Stepwork Sinks In, Slowly

"Stepwork". That's the process of using the 12 steps of OA, AA, NA, whatever 12 step program you like, to help me work out issues in my life. Sound like fun? You're right, it's not. It's tough slog, but I work the steps because I haven't otherwise learned a good way to deal with life's issues without regularly stuffing myself with food.

Lately, I've been trying to work on an issue in a relationship with a friend, and it's been interesting. I've written on it a couple of times (not here, it's too private and my emotions too strong to really be honest about them here--- yes, believe it or not, I don't post everything I think), and some revelations have come to me, particularly as I mused on step 4, the "fearless and searching moral inventory". It took a few weeks and a big food slip for me to get to this place, so it's not a quick fix. Step 4 is where I looked at the issue, who was involved, and what emotions this issue was raising . What I found was fear, and the origins of that fear, namely, how this issue sends me back to early life as an only child with an emotionally absent mother and physically absent father --- he travelled for work a lot when I was young. I also had very few friends. I was a very lonely, sad and frustrated kid.

I began to see that it wasn't so much that I was responding to a friend who I saw as abandoning me (I knew she would be away a lot when we got to know each other) as I was responding to my parents who weren't there when I needed them. Old fears were being triggered, and I was responding to those as much, if not more, than my present issue.

The other thing that came to me in the last couple of days was my part in the matter: I didn't think I had any control over how much I saw my friend, but I did. I have had opportunities to spend more time with my friend but have chosen not to for various reasons. And I didn't exactly burn up the phone lines trying to reach her. I made a few late attempts, just enough to make me feel good and smug in my victimhood. Oh dear, it's not pleasant to discover how much more comfortable it is to feel cheesed off in my default position as lonely, abandoned child victim.

I also forgot that in my life now, I have lots of friends. I am no longer that lonely child. I have many healthy relationships in the Overeaters Anonymous program, and friendships outside of the program that have been strengthened because I can work the steps rather than be a loose cannon fuelled on excess food. Then, I start feeling grateful, and a modicum of peace dawns on the horizon. Amazingly, that seems to have a fairly direct impact on my eating: I feel like I have more options, and the gnawing hunger diminishes. When I am stuck in the dead end alley of feeling used, victimized, eating seems like the only thing I can do to make myself feel better. This is a new thing, seeing how I let myself slip into that victim mode, and I'm sure it's not going to be the last time, but it's a really hopeful start. Not only can I see the importance of being more in touch with my needs and expressing them, but now I see how valuable it is to question my self image, particularly the one where I see myself as the constant victim.

Uncomfortable Emotions, Eating, and Happiness

There's an old saying that floats through the Overeaters Anonymous rooms: "It's not what you're eating, it's what's eating you", and I'm a big believer in that. I think that most of my food cravings come when I'm hurting, emotionally, or spiritually. A couple of other sayings related to that, seen on fridge magnets, are "The answer isn't in here" and "Face your stuff, or stuff your face". They all point to the importance of dealing with uncomfortable feelings so A) I feel better and B) so I don't eat. Interestingly, I only became aware recently that A) feeling better was the ultimate goal of all the therapy, support group meetings, writing and prayer that I've been doing.

Like most desperate compulsive overeaters, all I could see for the longest time was the goal of not eating like a crazy person. Only recently has it dawned on me that yes, that is a great and admirable goal, one that many of us struggle fruitlessly to achieve, but the ultimate goal is feeling whole, having a richer and fuller life, where food is not the point of living. You know, it's that eating to live, not living to eat maxim, and I think it's only starting to sink in. Obviously, I'm still having trouble with the compulsion to eat in an unhealthy manner. I was a dieter for most of my 40- some years on this planet, obsessed with losing weight, and I believed that if I could only be thin, I would be happy.

Well, if that were true, I would have been happy enough to stay thin all those times throughout my life when I had managed to lose large amounts of weight, instead of regaining the weight plus more each time. Through working the OA program and doing therapy I am now a healthy weight, but as Fran Kuffel so cleverly put it in the title of her poignant memoir Passing for Thin, I am only "passing" as a thin person. Inside I am still a compulsive overeater whose relationship with my emotions, and any sense of real hunger is tenuous at best.

Yesterday was fairly hectic, but I realized that in the light of my "binge-ette" three nights ago, I needed to spend a few minutes processing my feelings. And what I found was an old resentment that I had only partially dealt with a couple of weeks ago. So I did some writing on it, and today, I have to do some more, otherwise, I have learned at my peril, it will come back again to, frankly, bite me in the ass! Emotions are clever things, they always out. Even when I think, "I've dealt with that already!" it can come back. Just like the bhuddists say when they talk about life being not a straight line, but a spiral, where the same issues will often come back repeatedly in different guises or intensities. I guess by dealing with them, I can at least follow the spiral path, and not wear the same old circle in the grass, chasing my tail (or Oreos) over and over.

Was it a Slip or a Binge?

That's the big question for me today. But you know, it's not really important. Adding up the days of abstinence are nice, but they don't matter as much as me figuring out what happened and what I need to do avoid unhealthy actions. Two nights ago I started to eat after my husband went to bed. I justified it as a snack. But the snack did not end. I had a few almonds, and then some leftover turkey and stuffing, and then some more almonds, and some frozen chocolate, and then a slice of bread and butter. I didn't think I was bingeing but I might have been deceiving myself, because when I finally went to bed, my stomach was a little sore. The next morning, I got my usual oatmeal and looked at it and went, "ugh". I was not hungry, in fact I felt physically ill, just this side of barfy. Not a sign of culinary health.

Finally, I decided that I had broken my abstinence. My definition of abstinence is no bingeing and lately, I had narrowed it to no eating after dinner and my one or two planned snacks in the evening. So, technically, I would have broken it the moment I ate those first almonds. If I had stopped after the first handfull, I might have just given myself a pass and said, ok, that was just a slip, and not declared a break in abstinence. But the problem is, and the reason I have recently defined it so narrowly, is I have a difficult time stopping after just one bite. In fact, it feels nigh on impossible. Am I setting myself up to fail here? Am I being too black and white about it? That's a good question. I don't have a good answer. Except I do know that I did spend a lot of time "cutting myself a break" over the last couple of years, and I was gaining weight. When became more hardline on my definition of abstinence, about 5 months ago, I stopped gaining and even lost a little. And then I talked to some OA friends about it, and I went to a meeting last night. That was great. I was honest, and I heard the hope in my voice. I don't care how many days or minutes of abstinence I have, I still am WAAAAAY ahead of where I was five years ago.

There were a couple of interesting things about this break in abstinence: One, it wasn't one of my "classic" binges. The food consumed was less, and my stomach wasn't nearly as full (when I binge it usually is until I am so full I am in pain) Two, I wasn't hungry the next morning. I was really off my food. But by lunch time I was overhungry, and maybe a little hypoglycemic; I was feeling a little spacey and dizzy by the time I ate lunch. I think I was actually feeling physical effects from what I had eaten. Historically, I was so distanced from stomach & hunger cues that I can't seem to feel "true" hunger (rather than constant hunger) or anything less than greatly overfull. So, that was interesting, and maybe some progress.

But if I'm making this progress, why the binge? What happened? Well, it feels as if I was running from my feelings. I can tell right now that I'm waking up anxious. It seems I haven't been writing enough, I hadn't posted anything here for three days. I'm still feeling like a loose cannon after being sick and March break, I haven't been in the studio much at all. It all feels like my head and body aren't connected. I'm not getting the emotional/spiritual nourishment that I need. My sponsor is hard to reach, and I still have a hard time reaching out to others in the programme when I'm feeling glum, angry, whatever. Never enters my mind to call someone rather than have "just a little" nibble.

That's how it starts, with Just a little. And just a little would be fine, and I think that's where normal, non-compulsive eaters don't get those of us who can't seem to stop after just a little. They say, ok, well, have just a little, then you'll be sated, and stop. But it doesn't seem to work that way. There is a gnawing inside that instead of being calmed by a little bite, seems to wake up from a dormant state and roar for more. Either that, or it's been roaring for some time, I just don't become aware of it until I've fed it.

Anyway, I'm back on the horse, and I know I am on the right track. I'm not perfect, but I've had the true experience of another freakin' growth opportunity, and for that, I'm grateful.

One Foot in Front of the Other

Some days I don't feel like continuing, but I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, sometimes literally, say if I'm exercising or reluctantly dragging myself to exercise, or sometimes metaphorically, say, well, here. This is my personal work, and it's important, because even if not many people look at this blog, it's mainly for me. Keeping me out of the "existential angst" as a friend of mine observed this morning as the place we so often get mired up. I guess that can be seen as a possible pitfall of the "artistic" temperament. Maybe that's the problem with many of us COE's (Compulsive Over Eaters)... we're artistic temperaments caught in a world that is hopelessly wedded to the concrete.

So I gotta do the footwork, which feels like I'm humouring myself. But the alternative seems to be greater or lesser degrees of misery. So... putting it that way, if the alternative is to do some writing here, then go into the studio for a couple of hours, it seems like an ok tradeoff. So what if I'm not making much money right now? We're getting by. No cartoon today, I want to spend the time painting this afternoon. I don't think... alright, well, let me see how long it would take to post one...

And again, it takes me two hours to clean up, arrange and post a cartoon. Oh well, I still have time to get a couple hours in the studio. Enjoy...

Dealin' Wid the Feelin's

If Moses Were In OA...

Yeah, I'm just grumpy today. I was this way yesterday too. But it happens. I think I need to get back to work. The week off was nice, but I need to be working in order to feel I have some purpose. Does that make me a workaholic? Maybe. I'm certainly married to one, but mine takes a more subtle form. I don't work a lot, but I worry about it a great deal. Sounds like my perfectionism acting up. Again. Ah, the hindsight benefits of years of therapy and just over 5 years of being in Overeaters Anonymous. Oh rats! That's right, I forgot: I've been coming to the rooms 5 years the first of this month! It's been kind of like my marriage: I was never sure I'd be around this long and then I look back and marvel how it doesn't seem possible that it's been that long. It feels simultaneously as if I've been going to OA meetings forever and just a few weeks.

It was at a meeting yesterday that I remembered why OA works for me when all other things hadn't. It answered the question a sponsee posed earlier in the week. And that answer is... drumroll... spirituality. And the Group.

You were expecting bright lights, wahoo, yipee diet secrets, a burning bush, maybe? Yeah, well, that's what I was hoping for too, but no bushes are burning when I open the fridge door. I have to admit I'll still pick up the latest diet book trumpeting life changing secrets at the book store too, but usually I'll do it gingerly, read it for about half a minute and put it back with the rest, because I'm no different than most people. I'd love a quick fix that works. None has. Just look at all them books...

I am one of the last persons who wanted a spiritual program. I'm a fairly virulently lapsed Catholic, and the last thing I wanted to hear was anything resembling church talk. I am still close to agnostic, but here's what happened: I was desperate. I couldn't go three days without a binge, and I was so full of fear and angst, I could barely work. When my therapist sent me back to OA (her other choices were inpatient treatment and bariatric surgery was a very distant third in my books), I was desperate enough to think maybe, just maybe I didn't have the faintest idea what was good for me, and just trying a little faith in a higher power, might help, well, what did I have to lose? Other than the obvious 150 I so desperately wanted to lose...

I was also assured that OA was not a religion. But they do talk about God a lot. Yup. No arguments from me on that point. But it's a fairly ecumenical God, using the word as shorthand for a higher power. Twelve-step programs, originating with AA, came into being in the early part of the twentieth century between the world wars, when most Americans identified as believing in God. So, the book Alcoholics Anonymous, which still is the basic text for most 12 step groups, does mention God a lot. But after initial discomfort with it, I accepted it as a shorthand for a nebulous higher power I can feel in those moments when I plug into the universe, detaching my idea of a God/ higher power from the one I was raised with. To steal a phrase I heard in a meeting, I was able to stop thinking of God as the stereotypical old guy in a nightie, sitting on a cloud and shooting lightning bolts at me.

I just let myself give the whole God question the benefit of the doubt. Look, I'd fucked my life up pretty good here, what did I really have to lose by that? It didn't seem like a cult, because they didn't want much money, just some coins in the basket at the end of the meeting. I didn't even have to buy any of the books, I could just use the group copies or borrow someone else's to read during the meeting.

I don't think I can explain it here, at least not today. I'll take another crack at it tomorrow. I just know that even on a day, today, when I've been fairly grumpy (yeah, that again) I haven't overeaten. This afternoon Fuzz and I braved the treacherous slushy sidewalks of downtown for an afternoon walk --- the sun was wonderful --- and had coffee and split one of the world's yummiest brownies at our local young commie veggie joint.

On the way home I told Fuzz I was a bit grumpy at the thought of having what's usually an evening treat in the afternoon, kind of making me feel like there wasn't much to look forward to for the rest of the day. Then I said, well, if I really wanted, I could have some dark chocolate this evening in place of my yogurt and fruit snack. A rare exception to my rule of getting 3 fruit and 2 dairy every day. But tonight, I didn't eat the chocolate. I went for the yogurt and a banana. And it was ok. It was the healthy choice. And I don't really have a clue why I can do this now and not before. Except when I was in the meeting yesterday, I felt great. That keeps me going.

The Continuing Adventures of Fat Maggie

Well, this has been an interesting day. This has been a fairly unstructured week, as Fuzz is on March break. A couple of hours ago I was a little depressed because I felt like I wasn't accomplishing much today, but now it's nearly 6 pm and I think I maybe I needed a day of not doing much so I could clean up the cartoons above to post, and while adjusting them, I thought about how much my life has changed just from when I originally drew them in 2006.

I don't actually spend many days in bed anymore. In fact, I don't think I've done that in months. Not that there is anything wrong with that.... I still may spend the morning there, reading, having breakfast, or writing, but I don't hide there so much any more. I guess I'm dealing with life a little more. It's not perfect, but when I can stop, turn around and see where I was and where I am, there has been a definite shift. I've worked on changing and it's often little habits that I have to change: Not hanging onto grievances, letting stuff go, cutting myself a break. I'm starting to appreciate the value of being a little flaky and having a bad memory, and how strenuous physical activity can ground my brain when it just wants to float around in a worry-filled ether.

The other day a sponsee asked how I did it. She meant lose all that weight and not regain much of it. And I replied that I could be in dangerous territory again tomorrow, it's not like I suddenly got a get-off-free pass. I haven't been able to get hold of my OA sponsor to talk to her about it yet, but I did briefly touch on it with my therapist the next day. She replied that maybe I had developed a good enough appreciation for how my feelings could control my eating. Perhaps. But I am constantly in danger of forgetting that, it's a slippery one, and that selective memory is the nature of my beast. That's why I have to keep working on it, going to meetings. I think about the only way I can ensure that some things stay in the past is work on the present

Step Work Works. Dammit.

I'm not sure what happened, but yesterday went from blecch to pretty good. I did some of that step work, and not a lot, just a page or two of writing listing all the people I had resentments against. Interestingly, what came up a couple of times was I was angry with myself for letting myself down. Then I had a chat with my therapist to talk about it, those high (impossibly so) expectations I had for myself, and dealing with negative feelings. Then I had a great day: spent a couple of productive hours in the studio, went to a lecture on Rembrandt at the local university, went on a tough run, and then after dinner, gently dragged the now-on-March-Break Fuzz to see Persepolis, the movie, because I really like the graphic novels.

Dealing with the feelings is more than just finding a new coping mechanism. Coping mechanisms are like fixing a leak with a bucket. It's not a real solution, just a quick fix. Eventually the bucket overflows or drives you crazy with the dripping noise, and meanwhile, the water is rotting the ceiling and eventually you have a huge problem on your hands. I ate, still eat, to smother uncomfortable emotions, anger, fear, and even joy sometimes. But it backfires, and it inevitably gets worse.

When I first came to OA, and even for the majority of the last five years, I've thought, well, I have to deal with my feelings in order to not binge. Well, that is true, but that is not the bigger goal. My therapist suggests that The Big Magilla (I'm guessing as in the cartoon ape), is to deal with the feelings so I can be happier. Oh. Nothing to do with food. Nada. Zip. The food is just a side effect. That's a bit of a surprise, isn't it? Well, it is to a compulsive overeater.

I don't like doing step work. It wouldn't be far off to say I detest it. It's very uncomfortable, and it's hard to change the lifelong habit of seeking to blot out rather than deal with pain. But when I am finally ready to do it, it usually helps, and my mood rapidly benefits from it.

Just Call Me Craphead

I've been dealing with a lingering bad mood, a funk that flourished in the light of this virus I've been recovering from, but not recovering from fast enough for me. It's been over a week, and I'm mostly normal, but still a bit draggy. It feels like a lot of negative feelings, resentments and fears have been able to flourish because I'm not busy enough working or working out. I feel like I have a real head full of crap. Dealing with that crap without resorting to food is what I think of when well meaning professionals talk about when they mention "coping strategies" to deal with life when you're trying to survive an eating disorder. The people in OA would say "Time to do step work."

Blech. I hate stepwork, but I've gotta stop behaving like a sick person and shovel through the shit if I want to get rid of it. To paraphrase Paul Anka, "resentments, I've had a few..." Unfortunately, I can't spill them all here. Maybe some of them eventually, but it's a little too private. So I have to do that offline.

Instead, how about another installment of the Continuing Adventures of Fat Maggie...

Enough Snow, Already!

As I shovelled/chipped my way through the layers of snow, ice pellets and frozen rain, I realized I was officially sick of shovelling. It took a couple of hours for both of us to do the sidewalk, the walkway and driveway, and the snow was so hard it shattered into chunks as I chipped at it. It was kind of like shovelling blocks of wood that were either too heavy or slipped off the shovel as I tried to lift them. My shoulder hurts and I wonder if I need some physio for it. It's the same shoulder I hit when I fell off my scooter last summer.

And just yesterday I saw that guy riding the blue Vino! Sigh....at least the sun came out just before it set. And then there is daylight savings this weekend, hooray! I guess there is a light at the end of this snow tunnel. Almost nobody was working today, even Fuzz was sent home to get some much needed sleep. I took another day off on my extended sick leave from that virus, read a book for a while and then curled up with a kitty for a long nap. Those bits of winter are damn fine.

Back on My Sneakers

After spending the day waffling, I finally decided I would try running with my group, all 3 of us, last night. Thank God we were running last night when it was breezy but not too cold, and not today since the latest round of snow/ice pellets/freezing rain was unleashed upon us overnight. I was still coughing, and one of my group cracked "jeez, have ya got pleurisy?" I was coughing so much at one point, but despite the hacking and wheezing, the rest of my body felt great, and I was able to keep up and even lead the group at points. Halfway through the run I wasn't coughing much. After nearly a week of this virus making me pretty sedentary, it was really GREAT to be moving again.

It reminded me of that goofy Mel Gibson & Helen Hunt film that came out several years ago, What Women Want, I think it was, kind of a rip-off of the old Rock Hudson/Doris Day formula where a womanizing misogynist hit by lightning gains the ability to read womens' minds. Gibson plucks an idea from his ad-exec colleagues mind when they are trying to come up with a new campaign for Nike, and the tag line that stayed with me is "The road doesn't care..." As in the road doesn't care what you're wearing, how much you make, or what part is too big/too small/sagging...

When it works, running is simple. Just put one foot in front of the other. Really, so is walking. I walked several kilometers daily for years, and that was the good thing about it, just putting yourself on autopilot and going forward. Running is the same, but I think it's the intensity that hooks me. Yes, it's simple but it requires every ounce of energy, including brain space. The only thing I'm thinking is, "ok, make it to the stop sign, then we're done, oh man wanna puke, keep going, keep going just a few more steps...." and at the end I feel physically drained but mentally filled, as if mental space has been opened by the exhaustion. Maybe this is the endorphin rush, but whatever it is, everything feels quieted.

Omigod, it's an orgasm!

Maybe that thought will make the shovelling easier...

Day 126!

The Continuing Adventures of FM...

I'm just getting over a nasty virus that did the circuit of my head and chest, and I also got way too caught up with some volunteer activities this weekend that, surprise surprise, involved me organizing the food to feed 160 hungry choristers. Food ended up taking over my whole day. Well, not really. Part of the problem was I was a little too sick to sing, so maybe it was that it gave the food the opportunity to take over more than it would have otherwise. A lesson learned, or rather, RE-learned again for the hundredth time: keep the food in its proper place. That's the nature of my disease: selective amnesia.

Anyway, here's the next installment of Fat Maggie.... Our story so far: I started this in 2006 when I was suffering from a mild to moderate depression, and feeling very artistically blocked. So, I went back to the cartooning I used to do when I was a teenager, trying to combine drawing and writing a journal to help shed light on my issues. Today we have a glimpse about how hard it is to be an earnest artist trying to sell what is essentially oneself in a tough world...

So Far, It's not Looking So Hot

I'm in a funny mood. Publishing my sketchbook isn't helping, actually, so the therapy might not be helping. Maybe I'm missing my sponsor. I should call her, she's off skiing somewhere, but judging by one of my last posts, I may have a bit of a resentment of people who are travelling. Probably because I'm not. And I could, I could find the money to get away, but I'm not really trying to do it. It's much easier to sit and be ticked off. Hm. There's the nub of it really, I just want to sit and hate everyone. Ah. There. I've said it. It's much easier to sit in the kitchen, drink coffee, and hate the world than to do what I've got in front of me begging to be done. Go out and arrange for the food for my choir get-together on Saturday. Start painting the big canvas that is lurking in my studio and scaring the bejeezus out of me. That's much harder. Ok, so I guess there's not much to do but do it. After lunch. First, I want to make a nice vegetable soup for lunches this week. A good thing for a snowy day.

There it is again, food as comfort. It's cold, it's grey, and I want to hide. So, I'll make soup. I guess there are worse things to do: like get a bucket of chicken and eat it. Or a box of chocolates. Why am I not still 300 pounds? Because getting a bunch of food and eating it just isn't an option any more. I know where that leads. But I need to do some emotional work in order to keep myself from getting so desperate that bingeing becomes an option again. And that can happen in the blink of an eye. I have to reach out to others, but who, I don't know... Hm. Maybe another friend from the programme. Gotta chop. And get my phone out too.

It's 3/4 of an hour later, and I've got the giant stock pot on the stove (the one that doubles as an outdoor lobster pot on the propane cooker in the summer and has the flame marks on the side to prove it) and 2 trays of chopped vegetables roasting on the oven. All my anger and fear is chopped up with the turnip, leeks, garlic, celery, parsnips, carrots, onions and mushrooms, roasting with a good coating of oil and italian tomato paste. And the house smells wonderful. This is where I still go with food. I'm making something nourishing and tasty, and that is where I get my food jollies these days.

The food has been really good lately. I seem to have a surfeit of willingness. Funny sentence that first one, speaking of "the food" in the third person, as if it has a personality... Food with a capital F. Well, I guess that for a compulsive overeater, it does have a personality. A very intimidating personality, usually. It's a very polarized relationship and it can be extremely dysfunctional: I love Food and I hate it for what it has done to me in the past. I guess I'm trying to work on my relationship with Food here. And I have to, because I need Food to survive. It's not a substance like alcohol, that I can abstain from. Anorexics try to abstain from eating Food, it's their enemy, and it can have fatal results. My challenge is to put Food in a place where it doesn't rule my life. And I have more or less success on a daily basis.

Chefs, gourmands and the like often like to say they live to eat. Well, that doesn't seem to work for me. In my case, I was dying to eat. Because when I approach food in that manner, I can't stop. So I have had to pray for breaks to be put into my faulty operating system, and I have to change things, to build the breaks in. Write. Share. Reach out. Look in. Honour myself. In my case it is often the challenge to reverse the old Biblical admonition to love myself as I do others, because I think that one of the big triggers for overeating is making myself a doormat. And I do it so automatically.

The Continuing Adventures of Fat Maggie... or, Writing therapy for the fat in my head...

A Rant about Damn Boring Snowbirds

I like winter. Honest, I do. Mostly. Some days suck, those grey dreary ones, but I like snow. I like shovelling it, in moderation, and I like to snowshoe and ski. If I didn't, I wouldn't be living in Canada. I like that for once, we're having a real winter, with enough snow you can have fun in it. Yesterday Fuzz and I were snowshoeing on a bay on very frozen part of Lake Ontario. It was sunny enough we had to take off our windbreakers and tie them around our waists. The sun was warm and bright enough for sunglasses. Thursday night while running, I enjoyed behaving like a nine-year-old and tromping on those little ledges of ice at the edges of snowbanks that crunch when you walk on them. Almost as much fun as trying to splash my running coach in spring by running straight through the middle of puddles!

What I don't like about winter is the boring people who vacation down south and then return to go on and on about how wonderful the weather is there and how this place is so depressing in the winter. They're the same type of boob who talks about how botox or a Harley Davidson has transformed their life. I've seen that those events are often a harbinger of an impending marriage breakup. They're bad enough to listen to when they and their leathery tans plunk themselves in my path, but an hour ago I actually had a call from one of them in Mexico who was "reaching out" to someone from home, and proceeded to go on and on about how nice their place in Mexico was and how next winter they are going to spend the whole winter there instead of spending time in boring old Florida too.

What did I learn from this experience? Well, first, some people, no matter how much recovery work they've done can still be insane. Two, I can cut short calls with boring people by saying absolutely nothing. And three, I gotta get better at screening my calls. BF calls it "Call Suspect" for a reason!

Something Old and Something New...

Obviously the graphic below is a little too small for most people to read. I'll make the next one more legible. In the meantime, just click on the cartoon to view a very enlarged version.

A little background: Almost 3 years ago, I experimented with doing my daily journal in my sketchbook, and this was the result. Although I only did a few, I still think they're important in my examination of how I got to this point. I lost the sketchbook after we moved, and just found it recently while preparing for those life drawing workshops I facilitated. The other day, I scanned the pages into my laptop, and I'm using Corel Painter to digitally clean up & update them.

The seem a little dated to me; for instance, I'm not spending nearly as much time in bed as I was just in comparison to a year ago, so some things are different. I'll try to catch up the story once I finish with the initial drawings. To be continued...

Allowing Myself to Waffle

Waffle, so I don't EAT waffles!

I went to my group therapy session this morning, and I was thinking that this would be the day I withdrew from the group. Well, I'm not so sure any more. And, even more difficult, I'm going to try to NOT beat myself up over not making a decision immediately. I'm going to give that decision more time, because this morning went well, and I didn't resent the two hours I spent there. And I realize that I work in an isolating field (studio artist) and have a tendency to isolate beyond that. So, I'll give it some more time before making a decision. I waste much more than two hours daily watching TV. This morning I was reminded that I do learn things about myself through other's sharing so it's still worthwhile.

This afternoon I was trying to decide whether to go to the gym or do this. And I settled on this. I ran with my group last night and I was sore enough going to bed that I took a muscle relaxant and ibuprofen so I would be able to sleep, so taking a day off from the exercise is actually more healthy than doing it. I take at least a day off each week, so it can be today. Then I'll hit the gym tomorrow afternoon. It's usually less busy then, anyway. But it's funny how I feel rather guilty about not going today. Or maybe it's that I enjoy the feeling after a workout, kind of a cleansed feeling. Guess it's the endorphins.

I guess working through other stuff just doesn't give one the endorphin rush. But I need some balance here, so best spend some more time on what I need to do. Back soon, hopefully with a more "graphic" post. You'll see...

Managing my Day

Ok, here I am trying to plan out my day, and food is not the huge part of it it once was, so I have to figure out what else I am going to do rather than obsess about food. Welcome to life post-food. Warning: What follows is rather stream of consciousness... expect repetitiveness and circular thoughts...

I'm not sure how to do it. I've got a studio project on hold because a piece of equipment I'm going to use isn't available until the weekend. That leaves time to work on other art projects. What to do, what to do? I could scan some sketches into the computer, the old cartoons I found, and prep them to post here. I have a very long choir session tonight, but I might not stay for the whole thing. On the other hand, what else do I really have to run home to do, watch TV? Face it. Good point. I want to get some exercise today, I guess at the gym. Ok, that'll take a couple of hours. That leaves me a couple to do something artistic. I suppose I could go to the studio and lay out some paints and work on that old painting copy that I thought I was finished with. But honestly, I'm not sure I am. On the other hand, I could do another hour or so of composition on the new project.

Ok, what I'm seeing here are I could do an hour or so on a number of small projects. That seems pretty good. I wonder if I could spend an hour on some housework too? Maybe less, like sweeping the kitchen floor or putting away some things. I am trying to break life down into smaller, more mentally manageable chunks, because if I don't it just seems too much. And I want to eat. The food has been good since Sunday night. I think I just had to scare myself and reconnect with my committment to changing my eating. Since I've been practicing the Overeaters Anonymous life for the last almost five years, I have slowly been gaining an awareness of my default assumptions and habitual behaviours around food.

Recently, I've been looking at my fear of NOT eating at night. It's been a real security blanket for me. I have supper often late and then a snack, and until recently it was always a little nibble of something, or another snack... I think I was afraid of not having something to eat after dinner. I think unconsciously I thought I would die if I didn't have something to eat after dinner. Well, the first thing to go was the extra nibbles. And now, in order to lose that five or so pounds I've been whining about for the last few months, I'm considering whether my evening snack --- a small bar of very dark chocolate, has to go too. I think my meals are good, healthy and balanced. So, the snack is a perk, a treat, an extra. I don't think I even have to eliminate it entirely. I could choose to reduce the frequency of it, have it every second day. Or, I could have a half bar daily. There is also a mid afternoon snack of a small bag of almonds that I have most days when I've been exercising. But to be honest here, I'm not sure I need it either.

Like most compulsive eaters (over or under-eaters), I am not sure when I am hungry. My default switch was always stuck at hungry, no matter how much food I had eaten, or how long ago I had eaten it. Last night, for example, like most of my Tuesdays lately, I don't have supper until after my running group and an OA meeting, so it's often 830 or later. But I realized during the meeting that I wasn't sure if I was hungry. I heard the odd growl from my abdomen, but honestly, I couldn't actually feel any hunger. There seems to be a total disconnect.

At the same time, I am one of those eaters who compulsively must be doing something else while I have my meal. Not doing other tasks as such, but most often it's watching tv with dinner or reading the paper while I eat breakfast or lunch. Fuzz does that with me too. And I need to ask him again about how he feels about doing that. I think for me, it is some sort of comforting mechanism, an attempt to blot out the world with food and something visual that takes my mind away from my worries. Am I actually tasting the food? I think I am, I seem to take a lot of pleasure out of it, but I seem to have the fear that the food alone won't be enough. I need extra distraction. As I said at the meeting last night, I'm not sure I want to do anything about this right now, that I have the willingness. Or is it even broke? Does it need fixing? Am I being perfectionistic about my eating. I don't know, I just have the sneaking suspicion that confronting this kind of automatic eating/comforting behaviour may help me with compulsively eating, helping me be more in touch about my eating. It's something to examine, not necessarily change yet, or ever.

Day 112.

A Lesson Learned... er, RElearned...

I knew I was going through one of those "pink cloud" stages with the food. Two weeks ago I had changed my definition of abstinence to include no food outside of scheduled snacks in the evening. Then, Sunday night, I almost lost it. I got complacent, and I had not stayed in touch with my feelings. I had spent Sunday evening watching television, continually. Not a good thing. My mood was bad enough that the food could not be far behind. I was re-watching "Pride and Prejudice" for the nth time. Why? I think it reaches back to that princess/rescue syndrome so many women have...phooey. What a lousy place to be in.

Having stayed up too late, Fuzz already gone to bed, I decided I should make the morning's oatmeal at 1230. Ding ding ding!!!! That's what should have been going off in my brain. But no, it was like I had pressed some sort of override switch. And I just about lost my abstinence. I knew going in to the kitchen that I wanted to nibble on the almonds that I put in the oatmeal, but I ignored the warning signs. I had almost gotten through measuring out the ingredients, made it through the almonds, when, not thinking (I think!), I put some of the dried cranberries in my mouth. It seemed totally involuntary. I didn't spit them out, but I chewed them in shock. What was I doing?

Was it a break in abstinence I wonder? Maybe, but I'm going to give myself a pass on that one. It was, after all, only a few dried cranberries. (hmmm almost typed cramberries...Freudian, wot?) And I really didn't realize I had done it until I did it. But, I realized, I was in a very, very dangerous place. Crocodiles, oh those are just little harmless logs floating there, aren't they?...

The voice in me, fuelled by some deep longing I didn't want to recognize, howled "Mooore! Moooore!" and I realized that was my inner demon waking up, and I was in a very vulnerable spot. Just then it seemed like the most logical thing in the world to open the fridge and start digging for something... anything. I tossed the oatmeal together and threw it in the microwave. Then I hightailed it to Mr. Darcy in the living room, only coming back out to that very dangerous place to stir and then put the lid on when it was done. Then I fled to bed.

Lessons learned:

• It only takes me two weeks to get complacent.
• I WILL get complacent, and that's when it's dangerous.
• Not writing is trouble, and a sign of complacancy.
  
• Staying up late is trouble.
• Too much TV is trouble.
• I will stay up late and watch tv and then wonder why I'm having trouble.
• Being in the kitchen when Fuzz is asleep is dangerous.
• Being in the kitchen when Fuzz is asleep, I've watched too much tv, and it's late is practically suicidal.
  
• I've gotta call my sponsor.
  

Maybe I'm Just Getting Better?

I skipped out on my group therapy session again today. For the second week in a row I got as far as the parking garage, and instead of heading west into the hospital for the meeting, I headed east to the Starbucks. Actually, this time I was prepared: I had my laptop and a manual for the Painter program I'm yet again trying to learn, this time with more success, probably because I'm trying to do something specific with it, and this time it's more trial, less error. Or at least it was today. Tomorrow it could be the opposite... Rather than two hours listening to people's issues, I spent the time sketching on my pen tablet, exploring grains and scratchboard rakes and (digital) electronic pens. And drinking cinnamon scented coffee.

Anyway, I didn't feel a big urge to go to the meeting. And, I'm wondering if I really want to go anymore, period. The main reason I didn't want to go this morning was I already had a meeting with my sponsee scheduled for the afternoon, and I felt like I wanted to get some of my work done first. I get to two Overeaters Anonymous meetings a week, I see or talk to my sponsor, I have a sponsee and I have a weekly therapist appointment. So, really, I'm working my programme. And I write on a daily basis, here, and privately.

Since I did some work this morning, I was able to make a lunch date with BF, after which I phoned Fuzz and arranged a rendezvous to go snowshoeing before dinner. This has been a great winter, we have so much snow that reminds me of my childhood in New Brunswick. Today was one of the first really sunny days in a while, and it was getting cold but not too windy, lots of fresh powder, and very few people at the park.

It was a wonderful day. I'll have to call someone from the group and tell them I don't think I'm coming back, but I don't think it's such a bad thing. Unlike a couple of years ago, I don't think I'm running away from something, I think it's just there are other things I would rather run toward.