Ok, I've gotta make this short. I have to chair an Overeaters Anonymous meeting in the morning. Wait, it is the morning. Ok, ok, so I have to chair in, um, 10 hours. What the heck am I going to say? Do I have to say anything? There's a 2 minute space where the chair "qualifies"... what do they say, share Experience Strength and Hope, something like that... I'm definitely feeling short of ESH right now. Let's be honest, I just eked it through a couple of holiday parties short of having a binge. But I didn't. But it feels like I'm white knuckling it.
I've been feeling low the last couple of days. Post Christmas droop? Jeez, I didn't feel great leading up to Christmas in the first place.
I'm feeling responsible for this meeting tomorrow, but I think I need to remember I ain't. Take the load off my shoulders and give it up to the order of life to figure out, because I sure don't have the answers. If all else fails I can simply say, glad to be here, and leave it at that.
Reach out to some people after the meeting for some support.
30.12.05
29.12.05
A Slice of Humanity, Exposed
I finally got to see the Body World exhibit at the Ontario Science Centre in Toronto last week. As a painter with years of study of human anatomy, this show really looked fascinating to me, and it was, although like the study of anatomy itself, it was intimidatingly complex. For those of you not familiar with the show, its a display of cadavers and various body bits that have been preserved by being permeated with plastic, so that they don't have to be floated in the formaldehyde that makes close observation difficult. Also, when treated by this process, the cadavers are temporarily flexible enough to be posed in positions which stay after the plastic hardens. I ignored as much as possible the side show aspect of the display but come on, Gunter, posing someone as if they're doing a jump on a skateboard is more Barnum and Bailey than Damien Hurst! But it is hard to deny that it's bringing in the crowds, much like a public hanging used to in the good/bad/- your philosophy of human evolution/devolution here - old days.
I'm also a painter with an interest in social phenomena, and what spoke to planet fatgrrl was the reaction of some of the crowd to a longitudinal cut away slice of a cadaver of a man of average body weight and that of a man who had weighed around 300 pounds (my old weight). Of course, there were the usual expressions of repulsion and scorn. One senior woman said, "oh, there's me!" in a tone of humour thinly disguising acute shame. Interstingly enough, I would peg her weight as certainly under 200 lbs.
One man, looking to be in his early 30's and a teacher or chaperone of a group of young secondary students, was admonishing them to notice the effect on the organs of the extra fat. What I noticed was the beer belly and flushed face of the young man, a classic case of "do as I say" if I ever saw one. "Eeeeuuu" said one girl in a veil, "Look at all the fat on his back!"
What I observed of the "slices" was the obese man looked compressed, not so much weighed down, rather as if someone had been pushing down on his head over a long period of time. That's how I have felt: compressed by those voices in my head, telling me that I need to be different, faster, smarter, anything but who I am. I've said it before: the fat is all in my head, it's a state of mind. The stuff covering my bones is just the side effect, the symptom of all that pain. Obesity in a few people may be cured by a few simple corrections of habit, but I believe that in most people who are cursed with chronic degenerating obesity, it's a much deeper problem with all the signs of a profound mental plague.
I'm also a painter with an interest in social phenomena, and what spoke to planet fatgrrl was the reaction of some of the crowd to a longitudinal cut away slice of a cadaver of a man of average body weight and that of a man who had weighed around 300 pounds (my old weight). Of course, there were the usual expressions of repulsion and scorn. One senior woman said, "oh, there's me!" in a tone of humour thinly disguising acute shame. Interstingly enough, I would peg her weight as certainly under 200 lbs.
One man, looking to be in his early 30's and a teacher or chaperone of a group of young secondary students, was admonishing them to notice the effect on the organs of the extra fat. What I noticed was the beer belly and flushed face of the young man, a classic case of "do as I say" if I ever saw one. "Eeeeuuu" said one girl in a veil, "Look at all the fat on his back!"
What I observed of the "slices" was the obese man looked compressed, not so much weighed down, rather as if someone had been pushing down on his head over a long period of time. That's how I have felt: compressed by those voices in my head, telling me that I need to be different, faster, smarter, anything but who I am. I've said it before: the fat is all in my head, it's a state of mind. The stuff covering my bones is just the side effect, the symptom of all that pain. Obesity in a few people may be cured by a few simple corrections of habit, but I believe that in most people who are cursed with chronic degenerating obesity, it's a much deeper problem with all the signs of a profound mental plague.
28.12.05
You Know You've Got a Food Problem When...
You're tempted to leap over the table to eat your partner's last scallop.
Support Network
Here are some people I'm thankful I've had supporting me in changing my life:
Other sufferers in Overeaters Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous who share but don't tell or nag. My partner who is patient, kind, and joyful. My caring and kind sponsor who I go for months not seeing but whose experience is so useful and who amazes me in how her life story mirrors mine. Two very different therapists who have helped see how I can be kinder to myself. Friends that understand that I'm not weak, I suffer from a disorder. A encouraging personal trainer who although a life long athelete, seems to have a great understanding of what a middle aged woman physically active for the first time in her life is going through and cares for my health, not pushing me into an injury.
I'm also thankful for kids and animals that live for Now.
Other sufferers in Overeaters Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous who share but don't tell or nag. My partner who is patient, kind, and joyful. My caring and kind sponsor who I go for months not seeing but whose experience is so useful and who amazes me in how her life story mirrors mine. Two very different therapists who have helped see how I can be kinder to myself. Friends that understand that I'm not weak, I suffer from a disorder. A encouraging personal trainer who although a life long athelete, seems to have a great understanding of what a middle aged woman physically active for the first time in her life is going through and cares for my health, not pushing me into an injury.
I'm also thankful for kids and animals that live for Now.
27.12.05
Talking Back to the Food
I was worried about my food yesterday. Illness + travel + holiday = @#$%^&*! I managed to pull it back together for Christmas but the day after was a more social day spent with Fuzz' family and then a visit to my best friend and her family. I love her, I've known her for over 25 years, I dream about living next to her, but she's a food pusher; you know, one of those people who likes to feed you. She's a good hostess but there are times I feel ovewhelmed by this. Mind you, there were many times over the years when I was really into the food and constantly grazing around her cupboards and fridge for the next bite. Feel uncomfortable or bored? Eat sumthin'! Interestingly enough, we both have/had alcoholic fathers. Hers dried out, mine mostly did, went crazy and then died.
Anyway, I was worried. Boredom and nervousness often drove me to the food at the Outlaws. I had an OA meeting scheduled for that morning, but it didn't dawn until the end of the meeting that I was worried about the food. So I told someone. She didn't say much, but listened sympathetically, and as often happens, just airing my concern, getting it out of that maelstrom in my head, made it feel more manageable. I told Fuzzboy afterwards too, not so that he would stop me; I just wanted him know what I was going through and I knew that he knew. I get so damn bored at their place. It's kind of like that New Yorker cartoon about whether or not we have anything in common with people in the red states... well... we're both carbon based life forms, but that's about it... Anyway, I survived. Dammit, I actually thrived. Ate appropriate amounts at the outlaws, ate nothing (save a couple of cups of coffee) at my friend's. Wasn't even offered anything, partly because she was involved in a big family argument with her belligerent drunken brother. Times like that I'm glad I'm not drinking now.
I went home drained but happy. It actually worked. Yeah, I'm amazed too.
Anyway, I was worried. Boredom and nervousness often drove me to the food at the Outlaws. I had an OA meeting scheduled for that morning, but it didn't dawn until the end of the meeting that I was worried about the food. So I told someone. She didn't say much, but listened sympathetically, and as often happens, just airing my concern, getting it out of that maelstrom in my head, made it feel more manageable. I told Fuzzboy afterwards too, not so that he would stop me; I just wanted him know what I was going through and I knew that he knew. I get so damn bored at their place. It's kind of like that New Yorker cartoon about whether or not we have anything in common with people in the red states... well... we're both carbon based life forms, but that's about it... Anyway, I survived. Dammit, I actually thrived. Ate appropriate amounts at the outlaws, ate nothing (save a couple of cups of coffee) at my friend's. Wasn't even offered anything, partly because she was involved in a big family argument with her belligerent drunken brother. Times like that I'm glad I'm not drinking now.
I went home drained but happy. It actually worked. Yeah, I'm amazed too.
26.12.05
So Far, So Good...
I continue to be amazed at how making a few changes in your routine can translate into a really different day. Usually Christmas dinner is a big complicated deal for me. Even if I was just cooking for the two of us, it was still too many dishes to count and hours and hours in the kitchen.
Christmas afternoon we had just finished putting a small turkey in the oven, together. That's new, letting Fuzz share the duties in the kitchen, and not bossing him around, letting him do things his own way --- ok, mostly. By 3 pm the bird was in, but I hadn't even found the old calendar clipping recipe I usually used for the steamed pudding. I was sick of being in the kitchen, and since it was quite warm out, I decided I wanted to get outdoors and clean the 25 cm of snow off the sidewalk that I hadn't been able to do while sick last week. The exercise would help me work off the feast yet to come.
So I did just that. The snow was really wet and heavy, but I just lifted small scoops and it was done in just over a half hour. Eventually I went inside and hunted down the pudding recipe. It was fairly simple and easy to put in the oven, although it had to wait until the roast turkey came out, which meant it wasn't ready to eat until a couple of hours after dinner, which worked out just fine.
A few small changes and life can seem much more manageable. So simple but so hard.
Christmas afternoon we had just finished putting a small turkey in the oven, together. That's new, letting Fuzz share the duties in the kitchen, and not bossing him around, letting him do things his own way --- ok, mostly. By 3 pm the bird was in, but I hadn't even found the old calendar clipping recipe I usually used for the steamed pudding. I was sick of being in the kitchen, and since it was quite warm out, I decided I wanted to get outdoors and clean the 25 cm of snow off the sidewalk that I hadn't been able to do while sick last week. The exercise would help me work off the feast yet to come.
So I did just that. The snow was really wet and heavy, but I just lifted small scoops and it was done in just over a half hour. Eventually I went inside and hunted down the pudding recipe. It was fairly simple and easy to put in the oven, although it had to wait until the roast turkey came out, which meant it wasn't ready to eat until a couple of hours after dinner, which worked out just fine.
A few small changes and life can seem much more manageable. So simple but so hard.
25.12.05
24.12.05
Christmas Cookie Fantasy
Sigh... I was reading a piece in the New York Times about a bakery in Brooklyn started by one lone girl as her own operation. Hires a baker, a year later girl marries her baker. Makes lovely cookies. The world is her oyster cracker... And suddenly I wished I was her. That's a regular fantasy for me: I sell my lovingly handmade food (which at various times I've visualized as soup, bbq, cupcakes, and even oatmeal. Yes, oatmeal. I make a killer oatmeal. Honest.) and then the world falls in love with me. All the self esteem and love I feel I've been missing in my life is, voila, mine. People will adore me, praise me, write about me in the New York Times. Martha Stewart will call, and I will be complete... Visions of sugarplums, my ass!
And I wonder how I got to 300 pounds!!! I invest foods with magical powers. I wonder if drunks dream of owning their own bars?
I'm going to have to be satisfied with roasting a turkey and making a good and fairly healthy steamed carrot pudding for Christmas dessert. Tomorrow, I am going to try to have a good Christmas Day without food as the sole focus, unlike so many years in the past.
The food has been settling down since I got back from Toronto. This morning I asked Fuzzboy to put some chocolates he had been given in a place where I wouldn't see them. I felt strange about asking him to do it, but he was really fine with it, and immediately I felt more peaceful about the food and paradoxically, stronger by admitting I was feeling weak.
Happy Christmas.
And I wonder how I got to 300 pounds!!! I invest foods with magical powers. I wonder if drunks dream of owning their own bars?
I'm going to have to be satisfied with roasting a turkey and making a good and fairly healthy steamed carrot pudding for Christmas dessert. Tomorrow, I am going to try to have a good Christmas Day without food as the sole focus, unlike so many years in the past.
The food has been settling down since I got back from Toronto. This morning I asked Fuzzboy to put some chocolates he had been given in a place where I wouldn't see them. I felt strange about asking him to do it, but he was really fine with it, and immediately I felt more peaceful about the food and paradoxically, stronger by admitting I was feeling weak.
Happy Christmas.
21.12.05
What's Up With My Food?
Well, the trip to TO was good.
We saw the new Harry Potter on an IMAX screen... what's up with that? It's just a really really big screen, and lots of speakers... Very occasionally a sound will seem as if it's coming from behind you or to the side, and occasionally the seats will rumble. But it's not like an OMNIMAX where you are surrounded by the movie. At least it only cost a couple of dollars more than the regular viewing. I was amused by the sell job they do on it in the first 5 minutes of previews. Ok, ok, I'm here, I bought the ticket, don't try so hard, it's not working! The movie itself was, well, kind of dull. It didn't add much to the book, just some visuals, and I think that if I hadn't read the book I might have been really bored. Ralph Fiennes was a great choice for Lord Voldemort, but am I imagining things or are many of the other actors (Maggie Smith excepted of course) not very strong or just going through the motions? Particularly the kids playing Hermoine and Ron... they seemed so one dimensional, but perhaps its the script or director? Maybe it works for a certain segment of the English population who attended boarding schools, but for the rest of us...eeeeehhhh.....
The real highlight of the trip was a visit to the Ontario Science Center to see the Body Worlds show, an exhibit of anatomy made possible by the technique of plastination where real body parts are permeated with polymer solutions... I thought I would be just seeing a lot of flayed muscles but the most interesting thing I found was the preserved organs, and being able to see them exposed placed inside actual bodies. Fascinating. The other revelation was just how small those bones in the ear are... only millimeters in size, the smallest bones in the body. Fascinating. So delicate. Makes me want to take better care of my hearing.
The only weird thing was something is up with my food. I craved carbs in the worst way, and junk food. One day I ate 2 desserts. Not normal for me. I've got to do some internal digging... I'm concerned. I feel a little out of whack, but with being sick and off my exercise schedule, that's normal, but the interesting thing is this increase in appetite. Boredom? Fear? Too many Christmas sweets around?
Thank God I'm home and feeling reasonably well. Tomorrow I'm hitting an OA meeting and joining my running group for the first time in 10 days. I hope I can do that. The virus is still floating around...
We saw the new Harry Potter on an IMAX screen... what's up with that? It's just a really really big screen, and lots of speakers... Very occasionally a sound will seem as if it's coming from behind you or to the side, and occasionally the seats will rumble. But it's not like an OMNIMAX where you are surrounded by the movie. At least it only cost a couple of dollars more than the regular viewing. I was amused by the sell job they do on it in the first 5 minutes of previews. Ok, ok, I'm here, I bought the ticket, don't try so hard, it's not working! The movie itself was, well, kind of dull. It didn't add much to the book, just some visuals, and I think that if I hadn't read the book I might have been really bored. Ralph Fiennes was a great choice for Lord Voldemort, but am I imagining things or are many of the other actors (Maggie Smith excepted of course) not very strong or just going through the motions? Particularly the kids playing Hermoine and Ron... they seemed so one dimensional, but perhaps its the script or director? Maybe it works for a certain segment of the English population who attended boarding schools, but for the rest of us...eeeeehhhh.....
The real highlight of the trip was a visit to the Ontario Science Center to see the Body Worlds show, an exhibit of anatomy made possible by the technique of plastination where real body parts are permeated with polymer solutions... I thought I would be just seeing a lot of flayed muscles but the most interesting thing I found was the preserved organs, and being able to see them exposed placed inside actual bodies. Fascinating. The other revelation was just how small those bones in the ear are... only millimeters in size, the smallest bones in the body. Fascinating. So delicate. Makes me want to take better care of my hearing.
The only weird thing was something is up with my food. I craved carbs in the worst way, and junk food. One day I ate 2 desserts. Not normal for me. I've got to do some internal digging... I'm concerned. I feel a little out of whack, but with being sick and off my exercise schedule, that's normal, but the interesting thing is this increase in appetite. Boredom? Fear? Too many Christmas sweets around?
Thank God I'm home and feeling reasonably well. Tomorrow I'm hitting an OA meeting and joining my running group for the first time in 10 days. I hope I can do that. The virus is still floating around...
19.12.05
A Cool Christmas Gift
Wow, Fuzzboy has to go on a course this week in Toronto, and I can go with him for free. Well, mostly free. I have to cover my meals and transportation, but we get to stay in a nice hotel downtown and it's no extra for an extra person in the room!
What a cool Christmas gift. I love it when those things drop in your lap, especially since we put off a weekend trip there a month ago, due to a shortage of money.
What a cool Christmas gift. I love it when those things drop in your lap, especially since we put off a weekend trip there a month ago, due to a shortage of money.
17.12.05
TV is Weird (still...)
I'm still sick, and I'm missing the family Christmas get together @ Fuzzboy's parents because I want to get better and not give everyone a virus for Christmas. So he has gone on without me, with my blessings and presents. You know, it's a bit of relief. I can't figure out Fuzz's family. They live for Hockey, Redneck TV, the men love hunting, and the women are interested in those strange miniature Santa's Villages and wear sweaters embroidered with flowers or snowmen or cutesy animals --- I love cutesy animals, but the real thing, not on my clothes unless it's a cat shedding all over my lap --- and so maybe they inhabit yet another planet I am utterly unfamiliar with. Christmas gifts are pretty stressful because I have no idea what they would like. The most success I ever had was when I could find the blandest most uninteresting gift I would not want to receive and then buy that. But it's so contrary to my instincts that I invariably backslide and start to look for presents I would like.
In fact, I'm worse at figuring out what the women want more than the men. This bug at least takes me out of the stress of faking excitement over what we receive and watching to see how much they are mystified by what we gave them. Actually, I do kind of miss it. After 20 years of marriage, even the wierdest things start to feel like tradition. And I do like them, as much as I don't understand them. I'll give them a call in an hour once they've finished stuffing themself with stodge...
So, I'm on the couch in my fleece robe with the teddy bears on it, but I haven't seen Saturday tv in a while. I'm usually out of the house on Saturday; I have a regular Overeaters Anonymous meeting and then we usually have lunch and go to the gym, shop, that sort of thing. I'm amazed. The tv choices are, well, awful. Even awfuller than I expected:
There should be an old movie on soon, but right now my best bets seem to be between the cooking show on pbs --- Whoo hoo, I'm really riveted to "The Perfect Poached Egg"... Ok, on to The Insider focus on Plastic Surgery, including the obligatory Gone Wrong saga. What, no celebrity plastic surgery gone wrong? Hello, Joan Rivers, tell the world about the misguided doctor who took in your nose one two many times! Figures that the two shows I find somewhat interesting deal with a) food and b) distorted body image. Just like the deranged cover stories on the front of most "women's magazines"...
Oohhh, weather trivia on the Weather Channel... on to the Discovery Channel for a fascinating feature on how mushrooms are grown!!! Oh my Lord, it's the Brady Bunch Christmas Reunion!!! Circa 1985, Florence Henderson in shoulder pads Wayne Gretzky would love, and there's Robert Reed in a jogging outfit obviously picked out by the Village People! I swear, I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP!!! My brain hurts...more coffee, kaff kaff, my dilithium crystals are definitely melting down...
In fact, I'm worse at figuring out what the women want more than the men. This bug at least takes me out of the stress of faking excitement over what we receive and watching to see how much they are mystified by what we gave them. Actually, I do kind of miss it. After 20 years of marriage, even the wierdest things start to feel like tradition. And I do like them, as much as I don't understand them. I'll give them a call in an hour once they've finished stuffing themself with stodge...
So, I'm on the couch in my fleece robe with the teddy bears on it, but I haven't seen Saturday tv in a while. I'm usually out of the house on Saturday; I have a regular Overeaters Anonymous meeting and then we usually have lunch and go to the gym, shop, that sort of thing. I'm amazed. The tv choices are, well, awful. Even awfuller than I expected:
There should be an old movie on soon, but right now my best bets seem to be between the cooking show on pbs --- Whoo hoo, I'm really riveted to "The Perfect Poached Egg"... Ok, on to The Insider focus on Plastic Surgery, including the obligatory Gone Wrong saga. What, no celebrity plastic surgery gone wrong? Hello, Joan Rivers, tell the world about the misguided doctor who took in your nose one two many times! Figures that the two shows I find somewhat interesting deal with a) food and b) distorted body image. Just like the deranged cover stories on the front of most "women's magazines"...
Oohhh, weather trivia on the Weather Channel... on to the Discovery Channel for a fascinating feature on how mushrooms are grown!!! Oh my Lord, it's the Brady Bunch Christmas Reunion!!! Circa 1985, Florence Henderson in shoulder pads Wayne Gretzky would love, and there's Robert Reed in a jogging outfit obviously picked out by the Village People! I swear, I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP!!! My brain hurts...more coffee, kaff kaff, my dilithium crystals are definitely melting down...
16.12.05
So Sue Me...
Yahoo!!!! We've got a white Christmas! There has got to be almost 40 cm (around a foot and a half for Americans) on the ground. It's lovely. We rarely get enough snow to make a classic Canadian Christmas so this is a real treat. My only regret is due to this damn chest infection, I can't go out and shovel it. I went for a run on Tuesday. It was a wonderful run, it was frosty cold, but I dressed right for it (layers, layers, layers) and actually enjoyed it, but the next day I felt like hell and landed straight back in bed. Life is so unfair.
Yes, I actually like shovelling, and yes, I can hear you retching from here. A couple of years ago I discovered how beautiful it is after a big storm. Everything is covered with a soothing white blanket, and the world even sounds different. It's like being a kid again, getting to play in the stuff, and it's free exercise. No trip to the gym required. It's a lot easier to enjoy the snow if you don't have to drive in it. You have to take it easy, stop regularly to smell the snowy air and take a look around, maybe stop and chat with somebody out walking their dog or one of the neighbours also digging out. Admire the determination of the chickadees and squirrels raiding the birdfeeder. Admire my handiwork. Stomp the snow off the boots and stoke the wood fireplace and have some coffee or dark hot chocolate laced with chilies. Heaven.
Alas, it's Fuzz's job today, and he doesn't like it nearly as much as I because he's so overworked. Oh well, maybe I can get out and do something in a couple of days. In the meantime, there's hot coffee and maybe a couple of biscotti that I made for presents but the first batch flopped --- as in rock hard and crumbly --- but dipped in coffee, it's ok. It has to be a pretty bad homemade cookie for me to not like it.
Yes, I actually like shovelling, and yes, I can hear you retching from here. A couple of years ago I discovered how beautiful it is after a big storm. Everything is covered with a soothing white blanket, and the world even sounds different. It's like being a kid again, getting to play in the stuff, and it's free exercise. No trip to the gym required. It's a lot easier to enjoy the snow if you don't have to drive in it. You have to take it easy, stop regularly to smell the snowy air and take a look around, maybe stop and chat with somebody out walking their dog or one of the neighbours also digging out. Admire the determination of the chickadees and squirrels raiding the birdfeeder. Admire my handiwork. Stomp the snow off the boots and stoke the wood fireplace and have some coffee or dark hot chocolate laced with chilies. Heaven.
Alas, it's Fuzz's job today, and he doesn't like it nearly as much as I because he's so overworked. Oh well, maybe I can get out and do something in a couple of days. In the meantime, there's hot coffee and maybe a couple of biscotti that I made for presents but the first batch flopped --- as in rock hard and crumbly --- but dipped in coffee, it's ok. It has to be a pretty bad homemade cookie for me to not like it.
13.12.05
Dr. Phil aka Jerry Springer lite
This was going to be a whiny rant about how I am tired of this virus that for 2 weeks has been flitting around my system like a bad boyfriend: taking over my head, then backing off, coming back then almost disappearing again, and just when you think you're over it... wham, here he is again. As Madeline Kahn sings in Blazing Saddles "They're always coming and going and going and coming, and always too soon!!" Blah. Pass the Kleenex, I'm horking up something awful again, and when did the room start tilting in that tantilizing way?
But my bigger anxiety has nothing to do with what I'm coughing up (or not) right now. In fact, the physical ailment has been almost a welcome distraction from the mental anguish I've been going through. For at least four days I have had the gift of being able to slump in bed without guilt and watch endless hours of absolutely non-redeeming, non-educational, melon rotting television. Except I still can't do the Jerry Springer et al stuff. After 10 seconds I have to change the channel before my jaws lock in a permanent grimace of cringeing. The closest I can get is Dr. Phil. It at least has a nice middle class veneer of therapy and good production values. But then he veers off into game show land... Miserable, dumped by cheating hubby and left with the self esteem of a slug? How about a makeover and yes, a --- New Car!!!! Yeesh.
There are other ways in which sometimes I get into a mental tailspin about how well I am healing emotionally, getting back to normal, or not doing so, or not doing so fast enough. But then when was I ever really normal? I have to remember that I am new to this place, a planet where people deal with issues in ways that have nothing to do with food. That was the oddest thing. I won't make a long post even longer by going into details, but last week I was suffering from this virus and I had just finished a gruelling group therapy session and felt utterly hopeless. I felt stuck and like I was never going to be a productive, happy person. It was all bleak. I was so far gone I was almost suicidal. I had a brief image of driving the car in front of a transport on the highway... even though I was carefully stopping and checking traffic at a tricky corner. The impulse quickly passed, and I'm not even sure how strong it was in the first place. I just kept going and drove downtown to buy spices at the health food store. I parked in a garage and sat there and sobbed. What was I going to do?
Most times in the past, if I felt this bad, I would eat something. I overate because it was the one method I knew to comfort myself, to keep myself from feeling that miserable powerlessness. If I could lose myself in sweet treats and crunchy salty textures, then I would be able to avoid facing those horrible depths of dispair. Now, I was in the depths and I thought, should I eat something? What have I got to lose? There's no hope anyway. Then I guess there was a part of my psyche that realized things were not as far gone as I believed. Something in me said, nahhhh, I don't want to eat. I truly did not want to eat. It was quite amazing. I was utterly, completely miserable and did not want to eat.
That small spark started me back up the hill. I called my husband, blubbered, hung up, and then phoned him back and told him I was feeling a bit better. I did my shopping, had a cup of excellent decaf and a piece of fruit that I had packed, sat quietly for a while, and went on with life for a few hours, until the virus mugged me again with a throat that felt like it had been scrubbed out with a bottle brush. Rather Freudian, that virus...
Three things I got from this:
1. When I put down the food I can feel utterly miserable sometimes because what I'm feeling is no longer masked by my security blanket. But it's temporary, it passes. If I start to eat to comfort myself, the misery may feel shallower, but can last in perpetuity and the eating becomes its own problem. Being in the grips of an active eating disorder takes my focus off the underlying issues.
2. True change is possible, that after all the logic is said and argued in my head, it can translate into the feeling level. Even if I never experience that again, I know at least it happened once.
3. I forget what the third thing was. Blame the virus...
But my bigger anxiety has nothing to do with what I'm coughing up (or not) right now. In fact, the physical ailment has been almost a welcome distraction from the mental anguish I've been going through. For at least four days I have had the gift of being able to slump in bed without guilt and watch endless hours of absolutely non-redeeming, non-educational, melon rotting television. Except I still can't do the Jerry Springer et al stuff. After 10 seconds I have to change the channel before my jaws lock in a permanent grimace of cringeing. The closest I can get is Dr. Phil. It at least has a nice middle class veneer of therapy and good production values. But then he veers off into game show land... Miserable, dumped by cheating hubby and left with the self esteem of a slug? How about a makeover and yes, a --- New Car!!!! Yeesh.
There are other ways in which sometimes I get into a mental tailspin about how well I am healing emotionally, getting back to normal, or not doing so, or not doing so fast enough. But then when was I ever really normal? I have to remember that I am new to this place, a planet where people deal with issues in ways that have nothing to do with food. That was the oddest thing. I won't make a long post even longer by going into details, but last week I was suffering from this virus and I had just finished a gruelling group therapy session and felt utterly hopeless. I felt stuck and like I was never going to be a productive, happy person. It was all bleak. I was so far gone I was almost suicidal. I had a brief image of driving the car in front of a transport on the highway... even though I was carefully stopping and checking traffic at a tricky corner. The impulse quickly passed, and I'm not even sure how strong it was in the first place. I just kept going and drove downtown to buy spices at the health food store. I parked in a garage and sat there and sobbed. What was I going to do?
Most times in the past, if I felt this bad, I would eat something. I overate because it was the one method I knew to comfort myself, to keep myself from feeling that miserable powerlessness. If I could lose myself in sweet treats and crunchy salty textures, then I would be able to avoid facing those horrible depths of dispair. Now, I was in the depths and I thought, should I eat something? What have I got to lose? There's no hope anyway. Then I guess there was a part of my psyche that realized things were not as far gone as I believed. Something in me said, nahhhh, I don't want to eat. I truly did not want to eat. It was quite amazing. I was utterly, completely miserable and did not want to eat.
That small spark started me back up the hill. I called my husband, blubbered, hung up, and then phoned him back and told him I was feeling a bit better. I did my shopping, had a cup of excellent decaf and a piece of fruit that I had packed, sat quietly for a while, and went on with life for a few hours, until the virus mugged me again with a throat that felt like it had been scrubbed out with a bottle brush. Rather Freudian, that virus...
Three things I got from this:
1. When I put down the food I can feel utterly miserable sometimes because what I'm feeling is no longer masked by my security blanket. But it's temporary, it passes. If I start to eat to comfort myself, the misery may feel shallower, but can last in perpetuity and the eating becomes its own problem. Being in the grips of an active eating disorder takes my focus off the underlying issues.
2. True change is possible, that after all the logic is said and argued in my head, it can translate into the feeling level. Even if I never experience that again, I know at least it happened once.
3. I forget what the third thing was. Blame the virus...
9.12.05
You Look Great!... Are You Feeling OK?
Had another one of those encounters ... Ran into someone I hadn't seen in over a year or two --- it seems when you reach middle age this happens more often than one would think. I guess after 40 odd years and the various people you encounter over that time, it makes sense you would drift in and out of touch with many people, many of which you like quite a bit, but for one reason or another, your social circle shifts slightly and then you run into someone and realize, "Wow, it's been a couple of years..."
She didn't recognize me at first, so I guess it's been a couple of years, since before I lost the weight, and she observed that I had "lost a ton" (and I have, I don't resent the idiom) but then she asked if I was feeling ok... yes, no wierder than usual, I replied, making a joke of it.
I wonder about that question. I got that this summer from a really nice guy who used to model for my drawing group. Am I looking haggard? Do I look like a chemotherapy patient? I'm a healthy weight, according to my GP, and my dietician. I know I have a lot of excess skin hanging around, it comes from losing over a hundred pounds when you're middle aged, plus the expansion and contraction of yo- yo dieting over 30 years. I lost my double chin and gained a bit of a wattle (think turkey). My arms are flappy. My stomach looks like a melted accordian, even with many many visits to the gym. Of course, most people see just the face. I've seen pictures of myself and I look like I've been through something. I've got wrinkles. Lots of broken capillaries... I'm ruddy. Well, holy Dorian Gray, I HAVE been through something. I've been a freakin' potato chip gutter drunk. Maybe there are some battle scars showing. Is that pitiful, or... heroic?
Of course, It has been a particularly hard week. I'm coping with a big upswing of internal pressure to succeed and a tsunami of shame related to what I see as my failure to, and my feeling of broken-ness, weakness. I'm hard on myself and maybe that shows on my face. Monday night, in an ironic mirroring of my recent mental misery, I came down with some sort of virus that made my joints feel like those of a 90 year old, and my throat like it had been scrubbed with a bottle brush. I spent 3 days in bed. I just rose this afternoon to talk to the therapist, go to an OA meeting, and try running with my group (the last went surprisingly ok, and because I was coughing up junk, I finally managed to spit like a respectable athelete... the things you learn!)
So, yes, I have been sick. Maybe, just maybe, I looked it tonight. It's ok. I didn't eat over it. I was able to be perfectly miserable without binge eating. That's still a novel experience.
She didn't recognize me at first, so I guess it's been a couple of years, since before I lost the weight, and she observed that I had "lost a ton" (and I have, I don't resent the idiom) but then she asked if I was feeling ok... yes, no wierder than usual, I replied, making a joke of it.
I wonder about that question. I got that this summer from a really nice guy who used to model for my drawing group. Am I looking haggard? Do I look like a chemotherapy patient? I'm a healthy weight, according to my GP, and my dietician. I know I have a lot of excess skin hanging around, it comes from losing over a hundred pounds when you're middle aged, plus the expansion and contraction of yo- yo dieting over 30 years. I lost my double chin and gained a bit of a wattle (think turkey). My arms are flappy. My stomach looks like a melted accordian, even with many many visits to the gym. Of course, most people see just the face. I've seen pictures of myself and I look like I've been through something. I've got wrinkles. Lots of broken capillaries... I'm ruddy. Well, holy Dorian Gray, I HAVE been through something. I've been a freakin' potato chip gutter drunk. Maybe there are some battle scars showing. Is that pitiful, or... heroic?
Of course, It has been a particularly hard week. I'm coping with a big upswing of internal pressure to succeed and a tsunami of shame related to what I see as my failure to, and my feeling of broken-ness, weakness. I'm hard on myself and maybe that shows on my face. Monday night, in an ironic mirroring of my recent mental misery, I came down with some sort of virus that made my joints feel like those of a 90 year old, and my throat like it had been scrubbed with a bottle brush. I spent 3 days in bed. I just rose this afternoon to talk to the therapist, go to an OA meeting, and try running with my group (the last went surprisingly ok, and because I was coughing up junk, I finally managed to spit like a respectable athelete... the things you learn!)
So, yes, I have been sick. Maybe, just maybe, I looked it tonight. It's ok. I didn't eat over it. I was able to be perfectly miserable without binge eating. That's still a novel experience.
4.12.05
Maybe I'm Not so Grumpy After All...
I'm usually a big Scrooge about Christmas (some day I'll tell you about the Big Pie Hullaballoo of '87 and maybe you'll understand better just why that may be), and it has something to do with people going so over the top about Christmas. Like my neighbours that put up and turn on their Christmas lights right after Hallowe'en, and all the pressure to acquire all this crap and find gifts for family who have completely different interests and values from us... and then there is the food... a real minefield for someone with a food addiction.
But then there are days like today that start crappy and then I spend the day shovelling the couple of inches of snow we got last night and bringing in firewood and making porridge and Fuzzboy puts up some Christmas lights, and I feel like a kid again.
Shame on a Bagel, Anyone?
It's Sunday, must be time to feel like crap. Ooh boy, that is stinky paint that Fuzzboy is using in the spare bedroom. I'm on the other end of the house, and I can smell it. Here comes the headache. This is not the time of year to be painting, but it is the time Fuzzboy wants to paint... he wants to get this house sold and out of town, so... guess I'll just have to open a window and not worry about the heating bills. Guess I can just crank up the woodstove. Funny, that old primer he was using last night wasn't nearly that stinky.
Don't get me wrong, I want to get out of this town too, but I'm too overwhelmed by my perfectionist gremlin that tells me this place has to be perfect before we even let a real estate agent near it. And how will that be possible? And then I think that well, we finally get this place half decent and then we're going to move? I'm screwed no matter what way I look at it... and in this manner I screw myself right into the ground. No wonder I need a couple of therapists. And I've got a group therapy session coming up tomorrow. Ugh. It's snowing again, pretty, but haven't got any Christmas lights up yet. Another thing to do. I just want to go back to bed.
So I'm back in the chair by the stove. I had breakfast and read the paper, sat with the cat, and did some aimless web surfing and finally decided writing about this couldn't hurt. Get some of this mental ---what to call it?--- fog, self loathing, doubt, fear, anger, yup all that painful stuff, out into the ether of the internet. Maybe it's the e-age equivalent of burning letters and releasing the fears into the universe to a higher power, whatever that is. "God" just comes with too much baggage although I have been known to use the term.
At least the food is pretty good. That is amazing, that I can feel this crappy and not eat over it. It's possible that I am feeling this crappy precisely because I am not eating so much to fog my head and spending less time over what I am going to eat at my next meal. The pain feels very present and I can only sleep so much. My weight is stable. And I am exercising, just enough, not too much, not obsessively, but physically I feel strong and capable. The running is going well, although I'm back to intervals, 4 to 8 minutes, it's still progress. That IS progress, dammit, I am NOT a total loser. I still feel like I have no power to control my environment, but I'm taking care of my body, and that's a start. I made a call to one OA friend today, nobody home, left a message. Not feeling strong enough to try another person, but it's a start.
After this I think I can find the strength to put on some old clothes and pick up a paintbrush to help Fuzz. Just the physicality of doing that will probably make me feel better. OUrrrrgghhhh....here I go. I still like that picture I posted yesterday...
Don't get me wrong, I want to get out of this town too, but I'm too overwhelmed by my perfectionist gremlin that tells me this place has to be perfect before we even let a real estate agent near it. And how will that be possible? And then I think that well, we finally get this place half decent and then we're going to move? I'm screwed no matter what way I look at it... and in this manner I screw myself right into the ground. No wonder I need a couple of therapists. And I've got a group therapy session coming up tomorrow. Ugh. It's snowing again, pretty, but haven't got any Christmas lights up yet. Another thing to do. I just want to go back to bed.
So I'm back in the chair by the stove. I had breakfast and read the paper, sat with the cat, and did some aimless web surfing and finally decided writing about this couldn't hurt. Get some of this mental ---what to call it?--- fog, self loathing, doubt, fear, anger, yup all that painful stuff, out into the ether of the internet. Maybe it's the e-age equivalent of burning letters and releasing the fears into the universe to a higher power, whatever that is. "God" just comes with too much baggage although I have been known to use the term.
At least the food is pretty good. That is amazing, that I can feel this crappy and not eat over it. It's possible that I am feeling this crappy precisely because I am not eating so much to fog my head and spending less time over what I am going to eat at my next meal. The pain feels very present and I can only sleep so much. My weight is stable. And I am exercising, just enough, not too much, not obsessively, but physically I feel strong and capable. The running is going well, although I'm back to intervals, 4 to 8 minutes, it's still progress. That IS progress, dammit, I am NOT a total loser. I still feel like I have no power to control my environment, but I'm taking care of my body, and that's a start. I made a call to one OA friend today, nobody home, left a message. Not feeling strong enough to try another person, but it's a start.
After this I think I can find the strength to put on some old clothes and pick up a paintbrush to help Fuzz. Just the physicality of doing that will probably make me feel better. OUrrrrgghhhh....here I go. I still like that picture I posted yesterday...
3.12.05
Was this worth 10 hours?
I spent most of today wading through the Corel Painter 9 Manual (400 + pages) in --- oh how I hate it-- pdf (damn damn I don't know which I get angrier with, Adobe or Corel) on Fuzz's laptop while manipulating a photo with the program on my pen tablet Acer. Pen tablets are great, compared to drawing on them, using a mouse is like trying to oil paint with a brick. I don't have a desk I like, and besides most flat surfaces in our hovel and studio have several inches of paper and absolute crap on them, so I had to spread out the computers on first, the bed --- love that, feel like Hef working in bed, it doesn't feel so much like work --- and then once Fuzz got home from work, and wanted to nap, how dare him, on my workspace, I had to get dressed in something besides sweatshirt and 'jama pants and park on the couch and ottoman. Now my butt hurts and I still don't know what 3/4 of the menu does. I wonder if I'm getting too dumb and old for this stuff, but I know that Harvey Pekar (little ray of sunshine that he is, oy) has the same problem, so keep going...
Then I come up with some wierd shit like this and ok, this program is kewl... I can wade through another 50 pages of this tomorrow...oh wait, I think I have something else resembling a life outside the house tomorrow, and besides, there is the problem of my butt...
Then I come up with some wierd shit like this and ok, this program is kewl... I can wade through another 50 pages of this tomorrow...oh wait, I think I have something else resembling a life outside the house tomorrow, and besides, there is the problem of my butt...
1.12.05
Running on Cloud Nine
One problem with using a laptop: The other laptop aka the cat, gets jealous. The only way I can type right now is stretched out in a recliner so the cat can use my chest...ouch, if only she would stop kneading me...
I feel so great today. What a change...
Last week I was very depressed. My therapist and family doctor have both suggested I might be suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder, to which I replied with some skepticism, nahhh... I can be miserable any old time of the year... but maybe they're right. I was having some trouble last year in January, so maybe... anyway, the antidepressants got bumped up today. But that's not why I'm feeling so good.
Two months ago I joined a beginners running group. The coaches are a couple of kinestheologists who run their own gym. My friend has been working with one of them as her personal trainer for several years and is always singing his praises. She's 58 and wants to still be downhill skiing when she's 80. The whole world of physical fitness is completely foreign to me. Actually, not any more. I was never physically active. I was a fat kid and my parents were too busy working to do anything like that so I just never got into it. To give you an idea of how inactive I was, I never learned how to skate, practically a crime in Canada!
Over the last ten years this has been slowly changing. At age 44 I am in the best shape of my life. I started out walking, and then after a few years, joined a gym and experimented with lifting very light, then heavier weights. As I became involved with Overeaters Anonymous, I started losing weight in a healthy manner, getting emotional support and encouragement that the universe wanted me to be healthy and happy.
My friend told me how the runners were starting very easy, run 2 minutes, walk 2 minutes, run 2 minutes, walk 2 minutes, etc.. I thought, "Well, I can do anything for just 2 minutes!" So I tried it. Ok, not bad, 2 minutes can seem like a very long time but I was with 4 other women who were in the same boat, and kept me going. The trainer was very encouraging, and taught us how to run so that it didn't hurt! I had been worried about my knees --- I had tried running at the local Terry Fox Cancer run the year before, and my knee started to really hurt after about 1 k enough that I had to walk the rest of the route. He taught me that my stride was too long, I was unbalanced, putting pressure on my knees, and unlike walking, I had to keep my heels up! So far so good, no pain, and lotsa gain.
Fast forward 2 months to last night: The weather was pretty awful. Pouring rain, but at least it was very warm for late November here. We would get soaked, but not frozen. Only 2 of us showed up, and at first we thought it wasn't going to happen, but the advanced group (a nice bunch of extremely fit people and they really encourage us newbies) all showed, so the trainers said, ok, it's a go. We went out and it was ok, but the trainer said, right, we'll try something different tonight, but I'm not going to tell you what, we'll just run and see how we feel. The week before we had tried 4 minute runs. Well, we ended up running the whole route, about 5 km and weren't exhausted! The trainer kept our steps light and our speed manageable.
I am on top of the world. I never really thought I could do it, I was always the person who said I would never run, not unless something that wanted to eat me was chasing me or vice versa! I am amazed. Amazed. When I feel overwhelmed and as if my whole life has been a mess, I have to remember these things.
I feel so great today. What a change...
Last week I was very depressed. My therapist and family doctor have both suggested I might be suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder, to which I replied with some skepticism, nahhh... I can be miserable any old time of the year... but maybe they're right. I was having some trouble last year in January, so maybe... anyway, the antidepressants got bumped up today. But that's not why I'm feeling so good.
Two months ago I joined a beginners running group. The coaches are a couple of kinestheologists who run their own gym. My friend has been working with one of them as her personal trainer for several years and is always singing his praises. She's 58 and wants to still be downhill skiing when she's 80. The whole world of physical fitness is completely foreign to me. Actually, not any more. I was never physically active. I was a fat kid and my parents were too busy working to do anything like that so I just never got into it. To give you an idea of how inactive I was, I never learned how to skate, practically a crime in Canada!
Over the last ten years this has been slowly changing. At age 44 I am in the best shape of my life. I started out walking, and then after a few years, joined a gym and experimented with lifting very light, then heavier weights. As I became involved with Overeaters Anonymous, I started losing weight in a healthy manner, getting emotional support and encouragement that the universe wanted me to be healthy and happy.
My friend told me how the runners were starting very easy, run 2 minutes, walk 2 minutes, run 2 minutes, walk 2 minutes, etc.. I thought, "Well, I can do anything for just 2 minutes!" So I tried it. Ok, not bad, 2 minutes can seem like a very long time but I was with 4 other women who were in the same boat, and kept me going. The trainer was very encouraging, and taught us how to run so that it didn't hurt! I had been worried about my knees --- I had tried running at the local Terry Fox Cancer run the year before, and my knee started to really hurt after about 1 k enough that I had to walk the rest of the route. He taught me that my stride was too long, I was unbalanced, putting pressure on my knees, and unlike walking, I had to keep my heels up! So far so good, no pain, and lotsa gain.
Fast forward 2 months to last night: The weather was pretty awful. Pouring rain, but at least it was very warm for late November here. We would get soaked, but not frozen. Only 2 of us showed up, and at first we thought it wasn't going to happen, but the advanced group (a nice bunch of extremely fit people and they really encourage us newbies) all showed, so the trainers said, ok, it's a go. We went out and it was ok, but the trainer said, right, we'll try something different tonight, but I'm not going to tell you what, we'll just run and see how we feel. The week before we had tried 4 minute runs. Well, we ended up running the whole route, about 5 km and weren't exhausted! The trainer kept our steps light and our speed manageable.
I am on top of the world. I never really thought I could do it, I was always the person who said I would never run, not unless something that wanted to eat me was chasing me or vice versa! I am amazed. Amazed. When I feel overwhelmed and as if my whole life has been a mess, I have to remember these things.
29.11.05
Election Tirade of the Day
"Humans is soooo stooopid! Go away and wake me up when it's over..."
What the blue blazes (as my mom used to say) are they thinking???? A federal election campaign, smack in the middle of the holidays (ALL of 'em! Christmas, Channukah, Chinese New Year, you name it!) I'm sorry, my milk of human kindness has just turned into curdled eggnog, and if you ring my doorbell looking for my vote, you are going to wear that eggnog! In fact, I may not vote. Screw em. The redneck vote is going to carry the day anyway. That idiot Layton of the Left who has caused this mess has less chance here than that ice lump lodged up the ass of the Christmas turkey.
I've ALWAYS voted, even in the stupid muncipal stuff where I get to choose either Stubby or Stumpy for councillor... not this time!
An Honest Tantrum
or as close to honest as I can be...
I just came from my doctor. Had a long talk about my mood which has been having some regression lately. I had an episode last week where I spent 2 days in bed feeling overwhelmed and hopeless. I don't like talking about it because it makes me feel so.. so...unworthy. Which was the problem in the first place. I feel sick and like this is going to go on in this way forever. I haven't done any meaningful work for a year. Something that really seemed to shock the gp.
But my therapists (yes, therapists, I've got 2) don't seem to think this is a problem. One suggests I don't try to force going into the studio (artist) and the other goes as far as to say that recovery should be my job right now. Oh great. Lousy paying job I've got. Of course the perfectionist gremlin pipes up and says, "Well, you're doing a lousy job at that if that's what you're working at!"
I'm so sick of recovery and all that shit. I know I've come a distance. Yadda yadda yaddda...3 years ago I was depressed and unable to work and 300 pounds and hypertensive and diabetic. Now I'm in good health but still depressed and not working. I have been having the odd impulse to paint, but I'm told it's ok if it's not time... No it's not, no it is NOT ok!
How pitiful is this for a life: I go to 2 or 3 OA meetings a week, gym 3 times a week, running group another 2, 2 therapist appointments and try to keep the mess in the house to not too horrible and the most enjoyable part (food, go figger) is cooking good meals so we're at least eating well.
But it's not enough. I'm not enough.
Upshot of all this: my antidepressants got increased.
I just came from my doctor. Had a long talk about my mood which has been having some regression lately. I had an episode last week where I spent 2 days in bed feeling overwhelmed and hopeless. I don't like talking about it because it makes me feel so.. so...unworthy. Which was the problem in the first place. I feel sick and like this is going to go on in this way forever. I haven't done any meaningful work for a year. Something that really seemed to shock the gp.
But my therapists (yes, therapists, I've got 2) don't seem to think this is a problem. One suggests I don't try to force going into the studio (artist) and the other goes as far as to say that recovery should be my job right now. Oh great. Lousy paying job I've got. Of course the perfectionist gremlin pipes up and says, "Well, you're doing a lousy job at that if that's what you're working at!"
I'm so sick of recovery and all that shit. I know I've come a distance. Yadda yadda yaddda...3 years ago I was depressed and unable to work and 300 pounds and hypertensive and diabetic. Now I'm in good health but still depressed and not working. I have been having the odd impulse to paint, but I'm told it's ok if it's not time... No it's not, no it is NOT ok!
How pitiful is this for a life: I go to 2 or 3 OA meetings a week, gym 3 times a week, running group another 2, 2 therapist appointments and try to keep the mess in the house to not too horrible and the most enjoyable part (food, go figger) is cooking good meals so we're at least eating well.
But it's not enough. I'm not enough.
Upshot of all this: my antidepressants got increased.
28.11.05
They call it Overeaters ANONYMOUS for a Reason...
Me, 1995.
Don't let the Dame Edna shades and smirk fool you. Newly graduated and terrified.
27.11.05
Stuck in the middle of the shame sandwich
So it's nearly noon, sitting in a wingback chair in front of the woodstove... Fuzzboy isn't feeling well, he's exhausted due to overwork, and yet he putters around --- putting out the compost, bringing in firewood. Then he plans on doing some drywall repair. Meanwhile I've been sitting here so long my butt hurts. Shame, I feel shame. Well, I ain't the boss of him and vice versa. He does his thing, and I can do mine, but I feel full of this poisoning shame... the doc says this is why I want to eat.
But changing this is so hard... surrender, he says, become willing to change... Geez Louise, I do want to change, don't I? But I've been beating myself over the head with this for over 40 years, changing this is like stopping a cruise liner, it ain't gonna stop on a dime.
Then I feel shame about both being unable to change immediately and about not being able to accept that... I can't win.
But changing this is so hard... surrender, he says, become willing to change... Geez Louise, I do want to change, don't I? But I've been beating myself over the head with this for over 40 years, changing this is like stopping a cruise liner, it ain't gonna stop on a dime.
Then I feel shame about both being unable to change immediately and about not being able to accept that... I can't win.
26.11.05
Surviving the holiday?
Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends. Hope you are surviving the weekend. I've been going to 12 step meetings, mostly Overeaters Anonymous but also the odd AA meeting for about 3 years now. I am definitely a food addict, I have used food to drug myself into a stupor for many years. I need the support group to get me back on to a somewhat normal footing with food as sustenance, not lover. I go to the AA meetings because my father was a drunk and I've done some lunkhead things while drinking. So I don't drink anymore (piece of cake next to the pull toward binge eating) and go to the occasional AA meeting. OA (Overeaters Anonymous) is directly modelled upon AA so the meetings can be fairly similar.
Anyway, this time of year can be hard for anyone dealing with addictions, it seems. I'm dreading Christmas with Fuzzboy's family. Most of my side of the family is dead or estranged, so at least I don't have to deal with the craziness I had to deal with at past family "celebrations"... Like the big fight over whose mother made the best pie at the 1987 dinner... that was a real winner. Ugh.
So, you notice the big "stress-spike" in the meetings this time of year. The theme seems to be "God, grant me the serenity to survive my own and my family's insanity, not to mention my friends..." We get so locked into the family traditions that we forget our own duty to ourselves to be healthy. Suddenly candied yams takes priority over our own heartache. (Thankfully that's a dish, like the green bean casserole, that never quite made it over the border to the south.)
The trick seems to be how to get out of your own misery but still in touch with it so you don't need a (what's that term?) a "Hail Mary" to get through the day...
Anyway, this time of year can be hard for anyone dealing with addictions, it seems. I'm dreading Christmas with Fuzzboy's family. Most of my side of the family is dead or estranged, so at least I don't have to deal with the craziness I had to deal with at past family "celebrations"... Like the big fight over whose mother made the best pie at the 1987 dinner... that was a real winner. Ugh.
So, you notice the big "stress-spike" in the meetings this time of year. The theme seems to be "God, grant me the serenity to survive my own and my family's insanity, not to mention my friends..." We get so locked into the family traditions that we forget our own duty to ourselves to be healthy. Suddenly candied yams takes priority over our own heartache. (Thankfully that's a dish, like the green bean casserole, that never quite made it over the border to the south.)
The trick seems to be how to get out of your own misery but still in touch with it so you don't need a (what's that term?) a "Hail Mary" to get through the day...
One of THOSE mornings...
Ever had one of those days when you wake up suddenly with a sense of dread and you look at the clock and confirm that it is the exact time you are supposed to be somewhere else, an hour's drive away, not in bed?
This was one of those mornings. What to do but swear, yell at the clock, yell at the husband (default setting), but can't really blame Fuzzboy, because indeed he is not there, he is in the city having arisen at his proper time many hours previous, in the dark, to be at his conference at this exact moment, on time. Did he not reset the alarm or did I just sleep through it? Either is equally possible, since going on sick leave, I am quite capable of sleeping through the alarm...
This wasn't an earthshaking tragedy, but I really wanted to be at a jam session to work on the arrangement of a new song for our choir. What to do? Run around like a fool and get there, or just go back to bed and sulk, and sleep really late as someone prone to depression (me) tends to do when upset? Oh, and yes, it's snowing. Looks like 3 inches and more. Lovely to look at, murder on the road.
I decided to not be a perfectionist and go anyway. If I decided the workshop was out, there was always an OA meeting a couple of blocks away that I could actually So what to cut out of the morning routine? Teeth? No. Face wash, yes. Sniff yesterday's shirt. Good for another day. Stopped to warm up some steel cut oats. I can be late, but late and starving produces a real bitch on wheels, not a good thing to add to the circus on the highway. Threw together a chickpea sandwich and some ratatouille to take for lunch while the oatmeal was heating in the nuker. I've had dinner out nearly every night this week, my waist and my wallet can't take any more! Thank God Fuzzboy left me some coffee in the carafe. Even lukewarm is better than none.
The highway was greasy, but I slowed down and still I made it to the workshop for a couple of hours and it was fine. Just relaxed and contributed what I could, didn't get upset if my suggestions weren't taken. There's something to be said for not being such a damn diva all the time and just saying "Ok, this is the best I can do, I'm going to live with it." and getting on with it.
This was one of those mornings. What to do but swear, yell at the clock, yell at the husband (default setting), but can't really blame Fuzzboy, because indeed he is not there, he is in the city having arisen at his proper time many hours previous, in the dark, to be at his conference at this exact moment, on time. Did he not reset the alarm or did I just sleep through it? Either is equally possible, since going on sick leave, I am quite capable of sleeping through the alarm...
This wasn't an earthshaking tragedy, but I really wanted to be at a jam session to work on the arrangement of a new song for our choir. What to do? Run around like a fool and get there, or just go back to bed and sulk, and sleep really late as someone prone to depression (me) tends to do when upset? Oh, and yes, it's snowing. Looks like 3 inches and more. Lovely to look at, murder on the road.
I decided to not be a perfectionist and go anyway. If I decided the workshop was out, there was always an OA meeting a couple of blocks away that I could actually So what to cut out of the morning routine? Teeth? No. Face wash, yes. Sniff yesterday's shirt. Good for another day. Stopped to warm up some steel cut oats. I can be late, but late and starving produces a real bitch on wheels, not a good thing to add to the circus on the highway. Threw together a chickpea sandwich and some ratatouille to take for lunch while the oatmeal was heating in the nuker. I've had dinner out nearly every night this week, my waist and my wallet can't take any more! Thank God Fuzzboy left me some coffee in the carafe. Even lukewarm is better than none.
The highway was greasy, but I slowed down and still I made it to the workshop for a couple of hours and it was fine. Just relaxed and contributed what I could, didn't get upset if my suggestions weren't taken. There's something to be said for not being such a damn diva all the time and just saying "Ok, this is the best I can do, I'm going to live with it." and getting on with it.
Paris Bathtub Flashback
I was talking on the phone with one of my Overeaters Anonymous buds this afternoon and grousing about how sore my legs and butt were from running outside in the cold last night. (Me! Running outside! In -7 C weather, on ice yet! I never thought that would actually happen in a million years...) She suggested a bath with epsom salts (epsom salts, didn't my parents use those?, and then said, "At least you can fit in a tub now!" and immediately apologised for being insensitive.
"No, you're right, tubs are much more comfortable now, except I have such a lousy one right now." I replied, and I had a sudden memory of about 15 years ago to one of my favorite tubs in a small hotel in Paris. It was lovely, very deep and long so that the water would be above my chin... then I tried to get out of the tub, and I was wedged in so tight my hips squeaked, and I briefly panicked because it was difficult to get out by raising my bulk straight up... I wonder if that was what really happened to Marat??
I can't go back to that tub for a soak, although half the woman I once was, I've got debts including an overdue therapy bill and another pending the end of the month... hey, maybe I'll be well enough in the head soon to actually earn some money so I can do that some day. I had Fuzzboy take a picture of me in that tub, with bubbles and wine and all that stuff, but when I saw the photo I destroyed it --- fat people do that whenever possible, it's always such a shock --- and as I result I have very few photos of myself from when I was twice my present size. Of course now, I WANT to see them. I'm sure there are negatives and undestroyed ones lurking in shoeboxes. We'll be moving soon, so I'll get an opportunity to find some.
Could there be any more baggage in my closet than is in my head? Honey, I'd have to be Oprah for that to happen!
"No, you're right, tubs are much more comfortable now, except I have such a lousy one right now." I replied, and I had a sudden memory of about 15 years ago to one of my favorite tubs in a small hotel in Paris. It was lovely, very deep and long so that the water would be above my chin... then I tried to get out of the tub, and I was wedged in so tight my hips squeaked, and I briefly panicked because it was difficult to get out by raising my bulk straight up... I wonder if that was what really happened to Marat??
I can't go back to that tub for a soak, although half the woman I once was, I've got debts including an overdue therapy bill and another pending the end of the month... hey, maybe I'll be well enough in the head soon to actually earn some money so I can do that some day. I had Fuzzboy take a picture of me in that tub, with bubbles and wine and all that stuff, but when I saw the photo I destroyed it --- fat people do that whenever possible, it's always such a shock --- and as I result I have very few photos of myself from when I was twice my present size. Of course now, I WANT to see them. I'm sure there are negatives and undestroyed ones lurking in shoeboxes. We'll be moving soon, so I'll get an opportunity to find some.
Could there be any more baggage in my closet than is in my head? Honey, I'd have to be Oprah for that to happen!
First Transmission...
Ok, any blog that comes with a pink template is ok with me. Suddenly I am struck with blogfright... what to say what to say... and why should this be any different from the rest of my life??? God, I am tired of being frightened of what someone else thinks, but then, who the hell is actually going to read this drivel?
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