two images.
A duck or a bunny?
A young woman or an old woman?
There is more going on than what we THINK we see.
“For the heavens are higher than the earth; so My ways are higher than your⁺ ways, and My thoughts than your⁺ thoughts. For as the rain comes down—and the snow—from the heavens, and from there it does not return until it has quenched the earth and made it bring forth and sprout, that it may give seed to the one sowing and bread to the one eating, so is My word that goes forth from My mouth: It will not return to Me empty until it has done that which I delight, and it will prosper for that which I send it.”
Isaiah 55:9-11
Let’s go a little further.
Let’s look at some classic art.
But not just any classic art.
Murals.
Murals are “the big picture.”
Artists, like Pablo Picasso and Michaelangelo have created some breathtaking, famous murals.
For instance, Picasso’s “Guernica.”
According to Wikipedia’s site, this mural measures11 ft 5 inches tall and 25 ft 6 inches across.
It’s a large mural.
If you were to see it in person, you would need to go to the Museo Reina Sofía in Madrid.
And, if you saw it, in person, and got REALLY up close and personal TO the mural, you might see something like this:
What are you looking at?
It’s hard to tell. And not just because Picasso typically painted noses is places where ears should be.
It’s because you are too close.
You are “in it.”
You cannot see “the big picture.”
You need to step back, even step away, somewhat, TO SEE it.
www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guernica_(Picasso)
Now, let’s go to Italy.
There’s some great art in Italy. And The Sistine Chapel is at the top of that list.
“The Sistine Ceiling,” created by Michaelangelo, according to Wikipedia’s site,is approximately 12,000 square feet, 131 feet in length and 43 feet wide. It is divided into nine panels depicting scenes from the Book of Genesis, including the famous “Creation of Adam.”
www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sistine_Chapel_ceiling
Michealangelo worked on that sucker from 1508 to 1512. And because, well, he was painting A CEILING, he had to paint it on his back.
(I can only imagine his back issues).
Anyway, like the mural “Guernica,” if you were to get up close and personal TO “The Sistine Ceiling,” probably hoisted up there with some crane and a seated swing, you would only see a small fraction of the masterpiece.
Like this…
Again, what are we looking at?
Is that a foot? An arm? A woman wearing blue?
It’s hard to tell.
We cannot get the full impact of Michaelangelo, unless we are back down to earth, looking up at the ceiling.
“The Big Picture.”
See the difference?
See Through a Glass Darkly?
“Now we see but a dim reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”
1 Corinthians 13:12
Then We Shall Know?
It’s maddening.
We want to know the answers to the questions we have right now.
And life- and The Most High- don’t operate like that.
“The Big Picture” requires that we await the telling of the entire story, the telling of our entire life mural.
That does not feel comfortable or comforting, does it?
We ARE His Workmanship…
“For we are His workmanship, having been created in יֵשׁוּעַ. Ha-Mashiach
(Christ Jesus) for good works, which YHWH prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.”
Ephesians 2:10
WE are the ultimate artwork of The Ultimate Artist.
Our lives, yes, our murals. They are a lot to take in.
It’s hard to see the complete picture, “the big picture.”
Nevertheless, they are being beautifully painted right now.
“Being persuaded of this very thing, that the One having begun a good work in you⁺ will complete it until the day of יֵשׁוּעַ. Ha-Mashiach (Christ Jesus).”
Philippians 1:6
Let’s pray.
Abba,
I come to You, through Our Shepherd.
Your only begotten Son, Our Savior, יֵשׁוּעַ.
You know the pain and the difficulty that is my life.
It’s hard for me to see what exactly is going on.
You know I’m confused, disheartened, anxious, and wanting so many answers.
Forgive me for not turning to You.
I know that You have created my life for a purpose, even if I don’t understand what that is.
Help me, teach me, lead me.
Thank You that I Can trust You with my life.
I entrust it to You, even as I only see a small glimpse of what You’re doing.
You will finish what You started.
Thank You.
Amen.
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
“Such a Pretty Face” (“Thin Enough”)
Is it a compliment or an insult?
How many of us have struggled with food, weight, and body images have heard this statement?
“Such a Pretty Face.”
You and I are already considered to be beautiful and valuable, in the Eyes of Someone Who matters the most: Elohim.
“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes.”Song of Solomon 1:15
Face. Form. Spirit. Soul. Mind.
No distinction.
No qualifier.
“Such a Pretty Face”
When it comes to eating and image disorders, the lion’s share of attention goes to the body. It is about the physique: how large it is, how thin it is, sized up against any particular person and/or cultural image standard.
So, it appears, there is no attention given to the face.
Yet, within the eating disorder context, my negative experience with the punim was just as painful as the unforgiving perception of my body. And it started early.
As an overweight child, several adults repeatedly made the same comment. Perhaps you’ve had it spoken to you.
“… ‘You have such a pretty face, if you’d just lose some weight…’ This comment dangled the hope of beauty, and yet placed the blame on me… for not achieving it. It was my fault…”
(Excerpts taken from Cruse’s book, “Thin Enough: My Spiritual Journey Through the Living Death of an Eating Disorder”)
“Such a pretty face…”
To me, it is the epitome of the backhanded compliment. It has built-in judgment, expectation and pressure present, waiting on the owner of said “pretty face’s” response to “correct” the situation.
But sometimes, that results in an eating disorder. That’s how I responded, anyway.
For, each time that comment was made, I heard I was inferior. After all, adults made this statement. They knew what they were talking about. Certainly, they couldn’t be wrong. Therefore, I had to be.
So, whenever I looked at my face, I saw fat. My chubby cheeks were grotesque; any trace of a double chin was further evidence I was hopeless.
Yes, maybe, underneath these hideous layers of fat, I was, somehow, considered to be a “pretty face.” But it still didn’t change that, in the meantime, I possessed my ugly, overweight body, for which I had no excuse. If I were simply a better caliber of girl, the face and body could both be the way they were “supposed to” look.
So, as childhood grew into adolescence, I constantly dieted, attempting to make that happen. I had a gun-shy reaction each time someone called me pretty. I braced to hear the face qualifier. I waited for the “helpful” advice of the diet-and-fitness plan offered. I could never just rest in the pretty remark. There were strings attached. Those strings were always weight loss.
And, after many a failed diet and fitness regimen, come freshman year of college, my self-determined need to achieve “reinvention” dictated I must lose weight everywhere, in both face and form. No baby fat was seen as adorable or acceptable. Therefore, with commitment in place, I shed the much-detested weight before college’s start.
And, as I believed, I was reinvented. I was treated differently; I was treated better. Flirtation and compliments abounded in my new college life. And no “such a pretty face” comment was uttered. The reaction I received was genuine and sincere. I was intoxicated by this and even more determined. I could not lose this progress. I had to keep going. I needed to be even more chiseled, face included.
“… Each comment, lost pound, and lost inch gave me more of an incentive… I eventually became convinced that death—at least the look of starvation—was beautiful.I was envying the ‘beauty,’ the look of the malnourished, the tortured—even those in concentration camps… Each time I looked at myself in the mirror, all I saw was a fat baby picture of me with fat arms, legs and double chin. I’d spent most of my young life being that photograph. I’d do whatever was needed to make sure that it wasn’t the case now…”
So, I eventually dropped to a two-digit weight. And, with that emaciation, my gaunt face materialized. Sunken-in cheekbones and exaggerated “bug eyes” were just as evident as my jutting collarbone and thin limbs. It was difficult to know, exactly, what people were freaking out the most to concerning my appearance: my face or my body. I received numerous horrified gasps and stares from adults, as well as pointing fingers from filter-less children.
Yet, I reveled in my thin being, whether it was body or face. It was a revenge payback to all of those individuals who burdened me with “such a pretty face.” Do you see how pretty I am now? Deal with THAT. I dare you.
With anger and other toxic unresolved issues driving my behavior, I eventually morphed into my bulimic phase, which, very quickly, brought on weight gain. Physiologically ravenous, as well as emotionally desperate, frustrated and suicidal, I became an eating machine, scrounging college dumpsters and stealing my roommates’ food. I was out of control in a different way now.
It was devastating as I underwent weight gain in both my body and my face. I had ample experience with an overweight body before. That was familiar despair.
But the face changes seemed to have a pain all its own. “Such a pretty face” now roared back, putting me in my place for ever even daring believe I could be worthy.
And, I had a daily, constant reminder from which I could not escape. As I gained weight, I could cover my body. I could hide under baggy sweatshirts and layers. But my face? That was out there, changing, distorting, for everyone to see. I could not avoid that.
“…Puffy ‘chipmunk’ cheeks replaced the hollow, defined cheekbones I’d worked for… I’d lost my sharp jawline and had acquired a double chin. Each morning I woke up and starred in horror at this fat girl’s face…”
The English proverb asserts “the eyes are the window of the soul.”
But, that is the tip of the iceberg concerning disordered eating and image issues. For, we often underestimate the face’s importance in its telltale symptoms of a troubled individual. Written here, on their face, we can also see the afflicted mind, personal will and unhealthy emotions which drive the life-threatening disease. As hallmarks of an eating disorder, we look for the skeletal limbs and the underweight body. But how much time and attention are spent considering the face?
With anorexia, it may be easier to detect the disorder, as, again, we go to the obvious thin criteria. A face is just too gaunt to be thought of as healthy or unaffected.
But bulimia and ednos (eating disorders not otherwise specified) may be more easily disguised in matters of the face. Still, symptoms which point to disorder are there, if we know what to look for.
Medical experts studying eating disorders confirm swelling and puffiness exist because of swollen salivary glands (parotid glands). It’s indicative of purging.*
So, to focus only on the body, at the exclusion of the face, for a valid diagnosis, is to do a disservice to the sufferer.
Disorder involves the entirety of the person: spirit, mind, body and yes, face. Do we take that into account as we each comfortably associate for ourselves what an “eating disorder” looks like?
There’s more to disordered eating and image issues than what we assume. And, when we make any cavalier statement about someone’s appearance, be it body or face, we can never tell just how that may trigger an individual. “Such a pretty face” can be the beginning of a painful, difficult lifetime of self-rejection or oppressive qualification.
“Such a pretty face” is not a harmless comment. We need to stop seeing it as such.
*“Subtle Signs of Eating Disorders,” Amanda Gardner; www.health.com/health
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
“Princess” (“Thin Enough”)
https://sherylesearchesscriptureetc.wordpress.com/2026/08/31/princess-thin-enough/
On August 31st, 1997, we lost Princess Diana.
It was a great loss. She was "The People's Princess."
She had a heart. She suffered.
And, even a Princess, this Princess, suffered from eating disorders.
The "Thinspo" Movement on social media often refers to those who are pursuing emaciation as a goal as "Princess."
We ARE "fearfully and wonderfully made" already, Princess- value ALREADY!
As you think of her, on the anniversary of her passing, think ALSO of your inherent value, eating disorder or not!
The Most High loves you, and He is helping you RIGHT NOW!
Be blessed and returned to FULL HEALTH: Spirit, Mind, Soul, and Body!
Buck Up? No, Bruised Reed
“I am faint and sore bruised: I have groaned by reason of the disquietness of my heart.”
Psalms 38:8
All of us are vulnerable to getting our deep painful circumstances mishandled.
Many of us, recovering from violation can get further harmed, as someone downplays, dismisses, or further insults us about our experiences.
It’s re-traumatizing.
Maybe they meant to do it; maybe they didn’t.
Nevertheless, The Most High wants to heal us. He sees how broken we are.
He sees the bruise.
Buck Up? No, Bruised Reed – Sheryle Searches Scripture Etc.
You Shall Show To Be in The Wrong (“Just Violated?”)
“‘Every weapon formed against you will not prosper, and every tongue that rises against you in judgment, you will prove wicked. This is the inheritance of the servants of YHWH, and their righteousness is from Me!—' A declaration of YHWH.”
Isaiah 54:17
I love this scene from the film classic, “Baby Face” (1933), starring the late great,Barbara Standwyck.
A spiritual cup of hot coffee poured on the lap. Yes, indeedy.
And here is where Scripture meets the road of… inappropriate behavior and/or… rape jokes?
This is not a case of it being “just a joke.”
Violation of another human being is NOT funny.
It’s violating, dehumanizing, sin, and needing to be called to the carpet.
Hence, Isaiah 54:17…
“‘Every weapon formed against you will not prosper, and every tongue that rises against you in judgment, you will prove wicked. This is the inheritance of the servants of YHWH, and their righteousness is from Me!—' A declaration of YHWH.”
If you experienced anything like a rape joke, inappropriate behavior, including, but not limited to, coercive control, sexual harassment, and sexual assault, anything unwanted, you did NOT deserve that.
You are too valuable to be at the mercy of those unacceptable behaviors and choices of others.
They deserve that spiritual coffee cup you proving them wrong.
Spill that coffee, then!
Speak up, even in speaking to yourself.
What happened TO you should not have happened to you!
It was Not Acceptable, Appropriate, OR Funny!
You are Too Valuable IN Our Father’s Eyes and Heart For THAT!
(“Just Violated?” Book Excerpt):
…Now let’s move on to the second experience, one of too many. But this one was a doozy.
It had inappropriateness, entitlement, and rape-y overtones all over it, in my opinion.
It involved me, at my transferred college.
As a theatre major, I was involved in the college stage productions. Nothing earth-shattering about that.
After rehearsal, one Friday night, my theatre comrades and I went to a local college bar. Nothing earth-shattering about that.
I had one or two drinks, I think. Other guys from the play were more lubricated.
And feeling it.
As I was sitting at the bar, two of these guys started chatting with me.
I knew them. I worked with them on different productions. We were in the same theatre classes together. We were “friends,” or at least “theatre acquaintances.”
Entitled To…
Because of their buzzed nature, they were in good spirits. They started joking with me…
“Hey, let’s get Sheryle impregnated.”
They both were so amused at that statement...
Abba Father-
We come to You, in The Name of Our Savior, Yahshua.
You know every moment we have lived and survived.
You know all about the abuse, the coercion, the rape, the unwanted situation that we had to deal with. You know EXACTLY what the violation was.
Help us with that, as so much confusion, fear, and guilt have been attached to what happened.
Restore us and help us to heal.
Reassure us with Your Love, patience, and kindness.
Lead us to the safe people who can actively walk us through this.
We need your help. Help us to move forward, with Your Guidance.
Thank You.
We receive it all, by faith, and with a grateful heart now, In Yahshua’s Name.
Amen.
What was it that I was born into? What was it that I endured?
What WAS I “a product of?”
Rape? Abuse? Violence?
(“Just”) Violation?
Amazon.com: (“Just”) Violated?
Antlers
“My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors!”
Psalm 31:15
(Cancerventures Book Excerpt):
I pay attention to my physical being a lot more now. Anything new going on? Do I feel sick? Do I feel like something is growing that shouldn’t be? Do I feel more tired? Is that pain or sensitivity supposed to be that way?
After all, everyone responds/heals differently.
Is that all that is? Me just responding/healing in that unique way? I’m not erupting into another deadly cancer?
Physically, I mostly experience the weird sensation around my scar site. I have asked surgeons, Firefly Sisterhood Guides, and every specialist I’ve encountered, “Is this normal?”
And that’s usually when I hear, “Well, everyone is different; everyone heals differently.”
Yeah, I know that already. But there needs to be some baseline of standard mastectomy recovery, something in the vicinity of “nothing to see here.” Give me something, please! At least tell me I won’t be sprouting antlers from my scar site! Something!
“Well, everyone responds differently…”
Ah, forget it! I’ll just be nervous! And await the antlers…
…Body Changes and Antlers:
Another no-brainer, but yes, we need to prepare for a different life and body after diagnosis. Certainly, after such treatments as breast surgery (or surgeries) and radiation.
I had mistakenly believed once I had my bilateral mastectomy, the only major physical change would be that I’d have no breasts. It’s a little more complicated than that.
We also need to prepare for a difference in feeling: the lack of breast weight, the way the skin feels. That can be a numb sensation, a tighter chest feeling, or some irradiated swelling.
And if reconstruction enters the picture, well, there’s a whole array of differences, feelings, complications, and “new body adjustments” to take in.
Please just know you will notice your body feels different, beyond lump or breast removal. You and I are going to have to learn how to inhabit this skin now.
One cannot be too fussy in this area, in my opinion. Ask repeatedly any questions you have. Bother your treatment team; bug your doctors. Mention concerns. Do what you can to rule out fears of dreaded outcomes.
Yes, it’s a pain to be so hyperaware. Most of the time, a sensation is harmless, just part of your new normal. Still, when in doubt, ask.
And keep an eye out for the antlers.
So far, I’m in the clear.
TAG! You’re It! (“The Name Devotional”)
When was the last time you played tag?
When was the last time you wore a name tag?
You know those labels we slap on ourselves, identifying ourselves to a group of strangers?
Well, What Is HIS Name?
The Big HIM?
Beyond “God?”
Beyond “Jesus?”
What is in a Name, HIS Name?
He wants us to know Him better.
And it starts with His Name, right?
Tag! You are invited to BE “it!”
What’s in a Name?
What’s in HIS Name?
How Do We Address Him?
Scripture Mentions His Name.
What Does That Mean To Him?
Freddi Washington (“IF You Know?”)
“It is the Glory of The Most High to conceal a thing: but the honor of kings is to search out a matter.”
Proverbs 25:2
If You Know?: Cruse, Sheryle: 9798272042019: Amazon.com: Books
Bette Davis’ Pity For Me? (Cancerventures)
“How beautiful you are, my darling!
Oh, how very beautiful!
Your eyes are like doves.”
Song Of Solomon 1:15
(Cancerventures Book Excerpt):
…As I was recovering from this cancer-related stuff: diagnosis, testing, surgery, radiation, fear, dread, and me-specific fussiness, I went down the YouTube rabbit hole: cute animals, BBC documentaries and Phil Donahue talk show episodes from the 1970s and 1980s.
One day, I happened upon a 1987 Donahue show featuring the Hollywood legend, Bette Davis. She was plugging her second memoir, “This ‘N That,” discussing her later years and health challenges; this included her Breast cancer diagnosis and her mastectomy.
Well, now, my ears really perked up.
I felt she was quite nonchalant about her removed breasts. I don’t know if that was the elderly candor we often encounter from older people. I don’t know how much of it was just Bette being Bette. Whatever it was, she, indeed, spoke of how, because this happened later in her life, it wasn’t as difficult for her. She had already lived that part of her life in which beauty, glamour, romance, and relationships would have perhaps required more so her to have breasts.
She insisted, now, as a person, in her 70s, she didn’t need them.
She also stated how she felt sorry for young women who had to go through the diagnosis and the mastectomy.
So, would Bette Davis feel sorry for me?
Would she view me as this “young woman,” with, supposedly, so much
life ahead of her?
I cannot say for sure.
Regardless, as far as (Hubby) goes concerning me now, post-mastectomy, of course, he’s tried to be loving, supportive… and complimentary.
He has helped me change my bandages and measure the drain output, post-surgery. He has seen enough of my mastectomy chest, walking around greasy, covered in Aquaphor, waiting to dry enough so I don’t ruin yet another t-shirt. He never has shown a look of horror or disgust. At least, I haven’t seen it.
He seems unfazed…
Vultures? (“IF You Know?”)
“The eye that mocks at a father and despises obedience to a mother—the ravens of the valley will dig it out, and the young eagles will eat it.”
Proverbs 30:17
It can be argued that one spiritual aspect of spiritual mis-identity issues, is that of the “no-contact” necessity that many of us need to employ when it comes to family members.
Vultures.
Birds of prey.
There’s more to these creatures, and the symbolic roles they can play in our difficult lives.
Many of us, especially dealing with Narcissistically abusive family systems, have experienced abuse, manipulation, and varying degrees of spiritually significant warfare and torture.
Let’s be clear, everyone: Narcissistic abuse IS a spiritual issue.
It’s not over-the-top to state that, yes, its tactics ARE evil.
And navigating this treacherous terrain is not made any easier considering Proverbs 30:17:
“The eye that mocks at a father and despises obedience to a mother—the ravens of the valley will dig it out, and the young eagles will eat it.”
Do we feel cursed as we try to simply survive?
Do we feel cursed as we feel that we have no other choice than to go “no-contact” with someone, simply to survive, let alone, thrive?
Do we feel hopeless and future-less?
What do we think The Most High thinks of this situation?
It does not promote easy and comforting answers, does it?
(“IF You Know?” Book Excerpt):
…Underlying Condition: Curse?
“There is a generation...”
The curse- the infirmity- the gigantic question mark of identity- speaks to underlying condition.
Health-wise, I have knowledge and experience of that term.
My own struggles with depression, eating disorders, and cancer have given me acute awareness that something that is hidden from view often drives physical reactions within the human body.
Eventually, the body speaks up that there is something wrong.
Sometimes, the body screams.
An emotional breakdown. A suicide attempt. A tumor. A stroke. A heart attack. A need to amputate a body part.
All screams. They didn’t start out that way.
And personally, this ties into my scream.
I had a breaking point, and a response that could lump me into the unflattering generation, as depicted in Proverbs 30…
“There is a generation that curses its father. And does not bless its mother. There is a generation that is pure in its own eyes Yet is not washed from its filthiness. There is a generation—oh, how lofty are their eyes! And their eyelids are lifted up. There is a generation whose teeth are like swords, and whose fangs are like knives. To devour the poor from off the earth, And the needy from among men.”
Proverbs 30:11-14
Was that also part of the Curse?
Generationally on me, and then I added my choices TO it?
Deuteronomy 24:16 was, after all, not the most encouraging scripture about my plight…
“…everyone shall be put to death for his own sin alone.”
Great.
My reaction?
Here’s my side of it, in brief.
Call it excuse, cop-out, yes, sin, and, of course, curse.
Because of these difficult, painful, abusive, disordered, and diseased dynamics, existing intergenerationally, and then, making their way to me, I was at a painful crossroads.
It, most dramatically, led to my breast cancer diagnosis.
My health. My emotional wellbeing. Both were severely taxed.
And I was my mother’s caregiver at the time of my diagnosis.
Stress upon stress.
Abusive dynamics were still ongoing.
No one in the family system appeared to be dealing with the dysfunction.
I tried to hang in there. Unsuccessful closure concerning my dad’s passing drove me to be there for my mother “until the end.”
I couldn’t be, though.
Cancer and life made things unmanageable. I was beyond my limit.
So, around the time of the 2020 Pandemic, I made the excruciating decision to go “no- contact” with my, yes, elderly, in-a-care-facility, mother.
I tied up whatever loose ends I could, dealing with her care facility. They were tending to most of her immediate care needs. They would now continue to do so without me.
“Behold, your mother…”
John 19:27
That scripture haunted me. I wanted to “look after her.” I felt that I repeatedly failed. And now, my health…and even my faith appeared to be failing also.
This wasn’t an easy or a quick decision for me to make.
But so much was toxic.
After my diagnosis, I tried to keep up my caregiving responsibilities. I tried to pretend nothing had changed.
But it had.
Guilt or self-care?
Glorifying The Most High? Or being a selfish failure of a daughter?
I got mixed messages from my mother. And that was torture.
In one conversation, Mom told me, “Your health is the most important.”
Still, I felt that those words were lip service.
I called her frequently. I tried to see her often. That became more challenging, fresh from my cancer treatment. Occasionally, I had to cancel plans and make the much-dreaded phone call.
One such cancellation was at the last minute on a Sunday morning; her phone kept ringing. She was at breakfast, away from her room. I called the care facility’s nurses’ station.
“Stephanie,” one of my nurse allies, answered.
An act of cowardice, perhaps, but I asked Stephanie to deliver the news to Mom. She knew about my cancer diagnosis, and my failed attempts to see my mother. Stephanie tried to comfort me.
“Sheryle, she’ll understand. You have been going through a lot. You wouldn’t expect your mother to go all the way up to see you now. She can’t. You cannot see her now. You need to take care of yourself.”
I hoped- but doubted- Mom would see it that way.
The next day, I called her. I made, again, my usual apologies, citing difficult health issues that often occur without warning, despite all solidified plans.
“That’s okay. I’m used to being disappointed.”
(Dagger to my I’m-trying-my-best-here heart).
“Disappointed.”
This was not the first time I’d heard that word uttered from her lips. I usually heard it phrased before as, “Don’t disappoint me again.”
But this was the most traumatizing expression of the word.
She couldn’t see me. She couldn’t see past herself, to see that there were things going on with me.
She would never “get it.”
Even if it was cancer.
I hadn’t counted on this one conversation with Mom being identity crisis, health crisis, and personal crisis.
Mother. Cancer.
Which one gets the most attention? Which one should?
So, I left. I left my elderly mother, relocating to Philadelphia.
“There is a generation that curses its father. And does not bless its mother…”
Proverbs 30:11
Therefore, am I a part of this generation?
Another expression of being cursed?
“There is a generation that is pure in its own eyes Yet is not washed from its filthiness...”
Proverbs 30:11-14
Was I pure in my own eyes? Only prideful? Ungrateful? Unloving? And… unclean?
I spent a lifetime trying to be the right family member in a toxic family system.
I tried to address things. I sought help. I cried for help.
It didn’t seem to come.
Was I just character defect, incarnate?
“There is a generation—oh, how lofty are their eyes! And their eyelids are lifted up...”
Proverbs 30:11-14
Excuses, excuses, excuses?
“There is a generation whose teeth are like swords, and whose fangs are like knives...”
Proverbs 30:11-14
Just cursed? I brought it on myself?
I had emotion and language that were swords and fangs, yes, I did.
Unanswered cries for help will do that for a person.
Spiritually, was this part of the curse package?
I didn’t know how much “fallout” was part of it.
What was sin? Failure? Being irresponsible?
Or just barely operating under a vague, ill-informed, but legitimate curse?
Sins of the Father. Sins of the Mother.
Going back how many generations?
Because “white” maybe, was all- important? Being “Gentile” was all- important?
And what reality of being “Jewish” or “Hebrew,” was unacceptable?
What do we label “it?”
Being only a narrow definition of acceptable identity was all-important?
“To devour the poor from off the earth, And the needy from among men.”
Proverbs 30:11-14
Am I only a devourer?
As I attempt to write about this, filled with caution, unease, and a possible reality I am exploiting my life experiences for, what, profit? Acclaim?
My experiences happened.
Was there nothing to them?
Am I just cursed in this regard as well?
Deeply embedded in the bloodline?...
He knows. He knows.
Whatever identity and issues we have come through, He knows.
He still loves us.
Embrace that, right now, wherever you find yourself.
He loves, despite any vulture. He is more powerful than any vulture!
“For I know the plans that I think toward you⁺, a declaration of YHWH, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give to you⁺ a future and a hope.”
Jeremiah 29:11
Let’s pray.
Abba-
I come to You, through Our Shepherd.
Your only begotten Son, Our Savior, יֵשׁוּעַ.
You know “the curses” that pertain to me.
You know the curses that involve my family members.
You know what has taken place.
You know, even if and when I do not know.
There are so many questions.
Forgive me, as I responded in ways that were not glorifying to You.
You know why I did what I felt I needed to do.
I invoke Jeremiah 29:11, even now, for my life.
Restore my life and my future.
Heal my life and my future.
You know your plans for me.
Thank You that You want a future and a hope for me.
I receive it now, by faith.
Thank You
Amen.
Amazon.com: IF You Know?
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
“The Name” Devotional
What’s in a Name?
What’s in HIS Name?
How Do We Address Him?
Scripture Mentions His Name.
What Does That Mean To Him?
Amazon.com: The Name Devotional
“Death and The Girl?”
I love art. And the masterpiece, “Death and The Girl,” by Frans Van Kuyck, is one such example that resonates with me strongly.
Especially concerning my eating disorder experiences.
Many of us who struggle with this issue, not surprisingly, can also have suicidal ideation as well.
Death wishes.
That’s where I was, especially concerning my most intense phase of Anorexia.
(Thin Enough Book Excerpt):
“My heart pants, my strength fails me: As for the light of my eyes, it also has gone from me… For in you, O Lord, I hope: You will hear, O Lord my God.”
Psalm 38:10, 15
I was tired physically, emotionally, spiritually. I just existed, going through the motions each day. I didn’t want to be here anymore. At nineteen and eight months, I daily prayed, “God, just let me die. Don’t let me make it to age 20.” . . . .
Question: Do you ever have thoughts of wanting to die?
Personality Characteristics of Individuals with Anorexia Nervosa:
•• Perfectionists
•• Conflict avoidant
•• Emotionally and sexually inhibited
•• Compliant
•• Approval seeking
•• Excessively dependent
•• Socially anxious
•• Fear of spontaneity
•• Reluctant to take risks
•• Practice food rituals
Families of people with Anorexia Nervosa:
•• Enmeshed, overprotective, conflict-avoiding
•• Unresponsive to patient’s self-expressions
•• Independence is discouraged
•• Patient overly dependent on parents
•• Parents may urge young daughters to lose weight
Ohio State University FactSheet. “Eating Disorders Awareness: Emotional Issues Involved with Eating Disorders.” 4 July 2003 <http://ohioline.osu.edu/ed-fact/1005.html>.
Even through, at the time, I was unaware of “Death and the Girl,” I was embodying it, nonetheless.
Many of us who struggle with Anorexia have an intense fear of growing up.
I did.
It was the worst thing that could befall me, beyond “being fat.”
So, I do connect to the painting.
The innocent child of a girl, picking yellow flowers, while whatlooks to be the character of “Death” walks alongside her, with a Grim Reaper sickle in tow.
“Death” is close by; “Death” is looking in the little girl’s direction.
“Death” is waiting for its opportunity to take her.
There were too many times I felt like death was coming for me.
“The cords of death encompassed me;
the torrents of chaos overwhelmed me.
The cords of Sheol entangled me;
the snares of death confronted me.”
Psalm 18:4-5
Too many fainting episodes. Too many pounding heartbeats and pulse points from the inside crooks of my elbows and the backs of my knees.
Too much listlessness.
Too much despair.
Others died at weights higher than mine. I was acutely aware of that, while simultaneously competing to weigh less than their corpses.
I was terrified, yet I wanted it to end.
I was in the death place. Like in the famous painting, “Death” was my walking companion. And I felt as unsteady as its emaciated legs, walking next to me.
Back then, I could not imagine that I’d be here now, let alone, alive. Yeah, there’s been a lot of pain and struggle.
Yet, The Most High has kept me.
I wasn’t quite letting that sink in then.
It sinks in much more now.
“My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors!”
Psalm 31:15
How about you?
Are you walking with “Death?”
Do you have a “death wish?”
How terrified and hopeless are you?
Terrified to grow up? To live?
To keep going?
Let’s pray.
Abba-
We come to You, in The Name of Our Savior, Yahshua.
You know where death walks with us: our thoughts, our fears, our lives, our struggles.
You know what already looks dead. You know what appears to be dying.
You know our despair. Forgive and help us for how we have turned to death, in any form, instead of to You.
Disordered eating, addiction, and depression are just some of the things we battle with.
Respond TO those things, as only You can.
We commit ourselves to You, knowing that with You, there is life, and life more abundantly (John 10:10).
By faith, we believe You can do that for us now.
Thank You.
Amen.
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
Looking Back (Christina’s World)- (“IF You Know?” and “Just Violated?”)
“It is the glory of The Most High to conceal a thing: but the honor of kings is to search out a matter.”
Proverbs 25:2
Sickness can be intergenerational.
It is in abuse, shame, and secrecy.
The Most High sees and knows all.
He knows the answers to your questions.
Seek Him about your painful experiences, whatever they were.
“For there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known.”
Luke 12:2
Looking Back, (Christina)
The artist, Andrew Wyeth.
His famous painting.
As a little girl, this was the first piece of art that captured my attention and resonated with me.
“Christina’s World.”
What captivated me as that child?
A young girl, herself, Christina, with brown hair, sitting far from her farmhouse, looking at its dilapidated condition.
It’s palpable.
You see sadness, desperation, resignation, poverty, a stifled limitation in her life.
It’s barren.
There are five buildings: a farmhouse, and barns or sheds making up the rest.
You don’t see her face. She is away from the viewer. You see her dark brown hair, tied back, with wisps gently blowing in the breeze.
She wears a simple pink dress. She props herself with her arms, reclining into the yellow field.
It’s desolate. Lonely.
Part of what resonated for me as the child was the farm.
I was a farm girl.
I know what small -town, rural life looks and feels like.
Lonely. Barren. Limited.
That was my experience. I have spent my life reconciling, attempting to heal from, and moving on from it.
Results are… well, not fully in, as to how successfully I have accomplished that feat.
At the time of my late mother’s stroke, sixteen years ago, I was confronted by overwhelming dilapidation.
Of my mother.
Of that farm I grew up on.
A “socially isolated widow,” as described within her hospital report, she embodied the desolation. The isolation. The loneliness. The barrenness.
Prior to the stroke that forever changed her life, she could not continue with the upkeep of the farm.
No regular painting of the buildings happened.
Decay set it, as each of the numerous buildings gave way. Shingles from roofs blew off. Mold and rot ate at the wood.
The main barn completely collapsed with a deafening implosion.
Returning to my childhood farm, after years of absence, it was stark.
And it brought up the past: looking back.
“But Lot’s wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt.”
Genesis 19:26
Most of us are familiar with the Biblical figure of Lot’s wife.
She looked back and turned to salt.
Most agree it’s a cautionary tale of forsaking what’s ahead for what our history was. Our past.
My mother’s death, late last year, has hit me with a surge of my past.
Dealing with it. Looking at it. Wondering, at any given point, am I wallowing IN it?
Am I disobedient, on my own way to turning into my own pillar of salt?
At the risk of being and sounding faithless, I am not restored, nor healed, from much of my past trauma, abuse, and memories.
I look back… a lot.
And I’m disheartened and reproached by further scripture…
“…‘No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of The Most High.’”
Luke 9:62
I could place fake faith smiles upon my face, reassuring and convincing everyone around me that I have moved past… my past.
But that would be a lie.
Instead, I am wrestling.
I am wrestling with the concept of letting go.
And wrestling is not merely restricted to the pain I’m experiencing.
It is also attached to… purpose.
Purpose that is found within the past, to be useful for now.
And there is much about my history that can be useful.
Healing. Restorative.
New… and Now.
That is where the tension lies, especially concerning one scripture.
“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
Isaiah 43:18-19
I am convicted and challenged by it.
I am still left with questions and tension.
Where am I on the scale of healing and needing to address and confront my past?
How do I let go?
What work am I responsible for doing, because of a greater purpose, lying within history’s desolation and hopelessness?
What am I responsible for working on, versus, leaving alone?
Questions, questions, questions.
I am in the middle of that right now.
I am my own expression of Christina, facing “Christina’s World.”
I am not solely that.
But looking back at the past… is a part of who I am.
Struggling for and with healing is a part of that as well.
How about you?
“My times are in your hands; deliver me from the hands of my enemies, from those who pursue me.”
Psalm 31:15
ABBA-
We come to You, in The Name of Your Son, Yahshua.
You know how we struggle with our “former things.”
You know how we are affected by where we came from.
You know how we are haunted by our past.
Thank You that, yes, You, indeed, have “new things” for us, new blessings.
Forgive and help us with our “old.”
Sometimes, yes, there is purpose within that “old.”
Help us, give us wisdom and discernment, as we approach that reality.
If there is, indeed, purpose within that wreckage, anoint and heal us to bring that to the surface, for Your Glory’s sake.
Thank You for healing, for loving, for redeeming.
Help us to live that out in our lives.
Thank You that You are doing just that, individually and uniquely.
We receive it, by faith, and by the finished work of Salvation’s Cross, through Your Son, Our Savior.
We receive it, in Yahshua’s Name,
Amen.
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
“The Name” Devotional
What’s in a Name?
What’s in HIS Name?
How Do We Address Him?
Scripture Mentions His Name.
What Does That Mean To Him?
Amazon.com: The Name Devotional
It’s not the object; it’s the light.
“Guard your heart with all diligence, for from it flow springs of life.”
Proverbs 4:23
“It's not the object discovered that matters, but the light that falls on it “
Boris Pasternak
A family friend once gave me her doll when I was six. It was from the 1950s, one of those “walking dolls.” Just over three feet, I was initially excited about it.
And then, I started changing my mind.
I sat it in my rocking chair. I didn’t play with it. In fact, I soon got creeped out by the doll as I walked by it. I just didn’t have a good feeling about it; I was afraid of it.
My parents eventually threw it away because of my response.
I am not one of those people who have phobias about dolls. I have collected them all my life. As a child, I played with many baby dolls and Barbies.
Still, I can understand the “creeped out” perspective people have concerning them.
Back in the day, with my doll collection on display in my room, there is an eerie kind of light, between midnight and dawn that makes these toys look menacing, even demonic.
Hey, if there was a famous line in the horror flick, “Jaws,” talking about the shark’s killer black eyes looking like “dolls’ eyes,” there, yes, can be a real terror looking into these blank stares at three in the morning. It’s like the glow of the Michael Myers’ mask in the “Halloween” movie franchise.
Ghostly. Ghastly.
Not something you want to hug. Not something you want to encounter.
Not something you want, period.
The walking doll, years ago, has taught me a lesson about wanting what we think we want.
Don’t you want this?
We can believe the hype, ours, or anyone else’s, for that matter. We believe we want something. So, when our experience doesn’t match up, when we get “creeped out” by it, it’s usually not too long before we hear, “Don’t you want this?”
We can talk ourselves into wanting something we really don’t want. We can gaslight ourselves. We can believe we’re “supposed to” want this.
And, when we discover, no, we don’t, we blame ourselves. It’s our fault.
But to whom does this “want” belong? Is it ours? Is it someone- or something- else’s agenda at work? Would it be convenient, easy, problem-solving, and profitable if we, indeed, wanted what someone else wanted?
Like a medical or a law degree, so there’s a doctor or a lawyer in the family?
Too many times, we ignore answering a valid question, nagging us, “But do I want this?”
Let’s go back to the concept of a doll collection. A large, diverse, aesthetically preferable grouping of numerous dolls. Maybe there’s a honed emphasis on a certain kind of doll: antique, porcelain, or China doll, for instance. But they’re all making their presence known. They may be sequestered to one room or space; they could be spread throughout the home. But they’re there.
I’ve been a doll collector since I was a child. By my adolescence, I was dedicated to their display and preservation. My collection was grouped together on a long shelf in my room. Some were porcelain, with glass eyes. Some were ragdolls. There was even a celebrity doll, here and there, like a Judy-Garland-as-Dorothy-from- “The- Wizard- of- Oz” doll.
Toto, too!
Anyway, starting my staunch collector attitude in my teens, as I bumped along, I began to have buyer’s remorse as I acquired various dolls. I outgrew my need to have them. But more than that. I had an aversion for them now. I tried to cover them up with other dolls, so I wouldn’t have to look at them.
So, answering the question, “Don’t you want this?”,the answer was “No.”
But I felt there was no way out. I had committed to the dolls. No turning back. No making another choice. I may hate the dolls the entire time, eventually, but there was no backing out.
And that can apply to any of our objects of desire. We are stuck with them. Saddled with them.
We made our creepy doll bed.
Now we need to lie down IN it.
Are you scared?
The stuff of life can be scary. Again, the common doll can fit the bill here.
We may be uneasy. We may have an unpleasant response about a certain thing.
Is that unpleasant response…fear?
What we think we want, like that of a doll collection, can suddenly scare us. It can be intimidating.
Glassy doll eyes. Dream promotion. A rare antique. The love of a lifetime.
Just some possible examples of stuff we think we want that come to frighten us… for whatever reason.
Is it a good fear… or a bad one? Are we scared because something’s “too good to be true?” Are we freaked out because something is familiar? Is it healthy or unhealthy? Does it look like a perfect status symbol that will solve our lives?
Why are we afraid of “it?”
Gut instinct… or are we trying to talk ourselves out of heeding our gut instinct?
What IS This?
Is a doll just a doll, or is it truly menacing?
What is our object of desire?
What is this… and why is this?
Myopic tunnel vision, idealization, and magical thinking of our unruly inner children run amuck can keep us from answering the crucial questions, giving us insight into our natures.
I never got to the bottom of why that walking doll I was given as a child freaked me out so much. I liked dolls. Why couldn’t I like that one? Why couldn’t I feel anything besides creeped out, as, try as I might, I never convinced myself I was happy to have this walking doll?
I didn’t have a clue then, but I’m gaining more understanding now.
What does the light look like?
Enter therapy.
Enter “the light.”
“It's not the object discovered that matters, but the light that falls on it “
Boris Pasternak
Light can illuminate. It can terrify. It can obscure and distort. It can educate.
What is our definition and presentation of light? What does the light look like?
Is the light truly that? What if it’s the diametrically opposing darkness, one filled with pitfalls and harm?
What if light, from our past, shown in precise and manipulative angles, really wasn’t the worst-case Boogey Man, after all?
Exploring these questions, through therapy, can get us more in touch with both light and our shadow selves. We have both.
It can be a doll collection that unsettles us. And it can be anything and anyone also.
Looking past the object to the response we have TO the light illuminating and distorting it, is a starting point to becoming healthier, peaceful, and better versions of ourselves.
What is the object? What is the light?
Copyright © 2026 by Sheryle Cruse
“Playing Detective?” (“IF You Know?” And “Just Violated?”)
