Feeling Low

Yup. I feel like crap. I've got this non-food related issue I'm not dealing with and I'm feeling like a total schmuck. Hopefully, I'll soon get so sick and tired of feeling, well, sick and tired over this that I'll do something about it. Right now, I'm living in this twilight limbo of hating myself. I say it's not food related, but really, when you're a compulsive overeater, emotional eater, whatever, it always relates back to food. I had some cravings last night for comfort food: saltines with peanut butter... you know, the stuff your mother would give you (or you wish she had) when you were feeling low.

Of course, in my family, at some point it felt as if my mother went from being my comforter to my jailer. I know she was only doing what she felt best, but I did feel as if she started monitoring my food. I remember when I was a kid, around 10 or 12, and they had bought some kind of canned chocolate milkshakes. It was Friday night, and I was watching TV with my parents, and I thought the milkshake tasted like heaven. My mother said I could have only one can that night. Well, I snuck out to the kitchen at some point, sat in the dark hallway outside the livingroom and watched tv through the door while drinking the second milkshake. If my mother knew what I was doing, she never gave any indication. I can't remember if I tried to hide the "evidence", the can, that time. That was for later years when I was in high school, at a "healthy" weight, dieting and bingeing in secret or with my friends who didn't care what I was eating. In most other respects, I was a pretty squeaky clean kid. Until I got a boyfriend and discovered the joy of making out at the ripe old age of 18, food was my big rebellion tool. Mind you, cigarettes and booze didn't have a big appeal because my father always sounded as if he was going to hack up a lung every morning, and my best friend and I both had to cope with alcoholic dads. Food was our comfort, our outlet, plus it was socially sanctioned. Except around my Mom.

So, last night, how did I deal with this? Well, I ate the snacks I usually eat in the evening, a fruit, some yogurt, decaf coffee and an ounce of 76% chocolate... ok, and a little extra: I split the 1/3 of an ounce left of the bar with Fuzz... and then I went to bed early , at 11 pm. Which is early for me. Safe in bed. Away from the fridge.

Ya Gotta Laugh

I was meeting with an OA sponsee yesterday, but I don't think we don't have the "classic" sponsor/sponsee relationship... whatever that is. Everybody does it differently, just like everybody works all aspects of their 12 step programme differently. In fact, one of the only universals in 12 step programmes that I've found is the belief that there is one right way to work the programme and we likely aren't the ones doing it "the right way"!

My sponsee has stuck with me through my recent relapses, just as I stayed with mine as she had hers. When you find someone whom you have so much in common with, you tend to stay with them even if they don't have "perfect" abstinence from compulsive overeating. I meet with my sponsee once a week and we just chat about stuff. Not all OA issues, but our lives. Actually, most life issues are OA issues. For those of us who call ourselves compulsive eaters (overeaters, undereaters, and those who eat too much and then purge or starve) we see that our eating is affected by our moods and coping mechanisms with those moods.

The depths we go to with this disease can be truly humiliating. A lot of sneakiness happens. When I was a child, I used to steal change from my mother's purse to buy candy. When house sitting for a family member, I plowed through tons of bread and cheese. A member who is a retired supermarket clerk talks about how she used to steal food and money from her till to buy food. Amazingly, she has actually had the courage to approach former employers to apologize and reimburse them for what she stole.

But with the exception of shoplifting, overeaters rarely are charged with serious crimes directly related to stealing for their food "habit", unlike alcoholics or drug addicts. Yesterday, my sponsee and I were practically rolling on the floor with the mental image the two of us wearing masks to hold up our favorite bakery. She'd go for the scones, I'd take the butter tarts. Thank god for large mercies.

Trying to Be Sane (Random Ramblings)

My friend M offered to drag me to her Monday morning yoga class. I don't like yoga much, but I figured it was a better way to start the week than huddled in bed hating myself, so it was ok. Some good stretching, some opportunity to meditate a bit, and the woman instructing gave me this great lower leg massage while my legs were propped up in the air. Since we're all friends, we sat around and chatted over coffee afterwards. I don't think yoga will replace other forms of exercise, but there are much worse ways for me to spend time, like: worrying, watching useless tv, or eating. So, this week is turning out to be much nicer than last.

Fuzz is off school, on March break. He's really had his head buried in work (teaching and taking courses) since Christmas, so he needs some down time. We have no travel plans, but it's nice to have him around. We decided we would try to get out for a good long walk every day, but it's hard for me to fit that in even though I'm still off sick. I'm not even back to work yet, but there's always stuff to do. Today I meet with my OA sponsee, and then I'm going to babysit while Fuzz and my BF bottle a batch of wine they made.

Sometime this week I'm going to get back into the studio. It's been 4 1/2 weeks since my surgery --- a femoral hernia repair and a panniculectomy --- and the recovery has been fairly uneventful, but my mood has stunk. But it's generally been a difficult 6 months emotionally. Regular writing helps, but I think my old coping mechanism of stuffing the feelings down came back. One of the other artists in my studio building seems to have had some sort of breakdown. Part of me really feels sorry for him, but another part of me is hopping up and down and going "YES! Another artist is having problems!"

Since the black mood retreated last week I've been to 3 meetings of 3 different 12 step fellowships, OA and two others. Compulsive overeating is still the bugaboo that feels the most dangerous to me, but I have issues with alcohol and money, so I also go to the odd AA and Debtors Anonymous meeting, and since they are all from the same AA routes, they have the same message and the same techniques to try and live a healthier, saner life. Basically, they give me opportunities to reflect, share, and write about the problems bedevilling me. Trying to follow a 12 step way of life is about putting habits into place that make my life easier, not harder. But the change takes work and regular recommitment because I'm trying to change the self-sabotaging habits of a lifetime, some of which started before I even learned how to talk.

Some Days I Really Hate Myself

This week has been awful. And it's all been in my stewy brain. Nothing bad happened except I fell into the black pit on Monday and gave myself over completely to the binge rottweiller. I've been struggling with a big fear of dealing with some investments left to me by my mother years ago and because of some changes in them I have to deal with them this tax time.

Monday morning I felt incapable of dealing with these and I'm so horribly furious with myself for not dealing with this and feeling as if I mismanaged my money and all is horrible. I know it seems drastic. That's my drama diva brain. I abandoned all hope and retreated to bed except for regular trips to the refrigerator. There are 8 messages on my answering machine from friends that I couldn't bear to talk to. The fact I am writing right now means I have clawed myself back to the lip of the pit, and I'm sitting on the edge, swinging my legs over the abyss, contemplating the pit versus getting back into the world of the living again. I don't truly know if I clawed my way out or what happened last night when I popped out of the top.

I just know that last night in the wee hours (ok, it was after 4 am) I was lying in bed hating myself and that awful stuffed feeling in my stomach and suddenly I had this rush of gratitude. It seemed very profound then, but then, don't 4 am thoughts always feel profound? Profound Thought went something like this: "Here I am, in a cute little house that needs a little work, with a loving wonderful man, and I have good friends and some interesting things to do and two great cats and enough money. The only thing really wrong in my life is how much I hate myself. The rest of the stuff is minor. "

Click. Life seems worth living suddenly. Two things I am considering: Today I need to go to a meeting. Any 12 step meeting will do. Number two, I think I may benefit from some a residential treatment programme. I need to give this default self hatred switch a good scrub, and maybe look into turning it into a dimmer switch... It's so fucking drastic.