Made to Dance

Made to Dance

On damnation, addiction, and the freedom — and the dance — still waiting for us

Damnation, I’ve come to believe, means to be stopped — blocked, halted, hemmed in on the way to where you were meant to go. I think we are “damned,” in a sense, whenever something prevents us from becoming the full person God made us to be. And oh, how many things line up to stop us.

A hard, honest phone call

Not long before I sat down to write this, I called a relative to see how she was doing. After a quick hello, she handed the phone to her husband — someone I love dearly, and someone who is in the hospital again. I’ll be honest: I answered him more coldly than I’m proud of. “How are you?” I asked. “I’m halfway there,” he said. I didn’t understand. “Halfway… dead?” I asked. No — halfway through his hospital stay. 

Three more weeks.

I said some blunt things I don’t usually say. I asked him, point blank, when he was going to let go of the thing that keeps landing him in that bed. He’s a strong-minded man, and I wasn’t sure how he’d take it — but he surprised me. He answered with a humility and honesty that undid me a little.

A taquito and a narcotic

He told me about the very first time he was ever hospitalized, years ago, as a young man. They put him on morphine, and he described how astonishing it felt — to be carried somewhere else, relaxed, free of all pain. He got himself off the morphine and never became addicted to it. But then he told me something I haven’t stopped thinking about: the first time he bit into a crunchy fast-food taquito, his body lit up with that same feeling. The same high. And that, he said, was the beginning — the beginning of a hold that fast food would keep on him for decades, turning the young “stud” (his word, with a laugh) into the prideful, stubborn, extremely obese man he is today.

I want to pause there, because that little story is the whole point. What he described isn’t weakness. It’s addiction — a real, chemical, wired-in thing that can hijack the very same pleasure circuits as a narcotic. We love to imagine food is “just a choice,” that people caught by it simply need more willpower. But when a taquito can flip the same switch as morphine, you begin to understand why “just stop” is about as useful as telling a drowning person to “just swim.” This is a prison. And you don’t shame a person out of a prison. You love them toward the door.

Even now, he keeps his humor. When the nurse came in to care for him, he joked, “I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but I’m actually a little overweight.” I laughed. And I prayed — that this hospital stay, as hard as it’s been, might be the one that jolts his spirit awake.

Addiction never traps only one person

Here is the part that breaks my heart, and I’ll say it gently. His wife knows how to cook the most nourishing food. She would love to eat it at home, together. But he won’t — and because his health no longer lets him drive, he asks her to take him out for the fast food instead, and she does. Not because she doesn’t care. Because loving someone caught in addiction is its own kind of captivity. You cannot force another person’s freedom, and after enough years, the fight can wear you so thin that it feels easier just to drive. Addiction reaches out and binds everyone who loves the person inside it. I ache for them both.

Fuel, not flavor

While teaching in Corpus Christi, Texas, I once had dinner with a doctor and his lovely wife — a simple, delicious meal of quinoa and beans, a cabbage-and-nut salad, grapes, and sautéed vegetables. We got to talking about how hard it is to watch people keep eating the very foods that are hurting them, and his advice has stayed with me ever since. Most of us, he said, ask “What am I hungry for?” — we choose food by how it will taste or feel. He teaches his patients to ask a different question: “What should I eat to fuel my body?” At first, he warns them, real food won’t taste like much — the taste buds have to heal from years of chemical additives, and that takes time. So he tells them to see food, for a while, simply as fuel. Choose clean fuel. Trust that real food will taste good again — it will. And, he adds with a smile, try avoiding anything with a barcode on it.

Are you free?

So let me ask, as gently as I had to ask myself: are you free? Or is something — food, or anything else — quietly holding you? A friend posted a line I loved: “If you’re going to get the thing you WANT, you have to be willing to do the thing you DON’T want to do.” (That’s from my friend over at 20 Second Fitness — a wonderful role model.)

Another friend of mine lived for years with multiple sclerosis — once in a wheelchair, and, by her own admission, knowing next to nothing about cooking. When she decided she wanted her life back, she “grabbed the bull by the nay-nays” (her words!) and ran with everything she had. Today she is out of that wheelchair and teaching fitness classes, vibrant and strong. Let me be careful and honest here: MS is a serious, lifelong disease, and no diet is a guaranteed cure. But her transformation in health, energy, and joy is real and remarkable — and she fought for every bit of it.

Visualize what you want. Keep your eyes fixed on it. And never, ever give up. You can do hard things.

The dance underneath

At the end of my call, I reminded him of something I’d heard: that he was once a wonderful ballroom dancer — and that his wife is a beautiful dancer too. And that is the image I can’t let go of. Buried underneath the years, underneath the weariness and the toxins tucked away in tired cells, there is a couple who were made to move — made for music, with so much life still ahead of them. So many years left to dance.

My prayer is simple: that their longing to dance again will, one day soon, outweigh everything holding them still. That they’ll walk out of the jail of it — the hospital, the trap, the whole exhausting cycle — for good. And that is my prayer for you, too, and for whoever you’re carrying in your heart as you read this.

Real, God-made food. Whole herbs. Pure essential oils. Sunlight, clean air, living water, deep rest. I believe with my whole heart that these are gifts — simple tools the Lord has given us to help our bodies and our spirits find their way back toward wholeness.

“Where faith is, fear dies.”

May the “Force” :) be with you, and with the ones you love.

With much love,

Steffanie

A caring note: I’m a wellness educator sharing my own heart and experience — not a doctor, and nothing here is medical advice. Food addiction and chronic illness are complex, and no single food, herb, or oil treats, cures, or prevents disease. If you or someone you love is struggling with food, addiction, or a serious health condition, please reach out to a qualified medical professional for support. I’m an independent doTERRA Wellness Advocate; if you purchase oils through me I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.

These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. Essential oils are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.