Honestly I'm struggling. Hit the jump for the interview.

I recently finished reading the book "Honestly I'm Struggling" written by Heather Bohlender. It was very interesting and it made me think. The book was written off of her blogs from heatherbo.blogspot.com while she was serving as a student missionary in Cambodia.  I asked Heather if I could interview her for my blog and she was glad to do it.  If you have a chance pick up Heather's book do it.  It will be worth your time. 

RY: Heather when we first met you were the basketball star that sang in church all the time that everybody seemed to love. I don't remember the first time I heard that you had an eating disorder but when I did my first instinct was curiosity. I did not know you very well and I all I knew about anorexia was from a paper that I had written about Karen Carpenter. How do you feel about introducing yourself to many people that don't know you through something that is very personal matter. I would imagine that this makes you feel alot more vulnerable. Am I wrong?


HB: You are absolutely right. Writing a book about my struggles—about what makes me human—puts me in an incredibly vulnerable position: What if people think less of me? What if I lose friends? What will people think of me when they find out I’m not perfect?
We need to ask ourselves: What is it about “getting personal” that scares us so much?
If someone thinks “less” of me for having an eating disorder, than they must be the world’s first and only perfect person, because here’s some news: Everybody struggles with something. Maybe it’s an addiction, maybe it’s pornography, maybe it’s alcohol, maybe it’s gambling. We’ve all got something. And the more we act like we don’t, the more people around us see right through it. None of us are perfect and that’s okay.
I’ve not lost one single friend because I’ve shared my struggles. In fact, I’ve made more friends because of it. It’s been a long journey of day-to-day decisions to accept that I’m okay as I am. I don’t have to have perfect hair and make-up, wear designer brands, or put on a happy face when I’m falling apart inside. I don’t have to fake having it all together when I most assuredly do not. It’s liberating to make friendships based on transparency instead of the masks we hide behind.
My “dirt” is on display for anyone on the internet or in a book store to read. Anytime we put ourselves out there, we give people permission to form opinions about us: good, bad, or otherwise. We can’t control how they will react, but here’s what I’ve found: More people have graciously related to my story and thanked me for writing it than people who have rejected it. In fact the score is at least 200 to 1. I’ve only dealt with one person who criticized my story and they did so anonymously, so that doesn’t even count.
Ninety-nine percent of the time when we admit that we are indeed human, the people around us take a deep breath, “Oh good, then I can be too.”
I first blogged about the eating disorder in 2007 during my student missionary year in Cambodia. I’d already been battling anorexia for 18 months and had only told a handful of people closest to me. I reached a desperate moment in Cambodia where the risk to remain silent was more painful than the risk it took to be honest. I’ve never regretted that decision. Not once.

RY: When I look back at events that have taken place in my life it is hard to get perspective on things if they have happened recently. For example it's like passing something on the freeway and seeing it appear in your rearview window. At first it is very big but you can't see it the whole thing. But as you drive farther away from it you can see exactly what it was. How has your perspective and memories of your journey changed? Does it look and feel the same as it did the weeks after you returned from Cambodia?


HB:  My perspective on my year in Cambodia has altered gradually ever since I returned on July 1st, 2008 about two and a half years ago.

When I first came back to the States I felt fragile. I had nightmares about being raped. I went to trauma counseling. I was afraid to eat for fear that I would resort to throwing up. I didn’t want to go to church. I was angry with God (if there was one). I was sick with giardia, worms, parasites, and amoebas. I was scared to be alone with myself because then I’d have to face who I had turned into in Cambodia. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.
I felt like a bad student missionary. Like somehow I had missed the point or slipped through the cracks. I had this picture of what my experience was “supposed” to be and when it wasn’t I felt like I must’ve done something wrong.
Writing Honestly, I’m Struggling was the single most important thing I’ve done to heal since returning from Cambodia. Most of the writing was already done since the book was compiled from the blogs I wrote overseas. But having to re-enter that experience and re-live those days and nights was incredibly healing. This time when the feelings became too much, I could turn off my computer and it would all be over. Instead of putting those feelings in a box and avoiding them, hoping they’d just go away, I had to dive back in and deal with them, feel them, and work through them.
Sometimes I’ll read through the pages and think, "Oh girl, take a deep breath." Where I was then seems less difficult to me now as I sit in a safe environment with friends and family nearby. But I know better. I have to honor my experience. Time is powerful medicine. Who we are now is different than who we were five minutes ago or five years ago. Things change. Opinions change. I’ve changed. I know now that this is my story and I don’t need to apologize for it. I can’t fret about what I should have done or how I should have reacted. This is my story and I’ve learned too much for it be a mistake.

RY: I know that coming back from the things that you have had to deal with in your life takes time. I know that in my life I am constantly trying to improve and learn from my struggles. If you only had a few moments to speak with someone who was dealing with some of the struggles that you had to deal with in your year of mission work what would you say to them?

HB:  If I had only a few moments with someone who’s talked to me about their struggles (and we are ALL struggling with something), I would say:

“I’m so sorry that you’re hurting. You’re not alone. How can I help?”
Those four words—“how can I help?”—are incredibly powerful.
It doesn’t mean I want to fix you.
It doesn’t mean I’m secretly judging you.
It doesn’t mean I know exactly what you need.
It doesn’t mean I know what’s best and I’ll force that on you.
It means: “I’m sorry. I want to help. Tell me how.”
I have this hard-wired belief that I am the only dysfunctional person walking this campus. After all, I’m cleaning up after an eating disorder. I don’t know what I believe about God anymore. I wish my thighs looked like her thighs. I’m not sure that I’m in the right major. And I spend more time than I’d like to admit wondering if I hold any value in people’s lives or if I will make any significant difference before I die.
I think most of us believe that we are the only dysfunctional ones and our friends would be horrified to find out otherwise. But the truth is: some of us are about one minute away from falling apart, yet we walk around and carry on with life as if we’re doing—how do we answer the question, “How are you?”—oh that’s right, “Good.” But we’re not. We’ve got to stop acting like we’re “good” if we’re not “good.”
I’m not always doing “good,” sometimes I’m doing “wonderfully,” “splendidly,” “horribly,” or I’m just plain falling apart. I realized that if I was so frustrated that no one else seemed to be admitting they weren’t always doing “good,” than I needed to start the trend. That’s the hardest part, Gandhi was right: We have to be the change we want to see. And it stinks because that means I have to put myself out there first.
Vulnerability is an incredible strength. Some people fight it their whole lives as if letting people know who they really are just might kill them. But it doesn’t. And it won’t. And it will only make you stronger.