Hmmm, that header sounds suspiciously like "Princess Eeyore" and sometimes it feels like it too. I just read a short article about the links between perfectionism and compulsive behaviour and addictions in the NYTimes. As my dear therapist has so damn often pointed out, life doesn't always have to be either I'm great or I'm doomed. It can be many shades of grey in between. And oh, I hate it when she says that!!! I'm not sure what I hate more, the concept, or my very imperfect ability to grasp when I'm doing it! (Fill in weary guffaw here)
The article points out that being a perfectionist can be especially tricky for someone dealing with an addiction or an eating disorder. I can take that a little further and say that when your eating disorder seems to be well described by the addiction model, it can be really tricky. Because with food as my drug of choice, I can never be 100 percent "clean" because I have to eat, I can't and wouldn't want to live on a constant diet of Ensure, Slimfast, or Jenny Craig meals.
Is weighing and measuring every last morsel an answer? Or is it just trading compulsions? Perhaps it boils down to harm reduction. I know there are people who swear by completely weighed and measured food and if that is what it takes, then maybe that is what they have to do. I just know from my experience that I did that for years on Weight Watchers, alternating with blow out binge eating. But then again, I'm only a month and a bit past my last binge, so I cannot claim definitive success with my present plan of eating.
Today I'm weighing and measuring some things. I measure out the ingredients when I make a batch of oatmeal that lasts me and Fuzz for three days of breakfasts and we can cut in wedges to warm up in bowls in the microwave. If we're having rice or pasta with dinner, I measure out about a cup. I have to say "about" because if it's a particularly holey pasta, I'll add some more for the airspace volume. I'll usually measure out a couple of ounces of protein (cheese or meat) to have with my lunch. Sometimes single servings packages just make it easier to have a reasonable portion: a small bag of smokehouse almonds, a small bar of dark chocolate, a small container of yogurt.
Last night I nibbled before bed--- a couple of teaspoons I think of cream cheese. I kid you not. Strange, huh? I don't feel really "clean" about it, but I think that it's important to not be crazy perfectionistic about this... even if I do have that compulsion. I want, I want, I want a squeaky clean abstinence here! Ain't gonna happen. Unless I seal myself up in a bubble. I've told myself over and over that it isn't the two teaspoons of cream cheese (or the cracker at a party)that got me to 310, it was the binges.
How different is my compulsion to diet from that of a compulsive hand washer or the tv detective Adrian Monk, driving everyone around him nuts by his compulsion to organize everything? The fear feels similar. I am so afraid of going back out there but then a switch gets flipped and I'm not just nibbling, I'm shovelling it in. Perhaps the shovelling is a response to the fear, that it feels as if I need some sort of assurance that I know where I'm going. Bingeing is familiar, with a predictable, if unpleasant result, and the knowledge that if I do it for an hour or two, I will be drugged into sleep and that at least is certain, if miserable. And then the fairy tale of "tomorrow will be different " kicks in, right on cue. And there we have it, I'm back at fear.
I am always struck by this sentence in the AA Big Book when they are discussing fear:
This short word somehow touches about every aspect of our lives. It was an evil and corroding thread; the fabric of our lives was shot through with it. It set in motion trains of circumstances which brought us misfortune that we felt we did not deserve... Sometimes we think fear ought to be classed with stealing. It seems to cause more trouble.
I'm used to being a compulsive overeater. The crazy response to a crazy world feels very, very familiar. I've worn that corrupt fabric, shot with fear, like a shawl all my life. When I get too self-righteous about how I don't look fat any more, I remember what the fat is about --- that if I could see every little nano-particle of an inch of that fat draping a body, I would see sub-molecules of fear, trillions of them, and I am amazed at the sheer psychic, non-physical weight this person is battling. I am battling. This is not meant to be a depressive thought, it is actually awe inspiring and a reminder as to how serious a battle this is.
Day 34.
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